What Lies Beyond the Fence

by L C Hayden

  Bronson stuffed his backpack into the crawl space, lay flat on the ground, took a deep breath, and belly crawled. Even though the backpack blocked most of the sunlight coming in from the other end of the short tunnel, Bronson could still see the other side. Roger and Norma must have made their departure during the few hours that the sun hid from this part of the earth.

  Bronson paused long enough to look at his surroundings. The area seemed to serve no other purpose than as a way to escape. He had hoped for some kind of a hint, but he knew the odds against that. Pushing the backpack forward, Bronson belly crawled the rest of the way until he stood on the other side of the compound.

  Behind him, on the inside of the compound, the Elders, rigid in their stand, looked more like robots than humans. They waved goodbye to Bronson, turned, and headed back toward the heart of the compound.

  Bronson remained still, absorbing his new surroundings. His eyes followed each bent blade of grass, each crushed twig and disturbed rock, and any area that seemed to have been recently disturbed. One path—the one to his right—spoke louder than the others. That trail led up the mountain.

  It figures.

  Bronson began the long, strenuous ascent. Every once in a while, Bronson spotted a partial footprint. From the size, he assumed he was following Norma’s trail. He hoped that would also lead to Roger.

  The further Bronson climbed, the harder it was to follow the trail. He might even be way off. He stopped to rest. If they were here, they probably hung around close to the compound. They would have to hoard supplies and food if they were to escape the area. That would take them a couple of days to accumulate. That meant that they had to be here, somewhere close, and they had to have some kind of a shelter.

  Bronson scanned his surroundings. Nothing.

  Look again. There has to be something.

  His gaze moved at a snail’s pace, up and down the mountain, up close. Out further. Then he spotted it—what looked like a cave.

  Out in the far distance, a wolf howled. A chill ran up Bronson’s spine.

  He had to find those teens.

  He picked up his backpack and started heading toward the cave, very aware that often wild animals used caves as their homes.

  Behind him, he heard the crushing of leaves. Definite footsteps. The bushes behind him swayed in the wind.

  Bronson thought of the pot and wooden spoon in his backpack. Little good it did him.

  His right hand slowly moved toward the knife stuck between his belt and his pants.

  “One more move and you’re dead,” a male voice behind Bronson said.

  Chapter 16

  Ellen had never felt so alone, so defenseless, in her life.

  Everyone thought she was safe, having a grand old time enjoying the luxury of a world cruise. No one knew she was here—where? No one knew she was missing.

  The shutters in the window in her tiny cell were closed, which as far as she was concerned was overkill. The heavy ankle bracelet prevented her from reaching the window. All she could do was lie down on the thin mattress resting on top of a plain metal bed. The other end of the chain was attached to the bed’s leg, which was bolted to the floor.

  Ellen had never thought this would happen to her, but it had. Nothing she could do about that, but there was something she could do to stay alive. What advice would Mike give her? Talk to your captors. Let them know who you are. Let them know you’re important. Let them know you matter. The more they know about you, the less likely they are to hurt you.

  The doorknob clicked. Someone had inserted a key, unlocking the door.

  A surge of panic washed over Ellen. Oh, Mike. She took a deep breath. She wet her lips. Suddenly she felt so thirsty. Maybe she should return to bed, pretend to be asleep. A small sound escaped her lips.

  Don’t let them know they intimidate you. Don’t show your fear.

  Ellen straightened her shoulders and held her head high. She pivoted a couple of degrees so she could face the door. A couple of degrees—she almost smiled, recalling a recent conversation between Bronson and her. They had argued about what couple meant: two or more?

  The door opened, and a figure stepped in.

  A male, Ellen was sure. Too dark to see.

  Ellen bit her tongue. Start talking immediately. “My name is Ellen Biebesheimer. Biebesheimer is actually my maiden name.”

  A man in his mid-thirties stepped out of the shadows. He looked more like a bank executive than a kidnapper.

  “My husband—”

  “You mean your ex, don’t you?” The man leaned against the wall and folded his arms. A wisp of a smile crossed his lips.

  How did he know that? “Yes, but—”

  “But you still love each other very much. One day, after Mike Hoover retires—what is it? Two years from now? You plan to reunite and live happily ever after. You’ll keep in touch with your friends whom you consider are more family than friends. That’s Harry and Carol Bronson. Bronson is already retired, but he’s still quite active in criminal pursuits. That’s one thing you don’t want Mike to do. You want him to retire and stay retired. Sometimes you think Bronson is a bad influence on Mike.” The man took several steps toward Ellen, but still maintained his distance. “Now, what else would you like to tell me?”

  The air escaped out of Ellen’s lungs. “I . . . I . . .”

  “You’re speechless. Don’t blame you. It’s a lot to take. But pretty soon we’ll want you to start talking again. You’re going to tell Bronson you’ve been kidnapped, and what happens to you depends on what he does. We’re going to start setting up the camera. Are you ready?”

  All Carol heard was the word Bronson. He, not Mike, was the reason she’d been kidnapped. At this moment, she hated Bronson with all of her heart.

  “Ready?” the kidnapper, the one who had picked her up at the airport, asked. “In just a second, I’m going to turn on the camera. “You start speaking.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Tell Bronson how you’ve been kidnapped. Tell him how we’re going to kill you very slowly, veeery painfully, if he doesn’t do as we say. Tell him your life depends on him.” He shoved a microphone and a newspaper into her hands. “Make sure he sees the date of the New York Times.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  He slapped her so hard that muted colors swirled around her. She struggled to open her eyes.

  “Any other questions?”

  Ellen regained her balance and rubbed her burning cheek.

  “I didn’t hear an answer.” He inched toward her.

  The vise in her stomach turned a notch tighter. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her throat had closed, choking off her words. She cleared her throat and tried once again. “N—no.” She spoke so softly she wasn’t sure he heard her. She shook her head.

  “Good. Let’s begin.”

  Ellen placed the latest addition of the newspaper in front of her. Her hands trembled so much that Bronson might not be able to read the date. Then what? She tried to steady her nerves. She swallowed a deep breath.

  “So much for the dramatics,” the kidnapper said. “Start talking. Now!”

  “I . . . I was at the airport . . . like I was supposed to be. I was . . . waiting for my luggage. Th—then I saw this distinguished looking man holding a sign with my name on it. He—he wore this beautiful pin with the initials EL on his lapel. H-he told me he’d take me to the cruise line. I thought Mike—” At the mention of his name, Ellen choked. She dropped the newspaper and covered her mouth. She gasped, bent down and retrieved the newspaper. She straightened it out and raised her head high. “I thought Mike had hired a chauffeur to take me to the pier.” She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and took a deep breath. “I went with him willingly. A couple—” She paused and cleared her throat. “A couple of hours later, here I am. He said he’ll kill me—slowly and painfully—if you don’t do as they ask. Please, Bronson, I don’t want to die. I’m . . . I’m so scared.” A small, anim
al like sound escaped from her throat.

  The kidnapper turned off the camera. “Perfect. What happens next is in Bronson’s hands.” He walked out and locked the door behind him.

  Ellen remained standing, breathing through her mouth, praying Bronson picked up on the hints she had sent him.

  Chapter 17

  Bronson’s arms shot up in the air. “Can I turn around?”

  “No. Stay where you are.”

  Good. Chances were his captor—Roger?—wasn’t pointing a gun at him. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he want him to turn around? “My name is Harry Bronson. I’m a retired police detective. I’m here to talk to you and Norma.”

  “Norma?” He whispered the name and gasped as though he’d been stabbed by a thousand needles.

  “I’m turning around now.” Bronson slowly pivoted.

  “No. Don’t!”

  Too late. Bronson faced a tall, distinguished looking young man. His sturdy body told Bronson he was ready to fight him. He held a large branch much like a baseball player held a bat.

  Bronson slowly lowered his arms. “I’m here to help you.”

  Roger’s shoulders relaxed, but he continued to study him through deep set green eyes. “You mentioned Norma.”

  Shiiit! Bronson looked past Roger, out toward the wilderness. “She’s not with you, is she?”

  Roger started to shake his head, but stopped. “Who are you?”

  “Like I said, I’m a retired detective. I used to work for the Dallas Police Department. I was sent to find you both and bring you back.”

  “No way am I going back in there.” Roger pointed toward the direction of the compound.

  “It’s for your own safety.”

  “Like hell it is. They want me dead.”

  The statement hit Bronson like a punch to the stomach. “That’s rather drastic. Why would they want you dead?”

  “Because of what I know, and what I can prove.”

  “And that is?”

  Roger raised his head and stared at Bronson. His thick, well-shaped brows came together. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Because I’m all you’ve got.” A cool breeze blew in spite of the sun shining down on them. A howl of a wolf reminded Bronson of the possible dangers they faced. “Do you know where Norma is?”

  Roger shook his head. “I assume she’s still in the compound.”

  “She used the same crawl space to escape the way you did. I was followin’ her trail.”

  Roger bit his lip.

  Bronson took a step forward and Roger raised the branch. “Let’s call a truce,” Bronson said. “You said they want you dead. I want to hear your side of the story, but right now we both need to focus on finding Norma. We don’t want night to come and find her alone.”

  Roger nodded and dropped the branch. Giant pines, white fir, quaking aspen cast deep shadows around them. “How do we know which way she went?” Roger’s gaze searched the area.

  Bronson pointed to the ground. “See that scrunched grass and partial print? I was followin’ those, hopin’ they would lead me to Norma.”

  “What if it isn’t her?”

  “That’s all we have to go on for now, so let’s pray we’re right.” Bronson turned, heading further up the mountain, toward the cave. “Comin’?”

  Roger nodded and ran to catch up with Bronson.

  Up ahead, a wolf growled, followed by a girl’s scream.

  Chapter 18

  “Is Virginia ready to go?” Swanson asked. As usual, he was in his office where he normally felt at peace. But not today. Anytime someone left the community, Swanson’s stomach turned into knots.

  He stood up, glared at Yee. “All is set?”

  Yee nodded. “Of course. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got this under control. She’s outside, waiting to say bye to you. Do you think you can handle it?”

  Swanson wet his lips and straightened. “Send her in.”

  The door opened and Swanson staggered when he saw her. She wore a plain cotton dress and shoes with little bows on them. She looked ten, but Swanson knew she was, what—twelve, thirteen? “Ready to see your mama?”

  Virginia nodded. The tears that streamed down her cheeks made her look even younger. She nodded. “But what if she hates me? I’ve been so happy here.”

  Swanson smiled and his eyes glistened with tears. “We’ve got your phone number. We’ll call everyday, and if you’re not happy where you are, I’ll immediately send Charlie to pick you up. Will that work?”

  Virginia’s face brightened. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.” She ran and hugged Swanson.

  He opened his arms and squeezed her tight. He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll miss you, but I’m hoping you don’t come back. I’m sure you’ll find happiness with your family. Keep in touch, you hear?”

  “How? I don’t have your number.”

  “We’ll be calling you every day, remember?”

  A small grin escaped her lips. “But how do you know where to reach me?”

  Swanson looked at Yee. “Do you have that cell we’re going to give Virginia?”

  “Of course.”

  Virginia let out a little jump of happiness. “Thank you so much. I’ll look forward to talking to you and all of my new friends in here.”

  Swanson squeezed her tightly before releasing her. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going on a new adventure. Any questions before you leave?”

  “Am I—” She looked down and bit her lip. “Am I going to be drugged so I won’t know where we are?”

  Swanson smiled. “No. Not at all. But we will blindfold you, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I have a choice?”

  “You always have a choice.”

  “Neither. I want to experience this with both eyes wide open.”

  “Then that’s the way it is.” He gave her a small shove. “Go with Yee.” He smiled and waved an encouraging goodbye.

  Once the door closed behind them, Swanson collapsed onto his chair and dropped his head.

  Chapter 19

  Both Bronson and Roger broke into a run, moving through a wall of heavy brush, crashing through thickets, tearing their skin on branches and thorns. They plunged on blindly. “Make as much noise as you can!” Bronson shouted out. “Hopefully, it’ll scare the wolves away.”

  By now, Roger was several yards ahead of Bronson and seemed oblivious of Bronson’s presence behind him. “Norma! Can you hear me?”

  Bronson hoped Roger had heard him, but other than calling out to Norma, he wasn’t making much noise. Still, Bronson gave out further instructions. “Don’t let them see your fear.” As Bronson ran, he retrieved the pot and wooden spoon he carried. He banged them.

  Roger turned, giving him an irritated look. “I can’t hear if Norma answers.”

  “Nooor-ma!” Bronson shouted.

  Roger joined him. “Nooor-ma!”

  A faint willowy whispered answered. “He—here.”

  Bronson’s muscles protested, but he turned south, heading toward where he thought Norma would be. Roger ran beside him and soon outran him.

  Minutes later, they reached a small area free of brush where Norma stood, visibly shaking. Several yards in front of her, the lone wolf growled at her.

  Roger reached her first.

  Norma, upon seeing Roger, made a move to dash toward Roger, toward safety.

  “Stop! Don’t move,” Bronson ordered. “Maintain eye contact. Make yourself look big.” Bronson moved toward the wolf, banging on the pot. “Shoo! Scat!”

  The wolf turned his attention to Bronson. Its muscles tensed, as though ready to attack.

  Bronson stopped.

  Slowly, he took a step backward.

  So did the wolf. He growled one more time, turned, and disappeared into the bush.

  “Quickly, climb the tree,” Bronson said.

  “What?” Norma continued to shake, but now that she was in Roger’s protective arms, she seemed calmer.

 
“Wolves usually hunt as a group,” Bronson said. “Until we know if that was a lone wolf or not, our safest place is where they can’t get to us.”

  Roger looked at the various trees. “That one.” He pointed to his right. “It should be easy to climb.”

  Roger climbed first and helped Norma as much as he could, but he didn’t need to have bothered. Norma was doing fine on her own.

  Bronson quickly followed. He had just begun to climb when several wolves appeared. The alpha, a white wolf, galloped toward Bronson, attempting to bite Bronson’s leg. Bronson kicked hard and the wolf yelped.

  Bronson took advantage of the animal’s momentary distraction. He jumped and reached for a heavy branch. He pulled himself off the ground. Roger lent him a hand and helped pulled him up.

  Bronson gave a sigh of relief. All three were high enough to be away from the wolves’ greedy jaws.

  “Good thinking. I’m glad you suggested climbing the tree.” Roger looked at the wolves below them. They circled the tree, looked up, and snarled. One of them stood on two legs, trying to reach its prey.

  Roger continued to stare at the pack. “Now what?”

  “Now we stay here. Wolves like to get their prey on the run. They’re going to realize that we won’t be intimidated and eventually, they’re going to lose interest. In the meantime, we hang on tight and make sure we don’t fall.”

  In spite of their nerve wracking circumstances, Roger let out a nervous laugh. Soon, Norma did too. Then they both fell silent as they stared at the creatures below.

  The regal white alpha stood rigid, staring at Bronson. With a glare that could have melted a glacier, it turned and headed toward the woods. The rest of the pack followed.

  “They’re gone.” Roger let out the air he had been holding. “We can get down now.”

  “Not just yet,” Bronson said. “Don’t ever underestimate them. Wolves are dangerous, powerful predatory animals who hunt as a group. They may be gone now, but they’re not too far away. Worse yet, they know we’re here.”

  Roger nodded and leaned back on the branch he sat on.