by Ann Christy
The glow of lights from windows in the few buildings at this end of town is visible from our little rise. The hum of a water generator makes a low noise that would be enough to cover the careful footsteps of people passing, but the moonlight will make it easier to see us.
We could sneak down there as a group and try to make our way through the town to the piers. On the downside, any alarm will also alert Creedy, who is surely watching and waiting. He may have even put the people below on notice that we might come. I would have if I were him.
Given that those boats are their livelihood, I would have made sure the people thought we were dangerous thieves. We’re going to need a two-pronged approach if we want to increase our chances of making it.
“I have an idea,” I say. I roll the details around in my head while the others stop their whispering. Maddix is leaning heavily on his uninjured leg and the yellow-green of his bruises and swollen nose stand out even in this colorless light. That’s all I need to see to know this is the right approach.
“Maddix, Connor and Cassi. You three can head through the trees and make your way to the boats. Keep quiet and don’t get caught.” As I expected, sounds of disagreement come from four throats so I hold up my hands and say, “Please. Just hear me out first.”
I don’t get anything as positive as agreement, but at least everyone goes quiet and seems ready to listen. I press on, knowing this next part is what is really going to get them going. “Jovan and I are going to track around and find out who's really camped out there. If it’s Creedy, we’ll make sure he can’t come after you if you’re seen. Once you’re there, do what you have to and get across the river. Jovan and I will follow and meet you on the other side.”
The silence that greets my less-than-brilliant plan is telling.
Maddix lets me have it first. “Uh, Karas. That’s just stupid. If we get separated, how will we find each other again? What will you do to Creedy? What if he’s already got a whole crew again like before?” he asks, ticking off points on his fingers to the agreeing nods of the others.
What follows is more like an intense haggling session at the market than making a plan our lives might depend on. In the end, no one gets the exact plan they want, which is probably as good as it gets. At least the most idiotic elements of our various plans have been weeded out.
Jovan and I are going to watch until enough time has passed that the others should be clear and out on the water. If anything happens, we’ll do what we have to. We aren’t specifically going to kill Creedy unless we have to, but secretly I’m hoping there’s a good opportunity to do just that.
With Connor’s slingshot now firmly tucked into Jovan’s pocket and a gun with extra magazines in his utility belt, and my slingshot and all of my good steel balls in my pocket, we’re ready. I don’t bring a gun because I’m completely unproven with one and that makes it more dangerous to me than any other person. Instead, I’ve got one of the big knives from the utility belts tucked into my waistband. Up close and personal, if I need to defend myself, I’m more confident with that.
Maddix and Connor have the other gun but know that they should avoid using it at almost any cost. The silver coins Jovan gives them should be enough to buy passage if they are caught, or the possibility presents itself. None of us are happy about the idea of stealing, but we rationalize it by saying we’ll really only be borrowing it to get to the other side, where it can be recovered.
Jovan and I move closer to where we heard the horses, listening for any sounds that indicate our friends moving toward town have been noted. There’s no change and that’s good, but it’s going to take some time to get through the town if they use caution, so we’re not home-free yet.
The trees are thick here and only broken where the small road runs through it. The branches almost meet in the center, creating a canopy that’s probably beautiful during the day, but just looks ominous now. At least they break up the moonlight and offer us some concealment if we’re forced to cross.
Two huge trees with low spreading branches appear out of the gloom about twenty feet from the edge of the woods and I stop and point to them. Jovan leans his head back and then turns to look in the direction from which we’re hearing the sounds of restless hooves, perhaps figuring out the angles I’ve already decided are good. The road is close, and the thinning of trees ahead of us tell me there is a widening in the road—like those we have in Bailar so that one wagon can pull aside when two meet on a narrow road—and there’s the low orange glow of a fire.
He nods and climbs, his long legs making it look easy after all the practice he’s been getting. Now it’s me that has the harder time of it. For this kind of tree, his height is an advantage. By the time I get up through four levels of branches, I’ve circled the tree. When I look down, the ground is nothing more than a dark blot thirty feet below. It makes me almost dizzy to look, so I swallow and resolve not to do it again.
The higher perspective does what I had hoped and makes the group visible. There are still only four horses so it’s unlikely Creedy found a new crew. A huge pile of bags that must be the fish look like sleeping forms at first, but they are far from the small fire. No one would willingly sleep like that. On the ground like that, I’m surprised they haven’t been under a near constant sneak assault by raccoons or other animals drawn to the smell of the dried fish.
That gives me an idea. The proximity of the horses to the bags means they will startle if there is such a visitation. Perhaps Creedy is using the natural skittishness of horses as a sort of early warning system.
Near the fire, the light flickers on a single person lying on a blanket, but I can’t tell who it is. There’s no sign of the other for long minutes, then I hear the crunch of boots on gravel. Creedy’s form resolves out of the darkness as he approaches the fire and pours a cup of something from a pot. Then he walks slowly and calmly across the road and blends into the shadows.
It’s smart. He can keep watch in both directions, all the way to the main thoroughfare into town, while allowing all the attention to be drawn to the fire and the sleeping man. Had we come upon him while traveling that road or beside it, we might have crossed and tried to pass on his side in the dark, leaving him to intercept us at his leisure.
Jovan is too far from me to allow us to converse, but when Creedy is fully dissolved into the shadows on the other side of the road, I risk a small hiss to get his attention. I see the pale moon of his face turn toward me so I pull up my sleeves so he’ll see my arms. I wave closer and start edging my way around the trunk toward the branch that extends in his direction. When I lower myself to crawl along it in his direction, he seems to understand, hopping with enviable grace to a lower branch and moving to meet me.
We can’t get as close as I would like, but it’s close enough that we can speak in whispers. He’s only a few feet below me but it strikes me that the only time I’ve ever seen him from above, at least up close, was when I was about to harm him back in the Courthouse. A shiver of foreboding runs down my back.
“I think I can hit one of the horses from here with a slingshot. Maybe more than one of them. Get them to bolt,” I say.
I see him look toward the horses, evaluating, and then he nods in agreement. “They’re tired and probably ready to go home. They might not come back,” he says and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he likes the idea.
“He’ll go after them,” I say, adding something to tempt him.
“The other one will wake up,” he adds to counter my temptation.
“And he’ll go after them, too,” I say with certainty.
He considers for a long moment. We’ll have one chance to do this right, one chance to make the way clear for our friends and ourselves. We have one chance to achieve freedom beyond the border.
Chapter Thirty
Jovan pulls out Connor’s slingshot and a few of the tumbled stones that Connor and I spent countless hours turning in a tumbler while we talked and laughed. It seems like another lifetime,
when I had time for such things. When Jovan lets those stones fly, another small piece of that life will be gone, never to be retrieved.
He nods at me and I turn to regain my vantage point in the tree. By the time I get there, he’s already well out on his tree limb, face forward and tension in every line of his shadowed form. I feel as tense as he looks when I pull out my slingshot and palm a few of the steel balls.
The horses are well within range and I hate to hurt them, but this will only sting. It should do no lasting harm so long as they don’t trip or otherwise hurt themselves in their fright. But they are his most significant advantage and any advantage I can take from Creedy I must. Plus, the slingshot is almost silent. Even if he does figure out it isn’t a raccoon, he’ll have no way to know where it’s coming from.
A quick exchange of nods and then it’s time. Slingshots are crude weapons but they can be used with subtlety and to excellent advantage, whether it’s a head shot on a rat so that the meat is undamaged or on the rump of a horse to create a maximum fear reaction.
Two of the horses offer tempting targets and I take aim at the further of the two, leaving Jovan with the one closest to him. The slight thump and whistle of his shot follows mine so closely they are almost in unison. The alarmed whinnies of the horses, shrill and sudden, tell me that we have made contact.
There’s no time to have second thoughts, no time to feel bad about those pained sounds. I fight back the almost overwhelming urge to soothe them, to go and help them, and instead load another ball into the leather patch of my slingshot. They’re in motion, yanking at whatever their leads are wrapped around, probably an old log or branch. Whatever it is, it’s moving under their frenzied movements.
The balls and stones fly, each strike less precise than the one before as the horses try to flee. Creedy’s yells are joined by those of the no-longer-sleeping man and they shout conflicting instructions to each other. It’s clear they think there is an animal amongst the horses but that won’t last.
I send three balls in a row into the flank of one of the rearing horses. There’s the distinct sound of breaking wood and the horses run headlong away from us and back down the road.
Creedy shouts for the man to get the horses and I see him run down the road as well, profanities spilling from his mouth as he curses bears, cougars, raccoons and every other thing that might live in these woods. It’s almost enough to make me smile.
This is diversion enough, so Jovan and I waste no time. We both scramble down our respective trees, not nearly as cautious as we should be about making noise. It’s only unnoticed because there’s so much other noise to compete with it. At the bottom, we meet up and make our way through the trees just off the road toward town.
Suddenly, our feet freeze as a shout rings out. “Jovan! I know that’s you!”
It’s Creedy. I don’t recognize his voice and don’t know him, but it can be no one else. The cool certainty and anger in the voice chills me to the bone. A shot rings out and there is no question now that we won’t be able to sneak through to town. The sound of a shot carries with it the imperative of alarm. It stirs an instinct in humans to be ready for anything. The people in that town will protect themselves first and ask questions later, not caring to risk the time to find out who is posing the danger and who is running from it.
I have one brief moment to wish with all my might that the others have secured passage already. If they haven’t, they aren’t likely to after this. Jovan and I stand perfectly still, hoping we’re still hidden, only our heads moving as we search the road to see where Creedy might be and if he has located us.
Jovan’s touch on my shoulder draws my gaze back. His eyes gleam in the moonlight and shadows hide the rest of his features, but I can read the desperation there all the same. He leans in close and breathes into my ear, “Trust me.”
Another shot rings out and I jump at the sound. This one was closer, not toward us, but directed into the trees as if he knows we’re out here and wants to herd us, panic us into making noise. It takes all my willpower not to shriek and take off running, which is exactly what Creedy wants me to do. Jovan tightens his grip on my shoulder to give me strength.
His eyes are on me again and he whispers once more, “Trust me.”
I give an almost imperceptible nod of my head but it’s enough. He takes off, running lightly away from me to disappear into the woods.
Strangely, I don’t need any explanation to know what he’s doing because it’s what I would do if our positions were reversed. He’s going to draw Creedy back, leaving me to run for the river. I have no idea how he intends to stop Creedy, but he has a gun and that seems a likely—and permanent—solution.
I go, trying to keep my footsteps light but the crunching of leaves seems incredibly loud in my ears. There’s another shot but I can tell it’s not aimed in my direction, but far behind me.
Jovan’s shout is loud in the night and I almost freeze right then, fearful he’s been hit for a second. He’s the one person Creedy doesn’t want to see harmed. Jovan is smart and after that first fearful second, I realize what he’s doing. He was probably just waiting for that shot.
“It’s me, Jovan! Stop shooting! I’m on my own! They left me and I’m hurt!”
There’s a beat before Creedy answers, so I know he’s suspicious. I place my feet carefully, slowing my steps to a crawling walk so as to not waste this chance.
“Come out, Jovan,” Creedy yells somewhere far behind me.
“I am! Give me a minute.”
I keep going, not risking a look back, but ahead of me I can hear the distant shouts of an awakened town and my heart sinks. We aren’t going to get across here unless Creedy is permanently removed from the equation.
The sound of an alarmed shout and a shot is followed by Jovan’s yell, “Run!”
I do. I can’t see if I’m staying on course, weaving around the trees and brush that seem to appear directly in front of me out of the darkness. Behind me, I hear the pounding of Jovan’s feet on the gravel road and then him crashing through the trees.
I risk a yell. “Here!” I can only gamble that it’s safe and hope that last shot took out Creedy.
It’s not. I hear Creedy’s angry shout from somewhere further behind me. The edge of the forest is ahead, evidenced by a distinct lifting of the darkness as moonlight reaches the ground unimpeded. Rather than burst out of the trees, which is sure to attract attention if anyone is out and looking, I slow and ease my way out.
I’m standing at the small rise before the town proper. It’s not much of a rise, maybe ten or so feet, but going down means coming into full view of those gathering in the town by the main thoroughfare. Lights are coming on and flashlight beams cross each other as people search both the water and the trees. I sense they are uncertain, not knowing what might be going on, but are ready to react to anything. That would include me. With the river and the border beyond so close, they are likely always ready for almost any conflict.
The bridge we’d originally had such high hopes for is ahead of me, almost directly so. The rails that lead to it lie half-buried in the forest floor, and the bridge arches above the river like a beacon of hope.
I have few choices. I can go back into the trees, which is probably my smartest course, or I can risk that bridge and hope it goes far enough across that I can swim the rest of the way. I can’t even think about the height right now. Going down to the town, which is now crowded with people and lights is out of the question.
I huff a few quick breaths to draw up my courage and sprint the short distance to the bridge. The clang of metal against my boots draws at least a dozen lights toward the bridge, each one hitting somewhere along the length of it. A beam of light bounces along until it touches me. It’s only the distance that prevents it from blinding me and sending me tumbling down to the rapidly receding ground below.
Running on this railroad bridge is much harder than it first appeared it would be. The grate that makes up the base of it i
s rusted and entirely untrustworthy. With each step I hear pieces of it break and fall away. My only real way to the top is using the old wooden crossbeams, the ties, and many of those feel soft under my feet. I dare not let my feet linger and the trip up the long shallow incline makes me feel like my heart will burst from the sheer terror of it.
I see the gap, but it looks impossibly far away. It’s well past the peak of the arc, which is good, but I’m not at all confident that the bridge won’t dump me long before that point. I’m barely over the water yet. The bridge was built to be much wider than the river, either because the river rises and falls, or because it once did.
A sudden shifting vibration comes through the soles of my boots and I look behind me in time to see Jovan jerk upright after putting a foot through the grate. I can’t see any details but I hear a groan of pain even above all the shouts and noises below. Some of the flashlight beams move away from me and find him, perversely making it easier for me to keep moving without so many confusing, moving beams of light changing the way the bridge looks.
When I stop to look back, I see Creedy burst out of the trees and I hear a shot. There’s no question this one is aimed at me because I hear the whine of it even though it misses me by a wide margin. The shifting lights and distance are doing nothing for his aim.
I take a risk and shout down to the people below, “He’s a kidnapper! We escaped! Don’t let him get us!”
Whether it’s because the lights show the people below that I’m clearly young or the simple fact that I’m running and Creedy is shooting at an unarmed girl, there is a change in the tenor of their voices and more of the beams leave me. I risk one more look back and see Creedy framed by the beams a few flashlights, one arm thrown across his eyes to block the light. Jovan has the hang of the rails now, and he’s rapidly catching up to me.
I turn and run and all that I have left inside me is required for me to place each foot firmly onto a tie. The river is finally below and the sound of those waters is strong, it’s voice a roar that says I’m no match for it. It says I’m not going to make it to the other side alive.
