Never Far Away

by Michael Koryta

  She stared at him. Nick turned from the fire and looked over his shoulder at Dax, concern on his face.

  Dax nodded sympathetically. “North. Wrong direction.”

  He could tell the girl was rocked by this news.

  “I think we can all agree that it was a good idea, poorly executed,” Dax said. “It happens to the best of us. Don’t let it get you down.”

  She looked away from him, back to the river. He watched her study the river and then turn skyward and locate the sun, and he was proud of her for that choice and for the chagrin that passed over her face as she oriented to east and west and then returned her attention to the river and saw that he was right.

  “If we can further agree that things are no longer proceeding as planned, since you intended to ride a canoe south and instead you went north and then lost the canoe…well, maybe we can come back to that question of what to do now. I’ve got to take you guys somewhere.” He shrugged. “Or leave you here. I mean, it’s none of my business.”

  Nick leaned toward Hailey and stared at her. He didn’t speak, but his face said plenty; he wanted to take the ride. Help from a stranger was dangerous, but it was a far sight better than no help at all. Nick was the pragmatist, Dax decided. Hailey was more intriguing, governed by complex, conflicting emotions and a bone-deep desire not to seek help.

  “I don’t have too much time,” Dax told them. “I could run you back to your camp or wherever you came from. I could call for someone to get you. But I certainly can’t take you all the way to Moosehead Lake. I’m not even sure that’s possible from here. I don’t know the map all that well. I just know which way is which.”

  Hailey glared at him.

  Dax lifted his hands. “Apologies. Not trying to poke the bruise. Just saying, I’m not sure that Moosehead can be reached by the water from here, and I absolutely do not intend to try. The choice is yours.”

  The girl looked at the river. Pushed a lock of damp hair out of her face and gritted her teeth. He wanted to applaud her. She was absolutely determined to do it alone, to recover from her mistakes without help.

  “I suppose we could give it a little bit more time,” Dax said as the silence lengthened, “and wait on your mother. I’m sure she’s not far behind. If she didn’t see you leave with the canoe, she’s certainly figured out that’s what happened by now. Mothers are never far away, am I right?”

  “You’re wrong about that,” Nick said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, you are,” Hailey said. “It’s none of your business, but you are.”

  Dax arched an eyebrow. “I’ll bet you one hundred dollars,” he said, “that I am right and that if we wait here long enough, your mom is going to show up.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” she muttered, and he could see that there were tears in her eyes.

  Poor kid. Wet and cold and hurting, and all because she’d been protected from the truth. It was a terrible way to raise a child. The Blackwell family had never shielded someone from a hard truth just because he was young.

  A good woman, Doc Lambkin had said of Nina Morgan in the moments before Dax had killed him. Perhaps that was true; Dax didn’t measure human value the way that others did. But for a good woman, she was a terrible teacher.

  Dax reached into his pocket, withdrew a damp hundred-dollar bill, and held it up in two fingers. It fluttered in the breeze, smoke swirling around it as the wind shifted.

  “One hundred bucks,” he said.

  Hailey Chatfield watched him. Her eyes narrowed. Then she leaned forward and snatched the bill from his fingers.

  “Whoa!” Dax cried. “You can’t claim the winnings before we’ve seen how it all plays out.”

  “Yeah, I can. Our mother died ten years ago. She is not showing up.”

  Dax smiled at her through the smoke. “You’re wrong about that, Hailey.”

  She was starting to object when she realized that he’d said her name although she’d never volunteered it. She froze with her lips parted and stared at him in terror, and Nick whirled from the fire, and Dax drew his gun from within his jacket and rested it on his thigh.

  “Good news, kids. I’ve not only saved your butts from the river, but I can summon your mother from beyond the grave. Aunt Leah is not your aunt. She is your mother, and I am almost positive that she’s on her way. More good news? I’ve come here to save her life.”

  He looked from one to the other, smiling. “How about that? Good trick, right? This is what you might call a lucky break.”

  40

  Before they left the dock but after Matt’s hands and feet were bound, the man named Bleak got out of the plane again and went up to the car and came back down with the bags of guns. Randall kept the muzzle of his pistol pressed against Ed’s skull while Bleak loaded the guns into the cargo hold. He moved as if already familiar with the plane. No hesitation, no questions. He loaded all of the guns and then he came back down with a phone that was attached to a small box by a thin, curled cord. It looked like an old-fashioned car phone Matt had once seen in a flea market with his mother.

  The good guy, the one they’d trapped, was in the pilot’s seat with a sick expression on his face. His name was Ed. Matt was in the back with the one Bleak had called Randall. Bleak and Randall had guns in their hands. Matt had hard plastic zip ties binding his ankles and wrists.

  You can crash the plane if you’d like, Bleak had told the pilot while fastening the ties, but the kid will die. Remember that. Seems like a nice kid. You’d hate to be the one who killed him, wouldn’t you? He had said that casually, indifferently. The kid will die.

  The pilot started answering questions then. Told them that Leah was waiting at someplace called Upper Martin Mountain Pond. Told them how far it was and how many people were there—nobody else, he said, and even when Bleak hit him above the eye with the gun and opened a line of blood that had only just now started to dry, he’d stuck to that story. Told them how many guns she had. Told them there was a dog. Told them that Leah would trust his plane because she was expecting it to return. They’d seemed pleased by that.

  Matt watched Bleak out on the dock and swallowed. It hurt his throat, which was sore from crying.

  Someone answered the phone. Bleak spoke. His voice was soft but so deep that it carried, and even inside the plane, Matt could make it out. “Mr. Lowery. Yes. We do not have visual yet but it should happen shortly. Physical will be quick then. Where do you want her? There are contingencies we will have to account for.” Pause. “Civilians. No threat. One helpful bush pilot, and one boy, maybe ten years old.”

  Thirteen, damn it, Matt thought, strangely irked considering the circumstances.

  “I understand,” Bleak said into the odd phone. “You’re right. Zero-sum belongs only with Nina. I believe my helpful pilot will accommodate that.”

  Zero-sum. Matt knew that term; it meant, at least to him, “take no prisoners.” His dad liked to say zero-sum whenever they played a game. His dad usually lost. Watching Bleak stand there, lean and strong and relaxed, Matt thought that this man probably did not lose many games.

  If it was only zero-sum for Hailey’s aunt, though, then the rest would live.

  Matt watched the man and thought, He is lying. He is lying so the pilot cooperates.

  He hoped he was wrong.

  “Helicopter would be my recommendation,” Bleak said. “Expect confirmation within the hour.” He disconnected the call, loaded the strange phone in with the guns, and closed the cargo hold. The passenger door opened and Bleak stepped off the dock and into the plane with casual grace. He looked at Ed.

  “Cleared for takeoff,” he said.

  Ed didn’t answer. Just started the engine.

  41

  Nick scrambled to his feet when Dax broke the family news, his hands clenched, pale face stricken.

  “Sit down,” Dax said.

  “Who are you?” Nick shouted.

  Dax lifted the gun an inch. Hailey said, “Nick, sit dow
n right now.”

  Nick sat.

  Dax lowered the gun and said, “Thank you. Now, I’m open to questions. I don’t want you to think that I’m some maniac who would make a bold statement and not back it up.”

  “You’re a liar,” Nick said.

  “What did she do?” Hailey asked. Her voice was soft.

  “Your mother?”

  “Don’t call her that. Leah.”

  Dax sighed and rolled his head theatrically. “Ask better questions,” he implored, eyes on the blue sky above. Mostly blue. To the west, a bank of dark clouds massed. “This is a special opportunity, kids. One you might not have again. Do not waste it.”

  Sticks crackled in the fire. No one spoke. Dax faced the sky and stroked the grip of his gun with his thumb.

  “Why should we believe you?” Hailey said at last.

  “Because you’re intelligent,” Dax answered, looking back at her, holding her gaze. “You know the situation is strange. You’ve always known that. And you know that you look just like her. It’s absolutely uncanny. Even a child couldn’t miss it.”

  She stared at him. Didn’t speak.

  “But the question is a good one,” Dax said. “And because of that, I’ll continue to indulge you if you have others.”

  Nick shifted away from the fire, moved closer to his sister. Dax didn’t comment. Hailey reached out and put a hand on her brother’s arm, but the gesture was distracted. All of her attention was on Dax.

  “What did my father do?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. I thought he was—oh. Oh, I get it. You’re wondering if he did something bad, if he’s the reason for the family dilemmas. As far as I know, your father never did anything to court the current crisis. Your mother, however, was presented with a very difficult choice.”

  He went silent. Waited.

  “What choice?” Hailey said, and he smiled.

  “There you go. Asking good questions. She was given the choice between leaving her family to keep them safe or staying and placing them in harm’s way. She chose to leave. I can’t imagine it was easy, and I personally think it shows a narrow-minded understanding of options, but…” He shrugged. “I’ll be the first to acknowledge that my upbringing was unique.”

  He leaned down, and they both pulled back.

  “Just adding some wood to the fire, guys. Relax. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”

  He holstered the gun, broke branches, and fed dry wood to the fire. If either kid had the thought of trying to run, neither acted on it. Nick looked like he was frozen by fear, but Hailey seemed to be anchored by shock. She believed what Dax was telling them.

  When the fire was back to full life, he returned to his seat on the log and unholstered the gun once more.

  “You’re lying,” Nick whispered.

  “No,” Hailey said, her hand still on her brother’s arm. “I don’t think he is.”

  Dax said, “There’s no money in it for me. In lying, I mean. There’s some money in keeping your mom alive, but not as much as I’d like. She’s not worth a lot.”

  “She paid you?” Nick said, disbelieving.

  Dax waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Business issues shouldn’t be the topic of the moment. I’m curious to hear your opinions on her conduct. What do you think of her?”

  Silence. The fire caught some dry pine needles, flared, then died back down, smoking and fragrant. The wind was pushing west to east, so the smell was unlikely to alert anyone who had come after them. Nevertheless, he liked having the gun in his hand. Pursuers would be coming soon.

  “Why did anyone want to kill her?” Hailey asked.

  “She flew a woman and her children down to Mexico to be murdered. One thing led to another. People got emotional.” Dax yawned. “My understanding is that the police weren’t considered a viable option. I might have found a workaround, but…” He shrugged. “Again, we return to the different upbringings.”

  “My dad told us she was dead,” Hailey said, and she seemed more wounded by this than anything Dax had said. It made sense; her father had been the guide and guardian.

  “This is my point,” Dax said, shifting the gun from his right hand to his left and leaning forward so that he could feel the heat of the fire on his face. “In their quest to protect you, they set you up for more harm. Not physically, perhaps, but…” He tapped his forehead, then his heart. “Am I right?”

  Nick looked over to his sister. He didn’t want to believe Dax, but he could see that Hailey did. He was looking at her when she said, “How many people want to kill her?”

  It was a child’s question and yet, as with so many questions posed by children, it contained the most essential concern, the one that adults would be slow to consider, let alone voice.

  “Excellent!” Dax said. “We move on to practical matters. I am aware of three specific men, but I can’t speak to the total.”

  The wind rose and blew smoke into his face but he didn’t look away from the fire. Hailey Chatfield was staring at him. She was, he realized, still stuck on her father’s role as a collaborator. Dax had shattered her illusion of the trusted parent.

  “There is no such thing as an innocent man, Hailey,” he told her. “That’s the sad truth of our condition. We’ve all made our concessions. We’ve all tried to pick the right wrong thing.”

  “What? The right wrong thing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what that—”

  “Sure you do. You ran away from your aunt. You stole her canoe. You put your brother’s life in danger. Why did you do all of those things?”

  The fire crackled and smoked. Hailey watched him from beneath the shadow of her damp bangs.

  “Let me ask it another way,” Dax said. “Would you have killed Aunt Leah?”

  “No!”

  Her response was immediate and horrified and it made laughter bubble up from Dax’s belly.

  “I love it,” he said. “I absolutely love it. You would lie, you would steal, and you would imperil others, but you would not kill her. Hailey Chatfield, you are an iconic specimen of the human race.”

  Her face darkened and her jaw trembled. She did not like to be laughed at.

  “You don’t like Leah,” Dax said. “That’s the truth, right? You don’t like her, you don’t trust her, and you don’t want to be with her. You don’t want to live in Maine with a stranger. You want to be home among your friends. Am I wrong?” He looked from Hailey to Nick, eyebrows raised, waiting. “Well?”

  Nick shook his head.

  “No,” Hailey whispered. “You’re not wrong.”

  “Okay,” Dax said, the smile gone now. He leaned forward again, closer to the fire, his face lit from the flames below. He stared at them with the earnestness that they deserved for the question to come.

  “If you want,” Dax said, “I will kill her for you. And then you can go home.”

  Silence. Smoke and wind. Nick stared at Hailey. Hailey hadn’t looked away from Dax. He gazed back and nodded.

  “It’s your choice, Hailey. Remember that this woman abandoned you once already, she’s lied to you, and she’s put you in danger. If you go back home, maybe to stay with that nice neighbor, Mrs. Wilson? Back there, it could all be over. Not forgotten, of course, but done. All I need is your instruction. Just say the word.”

  Nick whispered, “Hailey,” and tugged at his sister’s damp shirtsleeve. She didn’t react. She just watched Dax through the blowing smoke.

  “I’ll need to have an answer,” Dax said, “because she’s on her way. In fact, I suspect all of them are on their way to us.”

  As if in confirmation, there came a faint, high hum from the south. Nick looked skyward, searching for the plane. Hailey didn’t look up. She was still staring at Dax. Still thinking.

  “We’re growing short on time,” Dax told her. “I don’t mean to rush you on such a crucial decision, but…”

  She looked at Nick. He was watching the sky. Searching for help. She se
emed disappointed by that, Dax thought.

  “My father had an expression for moments like this,” Dax said. “Moments in which the forces of antagonism mount and choices must be made.”

  The tremor in her jaw was scarcely noticeable. She was a tough one.

  “What was his expression?” she asked.

  His face split into a delighted grin. His father would have liked this girl. She had spirit, but better still, she had a hint of moral curiosity. A willingness to explore questions that others would avoid, to consider all options.

  “‘The crucible looms,’” Dax Blackwell said. “That’s what my father would have told you. Do you know what that means?”

  She paused, then said, “I think I get the idea.”

  Dax laughed. “Yes,” he said. “I think you do.”

  Nick said, “I see a red plane. Hailey? I think it’s our plane.”

  Dax glanced skyward. The boy was right. The red plane was there, tracking north by northeast, riding against a crosswind. There was nowhere to land in the immediate vicinity, but just to the north, a skilled pilot would find options.

  Another sound, so soft it was easy to miss, came from ground level. Somewhere in the woods to the southwest, a dog barked. Not so much a bark as a baying cry, the sound of a hound alerting a hunter.

  If the children heard it, they gave no indication. All of their attention was on the plane.

  “The crucible looms,” Dax said again, and he could swear it was his father’s voice right then and not his own. Deeper and darker and more confident. A ghost made whole.

  He closed his eyes, stroked the gun with his thumb, and breathed deeply of smoke and fire.

  42

  The man called Bleak broke the silence.

  “Is that smoke?”

  Randall leaned forward, peering through the windshield. “Ed, buddy? You need to stay engaged in communication. Is…that…smoke?”

  “Where?” the pilot said.

  “Two o’clock. Upriver. Yes—it’s smoke.”

  They all turned to look together. Well, everyone except Bleak. He didn’t move at all. Matt had never seen his head move, and yet he was the one who’d spotted the smoke. The man named Randall was leaning across Matt’s body now, smelling of stale sweat, which made Matt’s stomach roil. The gun in Randall’s hand was some kind of pistol with an oversize magazine. Weren’t guns like that illegal? How many bullets did it hold?