I'm so tired. More tired than I think I've ever been, even when I worked on the plantation. But my body doesn't ache so much as the inside of my chest and head does. Every time I close my eyes I see the John's terrified face staring at me from beyond my eyelids. Terrified of me. I've feared others before, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone afraid of me.

Zeke hasn't asked me what happened back there. I thought he would be upset, but he hasn't brought it up. I shouldn't care what he thinks of me, but I'm sure he feels I'm the animal he was raised to believe that I am. I open my eyes, expecting to catch him staring me with the same appalled look, but to my confusion he's leaning back against the stalk with a pleased smile on his lips.

"What are you grinning about?" my tone comes out more critically than it has the right.

"I almost forgot my brother was supposed to meet me in Lincoln."

"Your brother?"

He nods, unable to keep the happiness from his face. "Last time I saw him he said in a few days."

It doesn't really interest me that he has a brother, but just the thought of seeing him again appears to breathe life into Zeke. Who knows, maybe that's what a sibling does. "We should have a few hours before daylight," I say, shifting away from the pole so that I can lay my back flat against the ground. "If we're out before anyone comes to check on the field, we both should be able to sleep."

"I won't argue." Zeke's says, his smile beginning to look a bit delirious. He stretches out on the ground, undisturbed by the tilled earth as his eyes shut.

I roll onto my other side so my back is facing him. It's a little unsettling that he can sleep so easily in my presence after what I just did.

~

Corn mazes are called that for a reason apparently. They stretch on and on blending and twisting into a sea of yellow for miles.

Our bodies brushing against the green leaves growing from the stalks are the only source of noise. I glance over my shoulder catching sight of Zeke walking behind, blond hair sticking to his forehead. His pale cheeks are flushed red and he has dark circles under his eyes. We both need water.

"What's that?" Zeke is squinting at something beyond me. I turn around and see a round, brick structure with an open middle sticking out of the ground. It's almost completely hidden by packed corn stalks. He brushes past me walking to the thing. Placing his hands against the rim of the opening he leans downwards and looks inside the opening.

"It's a well," he shouts the discovery with childish joy.

"You're joking." I join him, looking down into the opening. Water shimmers at the bottom of the well. It's not much, but it's more than we've had in two days. At the end of the long rope half hanging on the outside of the well is a bucket securely tied. Zeke is already lowering it into the water.

A few minutes later he pulls up the old bucket sloshing with water. "They must have built this here when the corn field was growing. So it be easier to haul water to the seeds," he says as he hauls the bucket over the brick rim.

I don't care what it was built for, I'm just glad it's here.

"Here." Zeke angles the bucket towards me, offering to let me drink first. His consideration throws me. I down the water, the liquid rushing down my dry throat, barely scratching the surface of the aching dryness there. Pressure on the bottom of the bucket pulls my face from it.

Zeke's fingers rest on the end. "I'd...take it slow. You haven't had any in while and too much at one time might make you a little sick."

I wipe drops from my chin with the back of my hand. I was still parched, but if he was right I couldn't really afford to feel nauseous out here. I release the bucket and he has his turn.

Plopping down on the ground I lean back on my hands and watch the sky through the treetops of cornstalks. The gentle wind pushes them back and forth, like green and gold leaves in the sky above. The world is so quiet sometime. Almost like it isn't home to the greatest harm to its own wellbeing.

Cutting my eyes to the left I see Zeke staring at me again. A breath comes out my nose. Might as well do this now as later. "Go ahead," I say quietly, without looking at him. "Say it."

I don't see his face, but I hear the startled confusion. "Say what?"

"What you've been wanting to say since the farm and the little boy. Getting it off your chest is better than you staring at me every five seconds with that look of disgust." The last part comes out a little bitter, but I don't really care. I won't be unfairly judged anymore, not by him or anyone else.

"Would you have shot that boy?"

At least he's direct. I study the deep, healthy green of the leaves on the stalks. I reach up and grip one in between my thumb and forefinger. I pull until it rips from the stalk. Pressing the cool blade against my forehead, I let out a heavy breath. My free hand goes into the satchel still at my waist. I fish around until I brush against the butt of the gun. It's not cold anymore, the handle is warm. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Zeke stiffen, but he doesn't move from his standing position. I toss the gun, handle over barrel, at him. He clumsily catches in his right hand and holds it up to eye level.

I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my arms across them. "It doesn't have any bullets in it."

The confusion clearly registers on his face. "Why would you have a gun with no bullets?"

A mirthless chuckle escapes from between my lips. "Stupid, right? When I got it, it was empty. So...turns out I would be good at poker, I guess."

Zeke shakes his head, blonde strands falling into his blue eyes. "No kidding. When you held that gun in my face I thought for sure... So, you weren't going to hurt that boy. It was a bluff." He pauses, apparently mulling something over in his mind. "You wouldn't have shot me either." He sounds happy about that.

"I don't know about that. If I had the bullets, I might have."

The pleased look slips from his face. He looks so crestfallen and suddenly nervous that I'm unable to keep back an unexpected burst of laughter.

The smile makes a reappearance on his face. "I've never heard you laugh before." My expression instantly becomes rigid again.

"Didn't think you knew how."

"I don't."

"For the record," he adds. "I wasn't looking at you with disgust. Promise."

I refuse to look at his face, but I know he's still smirking. I stand. "Enough break. Let's move."

After a few minutes of trekking in silence, he speaks from behind me. "So. You have any family?"

Why does he care? "No."

"Really? What about your parents? No siblings...?"

"Slave children are usually separated from their parents when their sold," I say in a dry voice. "I was told I had a twin sister but she didn't make it past child birth. Any more questions about my glorious childhood and I'll be happy to answer them." Zeke is silent for several miles after that. Eventually the corn maze gives way to a cotton field that grew up next to a wide dirt road. A wooden, crudely drawn sign is staked into the dirt. Feeling too exposed, I start to hurry past it.

"Wait, wait." Zeke calls. The excitement in his voice forces me to turn around. He's standing at the sign, staring at it like he's found a treasure. I frown at the stupid grin on his face. "What is it?"

"Newman," he says.

"You're a new what?"

"Newman. Newman, Nebraska." Zeke pulls his eyes from the sign and settles his gaze on me. "It's a city. We're only five miles outside of it."

"Okay. We'll be sure to go around it." I turn away, itching to get out of the exposed field.

"No, you don't get it."

I regard him over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"I have a friend in Newman. I think she might help us. Her name is Kalypso."

Everything in me goes rigid. Is he insane? I stalk up to him, my booted feet stomping indentions into the soft soil. He's so much taller than me that I have to tilt my head back to look at him, and he has to angle his head down. "Do you not understand the point of our situation? I don't know what you did, but I've gathered that it's enough to get you killed. I don't want to die."

He shakes his head, shifting his weight on his legs, ready to argue. "Trust me neither do I, but in case you haven't noticed we kind of need food and help. She might be willing to help us."

"Might?" My voice is cold.

"Probably," he winces under my gaze. "She's my best friend. I mean, she will."

I want to bawl him out, I want to be able to come up with a good argument to combat his stupidity, but I'm unable to arrange the words in my mind. I push the front of my wrist against my forehead, finding it hard to think.

The pressure of a hand rests against my shoulder. I let my wrist drop. Zeke looks down at me. "You've been a help to me since we've met. Let me do something for you. You can trust me."

Trust him? My head pounds as images of masters raising their whips against the bare flesh of slaves and ripping babies away from their mothers. Cruel men...who remind me too much of Zeke. I step out of his reach. "This is a stupid idea. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"Good," my chest deflates as a heavy breath escapes my nose. "As long as you know." 

~

A/N: Hey guys I'm back after all! It's been like two months, feels like it lol. I feel like I needed to step away from this story for a little while and in the meantime I came up with a few new stories which I'll be posting on here slowly but surely :)

As always thank you for reading and don't to hit that vote button and comment your thoughts on the story! I still haven't quite got over my writer's block but it's better. See ya next time!