Ninety-six: Running

A hand on my shoulder and another at my elbow made me turn and the joggers' faces exchanged dismayed glances. One of the fumbled in his pocket, but only found dirty tissues.

"Miss?"

"Miss, we'd like to help you if we can, but you've got to let us help you. Something is obviously wrong. How can we help?"

"Miss?"

I gave up.

"I want to go home," I wailed, trying not to sob too loud. "I just want to go home, but I don't know where I am."

So much for trying to find my own way home. Most likely I would have starved and died before I even got there. Seventy kilometres is a long way to walk on foot. More than seventy kilometres in reality. I'd get there somehow.

Right?

Maybe?

I found myself running again. It was nice to run. I hadn't stretched my legs like this for a long time and the familiar stitches in the sides were like old friends. On and on, I ran until my legs gave up on me under the shade of a leafy tree and I grazed my knees. I was on a hilly road now. In the middle of somewhere. The road was lined with trees that I didn't recognise. They had a nice scent though. Sort of apple minty. And flowery. Sort of.

The breeze was warm. The ground was soft and now I was thirsty. And tired. There was no water, so I just lay down to sleep.

"Miss. Hey, Miss. Wake up," the first jogger looked at the second jogger sitting beside him in a robust looking four wheel drive. "Have you called the Rangers?"

"Yeah. They're on their way."

"Miss," the hand shook mine roughly and I sat up, wiping dirt off my face. "Oh, she fell down. Hey, Miss, you all right?"

I blinked at the two joggers and stood up with their help, swaying a little, while we all stood around, uncertain of what to do next. I sat back down and out of the car they had stopped by the roadside, they used a bottle of water to help me wash my knees. Then they draped a rug over my legs and gave me a drink.

"Miss," said the second jogger, his ears glowing bright red, "Miss, are you by chance, a slave?"

"Slave?" I pulled up my dress to check the brown stripe. Still brown. No silver there. "No."

Both joggers looked away until I'd covered back up.

"Then why don't you have anything on under your dress? Did you run away?"

"Run away? No. I was kidnapped. But my legs got fixed and I was let go. See, I can walk again. I can talk again. I can run again. Did you see?" I stood up and walked and ran and jumped.

"Yes, yes. Sit-sit down."

But I was already up and away, running downhill, enjoying the wind in my face. Until I tripped, went into a rolling tumble off the road, down a steep embankment and landed in a heap at the bottom of the hill, laughing. And crying. Yes. There was something wrong with me.

Slowly, I straightened myself out and looked back up the hill I had tumbled down. It was a marvel that I hadn't broken my neck. Checking myself over, I didn't think anything was broken and limped over to a tree, trying to figure out what hurt more. My right foot or ankle. Maybe it was both. Anyway, it wasn't swelling up, so it must just have gotten bruised.

The joggers leapt out of their car up on the road and skidded down to where I was.

"There's something wrong with my brain," I said when they were within earshot. "I'm sure I didn't used to be this idiotic and brainless. Did you know, I was going to walk and run all the way to the city? You know, the one the war was fought in? Crazy, right?"

"Are you from the city?" the joggers asked, propping me up with my arms over their shoulders and helping me hobble back up onto the road.

"Yes. I got caught up with the war and it seemed like everyone wanted to kill me. The end of the war is a bit fuzzy though. It feels strange that the war is over. I don't feel like the war is over. Is the war over? I didn't dream that, right?"

"It's strange for a lot of us, Miss. Especially us returned soldiers. Some of us are still having trouble believing the war is over too."

"Oh, well. I'm glad I'm not the only one, then."

"Let us help you into the car, Miss."

But I wouldn't budge.

"We don't want you running off again. Sit in the car and have a rest. The Rangers are on their way."

"Rangers?"

"Our police."

"Oh. I see."

"Here, lie down and have a rest. Where's your home at, Miss? If you're from the city, you're a very long way from home."

"You can say that again," I mumbled, getting comfortable on the car seats at the back. The rug was laid over me again. I told them my home address and then fell asleep. It had been a strange and eventful morning. Perhaps I'd be more myself when I woke up again.

A door slammed, waking me into a shivering ball of panic, thinking explosions were going off and I going to die for sure this time. When everything settled, I peered over the top of the rug to find uniformed Boskies scratching their heads.

"Miss," said the one with a dark chin of spikes. "It's all right. We're sorry we scared you. We aren't going to hurt you. We just want you to know you're safe. All right?"

I nodded.

"What's your name, Miss?" the other Ranger with redder curlier hair asked.