Vanished

by Karen E. Olson

  In the last seventeen years, I have been so very good at hiding, but it’s always some small thing that manages to reveal me.

  ‘So how are we going to get off a moving train without anyone noticing?’ I ask.

  ‘Who said we were going to get off a moving train? We’re not in a fucking movie, Tina. We have to wait for the train to stop.’ He rolls his eyes at me and picks up the joint, putting it back between his lips. ‘We need a plan.’

  The two carry-ons sit at the edge of the seat, the backpacks next to them. So much for looking like regular travelers. I have to do something, so I open the carry-ons and begin pulling clothes and toiletries out of them. In short order, I’ve got the backpacks organized and ready for whatever happens next. Spencer watches me with wide eyes.

  I merely shrug.

  I don’t tell him that packing has helped me to calm down a little, although I am still uncertain how we’re going to get off the train without my stalker seeing us. Especially since the train may be stopping in some very backwater towns. It might be best to get off in a larger city so we can disappear more easily.

  ‘What’s the next city that we stop in?’ I ask, but Spencer is already a step ahead.

  ‘Raleigh.’

  I peer over his shoulder to see the list of stations. I wish we could manage to stay on until Washington, D.C., because it seems that might be a better place to disappear. I’m not sure Raleigh is big enough. But it’s bigger than some of the other places listed on the website.

  Suddenly, a thought strikes me. ‘How did he know I would be online?’

  Spencer frowns. I haven’t made myself completely clear.

  ‘How would he know that I’d be online? That I’d be in the chat room to get his message? I mean, I haven’t been online in months. I haven’t had a computer until today.’

  FOURTEEN

  My heart pounds inside my chest, and I feel dizzy. I put my hand on the small table to steady myself or I might fall over. I have no idea who d4rkn!te is, but he seems to be closer than we thought. Was he in the park when I was there earlier? Was he in the restaurant when I had lunch? Maybe he really has been stalking me. Maybe it’s even gone on longer than just today. And then I have another thought.

  ‘If he knows about me, then he knows that you’re with me,’ I say.

  Spencer’s head swings up, fear in his eyes. He can’t be discovered any more than I can, but for different reasons. There’s no hit on him, but the feds would love to know where he is. But then something crosses his expression, and he frowns. He hesitates a couple of seconds before speaking, asking, ‘How do we know that the message was for you?’

  I’m confused. ‘It’s the French phrases.’ It’s pretty clear to me, but maybe the weed has addled his brain a little.

  ‘No, I mean, yeah, he knows the French phrases, but what if he was trying to lure Tracker in?’

  It takes a moment, but I finally see what he’s saying. ‘So he was trying to make Tracker think that he’s me?’

  Spencer shakes his head. ‘Tracker knows d4rkn!te, and he knows it’s not you. But think about this: maybe d4rkn!te doesn’t know you’re online. He doesn’t know anything except that you’re on the train. But what if he wants Tracker to know that he knows. That he knows where you are.’

  A shiver shimmies up my spine. This is not reassuring. I don’t like the implications of what he’s saying. ‘You think that this might not be someone who’s after me because of me, but because of Zeke. Someone who is trying to threaten him through me.’ My throat feels dry.

  Spencer wisely says nothing and looks back at the screen again. I pick up my backpack. Its weight feels comfortable. Maybe I should be concerned about that, but I’m not. I’m relieved that I didn’t cave to Spencer’s suggestion that I get a new one. The leather might have been heavier. Deep down, I must have known that we couldn’t travel like normal people, that something would happen that would mean I’d have to run again.

  ‘You can get off at one of the sidings,’ Spencer says, his voice piercing the silence.

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A siding. We left half an hour later than we were scheduled to.’ He says this like it’s supposed to mean something. ‘That’s a good thing.’

  ‘Good for what?’

  He sighs as though I should already know. ‘The train will veer off on to a small siding when a freight train needs to get past. We’ll stop, and the freight train, which has a tighter schedule than we do, will go by us. It’ll be incredibly loud.’

  I know what he’s saying now. We can get off the train while the freight train passes and no one will be the wiser. Maybe. ‘What about an alarm on the door? Don’t they have them wired?’

  Spencer looks me straight in the eye. ‘Probably. You don’t have much of a choice.’

  He’s right. We have to take our chances. But then I hear what he’s actually said. He said ‘you.’ Not ‘we.’ He’s actually been saying that all along. He sees that I’ve finally noticed.

  ‘I’m not sure both of us can get off without being noticed,’ he says.

  I roll my eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter how many of us get off, they’ll know we did. And you can’t stay here. If the stalker knows I’m here, he probably knows you’re here, too, and you can’t risk getting caught, either.’

  ‘True, but he won’t kill me.’

  ‘Are you so sure about that? And anyway, if it really is someone who was trying to get Tracker’s attention and not mine, then there’s a whole different agenda than we think. And since we don’t know what that agenda is, we have to figure the worst.’ I don’t want to think about the worst, but ideas careen through my head: I’ll be kidnapped, held for ransom until whoever it is gets whatever he wants from Zeke, and then they’ll possibly kill me. My imagination is far too active. But, no, I don’t want to go alone, and I don’t want to leave him here to face whoever’s watching me – and possibly the feds. ‘You have to come with me. Zeke wouldn’t like it if you let me go by myself.’

  ‘Zeke sent you away by yourself. He knows you can take care of yourself.’ His words resonate, but I can see that I’ve made him nervous. That he’s thinking about what will happen to him if he’s caught. Spencer’s like me: he has a very strong survival instinct.

  ‘But he had you keeping an eye on me,’ I say, bringing home my argument. ‘You have to come with me. It’s the only way.’ As if to prove it to him, I hold up his backpack, which I have also packed. ‘When does this siding thing happen?’

  He makes a face at me, but I can tell that he’s resigned himself to come with me. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it might be. ‘I have to check freight train schedules on this route.’ His fingers move on the keyboard. I double-check his backpack. There has to be enough room for his two laptops. I tuck cash into each pack, enough so if we’re separated we’ll both be able to pay for a room and some food for a couple of days. A thought strikes me: if we went onto the carding forum, we could use a stolen credit card to pay for things. I shake the thought aside, since my criminal activity is why I’m here in the first place.

  Our pending escape has put the carding forum on hold, too, for the time being. Again, I think about Zeke and how he might be in trouble. But Spencer and I have to get out of this predicament first, and I can only hope that we’ll be successful. I’m a little dubious, looking out of the window into the darkness.

  Spencer clears his throat. ‘Looks like we’re probably going into a siding in about twenty minutes,’ he announces. ‘There’s a door at the end of the aisle. We just have to make it down there.’

  Without anyone noticing.

  I have an idea. ‘The attendant. I think his name was Harry. He said he’d come back to show us how to set up for the night. Maybe we could get him in here, distract him?’

  Spencer looks dubious but nods. ‘It’s worth a try, but shouldn’t we be here with him?’

  I shrug. ‘Maybe not. Maybe we get him in here and tell h
im we’ll be back in a few minutes when it’s done, and we take off.’

  He looks a little less dubious. ‘OK, it might work.’ But then he frowns. ‘What about the backpacks?’

  They’re stuffed to capacity, and the laptops aren’t even inside yet. If we’re carrying them, they’ll be conspicuous. Granted, the moment the door opens, there will probably be some sort of alarm, but with any luck we can disappear into the night before what’s happened registers with anyone. I glance out the window and can barely make out the outlines of the pine trees. This might be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, but it’s better than being kidnapped or dead.

  I worry a little bit about Spencer. While I am in very good shape, he doesn’t look quite so up to this physically. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong.

  He’s still doing something on the laptop. I wonder if it’s because I’ve been away from it that I’m not right there beside him. It’s probably more that I’m focused on how we’re going to get off the train, away from my stalker.

  ‘Maybe you should log off for now,’ I tell him.

  ‘We might not have the Internet for a while,’ he says, but doesn’t elaborate, so I squeeze into the seat next to him to check out what he’s up to.

  He’s in the source code of a site, but I can’t figure out which one.

  ‘Is that the chat room?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head. ‘Can’t find it.’ He still doesn’t elaborate.

  It’s then that I see he doesn’t have to, because I know where he is. The remote access Trojan that he installed in the URL for the private chat has gotten him inside d4rkn!te’s computer and he’s trying to find the IP address so we can pinpoint d4rkn!te’s location.

  FIFTEEN

  ‘Is he on the train?’ I ask, peering more closely at the screen.

  Spencer shakes his head. ‘I’m not sure. It’s tricky to capture IP addresses on a moving train. It might be possible when we stop, though.’

  I think about that for a second. When we stop is when we need to get off the train. We won’t have much time, and waiting even a few minutes is too risky. I’m trying to work the time out in my head, but Spencer’s too engrossed to care.

  ‘Look at that,’ he whispers, as if to himself, as if he’s the only one here.

  Maybe he is. I’ve been where he is, when I’ve been so wrapped up in what’s happening on the screen that I’m not aware of anything else.

  Like the fact that the train is slowing down.

  I tug on his arm. ‘Spence, we have to go.’

  He shrugs me off, but I grab his forearm. ‘Now,’ I say firmly.

  ‘But look at this.’

  I can’t help myself, even though I’m already reaching for my backpack. He’s watching d4rkn!te navigate a carding forum. Spencer gives me a look that says I told you so, but I’m distracted again. The train really is slowing down. ‘We don’t have time for this,’ I tell him. ‘We can do this later.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘We’ve still got the RAT, so we can find him later.’ I reach over and close the cover on the laptop. For a second, I think he’s going to fight me, but he finally gives in and shoves the laptop into the backpack I’ve put next to him. I’ve already put the other laptop inside. ‘Come on,’ I say, shrugging my pack over my back. It’s too late to call Harry, tell him to set up the bed. We have to do this now; I have to get off this train. Even if d4rkn!te isn’t on board, he could have someone waiting when we get off in New York.

  I pull the curtain aside slightly to check out the aisle outside. I don’t see anyone, but it doesn’t mean he’s not out there. I’m aware that my hands are shaking, and I put my palms against the wall. Spencer comes up behind me.

  ‘Ready?’ he whispers.

  I’m not. Not ready. I don’t want to do this. Everything within me is screaming against it, but the survivor in me turns the doorknob and pulls.

  There’s no one in the aisle. The train jerks, and I lose my footing, falling back into Spencer, whose hands are around my waist, steadying me. ‘We need to wait a moment.’ It’s barely a whisper; I can feel his breath on my ear. I don’t know how long I can stand like this, waiting.

  And then I hear it: the freight train.

  ‘We have to wait until it’s closer.’

  Spencer’s words swirl around in my head, and I’m terrified that someone is going to show up and see us here hovering in the doorway, our backpacks slung over our shoulders, poised to run. But by some miracle, there is no one here. No one, at least, that I can see.

  The freight train is nearing; it sounds like a tornado rushing toward us. The noise fills my ears until I’m convinced I’ve gone deaf. It mesmerizes me until Spencer pushes me, grabs my arm and pulls me down the aisle. We run to the door between the cars, and he yanks it open. A rush of cold air slaps me in the face; the freight train is even louder.

  Someone is coming toward us in the car ahead. He’s tall, his shoulders broad, his head bald. He is not an attendant; he is wearing jeans and a tight T-shirt under a suit jacket. My brain takes a snapshot of his face, but the only thing I can see is a scar across his cheek. I don’t know if he’s the one after me, but I can’t stick around to find out.

  Spencer and I turn at the same time. We reach for the door.

  Neither of us expects it to be as difficult as it is to open it, but my fear gives me strength and suddenly the door slides open. I expect to hear an alarm, but all I can hear is that freight train. Looking outside is like looking into a black fishbowl.

  I don’t wait. I leap into the darkness. It’s a lot further down than I anticipate, my ankles roll and I’m on my knees, spinning away from the train, the backpack breaking my fall. I glance up to see Spencer in the doorway, and then he’s gone.

  I wait a second, assess that I’ve not broken or sprained anything, and scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dark. Spencer’s beside me, but then he’s not; he’s running, and I’m running, too, with only a glance back at the train, where I see the large, bald man staring out as the train begins to move again.

  The ground is soft beneath my sneakers; the noise from the train fades. I weave between the trunks of the pine trees. Spencer’s somewhere here, too; I can hear him breathing, or maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the sound of my own breath in my ears. My heart pounds within my chest, and I regret never jogging. Twice today I’ve literally been on the run. Maybe I’ll give up the bike for better running shoes.

  ‘Tina!’ I hear him hiss somewhere near me. The train is long gone, or at least it feels as though it should be. ‘Tina!’

  I follow his voice until I find him doubled over near a tree, gasping for breath. ‘You OK?’ I ask. My voice sounds odd in my ears, and I’m afraid I’m talking too loudly, that someone will hear.

  ‘No.’

  His honesty doesn’t completely surprise me.

  ‘I think I’m going to die.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We have to keep moving. We can’t stay here.’ Adrenaline has pushed me beyond my own exhaustion, but I’m afraid that the longer we linger, the less I will be able to keep going.

  ‘Give me a minute.’

  I glance back at the train. We’re closer than we should be. It’s moving now, faster, away from us. I don’t see that anyone’s followed us, but it would be easy to be shrouded by the darkness and I don’t want to get overconfident that we’ve escaped. I’ve made that mistake before.

  I reach out and grab Spencer’s sleeve. ‘We’ve got to go,’ I say firmly.

  He straightens up, shifts his pack on his back and, without another word, we head deeper into the forest.

  We keep moving for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes. The only light is from the moon streaming through the branches of the trees overhead. I don’t really want to stop, because I don’t know what’s out here with us. The ground is soft beneath my feet, but I can’t tell if it’s wetlands or a bed of pine needles.

  ‘Tina,’ Spencer hisses from somewhere behind me, and I paus
e, pivoting.

  His watch is emanating a soft glow on his wrist. His face is a medley of shadows; his grin sinister because of it. ‘GPS,’ he says, and I realize that the watch is more than a watch – it’s a small computer, and Spencer’s got the wireless hotspot router in his hand. He raises the other one and points to our right. ‘There’s a town over there.’

  As much as I like the idea of a town, a place to possibly get something to eat, a place to stay the night, I also don’t like the idea of it. ‘It’s too close,’ I say, remembering my trek through Vermont into Canada just a couple of years ago. I didn’t dare stay in any towns. I had camping gear and a tent, which I would pay good money to have right about now.

  ‘You’re not the only one who’s had to do this.’ Spencer is reminding me that he’s been on the run, too, and the way he says it makes me more curious about what he’s actually done to stay hidden. I open my mouth to ask just as I hear a snap and the match illuminates our small space as he lights the joint that hangs from his lips. In a second, he blows out the flame and we’re swathed again in darkness, with only the scent of weed between us.

  I forget about my curiosity. I am really regretting arguing that he needed to come with me. We don’t have the time to linger, to wait for him to get high before he can continue.

  ‘Go ahead,’ he says, a disembodied voice, the glow from the tip of the joint bobbing up and down as he takes another drag. ‘You want to leave. We should probably separate anyway. They’ll be looking for two of us.’

  He’s right, but my emotions are bouncing back and forth so much that I feel almost nauseous. I want to be alone, but at the same time, I don’t. I begin to doubt my own instincts. Should we head for the town?

  ‘There’s another town that’s a little bit further away,’ Spencer says. ‘What do you say—’

  He stops talking, and instead of silence, I hear it.

  Twigs cracking underfoot.

  Someone’s coming.

  SIXTEEN