by B. R. Miller
“I find that hard to believe…”
“Hey, you mean you don’t like spending every minute of your life under constant supervision, always running for your life, looking over your shoulder?”
We both laugh and the mood lightens.
“You can’t give up now. You’ve come so far! Farther than I probably would have made it.” Patty has a way of making anyone feel wanted, fell important, feel loved. “Today may be our last on this Earth. What are you doing to make the most of it?”
I turn and look him dead in the eye. He is right. For all I know, I could die tomorrow and I for sure don’t want to spend my last day sulking over a deer. Patty grabs my shoulder and smiles at me.
“Come on,” he says, “let’s go get some hot cocoa.”
~*~
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Tristan.”
I took the nearest seat at CO’s desk and cover my yawn. These two a.m. meetings have got to end.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” CO said grimly. “There are plans for you to leave.”
“And go where?” I say, still waking up.
“Away. Far away.”
“Like…Alaska?”
CO let out a slight chuckle. “Further.”
“Why?”
CO rounded his desk and opened a manila folder. He shuffled through some papers before throwing a stack of papers in front of me. “Because of them.”
The first paper was simply marked “TOP SECRET” so I slid it over and it revealed photos, descriptions and whereabouts of strange men. “Who are they?”
“They’re called Raves and they’ve been hunting you for some time now.”
“Hunting me? I thought I was the hunter…”
“We’ve tried to keep their existence a secret from you because we were afraid you would be blood thirsty and focus on them instead of on your missions.”
“Why would I be blood thirsty?” I inquired.
“That’s a question best answered at a later time.” CO came back around to the front of his desk and leans against it, folding his arms. “They have found your location and they know about your family.”
“What?”
“It’s only a matter of time before they act and do something devastating. Which is why you need to leave.”
“How is my leaving going to solve anything? Won’t they still attack when I’m not here?”
“It is our belief that they will follow you away from here. In turn, protecting your family.”
“Am I going alone?”
“No. Skinner will be joining you and you will be paired up with three active duty military personnel who will protect you and guide you. They will be in charge. When they say go, you go.”
“Understood…” I lower my head trying to process all of this. “How long will I be gone?”
“A month. Two at most. Tristan, you need to understand that this is for your family’s safety.”
I let out a half assed smile. “Funny, all this time I thought it was about my safety.” I stand up and walk to the door. “When?”
“Soon.”
The door shuts behind me leaving CO alone with his files.
~*~
The fire roared as I sat on the ground, back against the couch covered up in an old quilt. Everyone else was asleep, dispersed throughout the room. I stared into the fire, mesmerized by its beauty and fluidity. It’s been three weeks since I last saw the deer and we haven’t had meat since then.
“Can’t sleep?”
I look up and to my left to see Skinner curled up on the recliner, peeking his head out from under his covers. I shake my head no and return my gaze to the fire.
“Do you like it here?” Skinner asks softly.
“I do,” I say turning to him and smiling.
“Do you ever think of home?”
“Sometimes,” I respond quietly. “But not usually.”
“I constantly think of home. And my family.” Skinner pauses. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Act like nothing is wrong? Like we’re not really here and this is all but a dream?”
“Believe me, I have my moments. But for the most part, I like to think that is the worst that we’re going to go through in our lives so why not go through it now, before we’ve settled down and have a family. It just makes it easier to cope, I guess.”
Skinner readjusts in his chair and pulls the blankets up over his head. Soon, he’s asleep just like everyone else in the room. I continue to stare into the fire a while before dozing off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
The warm March sun beat down on me as I walked through the forest. Most of the snow is now gone and being in this place for the last three and a half months gets old, real old. So I am on my daily walk, taking in the beauty of the new life of spring. I never walk the same route again so today I find myself in an unfamiliar part of the woods. All the trees look the same as everywhere else but I know I have never been here, or have I? That bush looks familiar. And so does that deer trail.
I follow the deer trail a ways before it leads me to a clearing. Taking a few steps inside of it, I know I have been here before. In the middle of winter, on a cold, clear night when the deer approached me. Remembering what Patty told me just afterwards I hold back my emotions and decide it is time that I head back.
I turn a corner around some trees and find the old, white house standing there quietly, except for Amille standing on the porch. He’s talking to someone but I can’t see who. As I get to the base of the steps I realize he’s on the satellite phone, most likely checking in with headquarters. I smile at him and begin to walk to the door when he lowers the phone and places a hand over the mouth piece.
“Tristan,” he begins, “I need you to stay here for a little bit. I have something we need to talk about.”
I nod in agreement then walk inside. Skinner is playing an intense game of chess with Cooly while Fletcher is focused on a book and Patty is stirring a pot of stew. I walk over and take a seat in the recliner and watch Patty carefully mix up all the ingredients in the pot.
“Patty?” I call.
Patty looks up at me with a smile on his face yet continues stirring.
“Do you know what Amille wants?”
Patty shakes his head. “He said we all have to talk about something. Maybe someone is joining us?”
“Maybe.”
I look over at Fletcher who was obviously listening in on our conversation and he has a crooked smile on his face. I’m about to question him on it when Amille walks through the door.
“Can I get everyone over here, please?” Amille asks politely.
Skinner and Cooly put their game on hold and take a seat on the couch. Fletcher closes his book and sets it on the ground while Patty continues to stir his pot of stew.
“So, I know you all love it here,” Amille begins, “but it’s time for us to move on.”
Patty, Skinner and I all erupt in questions and dismay.
“We’re headed west, and we leave tomorrow.”
Now nothing is said. We all hang our head in sadness. No one wants to leave here. For once, we are living in a place where we can do what we want without having someone constantly looking over our shoulder.
“It’s going to take four days to get where we’re going. We’re going to be driving through an area where the manufacture weapons. Now, I want you to know something about this place. Everything they are doing, violates the international treaty laws. They force men to work on these weapons. Unfortunately, the only road for two hundred miles runs right through it so I need you all to be on your guard. Fletcher?”
“Right,” Fletcher says, standing up out of his chair. “We need to take extra precautions. For that reason, we need to make you look like a prisoner so that if we get caught, we can just say we’re transferring you.”
“How do you make us look like a prisoner?” Skinner asks.
“All the prisoners there have shaved heads,
so we’ll have to do the same to you.”
“Is that all?” I ask.
“As an extra precaution, we all need to take these pills. Three a day until we’re through that area.”
“And what are they?” Patty inquires.
“They’re anti-radiation pills. Our reports suggest that they are working on high level explosives so we need to protect ourselves from them.”
Fletcher pulls out a pill bottle from his pocket and opens it up. He walks around the room and hands each of us three little white pills.
“Now swallow them,” Fletcher says.
We all pop them in our mouths and swallow. I don’t understand why we would take such risks but I have to do what I am told. I have to trust that Amille has my best interest in mind.
Cooly comes around the corner carrying a pair of scissors and clippers. Skinner is up first. He sits in the recliner while Cooly snips off his long hair. Once it is relatively short, Cooly starts up the clippers and shaves the rest. Once he’s done, Skinner runs a hand over his head and smiles. Patty’s up next followed by me.
Once we’re all shaved, we look at each other and crack jokes about how ridiculous we all look. Skinner then walks over and continues his chess game with Cooly while Patty returns to his pot of stew. I decide I’m going to go on one last walk before we leave.
Walking outside, I stand on the porch for a minute, taking it all in. The two wooden chairs resting peacefully on the deck. The old steps which have gotten much use out of them. And the Radio Flyer that used to get hours of use. Even the trees which cocoon this place in beauty. All of it I will miss dearly.
~*~
The sun broke through the trees and kissed my face. I stood there, eyes closed, and listened. I heard the birds chirping away in a merry tune. The wind gently blowing through the tree tops, making some moan. The water rushing over weathered stones from the creek. I open my eyes again and pick up my guitar. I take a seat on the lone red picnic table that resided in this clearing. No one else was around. No one but me and my guitar.
I strummed the first chord and let it ring out. The second, third and fourth chords followed suit. Soon, I was strumming a catchy tune. A melody popped in my head and I began to hum it out loud. Everything that I was feeling, the pain, the worry, the inability to do anything about the situation all welled up inside of me and I let it out.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I toss and I turn and all see if your face.
I cried out for help and you saved me.
Now I’m crying out again, oh save me!
First verse down. Now for a chorus.
Save me, save me, save me now!
‘Cause I’m falling to the ground.
And I don’t know what to do
And I don’t know what to say.
So save me, save me, save me now!
Not bad. I quickly jotted down the verse and chorus on a piece of paper I brought and wrote “Save Me” on the top of it.
A whistle.
I heard it behind me, I know I did.
Another whistle.
I gently take my guitar off and set it on the picnic table. Taking a few steps towards the trees, I bring my hands up in combat ready position. A tall man, dressed in all black military attire emerges from the trees, followed by two others.
“Hello, Tristan,” the man said in a thick Hungarian accent. “My names Amille. And this is Cooly and Fletcher.”
The two other men walk up, one on each side of him, and lower their weapons. I hang my head and smile to mask my real feelings. I know what this is.
“Is it that time?” I ask.
Amille nods slowly. “I’m afraid it is.”
I shake my head in disbelief that this is really happening. Reaching for my guitar, I’m stopped.
“Leave it,” the man known as Fletcher says. “You can’t bring it with you.”
My hand lowers and I take a step towards them. “Is he ready? Do you really think they’ll believe him?”
“Do they have a choice?” Amille says.
I nod and follow the men into the forest, forever leaving my past behind me.
~*~
The second day in the jeep is far worse than the first. We sit there, most of the time in silence, wishing we were back at the house. The monotony of the scenery is getting to me. The trees faded away pretty quickly and now it is just endless fields of prairie grass. Fletcher is driving like usual and Amille is in the passenger seat examining a set of maps. Cooly is in the back with us, listening to his iPod while Patty and Skinner slept. I don’t know how they can sleep so much.
“Alright,” Amille says, breaking the deafening silence, “we’re approaching the weapons manufacturing area and we’re low on gas. I figure we can fill up and find a place to camp for the night, somewhere out of sight.”
I nudge Skinner who shoots open his eyes and sits up. “Hey, we’re stopping for the night.”
Skinner grabs Patty’s shoulder, shakes him awake and repeats what I’ve told him. Cooly pulls out his head phones and drops his jaw. “Oh my god…”
I look to where he is staring and straight ahead, against the cold, gray sky was a huge structure lit up with stadium lights. It looks as if it used to be a stadium of some sorts, stone pillars stretching from the ground hundreds of feet high. Beside it is a small town of sorts, four story buildings and a water tower. Night is falling and the lights are beginning to ignite the sky with its fluorescent presence.
Fletcher pulls the jeep into town and turns down a wide, dirt road, rundown buildings on either side. We pass a small group of guards having a smoke break outside one of the buildings and we get the chance to measure up our enemy. Fletcher was right. They could pass as guards transporting us because the guards are wearing pretty much the same uniforms that Amille, Fletcher and Cooly are wearing, black, all black. The guards carried hand guns and each of them carried a radio. As we drove by, they all nodded and carried on with their conversations.
The jeep rolls to a stop in front of an old building, most likely abandoned. One by one we get out and quickly make a run for the door. We do not want anyone to know we are here. Once inside, a smell of wet mold envelopes us making it hard to breathe at first. But soon, we get used to it and we begin to explore. The building is divided into many small rooms but no windows except for the outer rooms. Light bulbs dangle from the ceiling but look like they haven’t been used in years. Fletcher is the last one in and once he’s inside and quietly shuts the door, Amille addresses us.
“Don’t go too far. This is a very dangerous place. Stay in the building,” Amille orders.
The three of us all reassure him that we’ll stay inside then dash off to the nearby room. This room looks just like the first one. So we keep going and sure enough, another identical room.
That’s when I heard it. A distant call. I hear it again. I walk through the door to the next room and wait. Another call but louder. Skinner and Patty now enter the room but I head off to the next room. There, sitting gracefully on the floor, is a black cat cleaning itself.
“Skinner!” I shriek in wonder. “Guess who it is?”
Skinner enters the room and instantly his eyes light up. “Bernard!”
I bend down to pick him up and the cat starts purring immediately.
“You know this cat?” Patty asks in confusion.
“Well, not this one exactly,” I say, petting his fur.
“A while ago we had a run in with an identical cat,” Skinner added. “We named him Bernard.”
Patty nods, acknowledging that he understands. I slowly sit down, cross legged, and let Bernard 2.0 rest peacefully in my lap. Skinner and Patty soon sit down next to me in begin petting the cat as well.
“This makes me miss my dog,” Patty says.
“What was your dog’s name?” I query.
“Jenny.”
Skinner lets out a laugh. “Like ‘box of chocolates’ Jenny?”
Patty smirks in a jousting manner and agre
es. The cat decides it has had enough attention and steps off my lap. He does one long stretch before walking towards a small hole in the wall. I quickly stand up and chase after him, not wanting him to leave. The cat disappears in the wall and the three of us quickly rush over to the door and fling it open. There, sitting in a circle, are six guards enjoying their supper. They quickly stand to their feet, point their guns at us and begin shouting orders to us in Russian.
Patty slowly raises his hands in surrender and soon Skinner does too. Skinner nudges me in the back.
“Know when to fight and know when to fight another time,” Skinner whispers softly so only I can hear.
Skinner is right. My hands slowly go into the air. Three of the guards rush over to us, guns always cocked and aimed, and begin ushering us out of the room. As we are leaving, I look back over my shoulder with the hopes of seeing Amille or Fletcher or Cooly coming to rescue us. But no such luck.
We are led out of the building and down the street, past other guards minding their own business. They lead us into the stadium and through a narrow hallway which opens up into the stadium. Row after row of cable cars sit tightly next to each other, stadium lights beating down on them. We are led past a good majority of them before I see a head poking out of one of the cable cars.
“Skinner,” I say quietly, “this is where they keep all the prisoners.”
A guard rams the butt of his gun into my back to tell me to shut up. We keep walking and are led to an old wooden cable car. It’s red paint is nearly faded from all the elements. One of the guards slides open the door to reveal dozens of men crammed in there. They all back up in fear of being shot. The guards yell at us then shove us into the car, slamming the door shut. I look around at all the terrified faces staring back at me.
“What now?” Patty asks.
“Now we wait,” I say, not really wanting to myself but knowing it’s best.
We wade through the crowd and find some room along one of the walls. I rest my back against it and slowly slide down, closing my eyes. How could we have gotten ourselves into this situation? I open my eyes back up and notice that Skinner and Patty have also sat down next to me. An elderly man, head shaved and starved, walks up to us and smiles. He says something in Russian and his smile grows.
