Beyond Resistance
Part Three of The Ransom Series
By A.T. Douglas
Copyright © 2014 by A.T. Douglas
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without prior written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Epilogue
Author Notes and Acknowledgements
Other Books by this Author
About the Author
To my readers
for loving this series enough
to be desperate for book three.
This one’s for you.
Prologue
The emblazoned sun fills the sky above me. It’s the same sun I’ve known all my life but feels completely different here with its dry heat over this barren desert terrain. I’m far from home, and I know it’s dangerous to be here, but this is something I have to do. My family needs this. I need this.
And he needs me, too.
We’ve only had this raging celestial body in the heavens to connect us all together, but its pull on the Earth is nothing compared to the pull of family. Resisting the primal need to be together is something we can’t do anymore. There is no moving on with life knowing that the final piece of our family is out there.
We understand the risks. We know what’s at stake. We’re ready to face whatever the hell life decides to throw at us, because honestly it can’t be worse than the difficulties we’ve already endured. It’s time for happiness and love to bring our family back together after being apart for so long.
It’s time.
I can feel the sweat beading on the back of my neck as I watch closely for any movement from the massive building in front of me. I’d like to think my body’s reaction is from the heat of leaning on this black car in the full sun of mid-afternoon as I wait, but I know nerves are playing their part. While our plan is well underway, this moment is where it could all fall apart. The next few hours will tell me just how risky this self-created situation is.
A blaring buzzer sounds from the building before a metal side door opens. For the intensity of the sound, I would have expected an army to emerge from inside, but only one man with a plastic bag in hand walks out before the door closes abruptly behind him.
He walks with his eyes trained on the ground and no urgency to his movements. Even at this distance I can see the worn lines of age that travel across his skin. His hair is wiry and gray with white patches throughout. As he walks down the path toward the massive barbed wire fence that separates us, I fear the life within him has been as drained as it appears to have affected his body.
Even after the guard at the gate unlocks a door in the fence and allows the man to leave, there is no purpose to the man’s steps. He glances up only briefly to acknowledge that there is a car waiting for him as expected, though I see his expression long enough to recognize the look of confusion there.
When he’s within feet of me and the car, he finally looks up to meet my gaze and clears his throat. “You’re from the cab company?”
It pains me to hear the hopelessness in his voice. Given what this man has endured and what just happened to change his life around, he should be elated, full of anticipation, ready to take on the fucking world.
I smile and avoid his question completely. I won’t lie to the man. I will never lie to him. “I’m here to take you home.”
He laughs under his breath, a guttural sound full of sarcasm and discontent. I’m on the verge of putting it all out there right at this very moment to make him feel better and understand, but I have to wait until we’re on the road. I can’t risk anyone seeing his reaction.
Before I can move to do it for him, he opens the front passenger door and takes his seat, slamming the door shut behind him.
I take a brief moment to breathe and remember who I’ve just met and how long I’ve waited to meet him. There is no room for anger or frustration between us.
He will understand.
I move around the car and buckle into the driver’s seat, glancing only briefly next to me to confirm the scowl I expected would be on the man’s face. Without another word, I start up the car and get us on the road.
The car’s radio is silent. Only the sound of the air conditioner combating the heat of the summer sun fills the space between us, though the car feels thick with tension.
I need to make him understand, to put his worries to rest. Though I’ve been ready to do this for an eternity, now that the moment is finally here it’s almost impossible to know what to say.
I turn to face him, fully intent on opening my mouth to speak and get the words out with no stopping until he realizes just how great of a turn his life has really taken, but there’s no need for me to say a thing. Understanding is written all over his face as his eyes remain fixed on my left hand on the steering wheel.
“Oh my God,” he whispers in disbelief. Tears and sparks of life fill his eyes as he raises them to look at me. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
My heart momentarily jumps to my throat as I glance down at my left wrist and the small black symbol of infinity tattooed there. I slowly bring the car to a stop on the side of the desert road before turning to meet the man’s gaze again, swallowing hard before speaking.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Grandpa.”
1
Three months earlier...
The crumpling of leaves beneath my feet is strangely calming as I walk. I know every step of this route beneath the trees, each rock standing its ground and the occasional fallen log forever rotting away back into the dirt. My mark on this place is clear as I tread further down the worn path I’ve inadvertently been working on since I was old enough to walk.
The forest is the stereotypical sanctuary for mankind, a place where the worries of daily life disappear and nature takes over in its exquisite and generally untouched beauty. The cacophony of cities and civilization is non-existent here, replaced by the sweet harmony of running water, the wind brushing through the trees, the birds going about their daily business. The forest is my own sanctuary but is also my prison.
I’ve lived in the backwoods of Maine for my entire life.
As I step out of the narrow path into the small clearing, the sound of the nearby creek is even more pronounced. The spring runoff is running its course, washing away any remnants of the frigid w
inter we’ve been stuck in for months. It’s a relief to return to this place, to know that it’s always here waiting for me from season to season and year to year. It’s the one constant in my life that I can always rely on.
The rush of water calls to me, getting louder as I cross the clearing and follow the continuation of my forest path on the other side until it comes to parallel the creek. The large rock shaded by trees and hidden from the world comes into view. Seeing it immediately calms my nerves, and I can’t help the quickening in my steps to get there.
Pulling myself up onto the rock, I take a seat at the top where its irregular round shape transforms into a perfectly flat surface. It’s nature’s bench above the creek, its gift to me within the only place I’ve ever called home.
My heart rate quickly steadies. My breathing becomes even. Minutes or hours go by filled with silent thoughts and the freedom of solitude. I find focus despite the worries that desperately try to creep into my mind. It’s almost game time, and I need to get my shit together.
I will not let my family down.
The sound of water whisking down the creek isn’t enough to mask the traveler approaching from the clearing. I’ve spent too many hours in these woods not to recognize every possible sound from the individual instruments that create the symphony playing the forest’s orchestral composition.
My eyes remained trained ahead of me, though my focus is waning and my temper is flaring, at least it wants to. These footsteps are quick and close together. They are the footsteps of my worried mother, and I could never be angry with her, despite her interruption of my time alone in this place.
“Dante?”
The last bits of my focus shatter as I turn my head in response and give my mom a small but genuine smile. “Hi, Mom.”
She smiles back, though it’s only a tentative gesture. I can see the worry in her eyes despite the aura of reassurance she’s clearly trying to portray as she approaches me. A gust of wind sweeps her long hair behind her shoulders. It looks darker and more brown than blond under the shade of the trees.
“Can I join you? I know you like to be here alone, but–”
“It’s okay. Let me help you up,” I interrupt and immediately extend my hand to her. Nature’s bench at the top of the rock is just barely long enough to fit two people, though I’m usually its only occupant.
When my mom is fully seated next to me, it takes only once glance of her eyes meeting mine before she grabs my hand in both of hers and grips on to me as if this may be the last time we ever see each other. The slightest shaking rocks her fingers as she stares down at our connected hands. Silent sobs start to rack her chest, and I can’t let her fall down this slope any longer.
The beautiful sounds of nature around us snip out to silence and my entire focus and being become concentrated on the loving, caring person next to me. I pull my mom into my embrace and let her crumble around me. She grips me back just as tightly as she cries away her worries into my shoulder.
It’s unnerving to see her this way. Despite everything she’s been through and the unusual life she’s had to live, she’s taken it all in stride, finding happiness and contentment with a smile on her face regardless of life’s difficulties. She’s been strong for me all my life. I guess it’s my turn to take on that responsibility and be there for her.
“Everything will be fine, Mom. It’s a solid plan. I know it’ll go smoothly,” I try to reassure her, though my words seem to have the opposite effect. She immediately withdraws from our embrace.
“What if it doesn’t? It was my idea. It’s my plan to succeed or fail, and I will never forgive myself if it fails. If I lost you…”
“No,” I reply definitively, shaking my head to dispel even the thought of failure from my mind. “I won’t let anything bad happen. You and Dad have prepared me for this my entire life without even meaning to. I can do this.”
Mom wipes away a wave of fresh tears, keeping her eyes forward instead of looking at me. “What we’ve prepared you for is the possibility of someone finding us, not us throwing you out into the world to be found. It’s dangerous, Dante.”
“For you and Dad it is,” I counter. “The world has no idea who I am. No one will recognize me. No one will question why I’m there.”
“We should at least come with you. If something goes wrong, you’ll need backup.”
I love my mother, but I can’t deny the frustration swelling within me at this conversation. With a quick run of my hands over my face and through my dark hair, I try to tuck away those feelings, reminding myself just how difficult the upcoming days will be for my mom.
Taking her by each shoulder, I turn her to face me, not speaking until her reddened eyes have met mine completely so I know she’s listening. “You and Dad can’t be seen anywhere near Arizona. I know it’s been over twenty years, but you could still be recognized. Hell, your faces were on TV and social media for years after you disappeared with me.”
It’s hard to do, but I manage to hold Mom’s gaze. Acceptance slowly works its way into her features, but I don’t have her fully convinced yet.
“I know you’re, um, older now,” I continue with an unavoidable awkward pause at describing my mom like this even though she only just turned forty last fall, “but honestly you don’t look that much different from those pictures in the old news reports. Same goes for Dad, and you know all his tattoos make him stand out if he’s not careful to hide them. I know you’re worried about me, but there is no way you can go on this trip. I need to do this by myself.”
“Damn it,” Mom curses as her eyes fall from mine to her lap. “Okay. We’ll stick to the plan, but if you find yourself in any kind of trouble or think for even a moment that someone knows who you are, you get yourself out of there immediately, got it?”
I nod my understanding. “I’ll be careful.”
The meek smile she offers back at me is completely overpowered by the weary look on her face, an expression that is only going to worsen when I get on the road tomorrow morning. She sighs deeply before pulling me into her arms and kissing me on the side of the head.
“Bring our family back together,” she whispers beside my ear.
I discreetly swallow the lump forming in my throat at the thought of what I’ve been asked to do. “I will.”
2
It’s been a long four days. I’ve seen more of this country and its busy population in the last four days than I have in my entire twenty-one years of life.
My limited amount of driving between our hidden home in the forest to the nearby towns in Maine left me completely unprepared for the experience of driving across the country. Traveling through bustling cities and seeing a thriving world outside of my protective bubble in Maine was incredible. Even driving through farmland and desert and a whole lot of nothing was exciting and different.
I didn’t mind that I was alone for the drive and sleeping in my car at rest areas. I couldn’t care less about the angry drivers passing me on the highway and flipping me off for sticking to the speed limit and strictly obeying every traffic sign and stoplight. While everyone else was intent on getting from one place to the next as quickly as possible, my only concern was not garnering attention. My fake identity is not something I could explain to the police if they figured out the fraudulence behind my driver’s license and other records.
Sleep was a challenge last night, not entirely due to the difficulties of resting while reclined in a small car at a rest area parking lot. My nerves stayed relatively under control the entire drive until I got here, just outside of Phoenix, within miles of my final destination.
Though the drive here was the first step in this journey, my actions today mark the actually beginning of our plan. The risk of getting pulled over by a cop while driving is nothing compared to the risk I’m about to face. Today could be the start of something amazing. It could also mean the end for me.
I need to at least smell good if I’m going to face my potential end.
I�
��m awake early enough to make a detour to get cleaned up at a nearby truck stop that has showers available. By the time I leave the truck stop, I’m quite presentable for a kid who spent his entire life hidden away in the backwoods of Maine.
My nerves hit a peak as I make the turn past the guard booth and into the prison complex. The large parking lot and front of the building are just as I remember from researching everything I could find about this place. I know exactly what door to watch and where to park the car so that I have an unobstructed view of the door.
After almost two hours of constantly looking between the inactive door and the exceptionally slow movement of time on my prepaid cell phone, the door finally opens. An armed female guard steps out and holds the door for the person behind her.
Adrenaline shoots straight to my heart and races throughout my body the moment I see her. I’ve only seen pictures of her before, glimpses of the media’s portrayal of a woman who gave up everything to protect her daughter and her family. She has aged significantly since that time, her long dark brown hair much shorter and almost completely gray at this point, but there’s no mistaking the woman exiting the prison with a large purse on her shoulder is my grandmother.
I quickly turn on the car and peel out of the parking space. My eyes immediately connect with Cindy’s as I pull up to the sidewalk in front of the building, and what I see there confuses me.
There’s recognition in her eyes.
As she seems about ready to crumble into tears, I throw the car in park and jump out of the vehicle to meet her up the sidewalk. A rising panic overtakes my body at her reaction to seeing me, and I feel like I’m losing all control. This was not part of the plan. She’s not supposed to know who I am. She hasn’t seen me since I was an infant.
With as unforced of a courteous smile as I can muster toward the armed guard at the door still watching our every move, I wrap my arm around Cindy’s shoulders and guide her toward the car.
Beyond Resistance (The Ransom Series) Page 1
