The Escape Page 16

Evan shrugged his thin shoulders, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Ever hear the saying, if you live by the sword, you’ll die by the sword?”

  Jenna didn’t answer. Because whether she liked it or not, it was a true saying if ever she heard one.

  Emily and Mason’s cabin, upstate New York

  Emily sat by their lake and picked up another stick, carefully whittling it. It had taken almost four hours, and she only had three arrows to show for it.

  Still, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. No television to watch. With their garden and the venison, getting food was no longer the daylong adventure it used to be.

  So she would work on that bow and arrow Mason wanted so badly. The bow part would come last, since she figured she’d need arrows to test it with when she built one. Couldn’t be too hard, right? A curved piece of wood, or maybe even some metal if she and Mason felt like venturing out of the woods to go scavenge the cars, and some strong string.

  The fact that Mason was willing to have a child with her, or even just that he was willing to be okay with the idea, had her walking on air, literally singing songs out loud, scaring the birds away.

  Perhaps there was even a baby growing inside of her right now. It was possible. Anything was possible.

  Emily set down the half-whittled arrow. Her stomach hurt. Mason had started crafting an outhouse for them, but so far it was just a huge pit in the woods with wooden planks over it, and a crate with a hole on top of that. There was no toilet in the tiny cabin, which made her wonder what the original owners had done with the place. Hunting cabin? Where did they go to the bathroom?

  Mason still had to construct a privacy building over the outhouse, but since it was just the two of them, she didn’t feel particularly weird about dropping her pants and sitting on an outhouse toilet in the open woods. It would be nice if he got on that, though.

  Emily’s stomach cramped again and she looked at her underpants, knowing why. Her period. She hadn’t been keeping track, since her periods were very irregular since they returned when she’d started eating proper food.

  Fuck. A period. No baby after all.

  Emily shook her head, determined not to be upset. After all, a few times of him coming inside her didn’t mean much in the big scheme of things. It took plenty of couples up to a year to get pregnant.

  And some never did.

  Don’t think like that. One menstrual cycle doesn’t equal infertile.

  Emily walked back to the cabin, where Mason was napping by the rabbit pen. He had Mr. Rabbit on his chest. So much for not keeping pets. She smiled, her earlier disappointment melting away at the sight of such a big, strong man cuddling a bunny while he slept.

  He’d be such a good father.

  Now, if only she could get pregnant.

  Interstate 95 by Greenwich, Connecticut, heading up the Connecticut coast

  Jenna walked with Evan, since he refused to hold one of the rifles. Barker took the lead, and Roy and Clarissa the rear, as they steadily walked up I-95 on their way to . . . where?

  Someplace far.

  “How will we know when we’ve found a good place to get off the freeway and look for a town?” Evan asked.

  Barker didn’t turn his head when he answered. “I imagine they’ll have a barricade set up to keep people from entering.”

  “Then how will we get in?” Evan walked faster until he was caught up to Barker.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know how to fish,” Roy said. “And so do you, if you haven’t forgotten what your dad taught you. So we could help them, maybe.”

  “Hey,” Jenna said. “I can fish too. Kind of. Haven’t done it in a while.”

  Clarissa laughed. “Don’t tell them that.”

  Jenna looked back at Clarissa and grinned. It was nice to see Clarissa so happy. She touched her neck, the way she often did, as if feeling whatever that necklace was gave her comfort.

  Suddenly, she stopped walking, and Roy bumped into her.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

  “My necklace is gone,” she gasped.

  “Oh, Clarissa, I’m so sorry,” Jenna said. The woman looked like she was about to cry.

  “What’s the holdup?” Barker asked. “We have to keep moving.”

  “My necklace—I lost it,” Clarissa said. “I have to go back.”

  “We’re not going back,” Barker said.

  “Do you know where it is?” Roy asked her.

  “It must be at Evan’s house somewhere. It can’t be just . . . gone. I’ve kept it all this time . . .”

  “Clarissa,” Barker said. “I’m sorry you lost something important to you. But we have to move forward. You’ll get a new necklace, someday, I bet. Come on.”

  But Clarissa wasn’t moving.

  “I’m sorry guys, I understand if you have to leave, but I’m going back. We’ve only been walking for a couple of hours. I’ll go back, retrace my steps, and go back to Evan’s house.”

  “No way,” Barker said. “Not happening.”

  “I’m not asking permission, Barker. I’m going back.”

  “Well, we’re not.” Barker frowned and looked at Jenna. “Please tell her this is insane.”

  “Clarissa,” Jenna said softly. “Is this necklace worth risking your life for? Even if you never find it?”

  “Yes,” Clarissa replied, without hesitation. “It was a locket. It had a picture of my . . . God, I never told you this. It had a picture of my daughter in it.”

  A daughter? Since when did Clarissa have a daughter?

  “What?” That was all that came out of her mouth, despite the millions of questions swirling through her mind.

  “I had a baby when I was a teenager,” Clarissa whispered. “I gave her up for adoption. I know I did the right thing, at the time. I couldn’t take care of a child. It was a closed adoption, and I don’t know where she is now, but I was told she was adopted by a very nice, very loving couple.”

  “And you kept a picture of her?”

  “Just one. The only one I have, taken right after I gave birth. I put it in the locket and I’ve worn it for ten years now.” Clarissa leaned against one of the stalled cars, as if she couldn’t hold herself up, just thinking about it. “Now it’s gone.”

  “I’ll go back with you,” Roy said.

  “It’s an important necklace,” Barker said. “I get that. I do. But we need to get away, not go back. What are the chances that you’ll find it?”

  “Roy,” she said, holding his shirt, looking up at him. “Do you remember me wearing it, last night, when we . . .”

  “You weren’t wearing it then,” Roy said.

  “That’s good! That means it’s at Evan’s house,” Clarissa said. “Maybe the latch broke when I was bathing or trying on clothes. I don’t know. All I know is, I need it back.”

  Evan looked at Roy and Clarissa. “When you . . . did what?”

  Clarissa blushed, but ignored him.

  Jenna shot Evan a look. “Shut up with that. You’re eighteen, I’m sure you had a little high school girlfriend at some point.”

  Evan scowled, and muttered something under his breath. It sounded like “No.”

  “Barker, I understand if you don’t want to walk back two hours, and back again another two,” Jenna said. “But we could rest. We could sit in a car, take a nap, eat, that kind of thing. Wait for them.”

  “Could you?” Clarissa asked. “Would you wait for us to get back?”

  Barker’s face was blank. Jenna couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “I imagine it’s either we wait, or we risk never finding you again. So yes, I’ll wait. Even if Barker won’t.”

  “I’ll wait too,” Evan said.

  “Fucking hell.” Barker took his pack off and set it on the pav
ement. “Fine. We wait four hours.”

  “Four and a half hours,” Roy said. “We’ll need time to search Evan’s house.”

  “Fine. But Evan, if you’re waiting with us, you need to learn how to shoot.”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “No. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “You won’t be any of those things if you don’t learn how to defend yourself,” Jenna said. “And I’m betting you have high hopes of being a ‘lover’ some day. Think of shooting as a sport. It’ll be good for hunting, too.”

  “I don’t want to kill an animal, either.” Evan crossed his skinny arms over his chest.

  “So you’re a vegetarian?” Barker asked.

  “No.”

  Jenna laughed. “The meat your mom used to buy at the supermarket, you know someone killed that animal, right? It doesn’t get butchered and wrapped in plastic all by itself.”

  Evan sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

  Barker looked at the sun, and set an empty canteen on the pavement, and placed a pebble on the shadow it cast. “We’ll know it’s been four and a half hours, about, when the sun is over here.” He placed another pebble from the side of the road at another point, where the shadow would eventually fall.

  Evan looked impressed. “That’s really cool.”

  “Science.”

  “We’ll be back,” Roy said, and then he and Clarissa turned around, and walked back.

  * * *

  “Come on, then,” Barker said, gesturing toward Evan. He emptied all of the bullets out of one of the rifles, checking the chamber to be sure it was empty, and handed it to the teen.

  “It’s not loaded now, right?” Evan asked.

  “No. But always treat a gun like it’s loaded. We’ll learn basic safety first.”

  Jenna pushed the barrel of his rifle into the air. “Rule one, don’t point that thing anywhere that people might be, even if you think it’s unloaded. I don’t feel like getting shot today.”

  The boy looked at the weapon in his hands fearfully. “This sucks.”

  “Man up, kid,” Barker said, but Jenna glared at him.

  What? He was old enough. They had to stop treating him like an adolescent, even if he looked like one.

  Barker spent a moment showing him the safety switch. “It’s on safe right now. When you’re ready to fire, push it to semi. Every time you pull the trigger, one bullet comes out.”

  “What’s the one with all the bullets?” Evan asked, pointing to a little drawing on the mode after semi.

  “Full auto. Don’t bother with that one, you’ll have no control over where the bullets go, and we can’t afford to waste ammo. You’re better off taking aim and just pulling the trigger. You can shoot bullets as fast as you can pull that trigger in semi, and that’s good enough.”

  Barker helped the kid aim the rifle at a point in the distance. Damn, they really needed a target.

  Jenna seemed to be able to read his mind. “Let me see what I can get from one of these cars.” She walked a few feet and came back empty-handed. “You know what?” she said. “Let’s use a shirt. I’ve still got that soldier’s uniform shirt. Never could get all the blood out of it.”

  She rifled through her bag and pulled it out.

  “Why’d you keep that?” Evan asked, a look of disgust crossing his face.

  “I guess I’ve just gotten used to not throwing anything out.” Jenna shrugged.

  Barker took the shirt, buttoned it, and went back into one of the cars. An empty child’s car seat was in the back.

  Where was that little child now? Fucking hell. Don’t think about it, don’t dwell.

  He grabbed the car seat out of the car, positioned it on the side of the road, and laid the soldier’s shirt over the top.

  “We’ll shoot at that.”

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Evan said.

  “It will feel right when you’re being shot at,” Jenna said. “And then it will feel wrong again. But I like you, Evan. I’d prefer you alive to dead, okay?”

  Evan’s tan skin pinked up as he blushed, and he looked away, shaking his head. Barker stifled his laughter. Jenna always did have a way with men—of all ages, apparently.

  “Aim for the heart,” Barker said. “Look through the sights, line it up. When you see exactly where you want to hit, gently pull the trigger, and keep the gun steady so it doesn’t recoil up when you shoot.”

  “But I have no bullets.” Evan aimed the gun anyway.

  “Just practice without them first,” Jenna said. “By the way, it helped me to think of it as shooting at the pocket, instead of the heart. It helps to not think of the person you’re about to kill as a . . . you know, person.” She leaned against the car behind her, falling silent.

  Evan aimed, and pulled the trigger.

  “Good job, man,” Barker said. “I’m going to put one bullet in, and you try with that.”

  Evan nodded and watched with interest as Barker loaded only one bullet into the magazine, put the safety on, and handed it back to him.

  “Only aim at the target,” Jenna reminded him. “You’ve got live ammo, treat it with respect.”

  “I know,” Evan whispered. He seemed so intense, staring at the soldier’s uniform.

  He lifted the rifle, switched the safety to semi, and took aim. He breathed in, and breathed out steadily, then pulled the trigger.

  The sound was deafening in the silent morning air.

  And Evan had put a bullet hole right through the target’s pocket.

  Walking south on Interstate 95

  Clarissa walked briskly next to Roy.

  “I can’t believe we’re heading backward,” she sighed. “But thank you so much for coming with me.”

  “My pleasure. Besides, you make fine company.” Roy grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but to smile back, despite their circumstances.

  Despite having lost her precious necklace.

  She’d long ago lost any hope of finding the baby she’d given up. The girl would have a name Clarissa wouldn’t recognize, she’d have another mom and dad. Parents who tucked her into bed every night and read her stories, instead of going to high school and drinking beer at keg parties on the weekends like she’d been doing, not long after giving birth.

  At the time, she never let herself imagine what it would be like to raise the child. There was no point. She’d been a child herself.

  Getting a high school boyfriend after giving birth had been difficult; while she was considered “easy” since she’d clearly had sex before, she was also considered kind of gross, since she’d gotten all fat and pregnant and swollen.

  Clarissa shook her head, trying to shake off the shameful memories of being teased for having a huge, cavernous vagina that could let an entire baby through. There’d been one really awesome guidance counselor at school, though, a mom herself, who had been on her side all through it. Praising her for giving the baby to a couple who desperately wanted her. Praising her for being strong, and for going back to school and graduating.

  Seeing Evan reminded her of that time. She couldn’t even imagine what it was like to be a teenager now, post-Pulse. Perhaps it was easier for them than it was for the adults, since they were so adaptable, so ready to forge ahead with whatever life threw at them.

  Roy pulled his canteen out of his pack and took a sip, offering it to her. “You should stay hydrated.”

  Clarissa took a deep sip. “Thank you. And . . . thank you for last night. Sorry if I was completely weird. It was kind of an . . . experiment to see if I even was able to enjoy sex again.”

  Roy nodded. “And did you?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She remembered the mind-blowing orgasm he’d given her. “Yup.”

  “For the record, you weren’t weird at all. And anytime you’d like to repeat the experiment, I will happily be your
research partner.”

  Clarissa grinned. Part of her wished they could hop into a car and do some research right then and there. But she knew they had to move forward. Well, backward. Retracing her steps.

  “I have a feeling it’s either in the guest bathroom where I took a bath,” she said, “or in the master bedroom, by the closets. Or the guest bedroom, where I tried on the clothes.”

  “We’ll find it.” Roy took her hand, and she reveled in its size and warmth.

  “What if we don’t? What if we waste all this time, and make them wait, for nothing?”

  “Then at least you’ll have the comfort of knowing you looked. If you don’t look, you’ll always wonder.”

  Grand Central, the OCC

  Colonel Lanche looked at Dobson and Scar.

  “The people are not as compliant as they used to be,” Lanche said. “Part of the problem is they think people are escaping and living. That needs to change.”

  “The radio, sir, is also a problem,” Scar said. “It’s become a regular conspiracy theory that the radio exists, and that they are being denied communication.”

  “Well, there really is no radio,” Lanche sighed. “Not anymore.”

  “Sir,” Dobson said, “what if we allowed a group of volunteers access to the OCC, and to your office, so they can confirm for everyone that there is no radio? That might do a lot to quell the people’s concerns.”

  “It will also let them think they have any say whatsoever, and they don’t,” Lanche snapped. “I don’t want to set a bad precedent.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “What we need to do is find Barker and the women, and kill him, and bring them back. Barker’s body, and the women alive. If we properly prepare the citizens for what a domestic terrorist sounds like, for what someone who threatens our security sounds like, then no matter what those cunts say, they will be digging their own grave.”

  “The people will be begging us to execute them,” Scar said, smiling slightly.

  “That’s right. And then we’ll all sleep safer that night.”

  Dobson nodded. “We couldn’t find them before, sir. What are the chances we’ll find them now?”