Free Fugitive X by Gregg Rosenblum

any fight left in you.”
    Nick fought to control the almost overwhelming jumble of emotions he felt—anger, despair, frustration. Erica watched him intently, looking more impatient than sympathetic. Finally Nick nodded and picked up his pack. It was a plan. Not much of one, but at least it was something. “Lead on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go kill some bots.”
    They continued southwest the rest of the day, then made camp when it began to grow dark. Erica cooked a squirrel that she had shot, expertly skinning and cleaning it with her hunting knife and then skewering it with a long stick.
    They ate in silence. When they were done, Nick smothered the small fire with dirt. It was dusk, and the air had grown a bit chilly. He laid out his bedroll and sat down. Erica set herbedroll down next to his, then walked over to a nearby tree and sat with her back against it. “I’ll take the first watch,” she said. “Get some sleep.”
    “Not tired yet,” Nick said.
    Erica shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
    The sky grew dark. Nick watched Erica. In the moonlight, she became a vague shape against the tree, her legs tucked under her. She unsheathed her hunting knife and began whittling a stick. The moonlight glinted off the blade.
She is dangerous, this pretty girl
, Nick thought. Better in the woods than him, by far. And with her knife and pistol, probably better than him in a fight, he had to admit. Was he being stupid, teaming up with this stranger? Still, she had saved his life, getting him out of the Freepost that morning . . . and without her, he’d never find the rebels.
    “Erica,” he said, “why are you helping me?”
    Erica stopped whittling and turned to look at him. In the gloom he mostly just saw the whites of her eyes and her teeth. “Why not?” she said. “You seem harmless enough.”
    Nick was irritated by that. He had killed bots. He had broken out of the re-education center. Back in the City, he was wanted for “violent rebellion.”
    “I’m not as harmless as you think,” Nick said.
    “Good,” said Erica. She went back to whittling her stick.
    “They attacked my Freepost the same way they attacked the one this morning,” Nick said. “Burned it down. Killedmost of us and took some of us hostage, and only a few of us got away.” He paused. “Is that what happened to you?”
    “More or less,” Erica said, continuing to chop on the stick. Nick waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t say anything more.
    “And your family? You said they were killed? Captured?”
    She set her stick down. “More or less,” she repeated, with an edge to her voice that kept him from asking anything else.
    Nick slept for a few hours, then was woken by a nudge on the shoulder from Erica. He opened his eyes. She was squatting, her face near his. In the faint light, she looked younger, delicate even. She had a long, straight nose and a heart-shaped face with the fullest lips. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them, then felt guilty for thinking it. He should be thinking about kissing Lexi, not Erica.
    Erica held her pistol out toward Nick, muzzle pointed sideways. Nick sat up, suddenly wide awake. “You know how to use this?” she asked.
    “More or less,” Nick said.
    Erica smiled, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Right. Ha-ha.” She pointed at a small switch near the trigger. “Safety switch,” she said. “Forward to fire. Back, to keep yourself from accidentally shooting your own foot.”
    “Got it,” he said. He held his hand out. Erica hesitated. He realized that this must be strange for her too, putting her trust in a stranger. “It’s fine,” he said, gently. “I’ll keep a goodwatch. Sleep.” Erica nodded and handed him the pistol. She lay down on her bedroll. Nick felt strangely proud, like he had passed some sort of test. Still, her trust in his guard only went so far—before pulling her cover up to her chin, Nick noticed that Erica was holding her hunting knife, in its