Come and Get Us Page 5

  My new friend Clay Hobson had been summoning his extra troops. He’d pinned me down and held me at bay while he gathered his forces. I cursed myself for being so gullible.

  But now I was sprinting full speed in the opposite direction. Away from the highway.

  The game had changed. The call had changed everything. I had to get to Aaron and Sierra.

  Call it willpower. Call it fear. Call it ovaries. The point is I ran so hard that I stopped caring about things like pain and air. My leg muscles were scalding, my lungs were screaming, but I didn’t care. I ignored it.

  I came stumbling up the crags, stumbling toward the cave entrance, and nearly collapsed. Only now did I notice that my leg was bleeding. So was my mouth, actually. I’d dry-heaved so hard—gasping for breath, failing to swallow, failing to dampen the palate—that I scorched the back of my throat. I spat blood. I was far from caring.

  I was 100 percent preoccupied with the cave I’d finally reached, worried—no, terrified—that I’d be walking into a tomb. They’d spent a night in here and I was ready to find a mortified child huddled over a stiff corpse with a single, diagonal beam of sunlight cracking through the darkness from above, illuminating them like a medieval painting.

  And that’s exactly what I saw. Minus the sunbeam. Minus the corpse.

  “Mommy!” said Sierra from the far corner of the darkness. She jumped up, dissolving into tears.

  We embraced for what must’ve been a three-week hug. She clamped onto my chest and I looked across the cave to find Aaron looking back at me. He’d been asleep until Sierra’s joy had roused him, energized him. I can only imagine the fear they’d felt since I’d left.

  As I gathered Sierra in my arms and approached my husband, I could see that his cheerful disposition was a facade. He was in bad shape. His skin was ghostly pale and there was a hollow quality to his eyes. I’d been the one fistfighting all day, but it seemed like he took every one of the blows. He looked a decade older than he did yesterday. The happy man who was in the backseat of the minivan with my daughter, navigating the kangaroo galaxy, was barely in the same cave with us now. He was a stranger.

  “M…randa,” he said.

  The whole run back I’d been tallying up a million questions for him that, under normal circumstances, I would’ve launched into with guns blazing. As if anything about any of this was normal.

  “I’m here for you,” I said to him. No questions. Just love.

  “You found…?” he struggled to speak. “You found them?”

  It took a moment for me to understand what he meant.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “They tried…”

  “To kill me? Yes.”

  “Then we ha…Then we have some…talking…to do.” Every syllable a struggle.

  “No.”

  “Cases…”

  “Not now, babe.”

  “I can…explain.” He gathered himself. “Drake. I saw…I’ve been trying…to find a way to…”

  “Aaron, not now.” I had to interrupt this. I couldn’t let him drain his precious resources. “Listen. If you love me…” Yes, I was pulling the if you love me card. “If you love me…then you’ll do what I’m about to tell you. No questions asked.”

  He answered without hesitation. “Anything.”

  My true ally.

  “You want me to wear leather chaps?” said Aaron. “And a cowboy hat?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “I’ll do it. If that’s your thing.”

  Oh, suddenly now he has perfect speech?

  “My thing is brains,” I said. “You know that.”

  “Brains and a leather hat.” He was trying to crack a smile.

  Men.

  Sierra hadn’t left my arms since I’d returned.

  “Sierra, help me lift Daddy’s legs,” I said as I shot Aaron a single-upturned-eyebrow glare. “You know our very impressionable four-year-old daughter is listening.”

  It was reassuring to know that even in the worst of circumstances, we were still the biggest flirts of all time.

  “Save your strength,” I whispered.

  “Don’t yell at a dying man,” he said, his smile just shy of a grimace.

  “You are not dying.”

  We all went still. I’d raised my voice for the first time perhaps in years. Before I could go on, he mustered all his strength and spoke clearly.

  “I know this doesn’t make any sense. And these guys are…no joke. But I trust that you…can protect Sierra.”

  I didn’t want him to keep going.

  But he had more. “You’re smarter than them, Miranda. You’re the smartest person I know.”

  I hate compliments like that, praise from blind faith. I hate them and love them.

  He added, “You just tend to doubt yourself.”

  “Yeah,” said Sierra.

  “Now,” said Aaron, shifting gears. “What is this horrible thing you’re about to ask me to do? Eat broccoli?”

  I took a deep breath and looked over at our daughter. She had her hair in a loose, half-finished side-braid. She learned it on the internet last month. This would not be easy for them. It wasn’t even easy for me to think.

  “I need you to climb,” I said. “I need you to climb.”

  Chapter 17

  They were coming, I explained to Aaron and Sierra. The bad men were preparing to converge on our little sanctuary. The cave was no longer safe.

  I knew it was now or never.

  “Okay. We can do this,” said Aaron.

  “Me, too,” said Sierra.

  Within minutes I’d gathered up my two ambassadors to begin the hobble. We each drank from the canteen. Getting Aaron to his feet was more about courage than muscle. He seemed about ten terrifying pounds lighter than when I last saw him. He barely stood upright, even with my support. Sierra could topple him just by tugging on his sleeve.

  “We have only one shot at this,” I began my speech. “We have to get their car.”

  He didn’t respond.

  I continued. “Clay Hobson. We have to get the SUV he was in. I’m guessing they parked somewhere on the stretch of road above our wreck. If it’s still there, it’s our one chance.”

  I glanced at his face. I had already composed the rebuttal to his upcoming rebuttal.

  “Believe me, I looked,” I said. “I looked for a random car, for a cop, a hiker, pay phone, a wad of promising trash. Anything. Any hope. I tried the roads. I tried to get to 89, but Clay blocked the way.”

  Aaron’s face was unmoved. I don’t know if it was stoicism or loss of blood, but his reaction was as calm as could be expected.

  “You’ve gotta get to the SUV. If you follow the river upstream past where we crashed, there’s a steep grade leading up to where we went off the highway. It’s going to be a tough climb, but it’s our only chance.”

  “If my wife wants me to climb…” he said with a smile, “then, ladies and gentlemen, I’m climbing.”

  Sierra was walking alongside us. She would normally get carried by him across terrain like this. But Aaron wouldn’t have enough strength. So I crouched down to be eye level with my new lieutenant.

  “Hey little koala, how are you and your cute paws?”

  “Okay,” said Sierra.

  “Thank you for being a good nurse. Now I’m going to promote you to Minister of Security and Transportation. Can you handle that job?”

  “Okay.”

  I looked up at Aaron and smiled at him.

  His voice was undeniably grim. “You’re not coming with us, are you?” I could hear him trying to hide his concern.

  I felt so sorry for them.

  “I’ve mulled it over a thousand ways,” I replied. “This is the only one that has a chance.”

  “Your Transport Minister doesn’t approve,” he joked. Half joking.

  Sierra looked up at him and then over at me. She’s the world’s feistiest four-year-old, but you’d never guess it here. She seemed to sense the intensity
of the situation even through our veiled updates.

  I kissed her and stood up. As much as I hated to part ways, I turned around and started my journey.

  “Wait,” said Aaron. “Why head to the SUV if we can’t even unlock the door?”

  I knew my answer would lead to more questions and none of us had the time, nor the blood sugar for it, so I replied without turning back. “Because I’m gonna go get the keys.”

  Chapter 18

  They went one way. I went the other. If you drew it in the dirt, you’d have a diagram that looked like a badly written V. Actually, a curvy V. Like a bird, sort of.

  I didn’t want to turn around to look. I was denying finality, and looking back meant capturing a mental image that I couldn’t afford to fixate on.

  But several minutes later I couldn’t stop myself.

  They were a half mile away from me, my poor, slow-moving duo.

  I teared up. I knew I would.

  They put their entire trust in me and were doing the impossible. Against medical wisdom, and self-preserving instinct, they limped along.

  I watched them disappear. And then I started bawling. Hard.

  Suck up the tears, babe. No jeopardizing the mission now. I had my agenda and my work cut out for me.

  The plan was to get to the SUV driver’s body. Hopefully they hadn’t moved it, hopefully his keys were still in his pocket. Get the keys and run like I have never run to get back.

  It was still lying where he died, at the bottom of the grade, surrounded by the rocks that had ended his life. I felt horrible all over again, but was relieved to see that animals hadn’t found him—yet.

  I had a tremendous, unintentional shiver as I patted his pockets, doing everything I could not to look at him, not to breathe in.

  “Looking for these?”

  My heart stopped.

  Clay Hobson stood there, keys held out, jingling slightly.

  I had to think. Fast. I stood up, held my hands up to show I meant no harm. “I’m just trying to get my daughter and get out of here. I know my husband did things! I know that now! I wanted the keys to drive me and my daughter to the police station!”

  They stayed still. I expected more smooth talking from Clay, but he was simply standing there, staring at me.

  It was the other guy who spoke first. Which was odd. He was odd. Agitated.

  He turned to Clay and said, “She’s lying.” Then he turned to me and said, “You’re lying!” He aimed his rifle right at me.

  But Clay chimed in. “Terrence!” I hoped, his way of saying don’t.

  “Get on your knees!” he shouted at me, his rifle emphasizing his fury. He was thrusting it toward me, like a jab with an invisible bayonet. “On! Your! Knees!”

  While Terrence kept his gun aimed, Clay made a show of slinging his rifle onto his back. I kept my hands halfway up. I absolutely did not want to provoke unnecessary bullets in my direction. No, thank you. My hands were going to remain very visible.

  “Don’t shoot her, Terrence,” said Clay, calmly, authoritatively.

  “Then tell her not to move.”

  “Miranda?” said Clay. “Nice to meet you face to face. Please don’t move.”

  “I won’t,” I said, beginning to kneel. “My husband is mortally wounded. I’m here to negotiate. In fact…” I cleared my throat. “I already have a proposition that you won’t want to refuse.”

  “Liar!” said Terrence, who was clearly on edge.

  “Relax, Terrence,” said Clay.

  “I’m on your team, Miranda,” he said. “I’m willing to compromise in every way possible. But I need you to take me to Aaron first. That’s the only condition on my end.

  “The reason is timing. We don’t have time,” Clay continued. “No, wait, let me rephrase that. Your husband doesn’t have time. As you said, he’s mortally wounded. I need him to be alive to fight the good fight. And you need him alive because he’s the father of your child.”

  There was no way I could take Clay with me to Aaron. I’d be powerless if something went wrong.

  “He needs a doctor,” I said.

  “She doesn’t trust you, Clayton,” murmured Terrence.

  “She’s a wise woman,” said Clay, looking directly at me. Talking about me while talking to me. “She needs me to convince her.”

  He held his knife outward for me to see it. It looked like he was going to lay it down as a peace offering.

  He raised his knife. He was behind Terrence, so it almost looked like he was going to poke him with it. For just a half second, I wondered if he would, a delirious thought. Because that would make no sense at all.

  Yet that is exactly what he did.

  Clay Hobson plunged his knife into the neck of his partner.

  Chapter 19

  Terrence slumped forward onto his knees. I didn’t move. I didn’t scream. All I could do was stare as a large stream of dark red liquid began to cascade down his chest, shining in the sunlight.

  I was still down, so now the two of us were kneeling mere yards away, facing each other, like some sort of bizarre warrior ritual. The blade was lodged. As Terrence reached back to grab the handle, he found that he couldn’t even raise his arms. All he could do was look at me. Toward me.

  Why?

  Clay must have seen it on my face. Why did you stab your friend?

  “To protect you,” answered Clay without my asking.

  He stepped forward and withdrew the blade from Terrence’s neck. I was watching close, petrified. He looked up and held my gaze. Then he seemed to recognize my fear and tossed it on the ground, seemingly in demonstration of a truce.

  “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said. He was about to bare his soul. I could feel it. “Sadly, these are the forces we’re up against.”

  Exhibit A. He gestured toward Terrence’s body. Exhibit B. The body of the SUV driver. Exhibit C. The body floating down the river.

  “Aaron and I…” he said. “We’re facing powers well beyond our control. I had to find the right moment. Terrence wanted to kill you, and I desperately needed to protect Aaron.”

  I was trembling. “W-what is this?” I asked, referring to the entirety of the debacle. The company. The men. My husband. The history. Everything.

  “There isn’t time,” he replied. “We have to hurry.”

  Terrence was on the ground, facedown. It was over for him.

  I felt sick, despite the fact that this wasn’t even the first dead body I’d seen on this wonderful vacation. Clay used a booted foot to push him over, and it rolled with a strange limpness. There’s something rather vacant about a corpse, the way the shoulder flops over. The feet surrender. The expressionless face.

  Clay kneeled, inspecting the body. I doubted it was easy for him to do what he did, but it was hard to detect telltale signs of a conscience in Clay. He seemed fine.

  He looked over to tell me the heavy words I knew were eventually coming.

  “Aaron’s not innocent.”

  I didn’t have a response.

  “But he’s a good man,” he continued. “And you’ll need my help if you want to bring him to a doctor.”

  He let that sit for a second. He stood up. Need his help? His help? I was suspicious but I knew I had no choice.

  “A doctor?” I questioned.

  “The clock’s ticking.”

  I had to oblige him. In all these outlandish happenings, it made sense that the only way out was an outlandish offer.

  “All right,” I said. “But on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “The keys to the SUV…I carry them.”

  He dug in his pocket and tossed them to me. No hesitation. He was willing to do whatever I wanted.

  I had more to say, more to demand. “The rifle…I hold it.”

  There was a natural pause here but I hit him with a third condition before he could object.

  “And you…” I said. “You keep in front of me.”

  He weighed his options, l
ooking across the canyon and the river, with so many nooks and crannies where one might hide. He stepped forward, closer to me but not intrusively so. I nodded to the river. He seemed to know immediately what I meant. We’d be hiking upstream.

  I slung the rifle over my shoulder. The upper hand was mine now. It was tangible. Not because of the weapon, but because of the map in my head.

  “Let’s go,” I said to him.

  “Let’s go save lives,” he said back.

  Chapter 20

  I guided Clay through the canyon without saying anything other than where to turn. Dark thoughts were swarming around my soul like flies on a carcass. Aaron isn’t innocent. Aaron may have hurt people. Aaron hid something.

  “Veer toward the crest,” I said to Clay.

  You start a marriage with two eyes open, you stay in it with one eye closed. This is the standard advice. Yet had I proceeded along with both eyes closed? Was I also wearing earplugs? And a sensory deprivation suit? Did I know my husband at all?

  I finally spoke up about a half hour into our hike. “Okay, fine, let’s hear it,” I said. “What sort of cataclysmic thing could you and Aaron be involved in?” I had a thousand questions, but needed to ask him things without telling him things.

  “Oil,” replied Clay.

  We were hiking across the eastern vista, in the midst of the most spectacular sedimentary erosion I’d ever seen. Everything out here looked like a beautiful forgery of the Grand Canyon. If only I were in a place to enjoy it.

  “Oil,” I scoffed.

  “The answer to ninety-nine out of a hundred questions.”

  “Is money.”

  “Is oil,” he insisted.

  My rifle was pointed at his back. I know there’s safety protocol to weapons and triggers and where you aim, but I was done being safe. If I accidentally tripped on a pebble and shot him in the spinal cord, so be it. I’d apologize in the eulogy.

  “Did your husband ever tell you about the case of Drake v. Llorenzo?”

  “No.”

  “That family?”

  “No.”

  “From the town of Chasm? Drake v. Llorenzo? He really never told you?”