About an hour later, Kosos tossed his bag down against the trunk of a maple. “We'll rest for thirty.”
Before he realized Kosos was undoing his fly, he had his cock out and a massive gush of urine splashed into the weeds. Luka turned his back and fished the jug of water out of his bag. If he drank enough, maybe the hunger pangs would go away. Would he ever need to pee again? Or would his body keep absorbing every drop he drank?
“Here.” The soldier held out a good-sized chunk of cured beef. “Take it. I'm not carrying you if you faint from hunger.”
Luka took the meat. “Thank you.”
It was tough and hard to chew and maybe the most delicious thing Luka had ever tasted. He forced himself to eat slowly, taking small bites and chewing a long time, sucking the flavor from the meat, imagining each swallow of savory saliva was a real bite of food, tripling the size of the meal in his imagination, hoping it would trick his stomach.
The soldier wolfed his down in four or five bites, barely seeming to chew, jaw hidden under his thick, dark beard, then laid back, crossed his arms over his broad chest and closed his eyes. Less than a minute later, he snored. The handle of the knife in a sleeve on his belt jutted out from his hip. It looked easy to grab. All Luka had to do was unsnap the narrow leather strap, and gently pull it free.
Then what? Kill him in his sleep? Run away? And if the soldier woke up?
Better to just run. Now. Maybe Kosos would sleep another hour or two, and by the time he woke up, Luka would be five or ten kilometers away. Maybe if he veered off ninety degrees from the direction they'd been going, he'd be too much trouble to hunt down, and Kosos would just resume his bearings and forget him.
“You've been so docile.”
Luka startled, and shifted his gaze from the hilt of the knife, to the bearded menace's hazel eyes, locked on his.
“Don't start being a pain in the ass now.”
“I'm just going to go pee.”
“Then you can leave the bag.”
“I thought maybe I'd see a stream and we could refill the jugs.”
“No streams around here. Water's all under this lid of limestone. If you can pick up the pace, we'll have water before it gets dark.”
Dejected, Luka set his bag down and walked off.
“That's far enough. Stay where I can see you.”
“I need to take a shit.”
“Congratulations. That's still far enough.”
Luka hovered near a jutting monolith of stone, trapped between his terror of aggravating the soldier, and dread of being watched. He made a show of undoing his pants, then squatted down so Kosos could still see him, but his privates were screened from sight. Waiting a minute to sustain his pretense of relieving himself, he did himself up and went back and followed the soldier into the woods, wondering if Kosos knew something about that area he didn't. Maybe there was a platoon from the Bokan army stationed nearby. Or even the Eršban army. The idea made his stomach roll. Would they just shoot him on sight? Or would they take him prisoner and question him? Torture him? Maybe that was why Kosos hadn't let him go—he was taking him to his superiors.
But what was Kosos doing roaming around by himself? Had he deserted? Or gotten separated by accident, like Luka had pretended to be? Maybe there'd been a battle. Or he'd been on a mission, and a landmine had blown up his vehicle and the other soldiers.
It was still light when they came within hearing, and then within sight of water. Luka had never seen anything like it. Ahead, the terrain of natural cobblestones like hardened blobs of gray dough gradually melded and merged into an even sheet, its more lenient irregularities the result of fine layers chipping away like bark. As they got closer to the water—an impossibly rich viridian—the even terrain dropped away in a succession of sharp but shallow drops. A wide, craggy set of steps, as if nature had built an enormous public bath. From the sound, Luka had expected a river, but
Before he realized Kosos was undoing his fly, he had his cock out and a massive gush of urine splashed into the weeds. Luka turned his back and fished the jug of water out of his bag. If he drank enough, maybe the hunger pangs would go away. Would he ever need to pee again? Or would his body keep absorbing every drop he drank?
“Here.” The soldier held out a good-sized chunk of cured beef. “Take it. I'm not carrying you if you faint from hunger.”
Luka took the meat. “Thank you.”
It was tough and hard to chew and maybe the most delicious thing Luka had ever tasted. He forced himself to eat slowly, taking small bites and chewing a long time, sucking the flavor from the meat, imagining each swallow of savory saliva was a real bite of food, tripling the size of the meal in his imagination, hoping it would trick his stomach.
The soldier wolfed his down in four or five bites, barely seeming to chew, jaw hidden under his thick, dark beard, then laid back, crossed his arms over his broad chest and closed his eyes. Less than a minute later, he snored. The handle of the knife in a sleeve on his belt jutted out from his hip. It looked easy to grab. All Luka had to do was unsnap the narrow leather strap, and gently pull it free.
Then what? Kill him in his sleep? Run away? And if the soldier woke up?
Better to just run. Now. Maybe Kosos would sleep another hour or two, and by the time he woke up, Luka would be five or ten kilometers away. Maybe if he veered off ninety degrees from the direction they'd been going, he'd be too much trouble to hunt down, and Kosos would just resume his bearings and forget him.
“You've been so docile.”
Luka startled, and shifted his gaze from the hilt of the knife, to the bearded menace's hazel eyes, locked on his.
“Don't start being a pain in the ass now.”
“I'm just going to go pee.”
“Then you can leave the bag.”
“I thought maybe I'd see a stream and we could refill the jugs.”
“No streams around here. Water's all under this lid of limestone. If you can pick up the pace, we'll have water before it gets dark.”
Dejected, Luka set his bag down and walked off.
“That's far enough. Stay where I can see you.”
“I need to take a shit.”
“Congratulations. That's still far enough.”
Luka hovered near a jutting monolith of stone, trapped between his terror of aggravating the soldier, and dread of being watched. He made a show of undoing his pants, then squatted down so Kosos could still see him, but his privates were screened from sight. Waiting a minute to sustain his pretense of relieving himself, he did himself up and went back and followed the soldier into the woods, wondering if Kosos knew something about that area he didn't. Maybe there was a platoon from the Bokan army stationed nearby. Or even the Eršban army. The idea made his stomach roll. Would they just shoot him on sight? Or would they take him prisoner and question him? Torture him? Maybe that was why Kosos hadn't let him go—he was taking him to his superiors.
But what was Kosos doing roaming around by himself? Had he deserted? Or gotten separated by accident, like Luka had pretended to be? Maybe there'd been a battle. Or he'd been on a mission, and a landmine had blown up his vehicle and the other soldiers.
It was still light when they came within hearing, and then within sight of water. Luka had never seen anything like it. Ahead, the terrain of natural cobblestones like hardened blobs of gray dough gradually melded and merged into an even sheet, its more lenient irregularities the result of fine layers chipping away like bark. As they got closer to the water—an impossibly rich viridian—the even terrain dropped away in a succession of sharp but shallow drops. A wide, craggy set of steps, as if nature had built an enormous public bath. From the sound, Luka had expected a river, but
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