“Mom, that’s amazing. But, why . . .?” Why the hell have you been hiding from me for the past three years?
“I’m protecting your dad. He saved me, so the least I could do was stay by his side. It meant I had to disappear, Carolina.”
“You left me alone when you must have known Krissy had been murdered? You knew, right?”
She looks down, ashamed. “Yes, I know.” She looks up at me and places her hand down over my knee. “But I knew you were strong enough to carry on. You were always my strong one—a force to be reckoned with. If I had come back for you then, you would have been in even more danger than you were already in. I did what I thought was safest for you.”
“Leaving me alone and on the run at nineteen was what was safest for me?”
“Carolina, I struggled with this decision for years and there isn’t a day when I wake up and don’t question what the hell I’ve done. Part of me wishes I died that day. It might have been better than living on the run. You have no idea where we’ve had to hide. People are always after us. They’ve been onto us since your dad paid people off at the hospital to create a death certificate for me. Obviously no one can be trusted, like I’ve told you.” None of this is understandable to me. I’ve been on the run and I’ve been chased. I was never safe. “How did you know your dad was out here?”
“I don’t think that’s important right now,” I say. “A better question might be: how long have you two been out here?” I look at her with purpose, almost anger-like, a look I wouldn’t have given her before today.
“Only a couple of weeks. We’re always on the move.” Her face is full of shame and remorse and she’s having trouble holding her focus on my eyes. “Your dad and I aren’t running from you, but if you are planning to bring that man you’re with to your dad, please remember what I always told you.”
I’m guessing she knows how I found dad if she knows about Tango. “He’s the exception to your rule, Mom,” I snap back without thinking.
She places her hand on my cheek and smoothes her thumb over my ear. “He’s a good looking guy. Is he good to you?”
“Uh—you saw him?” I ask.
“I’m pretty good at being aware of my surroundings. Your dad knows you’re here too,” she confirms with a straight-lined smile stretching across her face.
Oh God. I hope she doesn’t see everything. Embarrassment washes through me with the thought of Mom bearing witness to my waterfall sexcapades. “He is a good guy,” I say, trying to remove the humiliating thoughts from the front of my mind.
“Where is Dad?”
“Does that boy you’re with have the coordinates your dad gave him?”
“Yes, but he said we would be within two miles of that location.”
“Once you’re there, you’ll know where he is,” she smiles.
I nod my head, knowing I have so many questions I want to ask her, but none of them seem like they’d result in a good answer. “Won’t you help me, us?”
“I don’t trust those other men you are with. I’m sure you can understand.” I don’t understand a fucking thing. All I understand is that I’m living in a world full of lies and deceit, and I hate questioning who I can believe. Will anyone ever be completely honest with me? I can’t even trust my parents. What does that leave me with? “I have to go sweetie. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” I don’t give her a hug. I don’t say goodbye. I don’t wish for a longer encounter. And yet, twenty minutes ago, I would have paid money; I would have gotten down on my hands and knees and begged to see Mom one more time. But now, I feel even more alone and more betrayed than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
I turn around to wipe the tears streaming from my eyes, and when I turn back to face her, she’s gone.
“You okay, babe?” Tango rounds the corner and I realize what I must look like right now—frazzled and pale. Did he not see her pull me away? “What are you doing over here? I’ve been looking for you. I thought you were in the tent at first, but then I heard you talking out here. You talking to yourself?” he laughs.
“I, ah. I just saw my mom.” I point to the empty space beside me. “She was—she was right here.”
“Your mom is dead, Cali.” He sits down next to me, wraps his large hand around my cheek, and pulls my head into his lips. “You’ve been through a lot today. You need some rest.”
“She told me the treatment my dad had stole, saved her. She is hiding with him. “Maybe she went to her funeral like you went to your funeral.”
He doesn’t say anything, which tells me he believes me. His arm stiffens around my shoulders and he holds me tightly against him. “Do you want us to turn back and leave?” he asks softly. “I’ll do that for you.” He looks worried for my response.
If I leave, Tango will die. If I leave, I won’t see Dad or Mom again. If I leave, I will continue to be on the run for as long as they survive here.
If I stay, I can possibly save Tango.
“I’ll stay.”
“Do you know which direction your mom went? We can try to look for her. It’s likely she knows where your dad is. What’s her name?”
“Alice,” I say.
TANGO
If she’s not hallucinating, it worked. This might not be all for nothing. Her mother could be fucking alive. I could make it through this shit. So many things are firing through my mind right now, but mostly the hope of living past this week. Cali’s parents must be a little too old to be living lives of drifters. It’s hard to imagine either of them surviving out here or wherever they’ve spent most of the past three years hiding. We need to find them. We need more answers. I need answers.
“You really didn’t see where she went?” I ask again, hoping for an answer this time.
“I literarily blinked and she was gone, Tango. If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“We should definitely try to look.” I lift her hand from her side and pull her along. It takes minutes of looking in each direction before I begin to question again whether this woman was actually sitting here talking to Cali. Maybe it was only in her head. Maybe her concussion is causing some kind of mirage. I know that can happen. There isn’t a trace of this woman or anyone besides us in any direction. The dirt is particularly dry here and I have to believe I’d see at least a hint of a footprint somewhere along one of these paths, but I don’t.
“Did she say anything else?” I ask carefully, trying my hardest not to push her or make it sound like I’m desperate for information.
“Not really. I told you almost everything that happened in that short three-minute span. Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe I’m just seeing things. I think we should go back to the campsite. Sorry for worrying you,” she says.
CALI
Kacen is sitting where I left him up against the tree. One leg is pulled into his chest, the other flat out in front of him. He’s peeling a blade of grass apart with an evident scowl, hopefully from the swelling pain in his balls.
Seaver is seated on a log next to the fire and feeding branches and twigs slowly into the burning mouth, watching as the flames devour each fragment. I take a seat on one of the logs opposite Seaver. No one is speaking, which only accents the slight howl of the wind, blending with the cry of a coyote and the soothing crackling snaps of the fire. We haven’t come across any wildlife here, but the clarity of the howls I’m now hearing remind me we are not alone. None of the guys seem concerned though, so I block out the unsettling noises.
Tango drops a packaged meal down on my lap and instructs me to eat the entire portion. I haven’t complained about the food, but I haven’t been finishing it either. Flavorless food really takes an acquired taste. Although with as much activity as we’ve had today, my stomach isn’t arguing with him on this matter.
“Tomorrow is the capture,” Seaver states. Tango’s eye glints at me subtly, making me aware that Seaver doesn’t know the real reason we’re after Dad. It’s clear he thinks it’s for a different reason than curing Tango. Part of me is wondering
if we should try to lose these two before we get close to Dad tomorrow. I don’t know either of them well enough to trust them, and even if I did know them both better, I still wouldn’t trust them. I still have a few doubts that Tango is who he says he is.
Tango clears his throat and responds with a short, “Yeah.” He takes a bite of what looks to be some kind of beef stew and chews it for a moment before saying anything more. “He’s supposedly about ten clicks from this location. We should be able to reach him within a couple hours tomorrow.”
The end is in sight, and yet I have no idea what that will actually mean. We’ve come all this way in hopes of convincing Dad to forfeit this treatment and give it to Tango with a little hope of it working. He may not be so willing to share it. Although, I think with everything he’s put me through, he owes me at least this favor.
Kacen scuffles over to the fire and sits down on one of the logs. He rests his elbows on his knees and keeps his head low. “Have any more of those,” he asks without lifting his head.
“Dude, didn’t you prepare?” Seaver quips. “At all?”
Kacen doesn’t respond. It’s the first time I’ve seen a hint of shame behind his eyes. There’s more to his story I’m gathering. “No,” he says simply. “I thought they’d give me the shit I needed.”
“Dude, we’re not in anymore.” Seaver turns around and reaches into his pack, pulling out a meal. He tosses it over to Kacen, and it lands in front of his feet. “You need to take more initiative. You ever question why you sat behind a desk, instead of the wheel of a hummer?” I can tell Seaver isn’t intending his words to sound like a dig—more like curiosity.
Kacen lifts his head, and the trouble stirring behind his eyes is clear to all of us. “I didn’t need to question it.” He pulls his knife out and shoves the blade into the plastic of his packaged food. There’s one point for him on survival skills. “I enlisted as a promise. I never promised to go to war.”
Tango and Seaver don’t question him. “Who did you make a promise to?” I ask.
Kacen gives me a how dare you ask me that look. But I couldn’t care less.
“Let me guess.” I point my plastic fork at him. “One of your parents died in combat?”
His eyes narrow at me and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. “My father made me promise to defend my country when I was old enough to enlist. He said it would make him proud. He left for the first Gulf War and never came home.” He nods his head at me. “Happy?” He shoves a forkful of food into his mouth and keeps his focus set on the fire. “Didn’t know this was a fucking psych retreat.”
This would be the time where I’d expect a snicker from Tango or Seaver, but neither of them flinches. “You did a good thing, man. Every job needs a body in the military. Sorry for giving you shit,” Seaver says. “Why did you come here, though? Obviously this isn’t cupcakes and rainbows.” And there’s the dig.
Kacen looks directly at Seaver, then Tango, then at me. His eyes linger on me and a slight grin creeps up one side of his face, illuminating a deep dimple in the very corner of his mouth. “I know what we’re after. I know why the world is after your dad. Actually, I know why each of us is here.” The grin relaxes back into a straight line across his face. “I may not be a fucking war hero, but after I was discharged, I worked for a man named, Eli Tate. Anyone know him?” A dubious smile stretches across his cheeks as he takes the time to look at each one of us.
Blood is boiling in my face and scorching the tips of my ears, and I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. He’s another Reaper. Seaver didn’t even know this. Seaver didn’t even know the real reason he was here. I can see that much written on his face. He’s a war hero, being used as nothing more than a body in this situation. And Tango, he’s being used as Kacen’s bait, like I am. I can see the veins swelling over Tango’s forehead and his neck. I’m waiting for an animalistic snarl to groan from his throat. Tango looks over at Seaver, and with one look, they both stand from their logs and prowl over to Kacen. But Kacen doesn’t move, and he doesn’t blink.
Seaver fists his hand around Kacen’s shirt and lifts him to his feet. “You have one chance to tell us what you know.”
The asshole laughs as if what Seaver said was a joke. “Or what, you’re going to mind fuck me like Cali evidently does to people?”
That was all it took to push Tango over his mental cliff. Kacen’s flat on the ground. Blood is spewing from his nose, and his legs are twitching below Tango’s weight. Seaver stands guard, his arms crossed, admiring Tango’s handiwork. I don’t know if he’s going to kill him. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Kacen could be a roadblock for Tango acquiring his cure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CALI
KACEN’S ROPED to a thin tree. Seaver is lobbing pebbles at him, and Tango is zipping us up in our tent. The mixture of thoughts stirring in my head is making me dizzy. I need to keep everything straight somehow. Reaper and Kacen were both working with Dad. Dad stole this treatment he was protecting in China. He cured mom, saved her life, and then they ran to hide, knowing he’d be hunted for stealing this unpatented drug. Two groups of people—some being the team he used to work with, and some who just know of this drug—are after him to retrieve this shit he has. And as I’ve known, I’ve been left high and dry as bait or maybe a barrier in front of my parents. Why the fuck would they do this to me?
I prop my pack up behind me and slide my feet into the cushy sleeping bag. The soothing feeling of something soft on my feet comforts me after the tortures of this day.
Tango is nestling back against his pack and turns a small flashlight on and tilts it upward, illuminating the entire tent. His legs rest on top of the sleeping bag and he folds his arms behind his neck, keeping his eyes locked on my face. I can see thoughts forming behind his eyes.
“I know I don’t need to warn you that things are going to be a little rough tomorrow.” His voice is hoarse from coughing so much throughout the day. His symptoms are getting worse, but he’s trying his hardest to hide it—to act like nothing’s wrong. But every time I hear him cough, I know he’s getting closer to his last breath and it’s breaking me. Everything is breaking me.
I nod my head with understanding. This life isn’t new to me. I am ready to move on one way or another, though. “I know.”
I pull the elastic band out of my hair and rake my fingers through the snarls. While I’m tugging at one of the bigger knots, I see Tango’s eyes drift over to my left wrist. “Tell me what happened here,” he nods his head toward the scar.
“A knife slicing through my thin skin felt better than the pain in my heart.” I pull my wrist down and cover it with my other hand.
“And the tattoo covering it?” He scoots over next to me and tugs my hand onto his lap. He turns my wrist over and traces the outline of the wings puckered up against a heart, and the touch of his fingertip sends shivers down my arm. His hand curls around my wrist, covering the tattoo. “Tell me,” he pleads softly. He pulls my wrist up to his lips and the sensation of his mouth covering the numb spot on my skin is strange—but wonderful.
“When I realized how dumb I was to slice the knife across my wrist, I could hear my sister’s voice telling me to live for both of us. I felt guilty, so I covered it up with the heart and wings—her free soul.” I point to the initials KT scripted in tiny letters on the bottom of the heart. “Krissy Tate.”
He lifts my other arm and inspects the artwork detailed over my skin. “And this?”
“My favorite painting,” I respond quickly.
“Who’s the artist?”
I look up at him and admit another truth about myself. “I am.” I haven’t told anyone how much painting means to me. “Painting was my escape. My feelings. My beliefs and dreams all on a blank canvas, forcing me to believe that everyone starts with a blank page and can fill it in however they want. Someday, I’m going to pour a bucket of white paint over my life and start over.”
“You creat
ed this?” he asks. He lifts my arm closer to his face, inspecting every detail, letting his eyes decipher what he’s looking at. “A girl curled up on a deserted island?” A non-artistic eye would see this as only a girl curled up on a deserted island.
“The girl is me. The girl is alone, deserted by the world around her, from love and happiness. The girl is tired. I am tired. The vines coiled around her limbs are the constrictions she lives within. The obscure low bearing clouds cause the shadows to hover over her life. And the dominating waves surround her are like a prison, keeping her where she will always be—alone, abandoned, and in the dark.”
“What happens to this tattoo when someone saves you from this deserted island?”
“Maybe I’ll consider adding him to my island,” I smirk.
“Well,” he skates his fingers along the tangled vines, “only if these vines are still holding you down. Otherwise, if I'm that guy . . . no deal.” He laughs. I’m falling in love with his laugh. I might be falling in love with him.
He slides his feet into my sleeping bag and molds around me. Unsure of what’s on his agenda, I’m surprised when he pulls my head over to his chest, curls his arm around my stomach, and closes his eyes. “Good-night, island-girl.”
I reach my lips up and press them against his stubbly chin. “Good night, Tyler.”
He reaches over and pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, then pulls my lips up to his. “Thank you for reminding me of who I am,” he whispers into my mouth. He grabs the flashlight and shuts it off before replacing his arm around my waist, squeezing me tightly. His grip doesn’t loosen until I hear his rigid sounding breaths elongate. My breaths soon follow. Sleep has never come so easily.
***
My body is stiff from sleeping so deeply. Birds are chirping from the overhanging trees, and the glow of the sun is seeping into the opaqueness of the forest green tent where we’re still curled up. I roll onto my back and Tango is lying sideways, leaning on his elbow, staring at me. His finger twirls around a loose strand of hair and he tucks it behind my ear. “Want to go find some vines?” he asks, biting down on his bottom lip. I elbow him in his chest, making him groan and clutch the sore spot. “Geez, all you had to say was, later.” I roll my eyes and pull myself up against my pack. I flip my head forward, twirling my hands around my hair to pull it up into a knot. I snap the elastic band into place, and Tango pulls me in, causing me to lose my balance and completely fall into him. “Everything you do turns me on, and I need to concentrate today.” His fingers skate against the bare skin where my shirt is lifted partly away from my shorts. “You are so damn beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that.”
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