Jeff Hirsch - The Darkest Path

Nat’s father led me to a cell and popped off my cuffs before shoving me inside. The steel door slammed shut.

“This is how it’s going to be,” he said. “You’re Army property now, not ours, so don’t expect to see a lawyer or a judge. My guess is they’ll come pick you up sometime tomorrow for questioning.” He leaned against the cell, crossing his arms. “ ’Course, since they don’t really share any of that intelligence with us, if you have something worthwhile to say right here and now, I’m sure we could work something out.”

“I don’t know anything,” I said. “I was taken by the Path six years ago and I’m trying to get home. That’s all.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Someone will bring you supper.”

He unlocked the outer door and started to open it.

“She was amazing.”

Nat’s father stopped at the doorway.

“The Path didn’t stand a chance against her,” I said. “You should be proud.”

Nat’s father turned his head slightly toward me, said nothing, then walked out the door. It closed with a boom, and I was alone.

I lay on the bunk staring at the bars. The adrenaline charge that had kept me going for hours was gone and I felt weak and empty. I told myself that the Feds would listen, that once I explained the last six years, they’d help get us back home. They had to.

I closed my eyes and slipped a hand into my pocket. Bear’s collar sat at the bottom, twisted into a ball. I drew it into my fist and held on tight.

A few hours later, there was a buzz and the door that led back to the cells opened, silhouetting two guards and a prisoner.

“Sorry about this, kid,” one of the guards said.

“No problem.”

Nat stepped inside the cell next to mine and flopped down on the cot. I looked at her through the bars, stunned.

Nat shrugged. “I took one step out of the house.”

“Your dad threw you in jail?”

“He’s trying to make a point,” she said. “He’ll let me out tomorrow when he remembers that the Feds haven’t sent us any medical aid in three months.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “The Feds can’t send medicine? They can’t help?”

“Ha! Help the white trash of Waylon, Wyoming? Please, they have to save their pennies in case some trillionaire’s son gets the sniffles. You want some advice now that you’re back home in the Fed? Get rich. Fast. ’Cause, I tell you, if you’re far enough from the front and have a little money, this whole war is something you see on TV.”

I could barely process the idea. In the Path, citizens gave the war effort everything they had, and in return they were given everything they needed. I had no love for Nathan Hill, but he’d never abandon his own people like that.

“Oh, hey. I swiped this for you.”

Nat handed me something through the bars and I raised it into the light. Black paper and silver foil. I tore it open and the smell of chocolate hit me like a wave. I nearly laughed out loud.

“I haven’t had one of these in six years.”

“Seriously? Well, it’s no steak dinner but think of it as a thanks, I guess.”

I traced my fingers over the logo pressed into the chocolate and then over the bumps on the other side. Almonds. My favorite. I snapped the bar in two and handed half to Nat.

“Thanks,” she said, and bit off a corner.

I chewed slow, drawing the chocolate over my tongue, savoring it until it dissolved. I suddenly remembered the smell of fallen leaves and chimney smoke.

“After my brother and I went trick-or-treating, we’d trade candy and I made it my goal to get every one of these he had.”

“Did it work?”

I laughed. “He was easy,” I said. “He loved Nerds. You know? The fruit things?”

“Right.”

“So I pretended that I did too — in fact, I loved them so much he was going to have to trade me two or three chocolate bars to get just one box. Worked every time. Sucker.”

“I always looked for those caramel things. The ones on a stick?”

“A Sugar Daddy.”

“Right,” Nat said. “A Sugar Daddy. Every cavity I ever had as a kid can be directly traced back to a Sugar Daddy. So where’s your brother now? Still at home?”

I felt a twinge and forced an image of James out of my head. “Still at Cormorant.”

“Why?”

“He’s Path now.”

There was a distant buzz as another cell block opened somewhere in the building. Nat turned on her side and drew herself up to the bars.

“I didn’t just happen to get thrown in jail,” she said. “I stepped outside for a reason. Two reasons actually. First, Carlos knows a guy who can get us fake IDs that say we’re eighteen. We’re going to get them, then head to a recruiting station in Casper to enlist.”

“Why are you telling me—”

“Because you’re coming with us.”

“No, I’m going home. Your dad is calling the Feds. Once they get here I’m going to talk to them and—”

“Whoa,” Nat said, holding up her hand. “Hold on a second. Do you think they’re going to help you?”

I stared at her through the bars.

“You’ve been living with the Path. You worked for them.”

“They made me work for them. I ran away.”

“After six years ,” Nat said. “They’ve converted half the country, Cal. Do you think our government is just going to take your word that you’re on our side now? Once the MPs finish questioning you, they’ll put you in jail for treason.”

“No, that’s not—”

“If you’re going to live here, you’re going to have to seriously get up to speed. But look, don’t worry, I can talk to my dad. Once he’s cooled off, he’ll listen to me and then he’ll go talk to the sheriff. He won’t let the MPs take you. And I know you’re trying to get home, but you know the Path. You lived with them. We could use you. I mean, if you want your brother back one day, if you want to stop them from taking anybody else, you have to fight.” Nat had risen to her knees and was grasping the bars.

If I say no to her , I thought, I’m never getting out of here.

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Perfect! I’ll talk to my dad tomorrow morning. Once you’re out we’ll—”

There was a buzz and the door to our cell block swung open. Two silhouettes stood in the doorway. Keys jangled as they approached with loose-limbed staggering gaits. I could smell beer from ten feet away.

“What’s this?” I whispered through the bars.

Nat moved from the cot onto the floor. “The other reason I got myself thrown in jail.”

A flashlight snapped on, blinding me.

“Not much to him,” one of the men said. “Is there?”

“There’s enough, I guess,” said the other, earning himself a laugh.

“Hey, guys!” Nat yelled from her cell, startling the two. “It’s me! Nat!”

The flashlight beam slid from me to her. I grabbed the blanket off the cot and took the opportunity to slip into a dark corner.

“Nat,” one of them said, surprised and trying to steady his slur of a voice. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Karl brought me in for pissing Dad off.”

“Oh, well, we were just—”

“Save it, Limon,” Nat said. “You came here for a game of bounce the Pather off the wall. Right?”

“We—”

“Relax,” Nat said. “Dad was going to let me go in the morning anyway, so how about you guys give me a little early release and then you can stay and have your fun. Seriously, something I don’t see is something I don’t have to tell my dad about. And if I don’t tell him, he doesn’t tell Sheriff Jeffords.”

The officer with the light laughed. Limon leaned in close to the bars, drunkenly grinning, his pale moon face just inches from Nat’s.