by E A Lake
“One says 750 and the other is 300,” Liv reported.
“We looking for either one of those?” I asked, hoping for a positive response.
“Not really,” Liv replied, sighing. “We need to find 375 or, I think, 200. Those are both northbound.”
Okay, I thought I saw a pattern. “So, 300 is probably northbound then.”
Even in the darkness, I could see Liv shrug. “I don’t know.”
If we were going north on 300, we’d want to turn left on 750; that would take us further west and further away from danger. Of course, if we were already headed west on 300, a left would head us due south, back towards danger.
I did a full spin in the road to see if I could spot the first pink hues of a sunrise on any horizon. Nope. And thanks to the cloud cover, I had no way of finding the north star or the big dipper. Sara had brought those up earlier and said they could help…if the sky wasn’t completely overcast.
“Which way, Quinn?” Liv asked, sounding impatient for the first time on our journey. “Standing still like this makes me nervous.”
“Me too,” Morgan announced with a shove to my left shoulder. “Which way?”
“Left,” I whispered, feeling sick to my stomach. “It has to be left. The road we just came down has to be headed north. That means if we turn left, we’ll be going west. Hopefully, we’ll join up with 800 soon.”
“You mean 200,” Liv countered. “I’m not sure where 800 runs to, or even from for that matter.”
In my confusion, I turned right and stared into the darkness. Maybe that was the correct direction.
“You turned right, dummy,” Morgan chirped. Like I didn’t know that.
“We go this way,” I confidently announced, pointing at what I hoped was either north or west. “This is the way to freedom. I know it.”
“You’re just guessing, aren’t you?” Morgan whispered into my ear.
“Absolutely,” I replied. I really had no idea where we were, which way we were headed or even how we’d know when we got there. But the direction I was pointed to just seemed right.
Road 300 eventually made a sharp left and turned into 850. We had passed the road named 800 about a half-mile before that, but I confidently marched forward, knowing we were on the right path. Now that we had turned onto 850, most of my confidence had disappeared.
“Hopefully, the next road we come to is 200,” Liv said softly, walking beside me as I adjusted Charolette on my back. “Hopefully.”
“It had better be,” I muttered under my breath. “What way do we turn when we get there?”
“Right would be north,” Morgan said in a sarcastic tone. “Unless Mr. and Mrs. Columbus have lead us past it and we’re coming at it from the west. Then only God knows what we’re going to do.”
“Let’s hope for 200 then,” I replied, not sure if I even believed my own optimism any more.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
We took another rest stop at the next intersection. Thankfully, it was road 200 and I pointed right, claiming it was north. Three people mumbled their agreement. Only Charolette and Sasha nervously eyed the road both ways before agreeing with the crowd.
When we started in again, all chitchat had ended. Aside from the crunching of gravel beneath our feet, the only sounds I heard were the occasional hoot of an owl and the slight breeze rustling through the leaves.
“We got a problem,” Morgan said calmly as we walked together at the front of the pack. For some reason, I’d been carrying my gun in my right hand ever since our last break. Maybe it was a premonition or perhaps unfounded fear of trouble to come.
“What’s that?” I replied quietly as I gripped the pistol tighter.
“Don’t make a big deal of it,” she whispered, “but casually look to the right, on the horizon. You’ll see it right away.”
I peeked that way. I didn’t see any trouble coming from the east. To be honest, I didn’t see anything except a pink tint on the horizon straight to my right. Oh, wait…
“Shit,” I muttered. “I don’t think we’re anywhere near Pimento yet. Get Liv up here and let’s see if she knows.”
Morgan retreated, brought Liv forward and I had my answers. She knew alright; she knew damned well we were still almost seven miles from our destination. It was time for plan B, whatever that was.
We took refuge in the first abandoned farmhouse we found up the road. While it wasn’t very far off of the main road, it did allow a clear view all around. No one would be able to sneak up on us without us seeing them from at least a quarter mile away.
The problem was, as Sasha pointed out, that there wasn’t a safe escape route if someone did decide to come up the gravel driveway and search the dwelling. With dawn breaking all around us, I could see for nearly a half mile in every direction without so much as a tree to hide behind.
“Maybe we should find another place,” Charolette whined. “There’s a lot of spider webs in this place anyway.”
“All you’re going to do,” I advised, sounding perhaps a little more perturbed than I meant to because of how tired I was, “is climb into a bed and cover up completely with blankets. We’re here to sleep and let the day pass so we can get back on the road after dark tonight. Nothing more.”
I watched Charolette inspect the kitchen and then the living room. I knew from her shaking head and her hand up near her mouth she wasn’t happy about our accommodations. But I was far too tired to even care about any concern — make that a long list of concerns — she had.
“Maybe I should sweep this place out real good first,” she ruminated after Morgan lit one of the two candles we’d brought along, just to give the darkish interior a little light. “Maybe you could see if that well out there works and I could scrub the floors and the walls…at least where we’ll be sleeping. I’d feel better that—”
“Go to bed, Charolette!” Morgan shrieked, her last nerve finally plucked. “Beat the shit out of the bedding before you get in and climb in with Sara and Liv. Just quit talking!”
The funny part about the conversation was that either Charolette had suddenly become deaf or she didn’t care to listen to reason. I decided to take first watch and told Morgan and Sasha to find a spot and I’d come get them when it was their turn.
I brought a decent wooden chair to the front window and plopped down in it. Playing with the safety on my weapon, I occasionally glanced up at the overcast day and the road in front of the house. The day was gray; the road was black and empty. I hoped it would all stay that way.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
I felt a nudge on my back and shook it away. I was in bed sleeping; there was no need for me to get up yet. I knew I had two hours before I had to go to work.
Still the pushing persisted. Damn that woman. Couldn’t she just let me sleep five more minutes? When she slapped the back of my head, my eyes popped open and I was reminded of where I really was.
“Some guard you are,” Morgan quipped as she stretched before the picture window. “You’re supposed to be protecting us. Instead you’re sleeping and muttering away like a madman.”
I had been dreaming. I was in a home, a nice home. I was in a bed, a soft bed covered with white blankets. They were so white, it hurt to stare at them for any length of time. And I was with her. Not my current her, but her her.
“You were saying her name,” Morgan said with a sigh. “Does that mean you remember Carla now?”
I rose and stared at the afternoon drizzle floating from the sky. Clouds I liked; drizzle not so much.
“No,” I replied, glancing to see if she was pissed off. She seemed alright. “Just something fresh on my mind, I suppose.”
Her upper lip crinkled as she stared at me. “I wish you’d dream about me,” she replied sadly. “I wish you’d remember me; remember us.”
It was strange, my memory that is. I hadn’t had so much as a recollection of my past, but I was able to remember everything I’d learned since coming to inside of Cabin Two. I knew the women and each
of their personalities. I knew their little quirks, what made them laugh, what made them pensive. But in no way was I able to recall them, or even myself for that matter, in my past.
“I’d say you should go get some sleep,” Morgan added, turning to stare out the window with her arms folded over her chest. I stared at the back of her head. Who was she and how did we fit together in all of the mess we found ourselves buried in?
“Have you told me everything?” I asked. She instantly nodded. “I mean everything and anything that could help me recall who I am and what I’m supposed to be doing?”
“I told you I wasn’t going to lie anymore,” she answered quietly without turning around. “I know I sprang the gun and Carla on you kinda last minute, but I had my reasons.”
I’m sure she did. And I was sure she was dying to tell me. But I wasn’t about to ask, Yet.
“I’m waiting,” I replied, holding out an entire five seconds.
She turned and that’s when I saw the sadness in her face. She wasn’t crying, but I could tell she was in no way happy.
“The gun would have made you vulnerable,” she said. “If you would have had it right away, I was afraid you might have tried to use it and that wouldn’t have been good. Not good at all.”
That made sense. After all, I’d used a knife when the opportunity arose and protected my new friends with the weapon. Who was to say I wouldn’t have started a shootout of epic proportion that first time I watched Sara get roughed up?
“And Carla?” I asked, watching Morgan’s expression carefully.
“She’s the past, Quinn,” she answered plainly. Again, she wasn’t mad, but she wasn’t happy either. “She left you when a better opportunity came along. And while you probably never saw it coming, everyone else probably did.”
She stepped closer, pointing at herself. “I could have told you that the minute you moved her to Pimento that Shaklin was going to show up and steal her away. The funny part is she didn’t need stealing; she was more than happy to leave. She wanted a castle, she got her castle.”
That was a decent explanation, but it presented a new question.
“Did you send for me because you love me?” I asked. “Or did you send for me because of what I’ve become and knew I could probably rescue you? But before you answer that, I need you to consider this.” I paused and took a deep breath.
“I don’t have any idea of who I was or what I am. Everyone claims I’m a killer now. Maybe I am. You claim we were in love. Maybe we were, maybe we’re not anymore. I don’t know.” I took her hands and squeezed gently. “But let me tell you something, Morgan. If the only reason you sent for me was because I could get you out of there, I’m okay with that. I’ll get all of you to safety and you can take off wherever you like. You don’t have to keep up a ruse about being in love just because I did something for you. You can leave and I’ll be just fine.”
Morgan drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Maybe I’d finally hit on something. Perhaps there never was an “us” and she’d be able to tell me the truth.
“The last time I left you,” she answered in a shaky voice. “I lost you for seven years. And for every day of those seven years, you were the one thing that kept my mind in a good place.”
She squeezed my hands tightly and tears cascaded over her lower lids and down her cheeks. “I’m never leaving you again, Quinn Reynolds. I’m never losing you again. And when your memory returns, our time together will finally resume. Just like I’ve dreamt about every night for the last seven years.”
Morgan leaned against my chest and began to cry. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She may have lied about a lot of things to me, but I didn’t think there was any way she was faking how she felt. I had my answer and that made me feel good.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
The others rose and made their way to the spot where Morgan and I sat, watching the drizzle fall on the empty road. Everyone looked a little refreshed and I was sure they’d be anxious to get going so we could conclude our journey.
“We leave at dusk,” I said when they were all assembled in the living room. “It might take six or seven hours to get to Pimento yet, so I don’t want to risk waiting until total darkness before we leave. Tomorrow morning, we have to be in Pimento. We’re almost out of food and water, so our options are limited.”
“Once we get past Farmersburg, it’s only another two miles,” Liv added, picking her bag from the floor.
“What?” I asked, shaking my head. “What’s Farmersburg?”
“A town,” she replied simply, as if I was dense. “Just south of Pimento.”
A town? That meant people. People who might be loyal to Shaklin; people who might already be looking for us because they had received word that he was after us. There was probably a big reward being promised for the return of his slaves and my likely hanging.
“And this is just being brought to my attention now?” I asked, not able to hold back any skepticism.
I felt someone slap my shoulder: Morgan. “We’re going to pass it at night, no big deal.”
I nodded, despite my shocked expression. “We’re not going anywhere near a town that could be loyal to Shaklin. We need to avoid it at all costs, even at night.”
Liv smiled and shook her head. “The road we’re on goes by it on the east. The only other road that can take us to Pimento runs by it on the west. But it’s not very big, so we shouldn’t have a problem skirting it in the middle of the night.”
I stared at her, trying to digest the new information. “Just how many people live there you suppose?”
Liv shrugged and twisted her lips. “The maps Belinda had showed about a thousand. There’s probably a few less now, so maybe six or seven hundred.”
“And that’s smaller than Pimento?”
That comment made everyone chuckle.
“Heavens no,” Sara replied. “Pimento is a post town. I’m not sure if 100 people lived there before the end. But I know one of the gals who came after us said there were maybe 350 or 450 people living there by the end of year five. That’s how we heard about you living there. Pimento’s a dump compared to Farmersburg. Everyone knows that much.”
Sure, everyone knew that much. Everyone, that is, except for a man who couldn’t remember anything.
Just as darkness began to encroach, lightning and thunder erupted in the west. I hoped the storm would pass south or north of us, but when a light rain began to splatter on the rooftop, my hopes were dashed.
“A little rain isn’t going to stop us,” I proclaimed as our group watched the storm progress through the large picture window. “We can get a little wet and still be fine.”
Mere seconds later, a crack of lighting followed by a loud boom of thunder shook the house. Two or three of the women — Charolette, Sasha and maybe Liv — shrieked as the skies opened up. Rain fell so hard that it made it difficult to think.
“Maybe we’ll just stay put until this passes,” Morgan said, patting my chest and motioning to the others to make themselves comfortable.
“Don’t get too cozy,” I warned, losing sight of the road in the driving rain. “Once this blows over, we’re out the door. Shouldn’t be but 10 or 20 minutes I bet.”
I was glad no one took me up on that bet, because a weatherman I was not.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
After the first hour, Morgan lit the candles. Since our only other form of illumination was the non-ending lighting, I found it hard to argue against a little light.
As another hour passed, Charolette began sweeping the floors with some old broom she’d found that was missing half its bristles. We weren’t staying, not once the rain ended, but I decided to let her humor herself. It was something that would keep her mind off of bugs and spiders and dirt and all other phobias pummeling her mind.
Sasha’s eyes remained fixed on the skies, jumping every time a new streak of electricity crossed above us.
“I heard once that a thousand
people a year die from lighting strikes,” Sasha claimed nervously. “It’s probably a good thing we aren’t out there right now. I’d hate to see someone get fried up.”
“That’s probably an exaggeration, sweetie,” Morgan chastised. “That seems like a lot of people. And, we aren’t going out there anyway, so there’s no need to worry.”
Sasha went back to watching the sky and rocking in her chair. “If it strikes this old house we’re in, it’ll burn us up. I don’t want to die in a fire. That would be awful.”
“No one is dying in a fire tonight, Sasha,” Morgan replied casually from the couch, trying to sleep a little. “We’re safe; try to stop worrying.”
Sasha went back to worrying while I contemplated whether a bolt of lightning would kill me if I stood in the center of the open yard. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go, I figured. Not at that moment.
We slept in shifts as the rain continued to hammer the roof and everything around our abode. Sure, we were stuck until it ended, but at least Shaklin didn’t have anyone crazy enough to be looking for us in such a storm. Sasha didn’t agree though; no surprise there. And Charolette was too busy scrubbing the kitchen floor to even hear any concerns the worrier had.
“We’re out of food and water,” Morgan told me as she flopped next to me on the couch, wrapping an arm around one of mine.
“Have someone set the canteen and thermos out in the rain,” I replied, closing my eyes for the hundredth time, only to be brought back to life by a new bolt of lightning. “Never mind; I’ll do it. I’m not sleeping anyway.”
When I opened the front door, it felt as though I’d stepped into a hot, moist world. I could recall something like it from before but couldn’t put my finger on just when or where.
“My god,” Sara cried. “It’s like a sauna out here.” I turned to find her standing in the doorway.
