Fugitives

by Jes Drew

  “What took you so long?” Joseph asks. “We already stopped at the bank and the convenience store.”

  “Come on,” Christopher says, grabbing Grandmother’s bags from her. “We need to go.”

  “Then we better get going,” Ata agrees, handing Oto her bags which he grudgingly takes.

  Oto pretends to let the bag drag his arms down. “Yikes. What do you have in here?”

  “Yours and my clothes,” Ata answers matter-of-factly. “We each get an outfit and a pair of sweats for sleeping in, among other things.”

  Cocking his head, Oto lifts the bag easily like it weighs nothing after all.“We only owned two outfits back on the Island. And this is our second day clothes shopping!”

  “Deal with it, Oto,” Christopher orders. “We need to hurry if we want to make it to the boat.”

  I nod, but I feel a little squeamish. The last time I was on a boat I was being rescued from the ocean. The time before that, the ship got ship-wrecked and I had to survive on a (supposedly) deserted island for almost two weeks! That kind of thing can traumatize a person.

  Mary-Ann tugs on my shirt. “Do we have to use a boat?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. But at least it isn’t a plane.” Planes and my family do not get along.

  “Okay,” Mary-Ann says, hooking her hand in mine.

  We walk hand in hand back to Christopher’s car

  A mental list of all vehicles that I wish to avoid:

  (1) Motorcycles because they’re deathtraps on wheels;

  (2) Roller coasters because they’re deathtraps on rails;

  (3) Taxis because of bad memories and the fact that all taxi drivers are maniacs;

  (4) Boats because of really bad memories;

  (5) Planes because of the Accident;

  ~~~~

  I take a deep breath. Come on, Emily, you can do this.

  I look down at the ramp I had climbed up to get on the ship. All I have to do is step onto the ship itself. Easy as pie. Except, an invisible wall seems to be blocking me from the ship.

  Several people give me strange looks as they pass me. I blush even though they’re the ones being rude. They don’t know what I’ve been through.

  Wait, isn’t the stuff that doesn’t kill supposed to make you stronger? And being afraid of stepping onto a boat is definitely a step down from where I was before the incident. Besides, it was a boat that ended up rescuing us.

  And my parents are (hopefully) waiting for me on the other side of the channel.

  I take another deep breath and step onto the boat.

  Huh, that wasn’t so bad. Maybe I really am stronger.

  Man, I’m really pathetic if I think stepping onto a boat is an achievement.

  ~~~

  “This is a rather stuffy cabin,” I say, looking around the cabin Christopher had rented for us. It’s about the size of my room, but with eight people crammed into it, it feels much smaller.

  “Don’t worry,” says Christopher, who is leaning against a wall. “It’s not an overnight journey.”

  That’s a relief.

  Grandmother is sitting on one of the few chairs, ringing her hands- which isn’t like her.

  I frown. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s just that life has gotten so crazy lately.”

  So true.

  Mary-Ann looks up from where she's sitting on the floor next to me. “So, what do we do now?”

  “We wait until the ship reaches Belgium,” Christopher answers.

  I glance up to find Christopher with his arms crossed in such a way as to uncross more easily than the standard way. His gaze is resting on me before lazily sliding away.

  Confused and strangely unnerved, I blink and stare back at him.

  And Mary-Ann leans her head against the wall. “No, I mean what do we do while we wait?”

  Chase paces past us for the umpteenth time. “Yeah. This is boring.”

  “Whatever you decide to do, keep it quiet,” adds Joseph, who is typing away on his laptop.

  Ata, who is watching him while mending the shirt that Chase was wearing yesterday with the sewing kit that she always keeps with her, nods.

  I pull my handmade nature journal out of my satchel and leaf through it with Mary-Ann and Chase. Occasionally, I look up to where Christopher is standing. Not once do I catch him looking at me again; instead he seems to be in deep thought.

  After several minutes of such thought, Christopher finally glances up. “We need a back-up plan in case we can’t find the Rogers in Belgium. We need a leader.”

  Everyone turns to Grandmother.

  “Don’t look at me,” she says. “My hair's white enough already.”

  I gape at my regal grandmother who used to be so ready to take charge. She looks so tired; so weary. The Masters ought to be ashamed of themselves.

  “Well, then as the next oldest person here, I nominate myself as leader,” Christopher announces, straightening and glancing around the room. “Does everyone agree?”

  Oto shakes his head. “No. I think I ought to be the leader.”

  Christopher frowns, like such a statement is so stupid it offends him. “But you’re still new the ways of the world.”

  “I’m a fast learner. And I know more about the Masters than the rest of you.”

  “I think Christopher should be the leader,” Mary-Ann announces lifting her chin and looking proud that she sided with who she's convinced is Prince Charming.

  “No,” Chase, the wannabe Oto, counters, “Oto should be the leader.”

  “Christopher would be a better leader,” Joseph says.

  Ata lifts her own chin, looking far more regal than Mary-Ann. “Well, I think Oto would be.”

  “Yeah, Oto would be,” Joseph quickly agrees.

  Christopher glares at Joseph.

  “I believe Christopher should be the leader,” Grandmother announces, her regal nature returned. “And my vote counts as two.”

  “Well, then it’s a tie.” Christopher clasps his hands together and turns to me. “Emily, you’re the only one who hasn’t voted. Who do you think it should be?” His eyes search mine expectantly. Like he thinks I'll just stumble after him wherever.

  And voted? That’s what you’re calling it?

  Everyone turns to me. Ugh, why did he have to go and put me on the spot like that?

  “Yeah, who do you think should be the leader?” Oto asks, looking all too confident that I'll choose him.

  The two ‘candidates’ exchange a Look. I get the feeling that this has gone beyond merely choosing a leader.

  I take a deep breath and hope I don’t stutter. “I don’t think either of you should be the leader.”

  Shocked, everyone continues to gape at me.

  “I mean, if you guys are seriously going to argue over this…” Oh, great, I forgot what I was going to say.

  “I know!” Mary-Ann exclaims.

  You do?

  “Emily should be the leader,” she says. “She’ll be great at it ‘cause she’s always telling me what to do.”

  That’s definitely not what I was going to say.

  Chase shrugs. “She’s got a point. Emily is really bossy, so she’d be a great boss.”

  “Emily would be perfect for the job,” Grandmother announces proudly. “And my vote counts for two.”

  “But…” Christopher and Oto say together.

  “Why shouldn’t Emily be the leader?” Ata asks, looking thrilled at the prospect of feminism.

  Joseph crosses his arms and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, why shouldn’t she be?”

  I try to answer- I have plenty of reasons- but all I seem to do is squeak.

  “You got met there,” Oto says before flashing me a pearly white grin.

  Christopher frowns and crosses his arms again. “Well, I guess Emily will be the leader.”

  I don’t even try to say anything this time, which is probably for the best. I just nod and leave the cabin.

  Ugh, how did
I get myself into this one?

  ~~~

  I stand at the rail bordering the ship’s deck and watch the water quietly lap by. It’s beautiful, though, dangerous (I know that from experience).

  I breathe in the salty air. It’s very soothing. I almost forget about the burden that has just been added to my shoulders.

  Ahh, it really is nice to be alone sometimes.

  “Emily.”

  I startle and turn around. It’s Christopher.

  Christopher looking worried and vulnerable all at the same time- like his worrying is the one chink in his otherwise impenetrable armor. And he's worrying about… me?“Are you all right?”

  Since I can't think of a thing to say, I just shrug.

  He nods and joins me by the rail. Together, we quietly watch the waves playfully tap the boat.

  Finally, he breaks the silence. “We’re almost there.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready if my parents are there. But if they’re not…”

  “If your parents aren’t here, we’ll find them anyway. We won’t stop searching for them until you’re all together. I won't stop searching. I give you my word.”

  “It’ll be nice to be all together again… but what about your dad?”

  “He’s dealt with the Masters before. He knows how to handle them.” Despite his brave words, I notice a flicker of worry in his eyes.

  I place my hand comfortingly on his shoulder, feeling like our roles have been reversed. “We will be all together again. I know we will. It might take a while. It might take a lot of effort. But we will be together. And when we are, we’ll have a huge picnic. All of us will be there: the Rogers, the Williams, the Jones, Oto, and Ata.”

  “Do we have to invite Oto?”

  Well, I like having both my eye candies… “It doesn’t matter whether we invite him or not- he’ll come no matter what.”

  Christopher smiles. “You have a point.”

  I smile back at him. “I do, don’t I?” Strangely enough, I giggle.

  He chuckles. Next thing I know, we’re both laughing.

  Chase walks over. “What’s so funny?”

  I don’t answer him. I can’t. I laugh all the harder, which makes Christopher laugh all the harder.

  Standing there, laughing with Christopher, I feel like we will get through this, just like we got off the island. Everything will be all right in the end. At least, that’s what it feels like.

  And it’s a feeling worth persevering for.

  If we can just survive. Which means being perfectly honest.

  Sobering up, I turn away. Then I whirl back around to face him. “Christopher, I need to tell you something.”

  The mirth in his eyes is immediately replaced by concern, and I regret my words. But there's no going back now. “Emily?”

  I take a deep breath. “I have to be honest with you. I don't want the Island incident to happen again.

  Christopher steps forward. “What is it?”

  Sighing, I duck my head. “My PTSD. It's worse.”

  “I know.”

  I glance up, and now there's compassion and understanding in his deep eyes.

  “Come on,” he says, taking my arm as if to escort me. “Let's go rejoin the others.”

  ~~~

  After landing, we all search street after street and visit every notable landmark in the small city of Ostend, Belgium. However, we don’t find either my parents or my uncle and aunt.

  At sunset, we wearily eat dinner before going back to searching- this time for a hotel.

  “This place looks nice,” I say, looking up at the quaint hotel that Grandmother had found.

  “It'll do,” Christopher agrees. Then he goes inside to check us in.

  When he returns, he says, “The place is packed, but I was able to get us a room. It’s this way.”

  We follow Christopher inside and upstairs. He uses a key card to unlock a door to a decent-sized room with four tiny beds and a window seat.

  I stare at it uncomprehending. “Uh… how are we going to fit?”

  “There are trundle beds.”

  Nodding slowly, I take in the other amenities: an ancient television on an antique stand; a matching dresser; a closet; and a bathroom.

  One bathroom for eight people. How fun.

  I paste on a smile and check the mattresses. Well, at least there aren’t any bedbugs.

  Mary-Ann tugs my sleeve. “Can I have the trundle bed underneath your bed?”

  “Sure.” As long as it means I get a proper mattress, I’m good.

  “Chase can have the trundle bed underneath my bed,” Grandmother offers.

  “Ata can have the bed and I’ll have the trundle,” Oto says.

  Not one to be outdone, Christopher adds, “Joseph can have the bed and I’ll have the trundle.”

  Joseph sighs heavily like this is a great request of him. “If you insist, old buddy, old pal, I'll do it for you.”

  Boy, I sure hope this nobleness lasts while we take turns using the bathroom.

  ~~~

  I lie awake in my bed and stare at the ceiling. From the sound of the heavy breathing throughout the room, I deduce that I’m the last one awake. I always seem to be the last one awake.

  Tomorrow, we’ll find my parents. We’ll all be reunited. I’m not sure what we’ll do after that, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Besides, I’ll be more ready to face the challenges ahead with my parents.

  And if we don’t find my parents…

  I push the thought from my mind. To keep it out of my mind, I invent a game: guess who’s the loudest snorer.

  Joseph. Definitely Joseph. He and Ata are definitely perfect for each other.

  With that thought in mind, I drift to sleep.

  ~~~

  And wake with a scream frozen in my throat. What scared me, I don't know. All I know is the real world isn't much better.

  “Emma?”

  I blink until a semblance of vision returns to me. Then I see that across the room, someone else is sitting up on their bed. “Oto?”

  “You cannot sleep either?” he whispers.

  “No...”

  “Then let us go.” He tosses aside his sheets and climbs out of the bed next to his sister and makes his way to the door so quietly I wouldn't know he moved if I was relying on just my hearing.

  “Oto, where are you going?”

  But he's already out the door.

  Not sure what to do, I climb out and grab my slip-on shoes before tip-toeing after him, trying harder than he did to keep quiet and failing more. Yet I make it out of the room without disturbing anyone,

  The hallway is vacant, and I frown as I tug on my shoes.

  “Over here.”

  Startling, I turn to find Oto has reappeared by a door he has ajar. A door to a balcony.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, walking toward him. I like being near him. It's like being near Christopher. It's something I actually notice.

  “There's too much to see to bother sleeping,” he answers, grasping my wrist and pulling me out and onto the small, metal-railed balcony.

  The cool of evening mixed with the warmth of summer touches my skin and I find myself staring out at a city shining in the night.

  “Only the Masters' houses glowed at night,” Oto whispers.

  “I'm so sorry.” How many times have I taken for granted electricity? Or being free and un-oppressed?

  But Oto's already on the move, exploring a staircase to the roof before grabbing my hand and tugging me up. “Up here.”

  I bite my lip nervously as I follow after him. What kind of building codes do they have in Belgium, exactly? “I'm not so sure we should come up here.”

  “We go to the rooftops all the time in the Village,” he answers, releasing my hand to walk around the flat roof with way too small of rails keeping us from the sky.

  “You miss them, don't you?” I ask, eying those rails. Ra
ils that even though I'm smack-dab in the center of the roof can't seem to stop me from falling off-

  Oto skips back to me and looks confused. “Emma? Are you all right?”

  “Just some vertigo,” I say, pressing a hand to my temple in attempt to steady myself. More like facing the fear of being sucked off this rooftop and into the vacuum of darkness around us before falling from a great height…

  “Here,” he says, taking my hands and moving to lead me off toward the stairs.

  But my legs are shaking, and I collapse at his attempt to move him. I fall to the roof- and thankfully not off. Oto comes tumbling down after me, and we end up as a tangle of limbs.

  “I'm so sorry!” I cry.

  “Too much beauty makes you weak,” Oto says, in attempt to alleviate my embarrassment as he tries to figure out what is roof and what is me to push himself back off.

  And then I see a silhouette against the darkness rising above the stairs. Christopher.

  Oto finally disengages himself from me and sits up, smoothing down his clothes. “You're an adventure, Emma.”

  I grimace and try to gesture discreetly toward Christopher, who has now come to a complete halt on top of the stairs.

  Oto follows my glance before jumping to his feet. “Chris. You want to see the beauty too?”

  “To the room,” Christopher says through gritted teeth, and the anger that escapes his hiss is more than I've ever heard come from him- from anyone, really. “Now.”

  For once in his life, Oto doesn't argue. Just walks around Christopher, studying him like he's some kind of hostile creature ready to pounce at him. Then he's down the stairs and out of view.

  Leaving me with the aftermath.

  I push myself up. “Look, I know what that must have looked like-”

  Christopher offers his hand to me and I tentatively take it. Then he pulls me effortlessly to my feet.

  “You don't have to explain yourself to me, Emily,” he says, and the anger is deflated. Replaced by something else. Sorrow? Surely not… “I'm not your conscience.”

  I lick my lips and blink rapidly. “I did nothing against my conscience.”