Love Never Dies

by Loren Lockner

  When Julia awoke it was coming on dusk, and startled, she glanced at the luminous dial of her steel wristwatch. It was after 5 p.m. She heard the popping of the fire and the clink of metal against metal and slowly, after donning her clothes, unzipped the flap of the flimsy tent and peered out. Simon was in the process of cooking dinner. Without turning from his task at the grill, he threw over his shoulder.

  “You might want to pull on a sweater; it’s getting a bit nippy out here. I should have dinner ready within about ten minutes.”

  She darted out of the tent and hugging him from behind, folded her arms around his chest as she nuzzled his neck.

  “Were you able to get some sleep?” she asked.

  “A bit,” he admitted, “but I’ve been trying to work out a plan I’ll tell you about later.” He hugged her encompassing arms. “Why don’t you take a quick wash and by the time you get back I’ll have dinner ready. The public washrooms are only a three-minute walk past the swimming pool if you head down that path.”

  Simon was true to his word and upon her return had whipped up a tasty omelet flavored with cheddar cheese and diced ham, and cut up some accompanying apples and oranges. The forgotten chili from earlier made a complimentary side dish and Julia ate hungrily. The simplistic dinner tasted amazingly good in the nippy evening air.

  “I didn’t think to ask,” he said at dinner, leaning on his elbows and sipping a tin cup full of strong tea. “What name did you use to register us under?”

  An impish grin spread over Julia’s face. “Jon Lincoln and Jane Douglas. When she asked for names, all I could think of was Jane and John Doe and knew that wouldn’t work, so my mind hit upon the Lincoln and Douglas debates we’d read about in one of our classroom magazines.”

  Simon chuckled and sipping on his tea, leaned back against the rough log. The bushes rustled and a covey of mountain quail, complete with black plumes, scurried past their campsite, seemingly oblivious to the close proximity of the campers.

  “I could get used this,” he said irrelevantly. “I’ve always loved the outdoors and it’s amazing to me we’re camping out here in November. In Toronto, we’d already be snowed in so I think there could be advantages to becoming a California boy, Julia.”

  Julia smiled happily. “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” she asked, setting down her empty plate and moving closer to him upon the log.

  “I’m planning on getting up early and heading into town. I’ll find a business center, make a copy of the disk, and mail it to Mandy. I’ll also give those guys one more try via e-mail; maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “And after that?” asked Julia, lifting her eyebrows.

  “I don’t feel comfortable staying here for more than one night. I think we should head deeper into the Los Padres National Forest. Disappearing into the wilderness might be our best choice right now. I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it hard to sleep knowing Adam’s still out there.”

  “I’d have to agree,” stated Julia, refusing to worry about it this evening. They finished the simple task of washing the dishes and threw breadcrumbs to a small Merriam’s chipmunk who’d obviously received handouts before. Afterward, they sat and talked by the dancing fire as the stars came out one by one, holding hands and wishing this were a holiday retreat instead of a desperate attempt to escape a killer who simply refused to give up.

  As the embers of the fire died down, Julia rose and stretched her arms above her head.

  “I know something that just might help you sleep Mr. Hayes,” she giggled, and dragged him into the welcoming confines of the small tent.

  Adam Gable was used to staying up all night. Using a strong flashlight he always kept in the dash of his car, Adam methodically hit every campground in the guide, searching for the fugitive couple. Few campers inhabited the first campgrounds he checked, though once he beamed his light upon the scroungy countenance of a tattooed biker. When the man hurled expletives at him, Adam calmly removed his extra handgun from his belt and pointed it at the center of the drowsy man’s forehead.

  “You got other complaints?” he snarled, and the bushy haired biker shook his head violently.

  Most of the campgrounds were easy to explore, clearly vacant on this Monday night during the first week of November, so he wound his way back toward Santa Barbara, wishing he instinctively knew where his prey might have hidden. It would have saved him a hell of a lot of footwork.

  By the time he’d finished searching the southern campgrounds and headed toward Goleta, it was four in the morning. His eyes felt gritty and the country western station did little to stop the onslaught of yawns threatening to overwhelm him. As Adam turned up Highway 154 fatigue hit him in powerful waves and finally, after ten miles upon the incredibly twisty road, he pulled over under a stand of coastal live oak, and leaning his gray leather seat back, closed his eyes for a couple of hours. The fatigue and the cold caught up with him and he slept until after eight, never realizing a black Chrysler LeBaron slid down the highway past his idle car as he snored in the chilly interior of the luxury car.

  By the time Adam reached Lake Cachuma, the car’s heater had warmed him up, but he felt in dire need of a wash and good breakfast. A portly Hispanic woman greeted him in the front office.

  “Camping?” she asked, noting he didn’t have an RV.

  “Nah,” he drawled, giving his standard speech. “I was actually supposed to meet my two cousins at this campground last night, but I got a flat tire and ended up having to sleep off the road. I only repaired it this morning. I was wondering if my cousins made it. Simon’s a tall man in his early thirties, with dark hair and gray eyes and my little cousin Sheila; well, I think this week she’s a blonde, though sometimes she allows her mousy brown hair to grow out.”

  The dark-haired woman cocked her head, and noting his bloodshot eyes, smiled sympathetically. “I’m really not sure, I wasn’t working yesterday, but I believe we had one couple staying here, though I’m not sure if they fit your description. However, I think I saw their black LeBaron leave this morning. I’ve always loved that car.”

  Adam wanted to curse under his breath. “So they left?”

  “Yes, more than an hour ago I believe.”

  “If I pay you the camping fee, can I use your showers?”

  “Absolutely,” said the woman, glad to have a bit of business, and willingly rang up the total as he bought orange juice, a loaf of bread, and some lunch meat for his meager breakfast.

  So Adam Gable took his time soaking in a long hot shower, never realizing Julia Ann Morris slept not five minutes away from him.

  Simon finished his business relatively quickly, copying the disk twice, and as a safeguard mailing one to the architectural firm he’d worked for as his brother Seth. He express-mailed the other to Mandy Gaskill and placed the original in the dash of the LeBaron. One long e-mail awaited him and he gaped at the contents, before letting out a shaky breath, realizing the instructions were for the best.

  Simon then picked up a few additional supplies before heading back up the twisty road toward the lake and Julia. He’d been aware of when she’d awakened, feeling that insistent tug at his own heart urging him ever homeward, for he now viewed wherever she was as home. Simon wondered for the umpteenth time whether she would have glanced twice at him as Steven Hamilton, the cocky young architect from the upper class suburbs in Toronto, who, until now, had always loved them and left them.

  As he negotiated the treacherous road, he pondered his dual identity. It was strange that as Seth, he had presented to Julia the man he had always wanted to be, though the wilder brother Simon was more his true nature. Perhaps, he could join the best traits of the two and become the real Steven Hamilton. If this whole terrible experience had a silver lining it was that he’d managed to meet her. He’d never have ventured down to the western United States except for the Witness Protection Program, and in his own strange way he thanked Joe Alletti for that.

  He approached the camp cautiously, the LeBa
ron’s sporty tires crunching upon the dirt road as his eyes scanned the surrounding campsites in search of a silver BMW. He relaxed, not realizing that very vehicle was parked behind the showers and the man he’d been trying to avoid sat munching a makeshift sandwich of processed ham and cheese, and sipping a beer even though it was not much past 9:30 in the morning.

  Julia had made a fire, and much to his surprise, had apparently been collecting acorns because a large pile lay near the jumping fire. She bounded to him, the relief evident on her face, as he pulled her to him.

  “I can see you have been making yourself useful,” he joked, studying the pile of acorns littering the ground near the fire.

  “Aren’t they beautiful? There are three different kinds and I want to show them to my class.” She pointed to a long narrow acorn. “That’s from the coastal live oak and its acorns were the ones the Chumash and Pomo Indians preferred. That fat one is from the canyon live oak; see the yellowish hairs covering the cup? And the last is the scrub oak acorn from that bush over there. I pricked my fingers on the spiny leaves getting those. Bet my students don’t know there are so many varieties, Steven.”

  He smiled at the use of his real name.

  “I’ve decided we need to head north toward Santa Maria and drop off the car there before moving to San Luis Obispo. We’ll catch a train or bus or something to take us to Toronto.”

  “Toronto?” squeaked Julia. “You’re taking me to Toronto?”

  “There’s no other choice Julia. I don’t want to whisk you from the place you love or unduly worry your family or employer, but there’s no way around it. The crime happened in Toronto and I have to return to Toronto. I could go alone, but simply can’t bear to leave you behind. Will you come with me?”

  She gulped. “Of course I’ll go with you. You’re absolutely right.”

  “Then let’s take the tent down and get cracking.”

  Within twenty minutes, their meager possessions packed in the trunk of the car, Simon used an empty water bottle to douse the fire.

  “Are you ready?” he asked as he positioned himself in front of the steering wheel, and Julia nodded.

  “All we have to do is just tell the lady at reception we’re leaving and then we can be on our way. I wish I could call my brother and let him know what’s going on.”

  “I left him a message so he’s not going to worry for a couple of days. When it’s safer we’ll give him a call.”

  Simon pulled up and idled the car at the reception as Julia got out to inform the attendant they were leaving the campground. It was a different woman from the previous afternoon and the heavyset Hispanic woman smiled broadly at her.

  “Oh, I’m so happy you stopped by. A man came here this morning asking if a young woman fitting your description checked into the camp. He said he was your cousin.”

  “Cousin,” repeated Julia startled. “Was he tall and dark-haired with very pale skin?”

  “Yes, that would be him. He said he was looking for you and your cousin. Oh, there’s his car just behind the showers. Why don’t you stop by and see him.”

  “I’ll do that,” gasped Julia, backing away from the pleasant woman.

  She lunged to the car, yanking open the stiff door. “Adam’s behind the showers, Simon! Somehow he tracked us here.”

  Simon didn’t waste time in responding, instead gunning the motor and kicking up gravel as the sedan’s tires squealed. If Adam had lingered in the toilets for a bit longer they might have made a clean getaway, but as fate would have it he sauntered out of the bathroom just as the black LeBaron scooted around the corner and tore up the dirt road. Adam swore and dove into his BMW and grinding his gears, lurched after the recklessly driven LeBaron through a tunnel of brown dust.

  The Chrysler was a powerful car, but unfortunately, the BMW was its match. Sometimes it seemed that Simon gained as he recklessly headed south down the 154, and once he was positive he’d lost the hit man, until the sun glinted off the sleek metal lines of the pursuing vehicle. Their frenzied driving continued for over twenty minutes, Simon never able to shake the persistent Beamer. As he maneuvered through the tricky San Marcos Pass, Simon shouted at Julia for guidance.

  “A left Simon! Take the next left!”

  Simon hung a violent left onto Camino Cielo Road. The twisty turns and hairpin corners made Julia nauseous as she was slapped against the car’s interior with every turn. When Adams Gable’s vehicle pulled only two hundred yards behind them, Simon tossed one of the two revolvers into her lap.

  “If he gets any closer, lean out the back window and try to take out one of his tires. We’ve got to lose him Julia! Use my cell and punch in the speed dial for number four. You’ve got to answer me this time Stan!”

  The line soon rang as Julia’s sweaty hands clutched the Beretta. Certain the reception in the rugged mountainous area would have prohibited any contact using the satellite phone network; she was surprised when a deep voice answered tersely.

  “Garten.”

  “Oh!” cried Julia. “This is Julia Morris and I’m with Simon Hayes and a man named Adam is following us and…”

  Simon’s wild turn momentarily knocked her against the door and the phone skidded onto the floorboard. Julia fumbled around and managed to locate the moving phone. She could hear Stan’s voice shouting on the other end of the line.

  “Sorry… sorry. I’m back. We’re being followed!”

  “Tell him our location Julia!”

  “We’re off the 154, north of Santa Barbara and heading southeast on the Camino Cielo Road.”

  “A sign’s coming up Julia… The Arroyo Burro Road in five miles. Tell him we’re going to take it and head deeper into the Los Padres National Forest. Tell him plan B!”

  Julia breathlessly repeated the instructions adding, “We’re in a black Chrysler LeBaron and he’s in a silver BMW!”

  “I’ll…” the line echoed and went dead, Julia helplessly gazing at the useless phone in her hand.

  “He was responding, but we got cut off.”

  “We’d better hope he can get us some help fast,” cried Simon, turning the steering wheel sharply right as Julia hung onto the door and prayed.

  The next four miles were excruciating. Simon drove faster than was safe, passing only one other ancient pick-up truck heading the opposite direction. Suddenly, the exit indicating Arroyo Burrow Road appeared. The turnoff was less than a half-mile away and the BMW suddenly accelerated and pulled within thirty feet of the car. Julia heard a sharp whining pop as Simon swerved. Adam was firing at them!

  “We’re going to take an abrupt left up here Julia,” Simon hissed, his eyes glued to the dangerous road. “I want you to get into the back seat and roll down the window. Aim at his tires.”

  “Simon!” shrieked Julia, “I don’t know how to shoot. And about the road, my family’s driven it once before and it’s very rough and twisty! If Adam catches up we’ll be trapped!”

  “Please Julia, just do as I ask. Get into the back seat and aim as best as you can!”

  It was difficult hiking over the front seat as the car careened and lurched down the windy road, but finally Julia plopped in an ungraceful heap and rolled down the electric window. A vision of the car hitting a bump and her losing the gun and watching it bounce behind the car flashed in her brain, and Julia clutched the pistol until her knuckles turned white while desperately aiming it at the BMW that inched ever closer. The morning sun reflected off Adam’s windshield and blinded her. She squinted desperately, trying to get a clear sight on the revolving rubber tires.

  “Alright Julia, I’m going to make that turn now. As I do, aim at the car and fire!”

  She began shooting as soon as Simon hit the corner, amazed at how simple it was. You just squinted, pulled the trigger, and tried like the blazes to hold on because of the responding kick.

  Adam Gable swerved his vehicle immediately at the sight of her drawn gun, but not before Julia, who’d been aiming at a tire, broke the passenger wind
ow directly behind him. Adam swore viciously and lifted his own gun, firing with one hand while keeping the other upon the steering wheel. Julia shot again, one of her bullets ricocheting off his bumper. Unfortunately, none of her shots found their mark and suddenly, with an incredible burst of speed, the BMW pulled up directly beside her, the barrel of his gun staring her directly in the face. Julia gasped hysterically and pulled the trigger. The driver’s window burst into a thousand splinters of glass.

  “For God’s sake get down!” screamed Simon, and Julia ducked just as Adam twisted his steering wheel and slammed his car into the side of the black Chrysler!

  “We’re not going to make it!” she screamed, as Simon fought the wheel.

  Julia peered up over the opposite side of the car. They slid along a narrow section of the highway where the embankment plunged down a good hundred feet on each side of the road, protected only by a feeble aluminum guardrail. The Beamer smashed into them again, shattering the passenger window, which rained glass upon Julia’s Levi-clad legs. She didn’t need Simon’s frenzied urging to lift the gun again, and shot blindly. It was a fluke shot, passing through the destroyed passenger window of the BMW to strike the rearview mirror, the bullet ricocheting downward and reverberating against Adam’s firmly grasped steering wheel. The leather-bound steering mechanism sparked dangerously and exploded, the bullet severing the steering wheel column right in half, leaving the useless wheel in Adam’s terrified hands.

  Simon slammed his foot upon the brake, the LeBaron screeching and swerving, spinning two full times before stopping, smoke pouring from its rear tires. Adam screamed as the car plunged forward, its momentum causing the BMW to sail over the railing. The British car looked almost as if it could take flight, gliding a full forty feet outward, until slowing and plunging headfirst into the waiting pines of the Los Padres National Forest.