by E. Joan Sims
There was not a soul in sight. As a matter of fact, there was not a sign of life to be seen anywhere. There was not a squirrel, not an opossum, not even a mouse. I had indeed been forgotten, because there was no one here to remember me.
I dropped my chin on my folded arms and pondered that sobering thought. What the hell was I going to do? One thing I didn’t have to worry about was being afraid somebody would hear me trying to escape. I could bang around all I wanted to, and that was just what I had in mind.
The cot was difficult enough to move without any added weight so I pushed the mattress to one side before I pushed and pulled and tugged to stand it on one end. During my morning watch through the crack in the door, I had noticed that the lock was reinforced by a padlock, so there was no use in trying to get out that way. I had to find a weaker spot.
I squinted in the growing darkness as I examined the four corners of my prison. After a lot of climbing up and down on the folding chair, and judging the amount of rust on the screws that held together the sides of the aluminum walls, I decided the front left corner was the weakest. I turned the iron cot on its end, aimed, and kicked it as hard as I could. The resulting noise was deafening in the enclosed space, but I was rewarded with a narrow gap in the bottom corner of the structure.
I pulled the cot upright again and repeated the exercise. The gap widened. I was elated.
“Take that you piece of crap!” I screamed. “Lock me up in miserable little room with no food or water. I’ll show you!”
At least thirty minutes and as many attempts to break the wall down passed without any further widening of the opening. Thoroughly discouraged and sweating like a pig, I slumped down on the hard concrete floor in exhausted tears. This wasn’t working. I had to find a weaker spot.
By now it was almost completely dark in the hut, and beyond the vent hole the sunlight had all but vanished. I shuddered as I considered the thought of a night in the small confined space without heat or light.
“I’d rather die now of heart attack,” I murmured, and got back to work.
I hefted the bed back up on its end and turned it around to face the right hand corner. But I was tired and the bed fell backwards—crashing into the back wall and knocking it down into the other side of the enclosure.
When the deafening noise stopped, I stood there in total shock. I had never considered the fact that of necessity the temporary partition would be weaker than the outside walls.
Finally it dawned on me that I was free. I grabbed my sweater and jacket and climbed gingerly over the fallen wall until I was in the other side of the building.
I felt my way cautiously toward the faint outline of light that had to be the door. Fortunately for me, the center of the building was clear of the boxes and crates I could feel on either side as I crept along.
When I reached the end of the building, I leaned gratefully against the door and offered up a small hopeful prayer that it wasn’t locked. I felt around for the handle and turned. My heart sank. I was still a prisoner.
I was tired and hungry and thirsty. And I was more than convinced by now that I had been left for dead. It would be the perfect crime. No one, not even me, much less Horatio and Mother, knew where I was. They could comb the woods for days but no one would ever find me.
“Poor little me! Poor pitiful little me,” I laughed hysterically. “Let’s have a pity party! All the mice and rats and spiders, and…”
Chills ran up my spine as I heard something in the distance.
“…and wolves are invited,” I ended bravely.
Chapter Thirty
I had two choices. I could stay where I was, or I could go back to where I had been. I decided to stay where I was and feel around in the dark for anything I might eat or use to escape. Who knows, I reasoned, I might be in the food storage building. For all I knew, this could be a huge pantry filled with Godiva chocolates, or Scottish smoked salmon, or even cans of Mighty Dog, which didn’t sound too bad to me right about now.
I pulled my sweater back on and hung my coat on the doorknob. I considered putting on my gloves in case I ran into a spider or two but decided against it. I would be able to tell so much more by touching things with my bare fingertips.
For what seemed like hours, I felt my way in the darkness up and down the center aisle of the warehouse. I pried and pulled at the tops of every crate and box I could reach but nothing opened up.
The big room had a pervasive smell. After a while, I decided it was some kind of machine oil. Then I remembered the stains on the floor of my cell. Maybe I was in some kind of car or truck storage space, and if that were true, I might as well stop looking. I couldn’t eat a tire, although I was almost that hungry.
I crept back up to the front and felt around the door for my jacket. I was tired, and a nap seemed the only thing left I could enjoy. My jacket had slipped off the knob to the floor and as I reached around to find it, my hand knocked over a large metal cylinder. It rolled around on the concrete and, I had a devil of a time grabbing it.
Heedless of spiders and desperate to find whatever it was, I finally got down on my hands and knees and crawled back over the entire area in front of the door. My right hand finally closed over the long tube just at the switch. I pushed and the flashlight turned on blinding me with its glorious light.
“Wow!” I said. “Wow!”
I sat on the cold floor and marveled at the light as it played over the mountains of boxes and crates piled high in each corner of the room. The flashlight was a big one and the light it gave off was bright. I could see as far back as the wall I had knocked down to escape. After the novelty wore off, I got up and returned to my search in earnest. Some of the boxes had labels. I had felt them in the dark. Now that I had a light, maybe I would be able to tell what was inside at least some of the crates.
I was astounded. Most of the larger crates were full of guns and ammunition. The odor I had thought was machine oil was the grease used to pack the rifles. I knew moving any of the heavy boxes was out of the question, so I climbed up over the nearest ones to inspect those higher up. I found boxes of blankets, which I mentally marked for possible later use, and cookware, which would come in handy if I could find any food.
Exhausted and weak, my lips dry and parched from lack of water, I crawled back down from my crate mountain to the door and my jacket. The temperature had fallen and I was cold again. I set the flashlight on the nearest crate and shrugged into my coat, then plopped next to the light and stared at the door that refused me exit.
It was a few moments before my brain registered what my eyes were seeing. Next to the door, hanging on a nail, was a large silver key ring. I got up carefully and reached my hand out as if I were afraid it was a mirage—like a beautiful green oasis seen by a dying desert traveler. My fingers closed over the metal ring. With shaking hands, I tried each key until I heard the beautiful sound of the tumblers falling into place. I turned the knob, and the door opened out into the frigid winter night.
High above, the stars twinkled in a clear black sky. The night had dressed in black velvet and put on diamonds to celebrate my freedom.
“Thank you!” I whispered. “Thank you.”
I sighed deeply and looked around. For some reason, I felt a nervous sense of urgency. Even though there was no one in sight, I had a feeling someone could possibly appear at any moment. I tried to figure out why I felt that way. It finally occurred to me as I walked across the big clearing. This place wasn’t abandoned or deserted. It was temporarily unoccupied. The inhabitants could return at any moment.
The doors of all the huts were closed, but when I opened them and looked inside I saw cots like mine made up military style with army blankets and no-nonsense looking pillows. Clothes hung from nails or pegs on the walls, and boots were stored neatly under beds. This was a camp, a military camp, probably some kind of outpost. Then it struck me. I had found the underground paramilitary training camp. Or rather, the camp had found me.
“M. C
amp,” I whispered, then shouted. “M. camp, military camp! Of course, Horatio, don’t you see? This is what Andy meant in his silly little notebook. Now you know where to start looking for me!”
That knowledge filled me with renewed energy. I practically ran to the last building and flung open the door. All military camps had a mess hall. Ta’Ronda had told me so.
The door opened onto a large room filled with rows of wooden tables and benches. In the back was a kitchen with empty steam tables and polished stainless steel counters. And best of all, there was a large two-door refrigerator next to a pantry with open shelves. Boxes of food lined the walls. Oatmeal and graham crackers, sardines and Crisco—I had found paradise.
First, I opened the fridge hoping to find something to drink. Big jugs of milk and orange juice filled the first shelf. I grabbed a quart of orange juice and drank straight from the carton. That was something I had always wanted to do.
“Here’s to you, Mother,” I chuckled. “And Dad was right, it does taste better this way.”
I found a plate of biscuits and some ham and cheese. I made a hasty sandwich while stuffing my mouth with chunks of cheddar. It was delicious. After three biscuits and a half a pound of cheese and ham, I was stuffed. I finished the quart of orange juice and poured some milk into a mug from one of the cabinets.
I briefly considered making coffee, but decided it would take too much time. Instead, I found some plastic bags and packed a makeshift picnic with the rest of the biscuits and a good portion of the cheese. I had eaten all the ham. There was no use trying to hide my attack on the refrigerator, so I looked around for anything else I could use. A couple of apples and a pear in the bottom drawer added to my picnic, along with two tins of sardines and a plastic liter bottle of Coke from the pantry. I found some plastic bags under the sink, dumped my goodies inside, and I was ready to go.
When I got back outside, the freezing wind struck my face with the cold force of reality. I needed a lot more than a Coke and some biscuits if I was going to survive a night like this in the woods.
I hurried back to one of the huts and grabbed two woolen blankets. A knapsack on one bunk gave me an idea. I dumped its contents out on the cot and filled the empty knapsack with my picnic. Before I left, I rummaged through the articles I had emptied out and found a knife, some matches, and a smaller flashlight to add to my loot.
“Way to go, Paisley!” I congratulated myself as I slipped the knapsack on.
I folded a blanket over each shoulder and pulled on my knit cap and gloves as I stepped outside into the cold. I was as ready as I would ever be. I had to get as far away from here as possible. I needed a relatively safe haven where I could spend the long winter night.
I swung the light around the clearing trying to decide which direction to take. The stars I had thought so beautiful an hour ago were now mocking me from the sky above. I cursed myself for not remembering all the information in the scouting manual about celestial guideposts. If Cassie were with me she would know immediately which way to go.
Thinking of my daughter brought a lump to my throat. That’s when I began to realize just how tired and vulnerable I was. With some difficulty, I put thoughts of hearth and home out of my mind. I simply could not afford that luxury.
I tried to think of the fun I would have telling Pam that I had outwitted the bad guys all by myself. She would be tremendously impressed. So would Cassie. My heart swelled again with tearful yearnings, and again, I shut off that avenue of thought as quickly as I could.
My feet decided on a direction of their own when my mind avoided the decision. They took the path of least resistance around briars and thorny underbrush that pulled and tore at my clothes. Occasionally I stumbled over a rock or fallen branch and had a hard time recovering, but I struggled on through the night.
The wind picked up when I left the camp. It whistled and moaned through the trees and blew dead leaves up in my face. Every so often, I felt a tiny drop if icy moisture touch my cheek, and I prayed that it wouldn’t snow until I had found my way back to civilization.
I thought longingly of the library back on the farm. I imagined myself sitting in front of a big roaring fire with a cup of hot cider in my hand and a bite of Mother’s caramel cake in my mouth. I couldn’t believe I had ever taken that bounty of warmth and good fortune for granted. I vowed that I never would again.
I didn’t realize I was walking down a dirt road until I tripped over a dried, muddy tire track and almost fell. Stumbling forward to keep the weight in the knapsack from pulling me back seemed the best option. If it hadn’t been for the tree it might have worked. Instead, I slammed into the trunk on my third stumbling lurch and fell to my hands and knees. Somewhere between the first and second lurch I dropped my flashlight. Suddenly I was once again at the mercy of the darkness.
As dazed and exhausted as I was, I knew getting up right away was very important. It was just somehow a very difficult thing to do. I leaned back against the tree and looked up at the skeletal branches swaying in the wind. It would be so easy to fall asleep, even with the sound of the bare limbs clacking against each other.
I thought dreamily about a lullaby Mother used to sing to me about a rock-a-bye baby in the treetops. That cradle fell, I remembered, and the baby came tumbling down. That didn’t bode well for the baby.
With a deep and weary sigh, I pushed up to my knees and used the tree trunk to pull myself up the rest of the way. I was looking around on the ground for the flashlight when I heard the sound of the four wheeler coming through the woods.
At first, like the silly, naïve, nitwit that I was, I was elated. Maybe my worries were over, I thought. A fire and a nice warm bed might be only a few minutes away. And then I came back to my senses and a great cold rush of fear hit my stomach.
I fell back against the tree gasping. Only someone who had anything to do with the camp I had just left would be out here on a night like this. I had to hide.
The first thing I had to do was ditch my bulky knapsack. I ran back off the road as far as I could and dumped the blankets and knapsack in a hollow tree trunk next to a large boulder. Even in the dark I would be able to recognize the spot later—if I had a chance, that is.
I tried to climb up on the boulder but my feet kept slipping on the lichen-covered rock. I knew if I could evade them now, they would come looking for me later when they discovered I had escaped. Logic told me that my goose was pretty much cooked either way.
The sound of the approaching four wheeler was loud and annoying in the crisp winter night. It was almost as loud as a snow mobile. The neighbors won’t like it, I thought distractedly. I hunkered down next to the rock and hoped that whatever light the vehicle had wouldn’t shine this far off the road. I was afraid to lose sight of my knapsack. If I had to run, I would, but I knew I wouldn’t last long without the blankets and food.
The ATV engine sounded like a giant, angry wasp. I covered my ears and closed my eyes as it neared the spot where I had stumbled in the road. Suddenly the machine slowed and whined into neutral. I opened my eyes and squinted fearfully through the darkness as a tall figure got off the seat and walked around in front of the headlights. I was so exhausted it was hard to focus, but there was something so familiar about the way the man held his head and walked with his shoulders bent over.
It was Bert!
A great feeling of joy and thanksgiving swelled up from my chest choking off any outcry I might have made. Instead I struggled to my feet and ran toward the headlights. Tears filled my eyes as I ran out on the road and flung myself against Bert’s broad chest.
He took a step backwards to keep us both from falling and then held me away from his body as he looked at my face in the light.
“Paisley! Oh, my God, what have you done?” he whispered hoarsely. “They’re right behind me.”
I looked up in despair at the sound of his words, but I didn’t have the strength left to ask what he meant.
“Remember this!” he said urgently. “You
don’t know me!”
And he hit me squarely on the chin with his hard bony fist. A blackness darker than the night closed over my mind as I fell to the frozen ground.
Chapter Thirty-One
“You don’t know me! You don’t know me!”
The words echoed in my mind as I fell down a long spiral tunnel. At times, various people I knew stuck their heads out of windows in the tunnel walls. Mother was there and so was Cassie.
“You don’t know him,” they sang in unison. “You never knew him!”
My head and neck ached. I tried to change positions in the hope that the pain would go away.
“She’s coming around,” said a strange voice from the top of the tunnel. “Don’t you want to put your mask on?”
“It won’t matter,” came the answer. “She’ll never have the chance to tell.”
I was sad, very sad. My heart was broken, and I didn’t fully understand why. Tears coursed down my cheeks, and my chest rose and fell with sobs. I opened my eyes and took a huge gulp of air as I tried to sit up.
“Wha…where…?”
“Better yet, who?” laughed the man sitting at a bare wooden table in front of me.
I tried to rub the film from my eyes, but once again my hands were tied behind my back. I gave an experimental tug, but this time the rope was tight, very secure, and very painful. I squinted through tears as I tried to focus on the rough, bearded face of my captor. It wasn’t Bert, that much I could see. And I was glad, because somehow Bert was responsible for the pain in my lower jaw.
“Please, can you untie my hands?” I begged. “Surely I’m not a threat to you.”
“Hah!” the man laughed. “You got that right.”
