Run With Me

by Shorter, L. A.

  She looks at me. “That far north already? How long was I asleep?”

  “Over 4 hours,” I tell her. Her face turns slightly pained at my words, like she's just been kicked in the stomach.

  “Oh,” she says. “So....where exactly are we going?”

  I realize that's the first time she's asked directly where we're headed. Previously I've just told her 'north', and nothing more. She must trust me implicitly to be lead so far without knowing the destination.

  “North of Seattle near the Canada border,” I say. “I know someone who can help us – you – get settled. He'll put you up somewhere where you'll be safe.”

  She nods and her eyes turn down. I know this isn't what she wants. I know how hard it must be.

  “How long will it take to get there?” she asks, slightly sheepishly.

  I consider for a moment before answering. “Maybe 4 or 5 hours, depending on the roads. You can keep sleeping if you want, it's OK.” Part of me wants her to shut her eyes and lie there peacefully again...

  “No,” she answers quickly. “I'll stay awake from now on.”

  I nod as we both move onto our fries.

  “So, this person. How do you know them?”

  “From my time in the army. He'll keep you safe for now,” I say. I don't tell her that he was dishonorably discharged for smuggling. Ever since then he, like me, has been living on the other side of the law.

  “And....do you trust him?” she asks as a questioning frown forms on her forehead.

  “Of course,” I say quickly. “There's a band of brotherhood in the army. Anyone you serve with – you're bound for life as family.”

  She looks slightly embarrassed to have asked and turns back to look down at her fries. I guess my response was a little forceful.

  “Look,” I say, bringing her eyes back to mine. “I wouldn't take you to anyone I didn't trust.” My tone is softer now. “You do trust me, right?”

  She nods, shakily. “I trust you.”

  We set again on our way. This time, Kitty keeps her eyes open the entire time, almost unblinking. She gazes out at the landscape around us, almost in wonder. I begin to think that she must have spent more or less her entire life in LA, away from the natural beauty the world has to offer. She seems genuinely entranced by the wildness, by the steep, snow capped, mountains, thick, green woods, and rushing rivers.

  It's nothing new to me. I've traced every corner, ever crack and crevice of this country several times over. Tell me to get from A to B without a map and I'll do it. I can often tell, just by the smell of a place, where I am. It's all been embedded inside me as part of my work. I'm always traveling. Always on the move. I've tracked people to the farthest reaches of the nation. Found them in the most unlikely of hiding places. So now, when I look at the undoubted beauty around me, I feel nothing. Just the faint memory of an old job looking for my quarry, and always searching for answers. Answers about my wife, about my child. Why they were killed. Who killed them. They're the two questions that linger in my mind every single day. I fall asleep with them, I wake with them. Not until they're answered will I be able to rest. Properly rest.

  It's odd that at that exact moment I hear her name. Both their names. I turn my head from the road and see Kitty looking at me, an inquisitive look on her face. I just stare for a moment, and she asks again. “Who are Sophie and Ellie?”

  Hearing the names out loud catches me off-guard. It's been a long time since that's happened. Their names exist only in my thoughts now, and never on anyone's tongue. In fact, even hearing someone call 'Sophie' or 'Ellie' in a supermarket or in the park makes me wince.

  I shuffle my thoughts for a moment and cough, before turning back to the road after far too long with my eyes off it. I just about avoid ramming into the back of a truck as Kitty shouts 'whoa' and I veer around it.

  When I've managed to straighten the car out I glance at her again. “How do you know those names?” I ask.

  “You were calling them in your sleep,” she says. “Last night, you must have said them a dozen times each.” She exhales slightly and suddenly goes awkward. “I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry. It's none of my business.”

  She turns away and looks out the window to her right, and a short silence settles once more in the car.

  “They were my family,” I say, breaking the quiet. “They were taken from me.”

  Now her face turns back to me, and her eyes grow soft. She doesn't say anything, but just looks at me for a moment, letting me continue or not. I guess she doesn't want to push it if it's a sensitive subject.

  “Sophie – she was my wife. Ellie was my daughter,” I say. It's the first time I've spoken their names for years. Consciously that is.

  Now Kitty speaks, her words tentative. “What happened?”

  “They....were taken from me,” I repeat. I stop, feeling the weight of my loss barring down on me once more. When I speak the next words I feel a very real pain in my chest. “They were killed in a fire. Someone killed them.” The grimace of pain on my face morphs, as it often does when I think of their deaths, into a deep scowl.

  “Killed?” whispers Kitty. “Someone killed them?”

  I nod, staring at the road ahead. It's not something I want to talk about. It's something I've bottled up, refuse to let out. Kitty must realize this because she doesn't ask again as I fall silent. She just turns back and stares out at the looming mountains in the distance, this strange look on her face.

  Now Sophie and Ellie are dominating my thoughts. That fire. It was a set-up. Made to look like an accident. I never learned why, why they were killed. That's the most frustrating thing of all. A botched robbery? A case of mistaken identity, like with Kitty and her friend? I've thought through every possibility I can imagine, but I always come down on one lingering thought. That it was a professional job. That it was intended, planned. This was retribution. This was revenge.

  I wonder whether it was me. Was she killed because of me? I'd had my enemies back home before I joined the service. Would any of them have taken such measures? I collaborated with the police over it, but they couldn't help me. That's when I left the army and began a new life. One in the shadows.

  I visited anyone I thought might have done it. I questioned them in my own unique way until I was satisfied they weren't to blame. I was unhinged and dangerous, a wild animal hell-bent on finding the truth at any cost. I broke bones, damaged lives, in my hunt for the truth. But it never came, and soon I began to grow numb. Numb to any pleasure in life. Numb to the prospect of a future. All I did was live in the past, yearning to find that final piece so I could lay the ghosts of my family to rest. But still, that hunt goes on.

  I look over at Kitty again, and she's retreated into her shell. I know what she's going through. She's losing everyone she cares about too. I wonder if that's why I decided to help her? In her I see a kindred spirit, someone undone by events outside of their control. Her life has been turned upside down, ruined, by something she had no part in. I understand all too well how that feels. How it eats you up inside, weighs you down.

  We continue in silence for a long time as the afternoon draws by. Soon we're approaching Seattle and I see that same gaze of wonder on Kitty's face. I see her eyes trace the skyline of the city, settling on Mt. Ranier in the distance. Before we know it we're through the city and continuing north. Kitty's now got her eyes fixed to the wing mirror, watching as the city's reflection begins to fade into the distance.

  “Can't I just stay there?” she asks, still staring in the mirror. Her voice has a downcast tone as if she already know what I'm going to say.

  “You could,” I say, “but I can't guarantee your safety there. Too many cameras and eyes. Have you been before?” I don't know why I ask, because it's so obvious to tell that she hasn't. I guess I'm trying to make conversation. Keep her mind – and mine – busy.

  She shakes her head forlornly. “Never really been out of California,” she says. “We never had much money growing up.” />
  I understand how that feels. I wasn't exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth.

  “Well, when this is all done, you can go where you want,” I say, trying to revive her spirit a little. Give her something to look forward to, something to hope for.

  She doesn't answer, but just turns her gaze back ahead of us.

  Another hour passes before I tell her we'll be arriving soon. The news clearly isn't welcome to her and I can see her shuffle nervously in her seat. She asks me a few questions about what's going to happen and I try to calm her nerves with the best answers I can give. Unfortunately, whatever way you spin it, they don't sound too good.

  We move inland, away from the west coast, and towards a small Lake called Shannon. There's a tiny town – Concrete – just south of the lake where I've planned to meet with Dale, my contact. It's remote, it's quiet, and it's the sort of place you can disappear in for a long time. All I need is for Kitty to stay low for now. I'll do the rest.

  The evening is beginning to dawn when I see the shady figure of Dale Carson standing by the side of the road. He's cloaked and garbed in black, but I know it's him from his size. He's a big man – tall, that is – and his slightly hunched shape is distinctive.

  “That's him,” I say to Kitty, who follows my eye line up the road. Her expression doesn't change much. She's still lost in her own thoughts.

  I slow to a crawl and stop beside him, and he immediately steps forward and into the backseat. “Keep moving,” he says gruffly, keeping his hood covering his head. I can't help but smile. Dale was always incredibly carefree until he got caught smuggling in the army. Since then he's become the most paranoid and closed off person I've ever known.

  “Good to see you too Dale,” I speak back to him. He merely grunts again as I pull off once more. “So, where are we going.”

  “Half a mile down the road. Take a left and climb into the hills.”

  Kitty remains unfazed to my side, which I find surprising. I see her glance back at Dale, but there's no look of fear or trepidation on her face. She merely looks at him and then turns her eyes forward again.

  When we've moved through the town and have turned up towards the wooded hills, Dale finally speaks. “So, this is the girl,” he says to me, as if Kitty's not even there.

  “Yes,” I say. “Kitty Munroe.” I haven't actually told Dale who the girl would be yet, and yet he doesn't react to her name. I find this slightly odd, given that this girl's been all over the news for the last few days. Instead, he just nods under his hood and finally acknowledges Kitty's presence.

  “Miss Munroe,” he says dryly, “good to meet you.” He snakes a hand out from under his hooded jacket and reaches forward. Kitty arches her body and shakes his hand, no doubt feeling even worse about the situation than she did a little while ago. I did explain to her a little bit about Dale. How he can be incredibly taciturn and cold sometimes. In any case, he's not here to be friends with her. He's here to do a job.

  I've been driving up a dirt track into the hills for about 5 minutes when Dale directs me off to the left. There's a broken down wooden fence and gate, all covered in vines and undergrowth, with another track beyond. It looks completely unused and is almost entirely concealed from view. I stop the car and Dale steps out. He walks towards the gate, rips off a few tangled tines and bushes, and pulls it open. He ushers me through before closing the gate once more.

  I can see Kitty's eyes growing more concerned now. This is just about the most remote place I've ever been to, so I can't even imagine how she must feel. We keep driving and, after another 5 minutes, come to an old shack. It's small and has been half taken over by the surrounding woods, branches and leaves and bushes wrapping around it with their creeping tendrils.

  “This is it,” says Dale, opening the door and stepping from the car. I look over at Kitty, who's staring forward at the shack, and take her hand. This draws her eyes to me. They're hollow and almost blank. “It'll be OK,” I say to her. “This is only temporary. I'll be back, I promise.”

  My words bring some emotion back to her face, and I see a tear building in the corner of her eye. She turns away quickly before it has a chance to fall, and steps from the car.

  Now we both follow Dale into the shack. It's built from stone, with a heavy wooden door, and small chimney. Dale knocks on the stone walls as he pushes the door open. “This will help you stay warm at night. It can get real cold up here after dark.”

  He carries on inside and we follow. It's dark, and bare. There's a small bed up against the far wall, some basic cooking facilities, a few cupboards, a table, a quaint fireplace, and a moth-eaten sofa. I also notice a decent sized bookcase filled with various novels and other works.

  “Right,” says Dale, turning towards Kitty. “There are food supplies in the cupboards there for you. Mainly tinned and dried food. If you want to cook, you can use that gas stove. Now, there's no electricity here so no light. There's a big store of candles, though, and that fireplace works fine. There's plenty of wood outside. Be careful about walking off into the woods. There are bears and wolves around here, so try to keep the door shut at all times.” He looks around the room, trying to think of anything else to say. “Well, that's it. I'll be back up here to check on you in a couple of days.” He looks at me and nods, and I return the gesture. Then he walks outside, shuts the door, and leaves me alone with Kitty for a moment.

  I take her by the hand again and she spontaneously hugs me. I feel her grip me tight, her breathing slightly abbreviated. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, I hug her firmly back, until her grip begins to ease and she lets go.

  When she speaks her words are shaky and teary. “When will you be back?” she asks. Unfortunately, I have no real answer. It's possible I won't be coming back at all.

  “Soon,” I say reassuringly. “But just in case, I've given Dale instructions to help you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I've told him if he doesn't hear from me, he should go ahead and set you up with a new identity, just like we talked about. Hopefully, it won't come to that.”

  Kitty nods, doing her best to compose herself, to be strong. I reach to my back pocket and pull out a small device. I hand it to Kitty, who inspects it quickly.

  “It's a tracking device,” I tell her. “Like the one we found on the car. It's not activated right now.” I take it back off her and show her the small switch on the side of the tiny box. “This turns it on.”

  She shakes her head, slightly confused. “Why are you giving it to me? You know where I am.”

  “I want you to use it as a distress signal, just in case,” I say. “If you feel under threat in any way, turn it on and I'll know you're in trouble. I'll come find you straightaway, wherever you are. I promise.”

  She nods without speaking and I give the small box back to her. “Keep it safe and on you at all times,” I say.

  “But I'll be safe here, won't I?”

  She suddenly has this air of an innocent child, caught up in something much bigger than her. Her eyes are wide and hopeful, yearning for me to tell her it's all going to be fine and things will go back to normal soon. But I can't guarantee any of that. Some things are not in my control.

  “It's just a precaution Kitty. Please, just be careful.”

  She shakes her head. “No, it's you who has to be careful. I know what you're planning to do Colt. I'll be fine here. Please, don't get hurt.”

  I give her a confident smile and set my eyes to stone. “I won't,” I say, with utter assurance. Then I give her a final look and turn out towards the door.

  Her voice catches me before I leave. “If you don't come back, I want you to know...” she trails off as I turn back towards her. “I wanted to say....thank you.”

  I smile again, but don't answer. I simply give her a look of 'don't mention it', turn, and walk through the door.

  Chapter 12 - Kitty

  Kitty

  When Colt drives away with Dale I can hone
stly say it's the most lonely I've ever felt. Colt is my one last link to the world, and now he's gone. I stand, motionless for a while, in the middle of the shack. It's almost completely silent, but for the wild animals calls and birdsong in the woods around me. And now I know there are bears and wolves out there. Great.

  Dale spoke so quickly before that I can hardly remember what he said. His instructions were brief, but then again, I'm sure I could have worked them out by myself. I take another glance around my new home as the light outside begins to fade. It seems darker here, even though it's still early enough for the sun to be up. It's probably a combination of the overhanging trees and the gathering clouds above.

  The first thing I do is look for those candles Dale mentioned. I can see one on the wooden table in the middle of the room, and one sat on a shelf of the bookcase. Clever place to put a candle, I think. Right in front of a bunch of books. Whoever was here last can't have been the sharpest tool in the box.

  I wonder who was here last. Is this somewhere Dale takes people when they need somewhere to hide? Am I just the latest in a long line of America's most wanted? The thought isn't comforting in the least. This place is merely a hiding place for those about to drop off the map, and I'm next in line.

  I open up a cupboard and find the food Dale left. It's mainly stocked with tinned beans, meats, and fruits. I also see nuts, some chips, and a small selection of candy. Nothing fresh and nothing that's going to go rotten in more than a few days.

  I open up the next cupboard along and see a stack of towels, a few tools, and candles. There are other bits and pieces in here too, such as matches, which I'll need. I take out a few candles and position them around the room, away from anything that looks to be too flammable. The last thing I need is to fall asleep and the shack to go up in flames.

  The thought brings me back to what Colt told me in the car earlier. His wife, his little girl, killed in a fire in their house. I remember seeing something like that on the news years ago, but the press just said it was an accident. I wonder if that was them?