In the Shadows of Freedom

by C

  I trust in You.

  She stared into the burning red eyes. She charged again, letting out an echoing cry and meeting her opponent in the ring of fire that now encircled them. Aiming her fiery torch at the beast’s face, she missed—it turned away just before her blow met its target. Still, the fire caught hold of its shoulder.

  It proved to be enough. As silently as it had entered, the lion fled into the darkness, abandoning its prey.

  Yet it would prowl again, until the end of the age, seeking the destruction of all.

  She hurried to the place where Ethan’s body lay prone on the ground. He issued forth no sound; the only noise was the gentle, almost soothing, crackling of the branches still kindling the light of the fire she had created.

  Blood stained the snow surrounding Ethan. She crouched beside him, easily locating the source of the blood: a wound on his left calf, penetrating deep into his leg. A number of bite marks and gashes peppered Ethan’s body, with little rivulets of blood flowing from them. One ragged cut even went across his cheek. Still, his chest rose and fell rhythmically.

  “Ethan! Can you hear me?” She grabbed his cold hand, lying motionless in the snow, and held it between her hands, rubbing it.

  He turned and looked at her. He stared, wide-eyed, panic and shock written across his pale face.

  She clung to his hand—whether to comfort him or to steady her own terror, she didn’t know. “I’m sorry!” Her tears began flowing, unchecked. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

  “You came back—why?”

  “We can’t just sit here talking. You’re bleeding. I’ve got to do something … get help or water or …”

  His focus became clearer. He tightened his fingers around hers. “No, Amanda … first I need to tell you something. I never believed them. I always thought there was … that what we had together was genuine. That’s why I had to find you first.” He paused again, seeming to gather his strength. “And I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I didn’t love you in the best way … or even the right way. But I loved you in the only way I knew how.”

  Faded memories of a first conversation, a date in Central Park, and a kiss in the pouring rain floated before her. How many times had she gazed into those hazel eyes, kissed those very lips? How many times had she desperately wished for him to say the word “love”? And now he had, after he’d risked his life to save hers.

  But how many times had he lied to her, manipulated her, kept information from her, tried to win her over to a political party that almost killed her and her family? Even now, he could still be playing her. He wanted to survive, to get himself in the most favorable position to claw and fight his way back to the top. Right now, he could only do that with her help. He knew just what to say and how to say it.

  She dropped his hand and took off her coat. “I’m going to wrap up your leg and hopefully stop the bleeding.”

  He struggled to sit up. “Amanda, come on. It’s a simple question: Why did you come back to help me? Just answer me.”

  Her throat constricted. She kept winding her coat sleeve around his bleeding wound, around and around. It was like her feelings for him, circling around her bleeding heart: from love to hate to … But, no, she wouldn’t let him deceive her again. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d won this round of the game he played, the puzzle he kept toying with.

  She knotted the sleeves together and stood up. “I came back because it was the right thing to do.”

  He collapsed to the ground, looking away from her and not replying.

  She opened her mouth, intending to say something, but didn’t know what to say or feel. Nothing seemed clear anymore. “I’m … I’m going to get some water and wash your other cuts—there’s a stream right here.”

  Unraveling the scarf from her neck, she hurried down toward the water. She used her boot to smash through the ice at the creek’s edge. She knelt down and plunged the scarf into the frigid liquid, which intensified the pain of the cut on her arm. She yanked the scarf out, water and droplets falling from her hands. But something caught her eye and made her breath catch. Under the surface of the water, looking back at her, was a face. Someone looked up at her, through the water—a face as familiar as her own, but so superiorly different.

  This woman’s eyes were gentle and warm, yet contained a wisdom deeper than all the waters of the Earth. Her skin was the purest white, dazzling even when compared to the newly fallen snow. Her glance was captivating, life-giving, so much so that Amanda couldn’t turn away. Yet her look was humble. Her exquisite features were singular, her radiance otherworldly.

  It was the lady from her most precious painting, the sacred, mysterious image that she and Ethan had destroyed. The lady was here restored, here renewed. And more vivid, more beautiful, more burning with life than paint and canvas could convey.

  Amanda stared, longing flooding her heart, her being. A profound peace swept into her, incomparable to anything she had ever felt, even in times of apparent security, pleasure, and contentment. Like the morning star, rising over the blackness of night, she filled Amanda with light and affection.

  And then someone spoke … perhaps within her, perhaps without … a musical sound, like the voice of one thousand harps playing in the purity of silence. “Thank you for helping him—he is my son too.”

  Amanda glanced around her, hoping to identify the voice, but there was nothing. She returned her gaze to the surface of the creek, but the lady was gone. Had she just imagined it? Was it real?

  Yet she couldn’t deny the peace that reigned within her and the quiet, steady trust that filled her soul. She didn’t know all the answers to her questions, and many obstacles still loomed so large ahead. All of that remained the same. But within Amanda, things had changed. The Mother, her Mother, had given her rebirth.

  Somehow things would work out for the good.

  Amanda began walking back and determined to let this moment remain in her as she returned to her work: saving Ethan.

  She took the damp scarf and dabbed at his cuts. He gritted his teeth but managed to talk through the pain: “What happened to you? You look different.” Ethan’s voice sounded weak, but he stared at her.

  Amanda moved the scarf to the slash that ran across his cheek. Her fingers brushed against his stubble. She held the Mother’s message in her heart: “Thank you for helping him—he is my son too.”

  She met his gaze and took a deep breath. “I want you to know the joy that I know now. Come with me … come with us.”

  “Where are you going? … And do you even know the way?”

  “We’re headed to safety, to freedom. Others know the way and are guiding us. My family is there already. Will … Will you come with me?”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  She looked down at her hands. “Yeah, I do.”

  He narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Alright, I’ll come along. But how do you propose I get there? How can you even get me out of here? We’re completely alone in this wilderness and you’re not strong enough to—”

  At that moment, the sound of footsteps came from behind them, and a lone traveler appeared. Amanda sighed, relief filling her: Morgan. He walked toward them, smiling as naturally and calmly as if he had been crossing a parking lot or joining her at a table in some corner coffee shop. She watched him approach, and it seemed like she observed him with new eyes … eyes of faith. Her portrait of Morgan, her earlier conversation with him in the falling snow, the ease and familiarity of their connection—the pieces clicked together. Maybe she had always known the answer, deep down, but, until now, she didn’t have the faith to voice it.

  During all those solitary hours that she’d spent painting by herself and enjoying the company of no one while growing up, she had somehow never felt alone. And neither was she now, in this hour of need. Someone had been sent to protect her. Morgan had been there all along.

  “I see you need help.” Morgan stood beside her.

  She
didn’t need to say anything about her revelation; Morgan already knew. So she simply nodded, amazement and gratitude overwhelming her. “And you’re always here to help me, aren’t you?”

  Morgan put his hand on her shoulder. “Always, Amanda.”

  “This guy again? What the hell is he doing here?”

  The furious outburst interrupted her thoughts. She looked down at Ethan, now propped up on his elbows, his eyes bulging and head turning from Amanda to Morgan and back again.

  “I told you, Morgan’s just a friend. I mean … if you had any idea how impossible it is for him to be anything else … it’s nothing you have to worry about, okay?”

  Ethan scowled. “Sure doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like something pretty serious, actually.”

  “No.” Amanda crossed her arms. “But what is serious is your leg. We need to get you back to the cabin.”

  “May I?” Morgan knelt on one knee and held out his hand, offering to help Ethan up.

  Ethan nodded, avoiding his gaze.

  “I’ll support you on the other side.” Amanda took Ethan’s arm and put it around her neck.

  Together, she and Morgan helped him stand. Limping and stumbling, the three of them walked back toward the cabin. Ethan stayed silent the whole time, his face white and tense with pain.

  Back at the cabin, Mark stood in the front door, staring wide-eyed. “What’s going on? Who’s this? What happened out there?”

  “He’s hurt, Mark. Maybe we can just get inside first?” Amanda tried to catch her breath, the last few steps trying her strength.

  She and Morgan guided Ethan to a nearby chair, where he sat clutching his leg with his hands.

  Amanda looked around the room. To her surprise, everyone stood there, except Rachel, who she supposed slept upstairs. Bethany held a tissue in her hand and tried to stifle a sob. Joe’s eyes looked red, as though from crying. Linda let her tears run down her cheeks unchecked.

  With her stomach now turned to lead, Amanda whirled around and looked down at Ken. Father Voloshin knelt beside him, whispering prayers and making the Sign of the Cross over him. Ken’s breathing was no longer labored; it had stopped.

  “No. No!” Amanda rushed forward. “He was alive when I left! And now he’s …?”

  Father Voloshin stood up. “He went to God. … God called him home.”

  She stared at the dead body. It was Ken, but it also wasn’t him. It was his body, but not the Ken she remembered and had come to know. Ken had entered that other world, just veiled beyond this one.

  Father Voloshin picked up his Bible and held it to his chest, his arms crossed. “Ken fought final battle. Many believe God comes to soul three times at moment of death. He is great Beggar who knocks on door of the heart. No sin is beyond His love and mercy. But Enemy also makes final offensive, his last strike to claim a soul for eternal punishment, one final ‘Non serviam!’—‘I will not serve!’ We do not know how Ken chose in end. But we will continue to pray for him and to hope.”

  Amanda nodded woodenly, the lump in her throat preventing her from speaking.

  “Amanda?” Mark called to her. His face looked exhausted, but he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “We’re all grieving. But we’re still fighting the battle, and you have to give me some answers and explanations.”

  “I can answer for myself.” Ethan sat back in the chair, adjusting his leg and wincing. “My name’s Ethan Ramsey. I worked for the NCP until they said I was an informer for the opposition, which—for the record—I was not. They condemned me to come here, the equivalent of a death march. Two JPD officers accompanied me, both of whom are dead now. I was trying to get to Amanda, to make sure she was okay.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Mark held up a hand. “Why would the NCP choose to send you here? Why wouldn’t they just kill you flat out? Why risk a mountain expedition where you could possibly escape?”

  Ethan shrugged. “They have their ways. It was probably a sick pleasure on their part. I’m sure they derived some kind of amusement from the idea of Amanda and me dying here together.”

  Mark glanced from Ethan to Amanda. “So you two know each other?”

  “Ethan’s my … I mean, Ethan was …” Amanda caught herself, her cheeks burning. She looked at the floor. “We knew each other in the city.” She cast a sideways glance at Ethan, who cocked an eyebrow at her.

  Mark rubbed his chin and peered at Ethan’s leg. “And your injury?”

  “A mountain lion attacked,” Ethan said.

  Morgan nodded. “Ethan saved Amanda’s life.”

  Amanda caught Ethan’s look of surprise at Morgan’s defense of him.

  Mark glanced around the room at the others, as though seeking their input.

  Bethany stepped forward. “Amanda, it sounds like you know Ethan pretty well. Can we trust him?”

  Amanda sensed everyone staring at her. Bethany’s question was the very one she kept asking herself: Could she trust him?

  Joe scoffed. “There’s your answer. If you gotta hesitate before answering that question, it’s already a big fat no.”

  “Joseph, run upstairs to my bag and grab my rope.” Mark pulled out his gun and cocked it. He turned to Ethan. “You can come with us, but you’re coming at gunpoint.”

  Amanda’s heart sank. This was not going to warm Ethan up to the opposition group.

  Joe ran back downstairs, the rope in his hands.

  Mark kept the gun aimed at Ethan. “Go ahead, Joseph. Tie his wrists. … Mr. Ramsey, you make one wrong move and I’ll shoot.”

  Amanda gasped. “Mark, please. He’s not going to attack us.”

  Mark continued to stare at Ethan. “Look, Amanda, I’ve got women and children here to protect. We already lost someone. I can’t take any risks. This guy worked for the NCP. Who knows what he could be doing here? I don’t buy his story.”

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Ironic, don’t you think? Being bound to go to freedom?”

  Mark ignored him. “Bethany, can you get the bandages and take a look at Ethan’s leg? That should be wrapped better before we leave.”

  Amanda started chewing on a nail.

  Morgan touched her arm. “Let me take care of your cut too.”

  She’d almost forgotten she even had a cut.

  Morgan took some gauze and tape from Bethany’s supplies and led Amanda to the back corner. “It already clotted, but it’s still better to cover it.” He worked serenely, his face placid.

  She watched him tape the gauze in place. “Hey, Morgan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Does anyone else know that you’re my—”

  “No. You’re the only one who needs to know.”

  “You’re not going to suddenly disappear now that I know who you are, right? I just can’t imagine doing any of this without you.”

  “I’m always with you. But I can’t always be with you in this way. It isn’t natural for me, you see. It’s not how I was created. There are times of exception, of course, but that time will soon end.”

  She nodded. “I understand. I wish you could stay like this always, but I’m grateful for what I’ve already been given. I need to ask you something else too. I went outside tonight to check on Boots, but I couldn’t find him. Where is he? Is he okay?”

  Morgan smiled. “He’s safe. You didn’t tie the reins tightly enough, so he escaped.”

  “So it is my fault after all.”

  “It’s better this way, Amanda. You couldn’t have brought him with you. He’s free now.”

  Knock-knock-knock!

  Amanda jumped and held her breath.

  Knock-knock!

  She exhaled: Nasir. Joe hurried to the front door and opened it wide. Nasir came inside, stomping snow from his boots. Amanda gathered around him with the others. What news would he bring? Was it time for her to reunite with her family?

  “Nasir! It’s so good to see you!” Bethany hugged him.

  He nodded, his mouth turned downward in a frown. His eyes rov
ed about the room. He had enough to observe: the expressions of worry and grief on those surrounding him … Mark’s gun pointed at a newcomer whose face Nasir couldn’t see … Ken’s lifeless body on the floor.

  Nasir stiffened. “Ken! What happened to him?”

  Bethany’s lips trembled. “He died about an hour ago. A JPD officer shot him yesterday in the woods.”

  “Someone who came with him.” Mark jerked the gun in Ethan’s direction.

  Nasir’s eyes widened. “Ethan Ramsey?”

  Eyes slit, Ethan looked Nasir up and down. “How do you know me?”

  “I work in the city. I’m well-informed of what’s going on.”

  Amanda stepped forward. “I can explain everything, Nasir.”

  Linda stood up, her face red. “My gosh, haven’t we done enough talking? Can’t we just get out of this miserable place before we’re all lying dead on the floor?”

  “Linda.” Mark shot her a disgusted look.

  “No, she’s correct.” Nasir nodded. “We all must leave—now.”

  “Like now now?” Joe glanced out the window. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “No, dawn is coming. I have a moving truck parked along the dirt road, about half a mile from here. There are large packing crates inside, which you can hide in. The opposition group has an in with a gentleman on border patrol. He’s one of us. We’ve arranged with him to let us through to Canada, but we must do it now. His shift will end in four hours. If we don’t get through by then, it’s possible we never will. We have adequate time, but we have to go immediately.”

  “I’ll get my bag.” Linda took the stairs two at a time.

  “But what about Ken?” Bethany glanced behind her at his body.

  Mark tightened his lips. “We can’t bury him. There’s a foot of snow out there. Not to mention the ground’s frozen …”

  “He taken care. I prayed over him and sprinkled with holy oil. We place his body outside under tree. God willing, one day we return and bury him properly.” Father Voloshin adjusted his glasses.