by Laura Preble
“Mmmmm.” In this blanket world of the two of us, artificial warmth and air surround us; the last time, I didn’t really get to look at her, but now…her lithe body supports beautiful, perfect breasts cupped in a lacy black bra, and this makes me forget to breathe for a moment.
“Chris,” she says, moving so her face is next to mine, blocking the view of her body and allowing my brain to reengage. “I want to go with you. I’m just not sure this is the right way. It’s so fast. I’m afraid they’ve made mistakes in the planning of it.”
She’s right, of course. Friday is in less than 48 hours. But I can’t wait. I can’t. I can’t go back to that house, live under that roof, knowing…knowing they don’t really love me. Waiting to be trapped, again, groped by that pig –
“I’m going to do it whether you go or not.”
“What?” Her terrified eyes well with tears. “You can’t. What if it doesn’t work?”
“What if it does?”
Silence sits between us. Sounds of the forest fill in…night birds, gust of wind, creaking of tree limbs, and far away, the sluggish rush of a nearly frozen brook. I cup her head in my hand, my fingers threaded through the silk of her hair, and pull her to me. We fit together so well, two puzzle pieces—arms entwined, legs curling around each other, her face fitting into the hollow of my neck. All my world is her scent, her curve, her line of jaw, the contour of her hips as they rise to meet me.
When I wake up, it’s deep night. She’s lying asleep in my arms. I check my watch—2 a.m. Gotta get back to the house. What if someone found out I was gone? I duck out of the blanket for a second, see the silhouette of the dark house in the distance. All quiet.
“Carmen,” I whisper in her ear. She moves, a smile on her face, starts to wake; her eyes open and for a second, she is happy. I save that face, that moment; that’s what it will be like. After, and for the rest of our lives…that’s what it will be.
Then she remembers, and fear erases the joy. “We have to go.”
She grabs her clothes, and I grab mine. We put them on in the dark, under the cover of the blanket. I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to go back. I’d almost wait here until dawn and be caught, and stop lying. But I know that’s not an option.
When we’re both ready, she sighs heavily, twines her arms around my neck, and we kiss again as if we’ll never stop.
“You’re the bravest person I know,” she whispers.
Her words give me strength; I’ve never felt brave before, never felt strong, needed. Carmen gives me that. How could I ever live without it?
I leave the blanket with her, slip out, run toward home.
After checking for signs of life (none), I shimmy back up the old familiar tree, tiptoe through Jana’s room, get to mine, undress in the dark. I press my shirt to my face; her scent is embedded in the fabric. Curling up with it, I snuggle under my blankets wishing it were her.
If life were normal, school would be starting in another week. October break would be over, and we’d be going into the end of the semester. Weird to think about never going back to school, maybe never going to college. What will I do in Canada? What do people do in Canada anyway? I envision myself living in a log cabin near a stream, trying in vain to catch salmon.
If Carmen’s there, I wouldn’t care what I had to do.
I dream of fish, and wood smoke. And Carmen. Always Carmen.
Jana nudges me awake. The sun’s up; I’ve slept most of the morning. “Hey Romeo.”
“Hmm?” I play dumb.
“I know where you were last night,” she says, sing-song.
I sit up, try to adjust my eyes to the light. My Carmen-scented shirt is still curled up next to the pillow, and seeing it makes me grin. “You think you know.”
“Oh, I know.” She goes to the balcony, and throws open the French doors, letting what feels like an Arctic breeze flood my room. “Ah. Bracing.”
“Shut the door.” She stands there, arms crossed, and gestures to the balcony. I get up, stumble over in my boxers and shirt, and check outside. An unfamiliar car is parked in the driveway behind Warren’s SUV. “Who’s that?”
“McFarland.”
“What?” My chest constricts, breath is trapped, like an elephant got loose and is stomping on my lungs. “Why is he here?” Adrenaline rush, lightheaded…I look for pants. Pants are necessary.
“Chill.” Jana wraps an arm around my shoulders. “He’s here to talk to David about some political b.s. I don’t think he has love on his mind at the moment.”
I shrug her arm off and pull on a pair of somewhat-clean jeans. “I don’t want to see him.”
“That’s going to be kind of tough since you live here.” She glances out the window and says, “Anyway, I think they’re going for a spin in the Spyder, so maybe you can at least sneak breakfast.”
David’s sleek car pulls out of the garage, rolls slowly down the driveway, and edges out onto the road. Relief floods my chest and my head; I flop down, face-first, on the bed. I sneak my Carmen-smelling shirt and clutch it to me.
“Let’s go.” Jana pulls at my pant leg, halfway dragging me off the bed. “C’mon. We’ve got stuff to do.”
“What stuff?” I mutter into the shirt.
“Magnus stuff. Come on.”
I drag myself off the bed, pull on socks, pull on a wrinkled shirt. The kitchen’s empty, except for a pot of recently made coffee and a cookie sheet of cinnamon rolls, which I inhale after discovering I am ravenously hungry.
“Sex will do that to you,” Jana whispers close to my ear as she grabs a roll. I nearly choke. She parks on one chair, props her legs up on a second, and proceeds to eviscerate a second cinnamon bun.
“Warren’s gone too?”
“Grocery store.” Swig of coffee. She wipes her lips on a French linen napkin imprinted with Marie Antoinette’s silhouette.
“So, how are we going to get where we’re going?”
“They’re meeting us. We don’t like to repeat patterns too often.” In a fluid move, she puts down the napkin and cup, jumps up, grabs her Eskimo boots, and pulls them on over her socks. “Let’s go. Before anybody gets back.”
She leads me down the driveway, out to the road, and we start walking toward town. “What if somebody passes us on this road?” Visions of the Spyder flying by, and McFarland grabbing me as he passes, make me feel like hiding in a bush.
“We’re turning off here.” She trudges down a partially covered gravel path between two bare maples. Hiking past a frozen stream, breath steaming, we smash through frosted batches of twigs and dead leaves, listen for the skitter of animals, or the more clumsy movement of people. After about fifteen minutes, Jana stops in front of a clump of evergreen trees. The middle tree has a frayed green ribbon tied around its lowest branch.
“Now we just wait.” Jana pulls out her cell phone, and then sits on the pile of pine needles at the base of the tree. She sends a text, and within seconds the phone chirps. “They’re almost here. Come sit down.”
I huddle up next to her for warmth; even with a down ski jacket, the day is cold.
Soundlessly, Magnus and Ben appear. Seriously, it’s like they don’t occupy space or something. Jana pops up, wraps her arms around Ben; Magnus grimaces at them as I clumsily rise, shedding pine needles. “We can’t stay long,” he says to Jana, who is now in a full-on lip lock with Ben.
Magnus ignores them and hands me a small, red wallet. “Inside this is a map, a phone number, and fifty dollars…at midnight, someone, probably me, will knock on the door.”
“What’s the map for?” I try to take it out of the wallet, but he slaps at my hands.
“Leave it. That’s only if you are totally stranded, which means we’ve been compromised, and if by some miracle you escape. You won’t likely need it. The phone number is to a pizza delivery place.”
“Why would I want to order pizza?”
“You wouldn’t,” Magnus says impatiently as he folds up the wallet and tucks it int
o my back pocket. “It’s only to call if you are compromised and have no other options. An answering machine will pick it up. That’s how we’ll know if you need help.”
“What about Carmen?” I ask. Ben and Jana have stopped smooching, and now stand, dazed and happy, staring at me as if they’re drunk.
“Someone else will pick her up. There’s a contact giving her instructions today.” That’s all he says.
“But what are her instructions? Where is she going to be?” I run a thumb absently over the smooth nylon of the wallet.
“I don’t want to give you details about that,” Magnus says. “The less you know, the better for all of us.”
“What if things don’t go as planned? I want to know where I can find her.”
Magnus stares at me with cold, steely eyes. “If something goes wrong, there won’t be any need to find her. Just make sure nothing goes wrong.” Magnus checks his watch, then nods to Ben. “Time to go. We got a lot to do.” To me, he says, “Lie low today. Be available, but try to minimize your contact. You’re leaving at 3 tomorrow afternoon.”
“How do you know that?” I didn’t even know when we were leaving.
“Our contact at the location has been in contact with the subject, and told him that he needs to check in by 6 p.m. in order to have firewood service and dinner served in the cabin. At exactly 7:30 p.m., you must instruct the subject to go to the car to retrieve the bag you left. Then you wait. Clear?”
“Seven thirty.” I repeat it, more for myself than for him. “Exactly.”
Jana kisses Ben’s cheek one last time. “Make sure nothing goes wrong,” she says to him.
“I’ll do my best.” He kisses her, then nods at me. “You just be sure to do your part.”
As we trudge back, I nudge Jana. “Why do they keep calling McFarland ‘the subject’? They don’t say his name. Have you noticed that?”
She doesn’t look at me or stop. She just answers, “It’s there way of dehumanizing him. So they can do what they have to do.”
I grab her shoulder to stop her. She sighs, turns to face me, and crosses her arms as if I’m being difficult. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘do what they have to do’? ‘Dehumanizing him’? Doesn’t that sound as bad as what they’re doing to us?”
Her blue eyes blaze as she steps forward, close enough that I can feel her breath. “They started this,” she hisses. “No one wants to treat them this way. But there isn’t a choice. You can’t just be nice and hope they’ll see things your way. You have to fight fire with fire. If he got hold of Carmen, or you, or me, we’d be nothing but bloody corpses dumped into a pit. Think about that the next time you get an attack of compassion.”
She turns and trudges through the underbrush.
When we get back to the house, the Spyder is home again, which means McFarland is hanging around. I’ve got so much to do before tomorrow. I want to see Andi, but of course I can’t tell her what’s going on. I may never see her again. I may never see anyone again.
I can’t think about that. I have to call her. “Jana, I need to call Andi. Give me a couple of minutes.”
She nods. “I’ll tell them you’re in the bathroom. Again.” She slams the backdoor as I punch Andi’s number into my cell phone.
“Chris.” Andi’s voice is strained when she answers. Like she isn’t actually glad I called. “What are you doing?” It doesn’t sound like a casual question.
“Just hanging out,” I say, ignoring her tone. “Listen, I’d like to drop over. For a visit.”
Silence. “Uh…when?”
What? What is wrong with her? “This afternoon?”
She clears her throat. Something is wrong. What happened? What isn’t she telling me?
“Are you okay, Andi?”
“Just feeling a little sick,” she answers quickly. There’s more in her answer than the words she says. I know her well enough. She should know that.
“Well, maybe a visit will help,” I say cheerily. I have to pretend that nothing is wrong. I have to see her now for sure. Something is definitely wrong, something she can’t tell me on the phone. What does that mean?
She doesn’t’ answer. “Okay. See you soon,” she says quickly. The phone goes dead.
Did someone get to her? Is that what’s happening? I still have to say goodbye. I have to see Carmen too, before I leave, just in case. Just in case something goes wrong, or we both don’t get out, or…well, I don’t even know what the worst-case scenario might be. Can’t think about that either.
“Jana,” I whisper to her when I come inside. She’s waiting, peering into the refrigerator. “How can I get out of here for a couple of hours? I need to see Andi. And Carmen.”
She pulls off her boots, and sets them by the back door. “Not sure. I guess you could hang out with them for an hour or so, then claim to have made plans or something. Maybe you’re meeting a couple of friends at a coffee shop.”
“I need you go to with me.” I never ask her for much, but this whole Perpendicular thing has thrown us together, so maybe she’ll help. “I need an alibi, somebody who can cover for what I really need to do. Can you help me?”
She grins a lopsided grin and frowns at me. “Should I tell Dad that you and I are going shopping together for wedding dresses?”
“Be serious.”
“Hmm.” She brushes hair from her eyes and peers into the kitchen through the door’s tiny window. “Let’s say we need to meet my friend Danny because Danny needs help moving stuff into a new room…his parents got a bigger house and he wants some friends to help him haul stuff upstairs. You’re coming as the muscle.” She pokes at my bicep. “Far fetched, but it might work.”
“You’re an amazing liar.” I shake my head in wonderment. Glad she’s on my side.
McFarland and David are at the kitchen table surrounding a scattering of travel brochures and a laptop. “Hey, Chris,” McFarland says breezily. Guess he’s forgotten the kitchen incident.
I’m not going to forget it.
David gets up to refill his coffee, holding up the mug and arching his eyebrows toward his guest. “Jim?”
“No, thanks. It was great, but if I drink anymore, I won’t sleep tonight.” He grins at me, as if it’s some inside joke. I want to punch him.
“What are you doing?” Jana asks sweetly, picking at the brochures. “Oh, Tahiti. Are we going?”
David sets his cup down on the table, covering the Tahiti brochure. “These are possible conference destinations. For this year’s convocation.”
“Isn’t there a youth group or something?” Jana pouts. “I could pretend to be interested.” I wish she hadn’t said that. David’s face clouds over; he’s been insulted in front of a superior cleric, and he doesn’t like it.
McFarland changes the subject; at least he’s good for something. “Jana, maybe you’re just having a crisis of faith,” he offers, thumbing through a brightly colored tri-fold about the Mexican Riviera. “Lots of young people question things. It’s good. It means you care enough to ask questions.”
Jana smiles enigmatically at him, and then checks for David’s reaction. He’s sitting still as stone, white knuckling the coffee mug. “I guess that’s it,” she says. “I ask questions because I care.”
McFarland is staring at me kind of obviously, like he wants me to acknowledge him, so I return the stare and smile in the most friendly way I can muster, which probably looks sort of dorky.
“Chris, ready for tomorrow’s road trip?”
“Oh, yeah.” I nod and try to say as little as possible.
“We’re leaving at 3 o’clock, so make sure you’re packed. We’ve got to be there by 6 p.m. or they’ll lock us out and we’ll have to sleep in the car.” He laughs at his own joke, but it makes me nauseous. If I had to sleep in a car with him, I’d sleep with my hand clutching a tire iron.
“Oh, by the way,” Jana says as if she just remembered. “Chris is coming with me to help my friend Danny move his stuff to a b
igger room. So we’ll just have some pizza over there.” She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the stairs. “Just gonna change into something grungy.”
“Wait,” David says in that tone of voice that refuses to accept argument. “We were expecting Chris to be home for dinner.”
Jana turns slowly. It feels like a showdown without firearms. No less dangerous, though. “Chris has already made a commitment. I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to break a commitment, would you?” she asks evenly.
McFarland stares down at the tablecloth, picking at one of those stupid Marie Antoinette napkins. Thankfully, Warren sweeps in as if he were Superman and we were little Metropolites being crushed by Lex Luthor. “What’s all this?” he asks in transit toward the sink. “Jim, are you staying for dinner?”
“I—”
“Please, stay,” David says warmly, rising to hug Warren. “It’s fine. If Chris needs to go somewhere, we can hang out, just the three of us. You’ll be spending a lot of time this weekend getting to know each other.” He sends me a smile that is meant to say all is forgiven. I know that’s not really the message.
McFarland doesn’t, though. He looks glad that at least this family feud has concluded. “Sure, Chris. Go ahead and help your sister. That’s what brothers are for, right?” He stands and gives me a friendly, coach-like hug, nothing like the grab in the kitchen the night before.
“Great,” Jana says, inserting herself between us, giving McFarland a huge hug. “Thanks so much for understanding, Mr. McFarland.”
He awkwardly hugs back, acting as if touching Jana might give him cooties. “Call me Jim,” he says uncomfortably.
“Warren, can we borrow your wheels?” She dances around him in the kitchen.
“Sure. You know where the keys are.” He leans into the refrigerator. “You won’t be home for dinner?”
“Probably not. Danny has a lot of stuff.” She gives him a hug.
With a girly wave, Jana grabs my arm, scoops the keys from a bowl near the door, and we bolt. I’m trying not to laugh out loud from the sheer and simple joy of getting away with something. We run to the SUV like we’re being chased, pile in, and double over with laughter and adrenaline. “Awesome,” I breathe.
