Dusk began to settle on the marsh, but he knew they had a long way to go. His legs begged for rest and his shoulders ached with Grouda's weight. His dark skin was sallow and clung to the bone. Grime coated every inch of them both. Sea foam lingered in their hair. He waded through the knee-high water. He focused on the flashing lights in the distance to power through the sheer exhaustion. His bare foot snagged something soft and pliable. Grouda plopped into the salt water. The boy raised to his feet wearing slimy chards of seaweed. Grouda watched his brother catch his breath and lean on his own knee caps for support.
"Are you hurt?," Grouda signed to him.
"No, just tripped. Are you," He replied back.
"No," Grouda said.
Grouda drudged through the water and huddled next to his companion.
"I'm cold," The boy signed.
"I know," The man replied as he squatted on his haunches. Grouda ran his hands over where the amber and golden shadows use to light his brother's face and ears. Grouda imagined that he was wearing a broken mask over half of his face.
"How?- you don't glow now," Grouda signed.
"They burned me," Tsungage said, making the boy read his lips, "What happened?," he asked as he pointed to Grouda's mutilated ear.
Grouda swatted his Tsungage's hand away with an agitated huff; he looked into the water and gave no answer. Twilight turned the cloudless sky lavender.
I could go the rest of my life and never want to see anything purple every again, Grouda thought.
He looked away from the heavy reminder looming over their heads. Thickets of tangles tress climbed from the water. The air reeked of pluff mud and sun-dried fish. The air carried the must of oil and death. The land was flat as far as Grouda could see, but gnarled brush and twisted metal obscured the view. Every now and again he could make out limping figures in the distance moving inland.
"Tsungage," Grouda said to draw his brother's eyes.
What?"
"What did you trip over?," Grouda signed.
"I don't know," he lied.
He had a good hunch. Bodies drifted around then like grey logs, occasionally cropping up in their path. For a moment he was thankful that Grouda is deaf; the air carried a symphony of moans and hushed chatter.
I've gotta get you out of here before they bloat, Tsungage thought.
"Ready?," Grouda signed, "I can walk."
"No, give me a minute. I can't let you walk in this. It's filthy."
"Fly?"
Tsungage gently shook his head and pointed to the warped collar clinging to his own neck. Grouda meandered toward the thicket. A beached tin boat caught his attention. The bow of the ship sat on top of a grove. The stern was hidden in the water with the propeller sunk deep into the snaring reeds. Hundreds of tiny crabs crawled across the hull giving it a creeping appearance.
"Go see if there's dry land," Tsungage asked him, "It will sink with me- too heavy," he signed.
Grouda weaved through the snapping thicket and puled himself over the edge of the boat. He climbed up the deck with his bare feet slipping non the slimy floor. He pulled himself up using the rail to pole his head over the nose. The glimmer of the water stopped in the far horizon, ending among crushed reeds. The leaning trees bowed to the round buildings and lights in the distance. Tsungage watched Grouda scan the land with anticipation. The boy froze. He was mesmerized like a vulture circling soon to be carrion.
"Hey," Tsungage called, forgetting the obvious.
Tsungage rolled his eyes at himself before making his way to the tail end of the wreckage. He banged his fist on the side of the hull, hoping the vibration would grab Grouda's attention. Grouda's head turned over is shoulder. He pointed to the brush below and called out, "Boo-lah!"
The bot hoped over the front of the ship, disappearing. Tsungage tore through the brush, digging his way through piercing thorns and slivered metal. He ignored his protesting skin until Grouda's black hair came into sight. He seized the boy by his shoulders.
"Don't get out of my sight. I just got you back!," he shook his brother with each red-faced breath.
Grouda wrestled out of Tsungage's grip and pointed to the pale limbs dangling from the tree. He recognized the thin naked body and the matted navy curls. It was Bulla, the girls he knew, but knew nothing about her. Vile repulsion churned his gut A grimace creeped onto his cold face. His eyes traced her spine, looking for some sign of life. She was dead, still and breathless. He hated that once again he was staring at her bare back and read before the eyes of the Gods. Disdain made his skin crawl, eager to throw itself from his tainted body. In that moment, he hated himself, reliving the sights and sounds – the sensations.
"Tsungage!," Grouda got his attention, "Help me get her down," he signed.
"She's gone."
"How do you know that?"
"Look at her!"
"Check, please?," Grouda begged.
Tsungage climbed into the thicket with his mind already made up. He planned to tell him that she was dead regardless of reality.
No one can ever know, he thought, My life will be over if they every find out.
He pressed his cold fingers into her neck. Her thick hair veiled her face. A shiver went down his spine as her shallow breath tickled his forearm. Her thready pulse thumped against his fingers, faint and fast. He climbed back out of the tree, seeing that Grouda appeared puzzled yet more content.
"What about her body?," The body signed, "Her family will want it," he added.
"We don't even know who to look for. Let them come look for her," Tsungage replied.
Tsungage offered Grouda his hand. Tears streamed from the boy's red face. He sniffled and rubbed his face with the inside of his arm.
"She was my only friend inside," he signed before taking his brother's hand.
Tsungage pulled Grouda back onto his shoulders. Grouda's legs dangled down his chest. He latched onto the boy's ankles. He waw ready to continue his march through the water when a bird in the thicket caught his attention. It was a grey gull with black feathers decorating its head. It's beady blue eyes studied Bulla's vulnerable body. It fluttered closer to her until it was satisfied. It leaned over her pecking away at a soggy scab on the back of her calf. Blood dribbled form the agitated hole. He saw it; she flinched.
The realization suffocated him. He knew a choice had to be made. Leaving her there afforded him the ability to say that he didn't kill her, but he knew the result would be the same- death. Helping her would result in irrevocable consequences if his actions came to light. He weighed both chains of thought carefully.
No one's going to know, but I'll know. Isn't that enough? The elders would kill me- an eye for an eye… If they every found our. Maybe she won't say anything- no she definitely would. I deserve better. I would have never had- but I still did. I still did it. I'm a monster. Can I live with this? I deserve to die.
His conscious refused to let him budge.
"Guess, I'm throwing my lie away," he whispered as he turned around.
Tsungage lowered Grouda from his back and signed, "I saw her move- alive."
Grouda excitedly clamored to the ground while his brother picked her from the grove. Tsungage reached under her hips with one arm and across her chest with the other. He tried to pull her free, but she wouldn't come. Her blood stained his forearms as his brain completed the picture.
Oh, shit, she's impailed. She'll bleed out in this tree if we don't move quick, he concluded.
He broke the branch off and left it inside her abdomen. He clumsily climbed out of the thicket and joined Grouda with Bulla's naked body swaying on his shoulder.
Grouda pulled his shift off and draped tit over Bulla's bare hind end. Tsungage shifted her around in his arms. He figured it was better to save her life rather than her dignity. He woaded Grouda's shirt against her would. Blood seeped around the wound's edges, leaking sticky platelets onto his bare skin. Her eyes shot open and she flailed against his grip. Unintelligible screams split Tsungage's ears. Her fists walloped his neck and chest, but he refused to drop her. Grouda squeezed her balled up fist.
"Hey—It' alright," Tsungage hummed to her, "Let' us help you. We just want to help you."
Tsungage wasn't sure why she settled. Exhaustion set in again; all she could offer him was a thousand yard stare. Her tangible anger slipped away, losing its strong hold. Grouda looked into his brother's face. He signed, "We need to cover her up."
"No time- just don't look,
Tsungage replied.
Grouda carefully watched his lips and nervously rubbed his hands together. Grouda struggled against the water as he shuffled forward. Tsungage silently shook his head as he hurried to the boy. He hunkered down next to him.
"Come on, we have to hurry," he said.
"On?," Drewda signed.
"Yes, on!," he said nodding his head, "The sun is almost down."
Grouda wrapped his arms around Tsungage's neck and hoped onto his back, digging his feet into his brother's hips as they raised up.
Within minutes the light of day retreated completely. Tsungage bulldozed through the brush, at a brisk pace. His water shriveled fingertips turned dusky blue. His feet went numb in the luke warm water. It spurred him on, knowing hypothermia nipped at their heels. Grouda's joined fists dug into his adam's apple. His scrubby beard began to rub the boy's clammy knuckles raw. Tsungage's hip bones groaned from the boy's boney heels.
