Borderline

A Chapter by nventa

Iggy finds out just how much the war has changed the people closest to him.

They have spent nearly three weeks in the cave, and its craggy, rough allure of freedom is beginning to fade. Iggy sees this in the others and feels it in his bones, where the cold has seeped in and left him stiff and shivering. But he doesn’t know what to do. What’s their next step? They only knew that the Runners lived on the outside of the city, but not where. It would be ironic if they died out here, in the midst of their pursued freedom - hungry and tired and frustrated. The food supply is depleting rapidly; they hadn’t thought that finding the Runners would take so long.

He’s curled up at the entrance of the cave, knees drawn to his chest, waiting. Peter will be back soon from gathering wood, though Iggy questions whether he will find enough dry branches to make a substantial fire; the last couple of days have seen nothing but downpours of rain. On the other side of the cave Lenny is lying in the fetal position, hands tucked between her thighs. The hood of her jacket is pulled low over her eyes, but the back and forth of her grinding jaws is visible. Iggy drops his eyes. Freedom isn’t so liberating for someone with an addiction- the only place Lenny would be able to get her fix is within the confines of the city. She’d joined them with only 17 Viahla tablets, the remaining six of which Iggy had taken three days prior. They needed her coherent and alert, not wandering along in a dazed stupor. He figures this is the longest she has ever gone without a fix, and it’s pitiful watching her shake and shiver from something even worse than the cold.

The sun is beginning to drop below the tree line, causing the light pouring in through the mouth of the cave to slowly recede. Iggy begins to worry- where’s Peter? He’s begun to realize, over the course of the past few weeks, how unnerving it is to lack modern forms of communication. It’s frustrating to realize how at a loss he feels, just dangling on tenterhooks without any hope of forewarning, and jumping at every small, innocuous sound. What if Peter is gone? Trapped and dragged back to the city? Then again, he had blown up the energy plant; the Chasers may well have executed him on the spot. Iggy hugs his knees closer, breathing warm air down the divide, his eyes barely peeking over his kneecaps as he watches Lenny sleep.

As though sensing his gaze, she whispers his name, the sound- weedy and pale- scarcely reaches him. He doesn’t answer, knowing what she’s going to ask. “Iggy?” she repeats. Her voice is raspy, like sand paper on cardboard; she hasn’t been drinking or eating, hoping that she will guilt him into giving in. “Iggy…I …I can’t …do this…”

“Yes, you can.” Iggy says quietly. Because the girl he’d known growing up could do anything.

“Please…just…one,” she implores.

He hates her voice, coming from that dark place beneath her hood. Hates her more than he’s ever hated anyone in his life. She makes him feel weak and cruel and aimless. Demands that he always ask his conscience, what should I do?

He ignores her.

The pills burn in his pocket, digging insistently into his hip where his leg is bent towards his chest. He’s never had one; leftover paranoia from the old days, when students were drilled on the negative effects of drugs, makes him fearful. Looking at Lenny assures him that he has made the right choice.

“Iggy.” There’s an edge to her tone. Her clothing rustles and scrapes as she struggles to her knees, and a shaking hand pushes back the hood of her jacket. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” Lenny murmurs, gazing at him through heavy-lidded, bloodshot eyes. Her lips are severely chapped; a thin, dark line near the middle of the lower lip threatens to split apart and bead with blood. She crawls towards him, and Iggy shrinks back against the wall, frantically looking out to the darkening woods. Peter.

Iggy doesn’t want to think about how far Lenny has fallen, doesn’t want to be reminded that she traded in running shoes for a pole, and reality for Viahla. “Lenny, no.” He tries to sound firm, but the look in her eyes makes him a little nervous, and his voice shakes. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, to us. We need you aware out here- it’s not like…home.” His voice catches on the word, because it’s hardly what he would call his little apartment in District 3, block C.

She’s close enough now that he can smell her: stale spices, sweat, and sourness on her breath. Above her upper lip is moist and her thick, dark hair hangs lank on either side of her thin face. “I…need…it, Iggy,” she whimpers. He’s reminded then of a poem he read once, wherein the world ends “not with a bang, but a whimper”, and wonders if she’ll be the final catalyst in his life. If he doesn’t feed her habit, will she die? He doesn’t believe that he could continue living knowing that he has his best-friend’s blood on his hands. However, if he relinquishes the baggy and she overdoses- like she nearly did a year ago- wouldn’t her death still be his responsibility?

Though he thinks he feels more secure with the tablets in his possession where they can be monitored, rather than in her grasping, desperate hands. At least if it does seem that she’s on the verge of dying he’ll be able to give them to her, rather than finding her dead body on the cave floor, with no method of pumping her stomach available.

“I can’t, Lenny. I just can’t,” Iggy whispers, “It’s for your own good.” He feels like a hypocrite, because he’s merely guessing, and has the sense that he holds her life in his hands.

Her expression hardens. He scarcely has time to react before she’s on him, fingers hooked and dangerous, pelvis pressing against his knees. Sharp fingernails pierce his scalp and tangle in his hair, wrenching his head back and forth. Lenny slams his head into the wall, screaming and cursing, her voice echoing and reverberating in the cave. She is bizarrely strong, her grip unbreakable and fierce as she repeatedly beats his head against the wall. Iggy can feel his heart pounding in his head and the prickles of pain where Lenny is tearing out his hair. He is more terrified than he has ever been in his life; her face is twisted and her eyes wild . He squeezes her wrists, trying to wedge his thumbs between the tendons, but her arms are sweaty, his grip slips. Black spots swim in his vision, blinking in and out of focus.

“Give…them…to…me!” she screeches. Suddenly her nails are digging into his cheeks and nose, clawing viciously, desperately. Iggy shuts his eyes tight, fearing that she means to gouge them out. Blood trickles down the back of his neck, warm and rhythmic with his racing heart. He’s blindly trying to fend her off by crossing his arms in front of his face when blood bursts into his mouth and he’s abruptly aware that his nose is no longer centered.

Iggy doesn’t think. He blindly lashes out, and the back of his right hand snaps Lenny’s head to the side and catches the corner of her right eye. He hears a dull thud and blows cease to rain down on him. After a moment, Iggy open his eyes and cups a hand around his bloody nose. The cave is mercifully silent and still. Lenny is sprawled on the ground, obviously unconscious, a thin line of red running down the side of her face from the corner of her eye.

She’s frightening in her stillness.