He closed his eyes and was close to drifting off when he heard whispers coming from somewhere outside his room. He’d heard such whispers a few times before when someone was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. Evidently, the heating ducts of the two rooms were closely connected, but something was different this time around. Before, he’d been unable to make out more than a few words, and those only because someone had spoken them more loudly. This time each word was crystal clear. He could even make out who said what. It was easy to discern that Pat and Allan were having a pretty heated argument about him.
Nothing particularly new or unusual about that, TJ thought, but he soon changed his mind when Pat confessed to having gone to Mimi’s dad and uncle to ask them to keep Mimi away from him.
Why, that bitch! TJ thought as he sat up in bed so he could hear a little better. She does have it in for me; a thought that was only further confirmed as he listened to her relate what she had seen out in the woods. Man, I’m really screwed now. The one person who had only recently shown some sign of being on his side had seen him at his worst and was now relaying that information to the one person who had continued to stand up for him no matter what.
He was momentarily relieved when he heard Allan defending him and refusing to believe Pat’s story, but the relief was short lived when Pat went on to suggest her taking him to Charlotte. On the one hand, the idea of traveling to a big city like Charlotte sounded interesting, but not with Pat. He didn’t know what she had up her sleeve, but it couldn’t be good.
He was beginning to doze off shortly after Allan had retired, but then Pat made her call. Who the hell is Oliver and why does Pat want him to meet me? While he didn’t have the answer to either question, one thing was sure. He had no interest in cooperating with Pat’s plan. None whatsoever. In fact, he felt it important to get the hell away from her for awhile. She had been right about one thing. It was time for him to broaden his horizons.
2
TJ glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 12:15 a.m. He’d have several hours to plan his escape while Pat and Allan slept. Suddenly, the idea of eating seemed more appealing, so he quietly opened his door and brought the tray of cold food into his bedroom. He quickly devoured the roast beef sandwich and chips, washing it down with the glass of iced tea. That along with the earlier meal he’d had while in the woods would hold him until he was well away from here.
Next, he had to decide where to go, what to pack, and how to get to his destination. Even as he asked himself the question, the answer came to him. He ruled out Charlotte. It was too far away for his liking, and besides, it was Pat's territory. If she figured out that he'd gone there, she'd have the advantage in finding him with all her many business connections there. However, over the last few weeks, he'd heard Mimi and Kendra talking about Asheville. He'd even taken the time to research it on the internet. It would do nicely. It was a large enough city that he should be able to get lost in it while also being closer to home, being only about thirty miles from Waynesboro. Having decided his destination, the rest of the plan started to fall into place. He'd have to travel light, with just the basics. That would mean he'd have to have a way to add to his inventory once he was at his final destination. That would require money. After all, money was light and could easily be converted into whatever he needed, like food and warm clothing, which would be important as winter was only a few weeks away.
But where to get the money? Simple enough. He’d borrow it from Allan’s cookie jar. He’d watched Allan on numerous occasions return home and empty out his pockets of loose change, which often included taking a few bills from his money clip and dropping it into the cookie jar along with the change. TJ had never seen him empty the jar out, so there must be plenty of money still in it.
TJ unlocked his door again and opened it a crack, listening for any sounds that would let him know if Pat or Allan were still up and moving around. When all he heard was the dull thrum of the heating system, he crept out of his room and down the hall to the kitchen. The cookie jar was on the counter next to the fridge. He opened it to discover it about two-thirds full with cash. He ignored the coins and went straight to the bills. He counted it up and arranged it into a neat stack. The total came to a hundred and twenty-seven dollars. Not a bad nest egg to get this expedition started.
He took a sheet of paper from the notepad stuck on the refrigerator door and wrote the amount on it. Under it he wrote:
$127
I promise to pay you back someday.
Your son, TJ
This makes it a loan, not a theft, TJ told himself as he started back to his room with the money in his hand. He now needed to pack what he'd be taking with him, so he redirected his steps to the storage closet. He dug around until he found Allan's bright blue ski jacket with the rabbit foot attached to the zipper and backpack he occasionally used when going on longer hiking trips. The coat was a couple of sizes too large for him, but at the rate he was growing, it shouldn't take him long to grow into it. Besides, he could use all the luck he could find, so he was happy to take the rabbit foot along with him. He took his treasure back to his room to finish packing.
During all this, he'd continued to consider the other question—how best to travel. He'd read on the internet about people hitchhiking from place to place, but many of those stories didn't have good endings. Hitchhiking was dangerous, and it might make it too easy for Allan or Pat to find him if they figured out the direction he was traveling.
No, he'd take a different means of travel. At first, he considered shifting into the great gray owl form, but while he liked the speed with which he could make his way to Asheville, he couldn't figure out how to carry the supplies he would need once he arrived. But he had already borrowed Allan's backpack a few times while no one was around, and had practiced wearing it as he changed from his human form to his dog and wolf forms. He had confirmed that the backpack still fit well enough for him to wear it in the either of the animal forms. He knew from experience that the wolf form allowed him to travel faster and for longer distances. Of course, he would need to stay out of sight of other humans as much as possible. A backpack carrying wolf would not only draw more attention than he'd want, but it might also lead to him getting shot. At the same time, he could make much better time and could cover a much greater distance in his wolf form than as a human.
He'd just be sure to pack a couple of changes of clothes, along with the ski jacket and a few nutritional bars to tide him over. As he was packing, he came across three other items to take with him. The first one was his most recent copy of the Mercenaries computer game. He decided the PlayStation 2 was too heavy and took up too much room, but maybe he’d find somewhere in Asheville he could play the game. Besides, he wanted to take something that Kendra had given him that would help him remember her by. The second item was his copy of Mimi’s book. By now the homemade book was dog-eared from being read so many times, but again, it felt important to have something that she had made for him.
It took him a little longer to decide whether to take the third item or not. He finally decided it was just too valuable to leave behind so he tossed the knife and leather sheath Pat had given him into the top of the backpack, then lifted it up to get an idea how much it weighed. He estimated it might be as much as twenty-five or thirty pounds. Not lightweight, but certainly manageable, especially in his wolf form.
He glanced at the alarm clock again. A few minutes before two a.m. He could still get a couple of hours of sleep before heading out well before dawn. He set the clock for four a.m. before turning out the lights and crawling into bed. Tomorrow would be a big day for him. His first time out into the world that he'd merely read about and watched videos of through the internet. Despite the excitement of what awaited him, he managed to fall asleep after only a few minutes.
Thanks
1
TJ's inner clock woke him a few minutes before four a.m., so he leaned over and turned off the clock before it had a chance to go off. Althoug
h he was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, he knew the danger of falling into a deep sleep and awakening much later when the sun had already arisen was too great, so he sat up in bed and stretched.
Was he really going to do this thing? Run away from home to a city he’d never been to, but had only read about on the internet? Damn right, he answered his own question, as he kicked the covers off and leaped out of bed. Time to get to it. An exciting life of adventure awaited for him.
It didn't take him long to be ready to head out since he already packed the night before. He put on his favorite pair of blue jeans, a long sleeve plaid shirt, his warmest socks and a pair of tennis shoes. He'd left room for these clothes in his backpack, but had decided it was too dangerous to shift into the wolf form here. He'd wait until he was well into the woods.
He placed the note he’d written the night before in the center of his bed where it could be easily found and looked around his room one last time. He’d miss this place. It had been his sanctuary for his entire life, but he was no longer a kid. It was time to grow up and start his own life, whatever that might be.
He put on the ski jacket he’d ‘borrowed’ from Allan and shouldered the backpack. He tiptoed down the hall, pausing outside Allan’s bedroom door for just a moment.
“Thanks for everything, Dad,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly watering as the words caught in his throat. Enough of that, he thought. Can’t afford to break down like a silly kid. He adjusted the backpack to his right shoulder and headed to the kitchen where he poured a box of Cheerios into a plastic bag. Just a little something for the road, he thought, as he sealed the bag and crammed it into his pack, then left out the back door.
He’d discovered in his practice time as a wolf that he had an excellent sense of direction, aided in part by his amazing sense of smell. Still, it seemed easiest to follow one of the secondary roads to Asheville. He'd just stay out of sight of the traffic. He calculated he'd easily be able to cover the thirty or so miles to Asheville before the end of the day, even allowing for a couple of breaks during which he'd shift back into his human form. No way was he going to forget his true form again. The memory of that time still sent a shiver up and down his spine. He waited until he was well out of sight of the house before stopping to make the shift to wolf form. He quickly undressed, stuffing the clothes into the pack, then putting it back on. Now came the tricky part. Shifting to the wolf form while wearing the pack, but he'd practiced this a number of times, so it went smoothly. It even felt like the pack became lighter although he knew it was his strength that had increased. His thick coat would not only keep him warm but would serve to minimize the chafing from the straps.
As he headed in the direction of the highway, the sun peaked above the horizon. Yes, it’s going to be a great day for a walk through the woods and a start to a new life.
2
Pat lay in bed next to Allan, watching the night slowly turn to day, and remembering the argument from the night before. After making the call to Oliver, she had retired to the bedroom to find Allan still awake. It became clear pretty quickly that he was interested in some makeup sex, and normally Pat would have gone along with it. After all, in times past when they had argued, the makeup sex had been some of the best ever, but not this night. She felt like she had already manipulated Allan too much as it were. To then make love with him seemed too low down, even for her.
Maybe I should call the whole thing off, she thought, as she lay there watching Allan breathing. Call Oliver and cancel the meeting, at least until she was more certain that it was the right thing to do. Even as she considered her different options, she knew she'd not make that call. This was the best option she could take. Time to move ahead.
She climbed out of bed slowly so as not to wake Allan, put on her robe, and walked out to the kitchen to fix coffee. As she did so, she decided a good breakfast was in order. She started preparing French toast, which was Allan and TJ's favorite. Still trying to get on their good sides, she thought as she beat the eggs and milk together. Yeah, maybe, so what? Of course, it didn't matter how many favorite meals she was willing to fix. None of it would come close to making up for what she was about to do.
Before going further with the breakfast preparation, she fixed two cups of coffee and took one to Allan.
“Wake up, Sleepy Head,” she said as she set the coffee on the table next to his side of the bed. “Breakfast will be ready in less than ten minutes.”
Allan rolled over and opened his eyes. “What’s this? Coffee in bed and breakfast on the way? What have I done to deserve such kind treatment?”
It’s not what you’ve done but what I’m about to do, Pat thought, but instead, she said, "Oh, nothing in particular. Just trying to make up for the terrible things I said last night."
“Thanks,” Allan replied as he threw his legs out of bed and reached for the coffee, taking a sip before adding, “Not necessary, but appreciated anyway. What are we having for breakfast? Pop tarts?”
“Hardly," Pat replied, laughing. It was one of the ‘breakfasts' she often fixed when they were both in a hurry, but not today. "That is unless you'd prefer them over French toast."
“Hardly,” Allan replied. “French toast sounds great. Is TJ up yet?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m on my way to knock on his door now. Hopefully, a good night’s sleep and the promise of French toast will coax him out of his lair.” Pat realized a second after the words left her mouth how they might sound to Allan. “Sorry, I didn’t mean how that sounded.”
Allan stood up and walked over to hug her. "Relax, no offense taken. He does sometimes use his room like a lair. We all do."
The two of them stood there hugging for a few more seconds before Allan excused himself and Pat left to awaken TJ. She was surprised to find his bedroom door, which had been closed and locked the night before, was now cracked open. Maybe the smell of coffee had alerted him to breakfast being prepared. She stuck her head through the crack in the door to say good morning, but was surprised to find the room vacant with the bed already made, almost as though no one had slept in it the night before, but what was that on the pillow?
Pat walked over and picked up the folded sheet of paper with Allan’s name written on the front. As Pat stared at the note in her hand, a bad feeling took shape just below her solar plexus. I don’t think I’m going to like what this note has to say, she thought. She slowly unfolded the note:
Dear Dad,
I need some time to sort things out. Don’t worry about me. I won’t do anything rash. I’ll be in touch.
Love,
Your son, TJ
Pat stared at the note for over a minute, reading it several times, trying to discern any possible clues about where TJ had gone. She read how TJ had signed the note over and over.
Your son, TJ…Your son, TJ…Your son, TJ…
She was still trying to decipher its meaning when she heard Allan call from the kitchen.
“Hey, everyone! Let’s have some breakfast.”
But his words didn’t come from behind her where the bedroom door was, but from in front of her.
“I’m one hungry guy this morning,” Allan continued.
Pat glanced up in the direction of the sound to the air vent over TJ’s bed. The pain in her chest grew as a hand of fear gripped her heart.
TJ had heard their entire conversation. He'd listened to her confession and now knew she was the one that had caused Mimi's expulsion. He also knew she'd spied on him out in the woods. What else had she said while in the kitchen? Of course. He'd also heard her suggestion to take him to Charlotte as a way to work through their issues. That would have been okay except for one thing. She had still been in the kitchen when she'd placed the call to Oliver.
No wonder TJ had decided to run away. She probably would have done the same thing in his place, but how in the hell was she going to explain this to Allan? She was still trying to answer that question when she heard Allan walk into the room behind her.
“What’s up? Where’s TJ?” Allan asked.
Pat swung around to face him, the open note still in her hand. She opened her mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. She handed the note to him to read.
Hickory
James disconnected the call and placed the cellphone back in the desk drawer. He tried to check for messages daily but had been unusually busy with his heating, and air conditioning business so had missed a couple of days.
The voicemail he heard, though cryptic, was unmistakable. Hickory, a mercenary named after the small North Carolina town where he was born, had been killed. James wasn't surprised by the news. The two of them had been on a couple of different assignments together, and James considered Hickory to be a bit of a loose cannon, always pushing the envelope too far and taking unnecessary risks.
That’s why James made it one of his firm policies to know as much as possible about the other members of whatever team he was asked to join. He didn’t like putting his life in the hands of unpredictable people like Hickory. After all, he had two young girls who depended upon him to return to them in more or less one piece…and alive.
It was after a particularly harrowing mission that involved two such loose cannons that James began to formulate the idea to regain control over this aspect of his life. Hickory had brought along a younger kid from his hometown who "showed a lot of promise" according to Hickory, though James suspected the kid had bribed Hickory to let him come along. It had almost cost the entire team their lives and would have if James hadn't stepped in.
Never again, he vowed upon returning and hugging his daughters particularly long. He didn't know how, but he needed to find a way to bring some semblance of control back to the mercenary game. He'd grown fond of the extra money. He'd finally been able to pay off the past-due medical bills, but then there was the expense of raising two girls, one of which already needed braces and both who would eventually want to go to college. No, the money was too good, not to mention the thrill, within reason, of the missions. The thrill of well-designed assignments kept him feeling alive, but not when they stepped over the line into near suicide missions.
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