Fight or Flight

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  “On or off?” Van asked.

  Kelsey wavered, glancing at Tom.

  “Traffic is still really light,” he said. “Hard to get lost up here.”

  They’re counting on you. “Okay, off. Get away from the highway. We’ll call the police at home and find out what’s going on.” She didn’t know what came next. She wanted her mother, needed to know she was all right, but was afraid to go home. They’d be waiting.

  She leaned back, exhausted, letting Tom keep lookout behind them.

  One step at a time.

  ***

  Regan broke out of the trees onto a cornfield, struggling to see in the meager glow of light reflecting off the clouds. Tyler was dozens of yards away, along the tree line. At least, she thought it was him. He moved like Tyler. But as she started in his direction, she saw two more shadows duck into the woods ahead of him. God, was it Kelsey? Was she running from Tyler? Ignoring the shoulder ache and blazing knife wounds, she kicked off the flip-flops and started running as fast as she could. Which was about as fast as a turbo-charged snail.

  Shit. She’d never catch up. She couldn’t tell where they’d re-entered the woods, but they had to be heading for the road. She ducked between trees, held her right arm out in front of her to block branches, and prayed not to trip over anything.

  She came out of the woods again, this time in a deep ditch. There was no way she’d get up to the road here. She listened. No more shouts. No running footsteps. She had no idea where anyone else was, or who’d been chasing whom.

  Panic threatened to overwhelm her until she battled it back with clenched fists and sheer determination. Then she began slogging through muddy water in the bottom of the ditch, looking for a place where the slope was gentle enough for her to climb out. Scant minutes had passed when she heard a shout that might have been Tyler. A moment later a car roared by. She froze, listening. There was a sound like a gunshot, then more shouts. Then silence.

  Cursing, she grabbed a root with her right hand and tried to pull herself up the few feet to the verge. Her shoulder screamed, and she felt the cut on her hip split open. Her right foot slipped in the wet dirt, but her left foot held, and she managed to roll onto the grass. A couple of cars flashed by. One braked briefly, then kept going. Regan wondered what they thought they saw.

  She started to rise, then caught her breath and flattened herself into the grass. Two men stood arguing by the Chevy. The other car was gone. She was too far away, her view blocked by the center barrier, to see if Tyler’s truck was still there.

  The men started walking toward her. There was no way they wouldn’t see her lying there. There was no time to consider. She inched slowly sideways, watching the men, who walked with their heads down. One appeared to be on a cell phone, though he wasn’t yet close enough for her to hear him.

  Moving slowly made her heart nearly burst with pent-up adrenaline, but fast movement would definitely be seen. She reached the ditch when they were about fifty feet away and slid feet first into it, bending her knees to keep her head out of sight. She pressed tight to the dirt wall and tried to breathe silently. Her pulse pounded at every pulse point, the throb in her ears almost loud enough to drown out everything else.

  Footsteps came nearer, crunching on gravel, and she could hear voices.

  “Yes, sir, I understand. I never thought they’d—” A moment of silence. “I wasn’t driving, sir. I didn’t leave the keys in the car.”

  “Bastard,” another voice muttered. “I should shoot you right now.”

  The men passed Regan with a few more “yes, sirs” from the guy on the phone and unintelligible grumbling from his partner. She stayed where she was for several minutes, giving them time to get further down the road. Then she walked along the ditch until it rose to near ground level, about ten feet in front of the abandoned Chevy. She walked to the car, wincing with each step as stones cut into her feet.

  Tyler’s truck wasn’t across the road anymore. He’d likely driven to the next exit to turn around. She hoped he hadn’t passed her already. But wouldn’t he have stopped to look for her?

  Not if he thought getting rid of her was a better option. Or if he didn’t need her anymore, now that he knew what Kelsey was driving.

  She stared at the black screen on his phone, debating whether to turn it on or not. She could call the police and get picked up, maybe update the APB on her daughter. She hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the other car, though. Idiot. She looked to her right, the direction Kelsey had to be going in when they took the bad guys’ car. Then she looked to her left, the direction Tyler would be coming from. Assuming he was okay and hadn’t left her.

  Headlights appeared out of a dip in the road, approaching fast. She thought about hiding in the car, just in case, but was too wiped out to move. She watched warily as the vehicle slowed and pulled over. By the time it stopped, she recognized Tyler’s truck and managed to limp to the passenger door.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” she and Tyler said at the same time. Regan froze with her hand on the door handle, surprised at the sentiment not from him, but from herself. If he was working against her but wanted her to think otherwise, he’d pretend to care she was okay. But her unguarded reaction to seeing him, a leaf in his hair and a bruise on his cheek but otherwise looking strong and capable, made no sense. She didn’t trust him.

  Did she?

  “Get in.”

  She yanked the door open and climbed into the cab, which was awkward with her left arm disabled. She slammed the door and reached for the sling clip, but Tyler stopped her. His hand was warm and rough, and pissed her off because his touch calmed her. As if she were a high-strung horse.

  “Don’t undo it. You’ll make it worse.”

  She left the sling alone. “Tell me what happened.”

  Tyler put his hand back on the wheel. “I think Kelsey and her friends got away. There were two people chasing them. Cops.” He glanced at her.

  “Or not.”

  “Right. I figure Kelsey wouldn’t be on the run if she believed they were real. I shouted a warning and the guys split up, one trying to take me on, the other chasing the kids. The kids made it to the other car and took off.”

  “How long ago?” She’d heard the car go by, but had lost all sense of real time.

  Tyler didn’t look happy. “About fifteen minutes ago. We won’t catch them. Look out.”

  Regan saw them at the same time he spoke. The fake cops, trudging along the side of the road. She slid down and back until the doorjamb hid her face but she could still see them. One had the gall to turn and stick out his thumb.

  “You want to stop and confront them?” Tyler asked.

  “No. Keep going.” Tyler might be able to overpower both of them, but not if they were armed, and she was in no shape to help.

  A green exit sign flashed past. Two miles. Regan tried to think. Would Kelsey go home, or pull off here? They were driving a stolen car. The road was pretty deserted this late at night—nearly early morning now. She lifted the phone to call her and find out where she was, remembered it was nearly dead, and looked down to see the charger dangling from the lighter socket.

  “Thank goodness,” she breathed. She plugged the phone in and thumbed it on. It took forever to boot up. The one-mile sign flashed by. “Come on, come on.” The main screen flashed on. She hit the buttons to find and dial Kelsey’s number and lifted the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  The voice was deep, too deep to be a college student’s. But Regan was so shocked to hear it, she didn’t think of that right away. “Is this Tom?”

  The hesitation was too long. “Who’s this?”

  Regan’s brain caught up with her mouth. “Who’s this?”

  “Regan?”

  Dammit. She didn’t answer.

  “This is Tom. We’re okay.”

  “Is Van with you?”

  “Yes. She’s fine. Where are you?”

  “If this is Tom, tell me what Kels
ey did to you the day you met.”

  Another long hesitation, without the “uhs” or “ums” or confused stammering that might result from such an unexpected question.

  “She spilled her drink on me.”

  “Wrong answer, asshole.” She punched the off button viciously, wishing she could slam the phone down.

  “What’s going on?”

  “He has her phone.” The exit sign came up, and she made a quick decision. “Get off here.”

  “Who has her phone? Her boyfriend?” He signaled and zoomed down the off ramp.

  “Not hardly. Tried to make me believe it, though. He can’t have Kelsey with him—you said you saw the kids getting into the car and driving away by themselves. She must have lost her phone. ”

  Tyler braked at the light at the end of the ramp. “Someone else might have caught up with them.”

  “Don’t pull any punches, do you, Sloane?” She craned her neck, looking around. There were half a dozen gas stations and fast food restaurants, places where there would be people and phones and a spot to rest. But they were too visible. She’d taught Kelsey better than that.

  “Where next?”

  The light turned green, and Regan didn’t know how to answer him. She was so tired, so sore, she couldn’t think. Everything in her screamed to find her daughter, but going in circles without any clue to guide her would only drain her minimal resources.

  “There.” She pointed to the red roof of a motel just off the highway.

  “Good,” Tyler murmured, maneuvering into the right lane. He didn’t say anything more, and Regan was glad. It shamed her to stop the search, even temporarily. They were so close.

  Except maybe they weren’t. Maybe Kelsey hadn’t gotten off the highway at all. If she hadn’t, their paths were diverging once again.

  Regan waited in the car for Tyler at the motel, her mind racing. She’d told him to give a false name and use cash, even though whoever was after her and Kelsey shouldn’t know she was with Tyler. If Tyler was working with her pursuers, they already knew where he was. Right now, Regan didn’t care. She didn’t know where her daughter was, so she was no help to the enemy. At worst, they’d finish the job they’d come to do at her house.

  Her door opened and Tyler offered a hand to help her out of the truck.

  “Our room is right here, next to the office.”

  One room? She didn’t say it out loud. He was spending his own money to help her. It was presumptuous to expect him to pay for two rooms. Still…

  “Next to the office isn’t a good idea.”

  He shrugged. “Not much choice. Anyway, the walls are paper thin. We should be able to hear anyone who asks about us. You go inside and I’ll park the truck at the other end. I saw a space down there.”

  Regan swiveled and slid off the seat, ignoring his hand. “When did you become an expert at on-the-run tactics?”

  He just smiled enigmatically and took her good elbow, holding it loosely in case she needed to lean on him. He released her at the door, handed her a key card, and turned back to the truck without waiting to make sure she got inside.

  Regan couldn’t help smiling at the line he was trying to walk. Hell, maybe he really was just a nice neighbor helping her out and struggling not to be autocratic.

  She went inside and immediately called the police at home, using the landline and a prepaid calling card number she’d memorized. The clerk said they had no new information and addressed her rather coldly, as if they didn’t believe her story anymore.

  “Where are you, Ms. Miller?”

  Keys tapped in the background. Were they tracing her call? How long was safe to stay on the line?

  “I’d appreciate if you’d continue looking for my daughter,” she said. “She’s in a new vehicle, a dark sedan. I don’t know the make,” she added reluctantly. “But she seems to still be with her friends.”

  “Please hold, Ms. Miller. We have a call coming in from your daughter now.”

  A click led to electronica music. Regan listened, torn. It could be a ruse, trying to keep her on the line to trace the call. Or it could be legitimate. She held. Word about Kelsey was worth the risk. She closed her eyes and prayed until the door opened and Tyler came in. He raised an eyebrow.

  She shook her head. “I’m on hold with the police. They say Kelsey’s calling— Yes, I’m here.”

  “Ms. Miller, your daughter refuses to tell us where she is, only that she’s safe at the moment. She gave us a number to give you.”

  “Hang on.” Relief made her fingers clumsy as she grabbed at the pen on the table between the beds. She tore a piece of paper off the little pad so what she wrote wouldn’t impress the pages below it. “Okay, go ahead.”

  The woman rattled off the number. “We’re canceling the APB on Kelsey Miller, ma’am. It doesn’t seem she’s in any danger and the resources of this department—”

  “Yeah, whatever, thanks.” Regan hung up, not regretting her sarcasm. They’d been no help at all, except as a relay service. She quickly dialed the number Kelsey had provided, using Tyler’s phone this time, and held her breath.

  “Hey, it’s Van. I know, I hate voice mail too, but you know how it goes. Leave a message.”

  Regan could hardly speak past the swelling in her throat. “Van, it’s Regan. Kelsey’s mom. The police gave me this number, said you had just called them. Please, please, call me back.” She relayed Tyler’s phone number again, even though caller ID should capture it. “As soon as you can.” She waited foolishly, as if Van would pick up, and slowly folded the phone closed. Since Van’s number was now in Tyler’s phone, she got up and flushed the paper, then returned to the bed, unable to stand very long.

  Tyler seemed to have gotten the gist of the conversation, because he didn’t ask. He took the phone out of Regan’s hand and set it on the nightstand.

  “I’m going to run across the street. There are a bunch of stores over there. Should be an all-night superstore or someplace I can get you some clothes.”

  Regan tried to look up at him, but her head didn’t want to tilt. “Thank you, Tyler. I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It won’t be designer stuff.” He walked back to the door. “I know you need a shower, but don’t take one until I come back. I want to be here in case you pass out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” Before she could protest any more, he was gone.

  She would have defied him, just to do it. But her body sagged sideways onto the bed, and she couldn’t get up. Immediately, the sheer nerve she’d been running on refused to bear her weight anymore. Her eyes closed and darkness descended.

  It was a short reprieve. Regan jolted to consciousness and whipped her gaze around the room, looking for the disruption that had awakened her. Everything looked the same. The bathroom door was open, the light off. Tyler wasn’t back. She hadn’t been asleep long. The digital clock said it was just before four in the morning.

  The curtains hung undisturbed, and the main door was tightly closed. But her heart pounded, her breathing rushed, readying her to fight or fly. She inhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. Maybe the jolt had only been a reaction to the last several hours.

  Then she heard it.

  The rumble of voices came through the far wall, the one the room shared with the office. She couldn’t distinguish words, but could hear enough to tell there were three people. The night desk clerk and two men, she guessed.

  Rising slowly, mindful of her knotted muscles, she crossed to the AC intake vent on the wall and carefully slid the lever to open it. The voices instantly became clearer.

  “I’m telling you, I’m not allowed to give out that information.” That had to be the clerk, an elderly black woman Regan had seen through the office window when Tyler checked in.

  “And I’m telling you, this badge and the extension of the Patriot Act require you to give it.”

  “Puh-leeze. If those two are terrorists, I’m God’s mama.”


  Regan sighed wearily. She appreciated the woman’s resistance, but she’d just confirmed their presence.

  “It’s not for you to decide if they are or not, ma’am. Now, please tell us what room they’re in before we arrest you for obstructing justice.”

  The woman’s response was drowned out by the rumble of a vehicle turning into the parking lot and moving past the window. Regan recognized Tyler’s engine and hoped he’d be alert enough to spot the men in the office. The rumble faded as the truck kept moving.

  “Hey. There he is.”

  Shit. Regan hurried to the window, peering through a slit in the curtains just as the two “cops” came out of the office and hurried past. She waited a minute before slipping out the door, leaving it open behind her so it wouldn’t make noise closing. The men didn’t turn, and there was no sign of Tyler’s truck.

  Regan turned to the right and hobbled around the end of the building the other way. When she rounded the second corner, Tyler idled next to the walk right in front of her. He spotted her and rolled forward as the fake cops, running now, came around the far end. They shouted. Pointlessly, as Regan was already scrambling into the truck. She slammed the door as Tyler took off.

  “I swear, I don’t know how they found us,” he said, making a squealing right turn onto the divided highway. He raced toward the light ahead.

  Regan looked behind them to see if the fake cops had a vehicle, but the road remained empty save for a tractor-trailer turning off the main highway. She didn’t say anything. Kelsey’s cell phone number was in Tyler’s phone memory. He could have called his buddies to tell them the hotel room Regan was in. His rescue could have been an attempt to get her to lower her guard.

  The part of her that was weakening didn’t believe it. If he’d called them, why show up and rescue her yet again? He could still be trying to “prove” his loyalty because he needs Kelsey. That was logical, too, but it was just as likely the men had simply stopped at the first motel they saw.