by Peter Darley
As they reached the turn to the porch, they were startled by a roar so powerful that the air itself seemed to vibrate.
Alarmed, they turned, and Brandon cautiously eased his way back along the side of the cabin, bracing his chest against the wood. Within seconds, he could see clearly from the shadows.
Snooky ran across the snow toward the trees and a huge, cinnamon-colored sow of the Black Bear species—his own kind. The sow dropped back onto all fours to greet the little cub.
Brandon watched, open-jawed. Snooky’s mother had finally found him.
Or had she? It was such a notable coincidence, it caused him to contemplate the possibility that it was always meant to be—that the universe had brought the cub to him in his darkest hour, only to be reunited with his mother when the time was right.
Perhaps.
With his feelings of sadness and conscience alleviated enormously, he took Belinda’s hand. They grabbed their suitcases from the cabin, then walked outside and locked the door.
He approached the van and opened the passenger’s side door for her to climb inside.
As he walked around to the driver’s side, he stopped momentarily to look back at the cabin with sadness in his heart. He didn’t know if he would ever see his idyllic home again.
Finally, he climbed into the van and turned to Belinda. They were tied to one another now, for better or worse.
As the engine started, Belinda gazed with awe at the snow-caked landscape. It reminded her of how she’d seen it for the first time on that dark night. Although it was spectacular in daylight, it lacked the ethereal, supernatural quality it had in the moonlight. That was a vision she would carry with her for the rest of her life.
Her mind became awash with thoughts of the technological wonders that might be in the two attaché cases. She’d already experienced the wire glider equipment, the laser cutter, and the Turbo Swan. What else did he have in his arsenal?
Fourteen
On the Run
“I hope Snooky’s going to be all right.” Belinda placed her hand on Brandon’s lap as he drove. One of his rock CD’s played at a low level, just enough to provide some background ambiance.
“He will be. I just know it,” he said. “I still can’t get over what I just saw. His mother came back just as we were leaving.”
“It’s certainly remarkable. What family do you have, Brandon?”
Despite feeling somewhat uneasy, he said, “Aunts and uncles scattered here and there. I’ve never really been close to them.”
“You said your father died. What happened to your mom?”
His eyes misted at the mention of his mother. He could almost smell her warm scent, and see her shimmering golden locks resting on her shoulders. “S-she’s still alive. She lives in New Mexico in the house where I grew up. I want you to meet her, and I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen. I want to have a happy family for the first time in my life.”
“Can’t you call her?”
“Too dangerous. Her line will be tapped by now, the house will be bugged, and her every move will be under surveillance without her even knowing it. If they know I’m in contact with her, they’ll go after her to get to me.”
“Oh, my God. This is really scary stuff.”
“I know.”
“I can see how much you love your mom, Brandon. What’s her name?”
“Annabelle,” he said.
Belinda tilted her head with a smile. “That’s a really beautiful name. Maybe someday, when this is all over, we can come back to America and visit her.”
He nodded, even though he couldn’t imagine the circumstances under which that would ever be possible. “I hope so. You know what she always used to tell me?”
“What?”
‘“Treat others how you’d want them to treat you, Brandon’.”
“The Golden Rule,” she said approvingly. “I think I’d like your mom very much. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where you got your heart from.”
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “What about your family?”
“None to speak of. They all think I’m ‘of the Devil’ since I left. I really don’t miss them, or their bullshit beliefs.”
“I know what you mean. My dad was at the far right of politics, and didn’t agree with the separation of church and state.” He recalled what she’d told him in the van en route to Denver on the day following the Carringby incident. “You said you’d left home at sixteen. How did you survive out there?”
“I got a job in a fast food joint and went to night school where I learned to type. Then I got a degree in marketing. I wanted to be a corporate exec so I could give my mom the finger, not that any of it did me any good. I only ever got as far as being a secretary.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine feeling that way toward my mother.”
“I wish I didn’t, but it wasn’t my doing. She pushed me away. You’re all I want now.”
Overwhelmed by her endearing sentiment, he managed to ask, “Where are you from? I mean . . . originally?”
Belinda lowered her head sadly. “Boston, Massachusetts.”
He noticed her somber expression. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s . . . difficult for me to talk about, but I think it would be unfair to keep it from you.”
“What?”
“I was sexually abused by a priest when I was thirteen. I’ve had major resentment issues ever since.”
“Are you serious?” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“I’m serious. I don’t like to think about it. It stirs up a lot of anger. You’re the first person I’ve trusted enough to tell about it since it happened.”
Brandon struggled to know what to say. “Well, did you tell your mother what had happened?”
“Yes,” she said. “She called me a wicked, sinful liar, and turned her back on me. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her for that.”
“I can’t imagine how anyone could treat a child like that. Did anything happen to this priest?”
“No. He’s still working at the diocese in Boston, like so many of the other bastards. Most of them get away with it.”
Thoughts came to Brandon as he listened to her. Who were these monsters that they believed they had the right to do this to people? Priests, as with most authority figures, were often nothing other than corrupt men who existed at the appointment of other corrupt men. And yet they were mere mortal humans who would die like any other. Through a delusion fed by their own adherents, they had power, which they continued to use to commit the greatest of evils, and to violate the innocent. He sensed his anger growing, filling him with conviction. They both had the same enemy, but only he was aware of it. Belinda’s story was a part of the same evil of which he was fighting to be free.
He became distracted by a song on the CD and smiled at the irony of the lyrics:
Driving on the highway of love, when I look in your eyes. Shaking all the fears that I know, with you here by my side . . .
Glancing at Belinda, it was clear from her smile that she’d noticed it too.
They’d been driving for four hours. Belinda took in the breathtaking scenery of the Rockies. Moments recurred when she questioned the reality of her situation. Was she really in the van with this incredible man whom she’d known for such a short time, but for whom she felt so deeply? Was she really traveling with him into the unknown, leaving all she’d ever known behind her, potentially forever? Her gaze lingered on him as his attention was fixed on the road. Enraptured by his gentle, sensitive nature, she immersed herself in the knowledge that there was no finer man she could have found.
“I’m going to find somewhere to eat,” Brandon said, interrupting her train of thought. “I’m hungry. How about you?”
“I’m starving.”
“All right, I think there’s a town up ahead.”
“Do you know where we are?”
He gestured to his portable satellite navigation unit
on the windshield. “According to this, we’re coming up to a town called Moore, just outside of Cheyenne.”
Her heart fluttered for the briefest moment as the reality of her situation was punctuated, once more. “Wyoming.”
“You got it.”
As they approached the town, a main street lined with stores including a supermarket and a private hardware store, showed Moore was a small community. A DVD rental store with a window display offering VHS indicated the town was behind the times.
“I’m going to pull in over beside that convenience store,” Brandon said. “Are you gonna be OK in here?”
“It’s getting quite late. Don’t you think we should try to find a motel soon?”
He nodded although there was a hint of worry in his eyes as he stepped out of the van.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I’m not in disguise, but I think I’ll be OK. It’s just a brief stop in a town we won’t be coming back to. I’ll be right back.” He closed the door and headed down the street.
Once he was out of sight, Belinda couldn’t resist the impulse to stretch her legs and stepped outside. She closed the door behind her and walked just a few steps down the path in the direction Brandon had taken.
She became immediately self-conscious. A middle-aged man and his wife walked past her, both staring in alarm. She looked back at them to see they were looking back at her. Desperately uncomfortable, she turned away.
Across the street she saw a young couple gazing at her with the same suspicion in their eyes. Her pace quickened. She could’ve sworn she saw the young man take his cell phone out of his pocket.
She faced forward to see a young woman turn a corner and stop in her tracks the instant she saw Belinda. Fearfully, the woman turned back down the street she had come from.
What the hell is going on here? Eager to find Brandon, Belinda hurried on, wishing she’d paid attention to which store he’d gone into.
She turned down the sidewalk she’d seen the young woman walk down and broke into a run, eager to catch up with her to learn what the problem was.
Something caught her eye on the wall a few yards behind her. Slowly, she made her way back. As she came closer to it, a chill went through her. The realization of what was fixed to the brickwork caused her blood to turn to ice—her college graduation photograph on a poster:
WANTED
Belinda Carolyn Reese
Suspected of Terrorist Activity in Denver, Colorado
$100,000 Reward for Information Leading to Capture
Her hand came across her mouth as she stifled a whimper. Oh, dear God. What is happening?
Her attention was abruptly distracted by a strange blue light illuminating the darkening half-light of the dusk. It was immediately followed by the deafening shrill of a siren behind her. She screamed, startled, and spun around to find herself cornered by a police car parked diagonally across her path.
Two burly officers exited the vehicle training their pistols on her. Infused with terror, she froze.
“Belinda Reese. Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees!”
Fifteen
Nightmare
Belinda trembled as the two towering officers came closer. Gripping her shoulders, they roughly pulled her to her feet. “Over to the trunk of the car, now. Ten fingers on the fender.”
Numb with shock, she did as she was ordered. Her throat became dry, and her palms were clammy. Her heart pounded as fiercely as if the poster’s accusation was true. There was no distinction between the emotions of the innocent and the guilty in that moment. The sheer terror exerted by the two Herculean authority figures would have caused even the strongest to submit.
She gritted her teeth as one of them slid his hands up and down her legs and then around her waist. Unable to contain herself, she cried, “Somebody, help me!”
“Calm down lady and this’ll go easy,” the first officer said. “Belinda Carolyn Reese. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and for that attorney to be present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for y—”
Belinda screamed in surprise as both officers slumped onto the trunk of the squad car. Frozen for a moment, she tried to process the bizarre. They were arresting her and then they simply fell unconscious before her eyes.
She turned around and her heart leaped. Brandon walked toward her tucking something into the rim of his jeans underneath his denim jacket. “Oh, thank God,” she said, and threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
“It’s all right,” he said in a reassuring, gentle tone. “But sweetheart, we’ve gotta go, like now.”
Breaking the embrace, she took Brandon’s hand, and ran with him back to the van, barely aware of the pedestrians bearing witness to their flight.
The officer who’d begun to read Belinda her rights revived and staggered away from the trunk of the police car. Dazed and disoriented, he made his way out of the side street and onto the main thoroughfare. He spotted Belinda climbing into the van but didn’t gain a clear view of her accomplice.
Barely able to stand, he took out his notebook and pen and awkwardly scribbled down the license plate. He captured the last digit before the vehicle sped past him.
Belinda was still shaking and hyperventilating, uncontrollably.
“Easy, baby,” Brandon said, and glanced at the rear view side mirror. “They’re not following us, but we need to get as far away from the Cheyenne region as we can before we stop again.”
“My face was on a wanted poster,” she said. “They think I’m a terrorist.”
“No, they don’t. They’re doing all this to get to me.”
“To get to you?”
“They don’t want me taken in by the police because I know too much. They want them to take you in so that I’ll go to them. They’re trying to set a trap.”
Her tears abated as exhaustion came over her. “This can’t be real. They’ve even been in my apartment.”
“What?”
“There’s nowhere else they could have gotten that graduation photo.”
“You disappeared after a terrorist attack. The police would’ve gone to your apartment as a priority first, and then given it to the press. It wouldn’t have been them.”
“What did you do to those cops?”
He reached into the rim of his pants and took out a pistol-like device with a transparent screen covering the tip of the nozzle. “I was looking for you and then I heard you scream so I came running.”
Belinda stared at the weapon in his hand. “What is that thing?”
“I had it on me just in case,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s a sonic force emitter. It knocks the hell out of you, but it doesn’t cause any harm. I don’t want to kill anyone. It just hits you with a concentrated wall of sound waves.”
“Please, Brandon,” she said. “Turn the van around and take us back to the cabin. It’s not worth the risk.”
“I could. But we are so close. If you can just hang in there, we’ll be out of the country forty-eight hours from now. We’ll be free.”
She shrugged, emotionally drained. “OK, if you’re sure.”
He kept his eyes on the road and drove without a word.
Within three hours, night had fallen. Given the hour, Belinda knew they had to find somewhere to sleep.
“We need to find a drug store,” Brandon said.
“Why?”
“Do you have any idea how much you still look like that graduation photo?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“Well you do. How much do you know about hairdressing?”
“Quite a bit. Why?”
He gestured to a line of stores ahead. “There’s a drug store. I need you to tell me what I need to buy.”
“For my hair?”
“You have shoulder-length brunette hair. We need to ma
ke it the complete opposite.”
Seized with concern, she said, “You’re not going to cut my hair are you?”
“I’m sorry. I really am, baby. But we have no choice. It’ll grow back, won’t it?”
“Yes, it’ll grow back in time. I’ve done it a couple of times before, but . . .” She paused before coming to terms with the idea and realized necessity took priority over her liking her hair the way it was. “You’re right. We have to.”
“So what do I need to buy?”
“You’re going to need to get a comb, a brush, a hair dryer, scissors, styling mousse, and a bottle of peroxide-blonde hair dye solution.”
He pulled the van up outside the store. “Hide in the back.”
“After what happened back there, you don’t have to tell me twice.” She climbed over the seat, through the linen veil separation, and crouched down next to the Turbo Swan.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, and closed the door behind him.
As Belinda heard him walking away, her heart pounded. Being alone felt terrifying, even though Brandon would only be gone for a couple of minutes. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t stop and her breathing came in deep, labored gasps.
As the seconds ticked by, she began to enter the first stages of panic. Her experience in Moore continued to play over in her mind. Within a few minutes of her leaving the van, she’d been staring down the barrel of a police pistol.
The van door opened and she held her breath.
“Hi sweetheart,” Brandon said. “There wasn’t a line, so I just asked the assistant and she got the stuff for me.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously peered through the drapes. “Is it safe to come out, do you think?”
“Everything’s fine.” He dropped the bag of hair products onto the passenger’s floorboard. “Now, let’s hit the road.”
