Chapter 20: Midnight, Sweat, and the Wind
Darcie wasn't an especially conversationalist passenger, one of the 'don't speak unless spoken to' kind. She said only two words in the entire three hours it took them to reach Norman Wells, and it was only at a junction in the outskirts of Tulita telling him to "Turn left". All the questions he asked were either answered by a nod, a shake of the head, or silence and he couldn't help but notice how badly their run-in with her hunters had frightened her.
Upon reaching their destination they traded in the Tulitan truck for one from another rental company, which again Darcie silently paid for in hundred dollar bills. Neither were very tired or wanted to pay for accommodations in town, so after grabbing some food they continued on north into the night. The road was rough, especially that early in the year, but Clark navigated the terrain just fine, though a lot slower than if they'd been on a highway.
"Are you hungry?" he asked after a while, a pre-made tuna-and-mayo sandwich clasped in his left hand as he drove and she shook her head.
"Tired?" Clark tried again, earning a shrug and he sighed. "Okay, just let me know if you need anything."
She nodded compliantly and looked out the window at the dark forest, hiding her face so he couldn't see how scared she was, the primal fear that prevented her from relaxing. She'd been scared ever since she was able to comprehend the feeling and had learning to cover it up with emotionless obedience, yet now this farm boy with his shock of unruly hair and handsome grin in the seat beside her was beginning to break down the walls she had built. She had known him for almost a week by now, and he had so far revealed no sociopathic killer or rapist tendencies, only a sweet and friendly demeanor. The worst thing about him was how annoyingly innocent the man was, never trying to touch her or drop any hints, unlike every other male she had met. Clark was calm and kind and soothing and everything opposite the voices in her head that kept her up at night. She did not know if she loved or hated him for it.
Her first choice would have been to get rid of him, either with a knife or by simply parting ways, but she couldn't bring herself to do either. Even if she'd wanted to, Darcie doubted a knife would even be able to scratch him and if she dropped him off somewhere it would only be a matter of hours before Lex's forces found him and… They had to stay together, for his sake. And maybe a little for hers. Even so, if Lex was hunting her as intently as she believed, her protection wouldn't be enough to save him.
"You cannot have an emotional connection, you bloody idiot," she muttered under her breath.
"Sorry, didn't catch that."
She realized he'd heard her talking to herself and shook her head to dismiss the mistake. "It's nothing."
That seemed to satisfy him and Clark turned his attention back to driving, but Darcie couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. If it came to a fight, and it would eventually, despite his size and strength Clark wouldn't last two minutes in a proper battle. And only she could do something about that.
"What time is it?" she asked and he glanced at the dashboard clock. "Nearly eleven."
"Can we pull over for a little bit?"
He nodded and a minute later pulled onto a dirt shoulder.
"Do you want some napkins or something?" he questioned as she jumped out and Darcie shot him a look.
"I am not going to the bathroom if that is what you mean. Please get out of the vehicle."
Wondering what she was up to, he obeyed, pulling on a coat against the cold as he shut the door behind him, but she frowned. "Take the coat off. It's restrictive."
She herself was already shedding a sweater and long sleeve shirt until she stood there in just a tank top and jeans, waiting for him to follow suit. Reluctantly, he did and she gave him a small nod of approval. "Head down."
Darcie ducked her head in an example, indicating that he should copy her position. "Arms in."
Putting her fists beside her cheeks, she pulled her elbows against her chest. "And knees apart-"
"Why?"
Clark looked thoroughly confused and crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me what's going on and then I'll consider doing, well, whatever it is your doing, but I need some answers first."
"I am teaching you kickboxing," she explained.
"Yeah, but why?"
"Because it is a good martial art to start with and it has powerful base moves."
"No," Clark pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "I meant why would you want to teach me how to fight?"
That caused her to pause and she stood upright, taking in the question.
"You saw the men at the airport today." she said after a moment, "They were looking from me. We are so far from anywhere, Clark, and he still nearly caught me. He… he has powerful connections, powerful enough to hurt even you."
"What kind of connections?" he asked skeptically and she held her arm out in the beam of the truck's bright headlights. The scars he had glimpsed a few nights ago were much more numerous than he had imagined, deep gashes freshly healed over with a thin lines of flushed skin. They were barely noticeable in the daylight, but now that she'd drawn his attention to them he could see they were everywhere, reaching up even past her throat to scar her face.
"The kind that make you wish they had killed you when they caught you," she answered, her voice wavering slightly as she traced a line of silvery skin over her wrist. "If… if they do catch me, I want you to run. Run as far as you can, as fast as you can, and forget you ever knew me. It is best that way."
Her words hung in the cold air like a dragon's cloud of steam before dissipating into the night and he realized just how hard it would be to do as she asked. Something about the way she held herself even on the verge of collapse, the small, reluctant smile when he'd chide her for not letting him pay, her watchful protectiveness of him wherever they went. Clark had barely known her for five days, yet was already attached to her in a way he was reluctant to admit.
"I don't want to forget you," he said softly and she looked up at him in wondering surprise. "Clark, I… I do not..."
"I can learn to fight," he urged, "You can teach me and we'll keep running for as long as we need to. I swear, I won't ever let them find-"
"I do not want to forget you either."
The world seemed to stop as soon as she said the words and he found himself unexpectedly holding his breath, scared of what she might say next and excited by the idea that she felt the same way. Darcie licked her lips nervously before she could continue.
"I do not want to forget you either." she repeated softly, "So at least for my sake, let me teach you how to defend yourself. Properly."
He nodded. "Okay."
"Head down," she ordered.
"Head down," he repeated.
"Arms in."
"Arms in."
"Knees apart."
"Can I ask why?" he questioned, reluctantly spreading his legs in a crouch and she snorted. "Because it will help you duck faster, which would be highly beneficial if I were to do something like this."
Before he could even blink she had launched herself towards him, feinting a double punch to his throat and a roundhouse kick to his head, her boot hovering a few inches away from his face and a triumphant look on hers.
"Now if I had made contact, you would have at least a mild concussion and unable to breathe for the next twenty seconds or so, which gives me plenty of time to finish you off. To prevent that, you need to learn defense and offense. Let's try again, but this time I want you to duck."
She made him do it over and over again, giving him a light tap instead of a solid blow to let him know he hadn't ducked far enough or moved fast enough. Only after twenty-three retries was she finally satisfied and taught him how to lunge out of the way. Defense was simple enough, it was just about always having an eye on your opponent and keeping your balance so you could dodge their blows before they hit you, which considering his build and who he was fighting wasn't as easy as it seemed.
"Too slow." she rebuked, tapping him yet again on his right shoulder, "Faster. Duck like your life depends on it, use the rush to your advantage. No, you are still too slow."
After nearly an hour of defense, he was ready to roll over from exhaustion, but surprisingly Darcie hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Offense?" he begged, hoping it'd be easier than ducking and dodging. She sighed and crouched down in a fighting position.
"There are five basic maneuvers that involve your arms: the Punch, the Hook, the Uppercut, the Elbow Hit, and the Knee Bash," she explained, acting out each one. "When punching, keep your thumb on the outside of your fist and remember that you're hitting the opponent with your knuckles, so don't roll your wrist. Keep it strong, yet flexible."
It was hard to keep up with the pace she set for him, showing him a short routine and having him repeat it until he was gasping for breath. At first, he didn't see the purpose in repeating the sharp movements over and over again, but then he saw himself gradually punching faster and more accurately. When Darcie finally decided he was at least somewhat fast enough she taught him the kicks. They were much harder, involving a lot more balance than he'd expected and even after going over them with her for another hour he could barely kick someone in the hip while Darcie with her diminutive stature was kicking roundhouses above his head.
"Okay, let's put your skills to the test," she said finally and crouched into position, but Clark was reluctant.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, noting his hesitance and he blushed. "I can't hit a lady."
She shook her head, tittering softly. "Tt, honestly, Clark, your politeness is appreciated, but you will never get close to landing a punch on me."
It was probably true, though he was still a bit unsure, but he eventually caved.
Darcie was fast, much faster than him, not to mention that she knew exactly what she was doing. He knew she was going easy on him, but it was still satisfying to feel the rush of air that passed over his head when he ducked one of her kicks or tapped her knee. Clark could never get a hit in above her waist no matter how hard he tried and he became frustrated with how easily she could sidestep his attacks, constantly urging him on. "Faster. Harder. You should kick more, do not let your heels touch the ground. Go for the throat."
Clearly his efforts were nowhere near to being even remotely challenging to her and she was quickly getting bored, but she let him continue the fight until he was thoroughly tired before ending it by grabbing his head and gently tapping it to her knee in a maneuver that usually would have shattered his nose.
"Defeated." she declared before releasing him, stone-faced over the victory. He stood up straight to rub his sore shoulder, watching as she walked back to the truck to rummage through her bag, returning a few moments later with a roll of paper towel, some liquid body wash, and two water bottles. She proceeded to pull herself off a handful of towels, wetting and soaping them before proceeding to wipe herself down, indicating that he do the same. Clark obeyed and found the makeshift 'bath' was surprisingly cleansing without having to even undress fully, leaving him free of any sweat or dirt he'd acquired during the training session.
"So do you fight like that often?" he asked, trying to start a conversation, but she just shrugged in response. "Yes, I fought two days a week with an opponent, then performed five days of drills. It was hard work, but I… I enjoyed it."
He suddenly realized how exhausted he was, wanting nothing more than to hit the hay and quickly finished his 'bath' so he could get back into the warm vehicle. Darcie must have noticed his fatigue and didn't mention moving on that night, simply grabbing her bag and disappearing behind a nearby tree.
After a bit of experimentation, Clark discovered the back seat slid down to create a sort of flat surface that could be used for a bed just big enough for two if they- He blushed at the thought, ashamed of himself for even thinking of sharing a bed with her and resigned himself to sleeping in the front seat instead. Darcie returned a few moments later, having changed from her jeans into a pair of baggy sweatpants and put her hair up in a loose bun, her duffel slung over her shoulder as she jumped up into the flatbed and promptly unrolled a blanket when she saw him watching.
"Can I help you?" she asked and he quickly shook his head. "No, no, it's just… well, are you sure you won't get hypothermia sleeping outside in this weather?"
"I will not be sleeping, I will be keeping watch," she answered, pulling a sweatshirt on over her head. It made sense that she would be outside watching for any possible danger, giving her more room to react to the threat, but he still felt guilty about leaving the weaker sex out in the cold. Scratch that, Darcie was straight-up badass, but he was a Midwestern farm boy with good manners and it was with little remorse that he hopped up beside her. She watched silently as he rolled his blanket out beside hers and they laid down in the narrow truck bed. Stifling a yawn, Clark rolling over onto his stomach while Darcie stayed on her back, looking up at the clouded night sky. Somewhere an owl was hooting softly as a breeze stirred the evergreens that grew beside the winter road and a shiver ran down his spine, reminding him how cold Canadian fall was. His companion didn't seem to mind one bit, but she realized his discomfort and spoke up. "You can sleep inside if it makes you any more comfortable."
Clark shook his head, shifting his position on the hard surface. "I'm fine."
He heard her moving around behind him before a blanket was tucked over his form and she pressed herself to his back, offering to share her body heat with him. When he sat up to protest, she gently pulled him back down, saying, "Go to sleep, Clark. I will be right here when you wake up."
Knowing better than to disagree with her, he obeyed, drifting into oblivion, listening to her breathe.