“She said he’s not her husband.”
“See, crazy as.”
Amadeus is busting to come out and get his hands on the doctor guy, but I hold on. Nothing is gained by a punch-up. One of the police officers reaches for his radio thing on his shoulder.
“I’ll call through her details for a regional search.”
“There’s another cabin further up the road. We should check in case she’s there.”
The redhead with the glasses, the one Maddie recognized, plants herself against the front door. “I’ll stay here in case she shows up. You pick me up on your way back.”
I don’t have any experience with the police, but I feel outdone. They may not be the brightest of the force, but they are making me sick. What chance do we have if everything is stacked against us? I’m holding my breath. What does the witch want? She looks around as if she expects us to be hiding anywhere. I’d like to shout down to her, ‘Look under the doormat you twit,’ but of course I don’t. I’m not stupid.
“Elizabeth? I know you are here somewhere. Remember me? I’m a friend of your father’s. You don’t have to be afraid. We are friends. Friends from way back. I can help you.”
Why would I respond to her? Friends from way back? Did she expect we’ve forgotten what happened? Some adults don’t comprehend that childhood memories have a way of staying alive. Hah, I can sit in my tree for hours, even though it’s bloody uncomfortable.
“Okay, if you don’t want my help, see where you get without it.”
I see her pulling a plastic bag out of her pocket. Is that a gun? It’s hard to see from up here. She takes the plastic bag with whatever is in there into the house. When she comes out again her hands are empty, and I know I have reason to worry.
It takes another thirty minutes until the cars come back to pick up our ‘friend from way back.’ But instead of getting into the car, she stops her colleague. “Let’s search the house one more time. If she’s running, she’s guilty. Why else would she flee?”
That was a clever move. We must stop underestimating the people we are dealing with. Before I recover from my surprise, a police officer comes out of the house, wielding a gun.
“I knew something was wrong with the woman. She acted strange and there was something in her eyes that told me she was lying.”
They finally leave, but I’m sure they’ll send someone to watch the house.
“Our house is not safe for us anymore. Let’s get Prince and get a move on.”
“I hate uprooting the Tribe again.”
“We can’t stay. You know we have no chance. Once they catch us, we are history. When things have cooled down, we can let Scottie know where we are.”
“I know. You’re right.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke: 3 December 2015, Early Afternoon, On The Run
I’m working on a solution to our problem. When looking at it logically, there is obviously only one. We have to find another home base. The timing is annoying because the Tribe is settling well into Wright’s Homestead. We have the choice of three options.
1. Staying and trust the judicial system will operate on the premise of innocent until proven guilty.
2. Going back to Waitakere Flats and Helen and negotiate with her some form of cohabitation.
3. Finding alternative accommodation and investigate ways to fight the current false accusation.
All three options pose a dilemma of some sort. But the fact is we have to do something. We can scratch 1) because from experience institutions have not only let us down, but also other victims of abuse. Their track record is abysmal. The same goes for option 2). There is no evidence to support that Helen Reid has a caring bone in her body and hopes of negotiating decent living conditions are unrealistic. That leaves us with option number 3.
I anticipated for a few days now that it would come to this. I didn’t anticipate the murder, of course, but I feared Helen would find us. As the Tribe’s resident strategist, I’ve looked at maps, weighed up options, and explored a few escape scenarios. Not for a minute would I pretend that we are prepared. This murder business came too quickly and too unexpectedly. But I have at least an idea of what to do next.
We have to move quickly because I agree with Lilly that the police are likely sending an officer to watch the house. Our window of opportunity is small and requires decisive action. After waiting another ten minutes I’m sure the police cars are gone, and we climb down the tree. What irritates me the most is that we’re running again. I want us to be pro-active rather than always reacting to circumstances, always finding ourselves on the back foot.
We tasted freedom for over two weeks before they found us. That’s by far the longest we ever escaped. It speaks volumes about our improving problem-solving skills. Another big plus is we now have a face for who our enemies are. We were right not to trust anybody. Even the police and the doctors are in on it. Our chances are slim if you ask me.
People always wonder why victims of abuse and people with mental issues don’t go to the authorities for help. I have a hypothetical answer, which I believe is true. But I don’t have scientific evidence to back it up. It involves a small number of corrupt police officers and a large number of mental health professionals married to their pet theory of psychopathology—of which there are hundreds—but ultimately leaving us at sea about whom to trust. No, our only chance is to clear our name ourselves.
Take the red-haired policewoman, who planted the gun in our house. Who would believe us if we said she did that? Nobody. As soon as you end up with a mental health label, you are a second-class citizen.
Back on terra firma, my first port of call is to get Prince. I’m shocked to see the rope we tied him up with is still hanging on the water pipe—but without the dog. The police took Prince and we didn’t notice it. I’m not big on feelings, but I can’t ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach turning into a sharp pain like from a kick in the belly. Inside, the kids are wailing and sobbing so much it affects the body and I struggle for breath.
“Ama, can you please put the little ones into lockdown? We need to make the best of the head start. There is no time to lose. If they come back with Prince, they’ll track us down immediately.”
I should have known Ama doesn’t need instructions as to how to do her job. She’s already herding the kids into their rooms. Not without giving me a disapproving grunt. It doesn’t take long and the kid’s tears that were running down my face stop. I insist they aren’t my tears. Men don’t cry.
“I saw in a movie once that people walked for miles in a riverbed to shake off their followers. Couldn’t we do that too?”
I try not to roll my eyes. We can always rely on Lilly to present us with some wisdom she gleaned from a motion picture. Usually, I don’t pay much attention to the hazards her heroes like Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford overcome, but today it might be helpful.
For our sake, I hope Prince can’t track us down if we wade through Flatbush Creek for a while. I despise the idea of wet boots and fear the stony riverbed will hamper our progress, but the benefits are hopefully worth it. I take the backpack we’ve hidden under a rotting tree trunk and run to the creek. Despite the rocks and the water, I’m making good progress.
I’m one hundred percent sure I’ll find the hut I saw on the old map I found in auntie Amanda’s bookshelf. I have a clear photograph of the map in my mind. After an hour I leave the riverbed and rest on a fallen trunk. A loud rustle nearby makes me flinch and jump up. It takes a few minutes until I’m satisfied that it must have been a wild pig or a similar size animal. I sit down again and get a nut-bar out of our rucksack. It’s good to replenish my energy and to stretch my legs. I can’t afford to tire because soon the terrain will become even more demanding and change from flat to hilly.
I swear if I get my hands on whoever gave our location away, I’ll… well, I wouldn’t do anything, but Amadeus would have a field day with them. We’ve been so careful. Come to think of it, how did the pol
ice know where to find us, if intruders ransacked Patrick’s office and his receptionist disappeared? Only Scottie, Patrick, Patrick’s receptionist, and Scottie’s friend Martin Harris know where we live.
After another five-and-a-half hour of jogging, walking, resting, jogging, walking, resting we reach Byron’s Hut. It’s a basic little hut with only four bunk beds and a long drop toilet behind the house. I don’t even look for a light switch. Out here, electricity only comes from the thunderbolts during bad weather and water comes from the little stream behind the hut. Back to basics is today’s motto. Not many people come here. That makes it an ideal place for us.
I don’t mind. None of us is pampered or requires luxury. Lizette might, but she won’t complain. She’s a good sport. Everyone is. I like our Tribe. I open the backpack and sort out the foodstuff—a two-pound block of cheddar, a loaf of sliced bread, peanut butter, strawberry jam, a salami, the two water bottles I emptied today, and the black notebook.
Lilly and I have to update what happened so everyone is in the picture. I also want to take a dip in the stream. I feel sweaty and dirty from hiking today. Most of all though, I’m starving. I leave peanut butter and jam for Maddie and take a thick slice off both the cheddar and the salami. It tastes delicious.
Luke: 3 December 2015, Early Evening, Byron’s Hut
We have to be even more careful than we have been. Somebody gave our location away, so we now have Helen and the police on our heels. The policewoman Maddie recognized has planted a gun in our house, turning us into murder suspect number one.
From now on: we trust nobody, not even Scottie. He said he’d get an old school friend of his to complete the research Patrick did for us. Let’s not put too much hope into him. We thought Horace was a good person until we moved in with him and he showed his true colors. It’s obvious; we are bad judges of character.
The police took Prince. That makes our chance to keep them off our scent very small. On the way to the hut, I ran long stretches in riverbeds. We’ll see if that helped disguise where we went. From now on we have to be very careful and alert.
Luke
Lilly: 3 December 2015, Early Evening, Byron’s Hut
“What shall we do?” I’m waiting for Sky to respond or do something. She is staring out of the small window, watching the path leading up to the hut. I doubt she sees the beauty of the tussocks swaying in the breeze on this bald mountaintop. Our journey led us through emerald green rainforests, still damp from the ever-present rain, and along turquoise blue braided riverbeds. We even came past a cascading waterfall, but the stunning landscape and the breathtaking soundtrack of birdsong was no match for our anxious desire to find a safe hiding place.
“We can’t stay here on top of the mountain, waiting like sitting ducks for the hunters to pick us off. If it were up to me, I would make sure we get an early start tomorrow and keep running higher up into the Alps. There are huts that are even harder to reach than this one. Only fit and experienced trampers could get to them. Ideal hiding places for us.”
Sky turns around at my words. She doesn’t look surprised but shakes her head ever so slightly.
“I’d rather hear from Luke what he thinks. Running for the sake of running is not wise. How will we be able to clear our name?”
“I’m afraid.” Choking with fear, that’s all I’m able to push through my lips.
“We are all on tenterhooks. I hope we are safe for now and have time to put together all the information we have.” Sky picks up the black notebook and leafs through the pages. “We should write everything we know down in this book. But before we do that, we have to take care of two things. We have to take care of the Beth-situation and we have to bring Elizabeth into our midst.”
I’m not sure I heard right. “What’s the Beth-situation and what do you mean by bringing in Elizabeth? I thought she was dead.”
“Elizabeth? No, she is barely alive but alive she is.” Sky speaks as if she doesn’t want anyone to hear her and I strain to understand her.
“Where is she? Where was she all this time?”
Sky holds up her hand indicating for me to wait. For a moment she disappears from my sight and then she stands next to me carrying a small, off-white, woolen felt cocoon in her arms. The outside is embroidered with tiny blue forget-me-nots and colorful butterflies.
“She’s always been with me.” Sky folds open the cocoon. “Come, have a look. Careful.”
She didn’t have to warn me. A small child is lying in the cocoon. It’s hard to tell if she’s even breathing. Her lovely, tiny face is waxen and pale, almost see-through as if she would dissolve any moment into an unworldly mist.
“That’s Elizabeth?” I reach out to touch her.
“Don’t touch her. She can’t tolerate even the softest human touch. Her body is too broken.” She holds the bundle in her arm, handling it with such tenderness; it drives tears into my eyes. I’m not the only one standing beside her in awe. By now the whole Tribe is standing around Sky and staring at the child in her arms.
“I thought she was dead,” Amadeus whispers as if he’s afraid to wake her up. I don’t remember a time I’ve witnessed the Tribe standing in such silent reverence. There are threads that have no name, and feelings that defy any verbal labeling. Still, they exist. I know that because my heart is hurting as it expands and pushes against the boundaries of my chest to connect with Elizabeth. I’m numb and excited at the same time and catch my breath as my heart vibrates as if someone plays a chord on its strings. She can feel me, I’m sure, and she responds in the only way she can for now, by connecting the threads.
My gaze wanders around the Tribe, touching each with a smile filled with love. At that moment I know they feel the same connection and love I feel. It dawns on me what Sky is doing. By showing us Elizabeth, she energizes our fighting spirit, our commitment and our will to live. I know it’s true because the Tribe will now go through hell and back to make sure this little girl survives. Not only that. We will do everything for her to thrive.
“For now, we can’t touch her other than with our minds. We can love her and give her a place in our hearts. That’s all she needs at the moment.” I’ve never heard Sky speak with so much compassion. Maybe I imagine it, but there is a warm glow of love in this deserted hut way up the mountain in the foothills of the Southern Alps.
“I had to take her away and look after her. Otherwise, she would have died from her injuries and none of us would exist.” Sky didn’t have to explain. We all know how hard life has been. Not everyone can remember everything, but we all live with the consequences. Sometimes I think letting us die would have been the humane thing.
Sky must have read my mind because she smiled down at Elizabeth, lying motionless like Sleeping Beauty in her white cocoon.
“If we were meant to die, we would have. I wouldn’t be here, and neither would you. Even as beaten as she was, she had the spirit and the strength to give birth to us. How can we ever think of dishonoring her courage and strength by giving up now? She was less than two years old and we are grown-ups. She was alone and we are many. We can’t let her down.”
I never thought of it like that. “Whoa, quite a fighter. That makes me really proud of her.”
“She was, she is, and she will be.” Sky picks up the cocoon and closes the wrap. But not before I take another peek. Maybe I see things—which wouldn’t be unnatural at all and happens all the time—but I think Elizabeth’s cheeks show a tiny rose sheen. A sign of life. I feel like dancing.
Sky returns Elizabeth to her room in the tree house and so do most members of the Tribe. When she comes back her face is serious. And so is mine, I hope. I can’t believe she kept Elizabeth from me, from us. Part of me wants to be angry with her for not trusting us, but I can’t with all this lovey-dovey oxytocin floating around.
“Don’t be angry with me. You have no idea how hard it was to keep Elizabeth’s presence hidden. I didn’t know about her for years. I got a glimpse of her when we saw Miss Marp
le. Back then our system was a chaotic bunch of alters acting out, acting in, and being all over the place with little awareness of each other. It wasn’t safe to expose Elizabeth to that pandemonium. We’ve come a long way since then.”
I’ve never been able to be angry at Sky, and today isn’t any different. I’m afraid, though, bringing out Elizabeth now is Sky’s last resort to mobilize our resilience. Are we ready to step up our resistance a notch? We need time to think of a cunning plan.
“Going up higher into the mountains is a tricky choice. We don’t have enough provisions, and to be honest, we are not mountaineers. Being fit doesn’t mean we have the knowledge and survival skills for mountain climbing.”
Sky’s reasoning makes sense. I have to curb my anxiety, or I’ll drive us into trouble.
“Before we decide anything, we have to take care of Beth.”
“Beth? I don’t remember much of her.” Luke joins our conversation and pulls his face into a frown.
“I found a text message on our phone she sent to Helen telling her where we were.” Amadeus held up the phone with the text message showing on the screen.
“So that’s how they found out where we were. Now I feel bad for suspecting Scottie. Why would she do that?” I can’t think of any logical explanation of why one of us would tell our archenemy where to find us.
“Even if it’s hard to believe, she means well.” Sky opens the door and steps out of the hut. I know she’s buying time to find the right words to explain why one of us, Beth, betrayed us.
“No kidding.” Luke pulls his forehead into a frown. “Does that mean I hiked up this mountain for nothing, because the moment I turn my back, Beth is broadcasting our new position to the enemy?”
“I hope not. I spoke to Beth. She’s only trying to help.”
Girl From the Tree House Page 20
