Releasing their wills, I nudged my way through my stunned classmates.  As I moved, I heard things like, “I can’t believe she was so mean,” and, “I would have slapped her face instead of walking out.”

Penny’s smug expression faltered as she noticed the change in everyone.  Her mouth popped open as she stared at me.  I walked up to Penny while holding the faculty back with simple wait and see thoughts.  I stopped just in front of her.

“Whoever you had filming did a wonderful job,” I said.  “If you’re this good over a no name nothing like me, I can only imagine how good you’ll be when you’re reporting on something real.  Good luck.”

The sudden silence penetrated my dream.  I emerged with my heart racing wondering why we’d stopped.  I lifted my cheek from the warm spot on Luke’s back and, in the gloom around us, took in the shape of an old barn on a slight hill in the distance.

“Why did we stop?” I asked when he loosened the strap.

“I’d rather approach the Compound in daylight,” he said quietly.

My determination to push through bowed to his practical reasoning.  I didn’t really want to face a horde in the dark either.  I didn’t have their enhanced eyesight.

“How is the cut?”

I pulled the strap from over his head and climbed off the back.  My legs ached from sitting so long, but I didn’t try stretching them out.  The back of his shirt was stained with my blood, but it looked dark and dry.  I shrugged in response to his question and asked, “Why here?”

He walked over to me, unzipped the jacket, and once again gently tugged at the hem of my shirt.  Only this time, it didn’t lift.  The blood had dried to the skin.  He frowned as he answered, “They are too used to looking at hotels.  I thought this would be safer.”

”This” meant sleeping in the barn.  He continued to look worriedly at my stomach as if he could see through the fabric.  “Some real sleep sounds good,” I murmured, trying to reassure him.

He sighed and gently touched my cheek.  “You’ll tell me if it starts hurting,” he ordered softly.

I snorted.  “It hasn’t stopped hurting.”

He smiled at me and dropped his hand.  “I imagine not,” he commented as he shifted the bike into neutral and began pushing it toward the building.  I zipped back up and slowly followed.  Patches of snow coated the ground between tufts of long grass.  Shivers trembled through me.

The barn leaned heavily to one side. Many of its old boards had rotted at the base.  Still, Luke pushed the bike into the gapping door.  Any hint of the dusk’s fading light disappeared after two steps.  Disturbing the layer of dust covering the floor with my steps caused the smell of old, musty hay to fill my nose, and I sneezed once.  It killed my stomach.

“I’ll look around,” he said a moment before he disappeared into the dark.  I looked back at the door, just barely outlined now, and stayed where I stood.

“It’s empty and untouched.  We’ll stay here for a few hours.”

He took me by the hand and led me further into the black.  He flicked on a tiny LED flashlight attached to the bike keys and pointed to an empty stall partitioned by a half wall.  I blushed as I understood and quickly grabbed the flashlight and shooed him away.  I’d lived many lifetimes without the convenience of a toilet, but that was in the past.  I liked flushing and washing.

After I finished, I moved into the hay-filled isle, clicked off the flashlight, and shuffled toward the front of the building.

“Here,” Luke murmured after I’d walked half the length.  I paused and felt a tug on the bag.  He led me off to the side and gently nudged me down onto some old hay.

“If I wake up to bugs crawling on me, I will not be happy,” I whispered waiting for him to settle next to me.

When he lay still, I used my hands to find him.  He lay on his back and I pressed close to his side. His warmth became a halo around me.

“I promise, I will keep them off of you,” his low voice rumbled under my ear as I settled my cheek on his chest.  Too bad he kept his shirt on.  Skin to skin, I tended not to dream at all.  I flattened my hand on his shirt and let my fingers thaw.

“I’m glad you’re warm,” I mumbled, my eyes already closing.  At least I wasn’t freezing.  My stomach hurt, my legs ached from all the kicking and moving I’d done during the fight, and my arms just felt like they would fall off.  Dreaming might not be the worst.

“Though she’s a pleasure to be around, we’ve noticed she’s very aggressive with others.  I wanted to suggest an outlet for her energy.”  The daycare administrator handed my father a slip of paper.  We sat in her office, just the three of us.  My legs dangled from the chair, and I idly swung them back and forth.  Moving helped.  I didn’t feel so mad then.  I arched my neck to look at the paper.  It had a picture of a man kicking and some words.  I didn’t care about the words, though.  I liked the picture.  I liked kicking.

The dream shifted.

The other kids congregated around the playground equipment, laughing and chasing each other.  I stood back, watching them play with a smile, but not joining.  Whenever I tried, they stopped playing to lie around.  Sometimes a few of them even took naps.  Meanwhile, something inside me grew, tightening my skin to the point of discomfort, to the point I grew angry.  So I stood on the outskirts, never really joining, and they let me be though they threw an occasional friendly wave my way.  Everybody liked me.  They couldn’t help it.  I made them feel good.

A new boy walked over to one of my classmates and took the ball from her hands.  Her lips quivered, but she didn’t cry.  Instead she walked away.  I felt indignant for her and watched the boy stalk away from the group to play sullenly with the ball.  I frowned at him.

With most of my classmates further away, I approached him knowing my skin wouldn’t tighten too much.

“Why did you do that?” I demanded.

He looked up at me with narrowed eyes.  Anger, hurt, and uncertainty flooded me.

“Why are you so mad?” I asked.  Usually the people around me were happy. But even happiness, when I soaked up too much, made me feel tight inside.

His eyes opened a little wider before they narrowed again.  He balled his fist and swung at me.

I blocked just as my instructor had taught me.  The boy dropped the ball to try another swing.  I blocked again.  He gave a growl of frustration and started swinging wildly.  I continued to block the blows, flowing into the different stances and moves, enjoying the movement.  The emotions poured off him, and I unwillingly soaked them up, but what we did helped burn them out of me.  Soon I could see him tiring and took two quick steps back.  I didn’t want to drain him.  I liked that he didn’t lie down like the other kids did.  He was different, and playing with him helped me.  I felt deflated in a good way.  I bowed to him as I’d been taught.

I smiled at his shocked expression.  “Do you want me to show you how to block next recess?”

He nodded his mop of sandy blonde hair.  I felt the tears hiding behind his grey eyes and reached for his hand, willing to help him again.  I took his hurt away as the teacher walked over to us to scold us for fighting.

“We weren’t fighting,” I explained.  “We’re training.  He’s my partner now.”  I wouldn’t need to stand alone anymore.

The teacher shook her head indulgently and shooed us inside.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked.

“Isabelle.  What’s yours?”

“Ethan.”

*    *    *    *

“We’re less than an hour away,” Luke called over his shoulder.  The move twisted the healing bite on his neck.  I hated seeing it, probably as much as he hated the cut on my stomach.  His injury, at least, healed faster.