Escape by Varian Krylov Read Free Book Online Page B

his lips, just before the warm press of Josip's mouth. Mischievous green eyes. Playful grin. Even as he leaned in and started the kiss, Josip had been smiling. Maybe Luka could wrap himself up in that memory, forget Josip's cowardice and betrayal, and die happy.
    When he woke, it was pitch dark again. Maybe sleeping so much meant he was already fading away. He wanted to fall asleep again, because the dreams about being thirsty and hungry weren't as bad as being awake and feeling it and knowing it was going to get worse and worse and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
    When he heard the sound, it was too dark to see. One horse. The clip-clop, clip-clop of a steady, leisurely gait.
    Luka laughed at the idea the rider might have already passed by, and was gradually disappearing into a future in which Luka would no longer exist. The funniest thing about it was how slowly the horse was carrying its rider away, because at that rate, there'd been a good ten minutes when he could have called out, but he'd slept through his chance at freedom or at least a quick death, depending on the rider's temperament.
    And then he laughed again because the horse was getting closer, not farther. Maybe whoever was on the horse would be kind, and quickly put a bullet in his head. Except the horse was just a dream. He was sleeping, and dreaming there was a horse clopping slowly away, then toward him, or maybe moving around him in a wide circle, like an enormous merry-go-round with only one horse and no children in the middle of nowhere, and he was in the center, invisible, maybe behind the column of mirrors that hid the machinery.
    Such a good dream. The old man dismounting, wrinkled eyes squinting against the rising sun. Stubby fingers, liver spots. Water. Warm. Delicious. That's how he knew it was a dream, because every time he slept he dreamed he'd found something to drink, and he swallowed and swallowed, and still felt thirsty.
    “I can't take you with me. You're a death sentence, and you're just one person. I've got five of my own. Can't risk their safety.” The old man pointed with the wide blade of a knife toward the ash-colored towers of stone in the distance. “There are caves. Gotta watch out for sink holes, but you can sometimes find water. Runs underground, under this whole plain. You might be safe there, if you need to rest a day or two.” The old man mounted his horse and rode off, the slow clip-clop, clip-clop of hoof beats mysteriously comforting.
    His wrists were free, and there was a sack of food and a jug of water by his feet. And he was awake. Luka drank most of the water, ate two apples and half a loaf of bread, and headed toward the caves.
    Eating had awakened his hunger, and as he trudged along the stony crust, wishing there were more trees or at least shrubs so he could try to hide if he heard vehicles approaching, all he could think about was the rest of the food, and whether to ration it, or it eat now because if someone came along they might take it all from him. Or he could have a bite of cheese, and one of the eggs. He had no idea where he was, or how far from anywhere he might find more food. If he found a village, would it be full of Eršban soldiers?
    It was hard to judge the distance. After two hours, Luka hoped he was at least half way to the caves. He sat down, drank some water, and peered into the bag of food, stomach growling. He saved the bread and cheese, but ate two hard-boiled eggs, then forced himself to his feet and started walking again.
    By the time he got to the caves, there was only a little daylight left. He hurried to climb up and find one shallow enough he could be sure there was no one and nothing else hiding in some hidden depth, and settled himself in one that wasn't much more than a superficial hollow in the face of the wall of rock. At least there he was off the open plain and out of sight, though it was easy to stand up and see for kilometers from the elevated vantage point. If he