You Can't Catch Me

by Catherine McKenzie

  Chapter 30

  Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free

  Seconds later, JJ and I are chasing Jessie through the woods. I stopped long enough to shove my feet back into my water shoes, but part of me regrets it as the wet fabric rubs against my skin.

  Jessie’s faster than I expected, weaving in and out of the trees, not looking back. But then I think back to that first time I saw her, at the end of her run back in Wilmington. Who knows how long she’d been out there that day, or how fast she could go?

  I drop my head to avoid the branch of a conifer but not fast enough. I feel the skin on my cheek slice open, but I can’t stop to tend it. It’s easy to see Jessie; she’s still wearing her bright-yellow life jacket, jumping over logs like a deer. JJ’s to the right of me, just ahead, also faster than I am, her arms pumping. I’m having trouble catching my breath, and my legs feel like they’re moving through molasses.

  I stop and cup my hands around my mouth. “Jessie! There’s no use running! Stop!”

  She keeps going, so I start to run again. JJ’s gaining on her but still hasn’t caught her.

  Wham!

  I slam into the forest floor so fast I don’t even have time to get my hands out in front of me. My chin hits first, clicking my teeth into my tongue. My mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood as I lie facedown, stunned, unsure of how badly I’ve hurt myself. I can feel my heart thudding, the blood rushing to the various scrapes and bruises that I’ve collected today. I hear a shout up ahead, indistinct. Was that JJ?

  I pull my arms out from under me; nothing’s broken. I place my hands on the ground and start to push myself up gently. Everything hurts, but it all seems to be working.

  “No!”

  The voice seems closer now, and scared. A new jolt of adrenaline brings me to my feet. I grab a rock off the ground, then spin around in a circle, looking, looking. Dammit, where are they?

  “Stop!”

  There! A flash of yellow. I start to run, my left leg dragging with a sprain that might be more serious than I can absorb right now. I break through the trees and there they are, in a small clearing. Jessie’s on her back on the ground, her hands up, trying to protect her face. JJ’s standing over her with a heavy piece of wood in her hand, ready to go in for the kill.

  “Stop!” I scream as JJ pulls her arm back.

  “You stupid bitch,” JJ says to her.

  “JJ, no,” I say. “Not like . . . Stop! Back away.”

  “Please, JJ, please.” Jessie’s crying, but it sounds fake to me.

  I walk toward them gingerly. Jessie has a gash across her forehead. Her arms and legs are scratched up like mine. Only JJ seems unfazed and uninjured.

  “Please, Jess, don’t let her—”

  “Shut up, Jessie!” I say. “You’re not helping.”

  I put my hand on JJ’s shoulder. She rounds on me quickly, and I duck out of the way of the log.

  “Hey! Watch it.”

  “Sorry, man, I—”

  Jessie uses the moment of inattention to jump to her feet. “She almost killed me,” she says to me.

  “Drop the act, Molly.”

  Her face relaxes and it’s easier to see her now: Jessica Two. Like a painting that was there all the time, only a bit of linseed oil needed to reveal the image underneath the mask.

  “Fine,” she says. “Whatever you like.”

  “There’s nothing about this I like.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Stay there.” I point to her. “What do you want to do?” I ask JJ.

  She thinks about it. “Nice secluded spot. No one will find the body before the bears get to her.”

  I watch Jessie as JJ speaks. She’s calculating the odds that JJ’s actually going to hurt her. Maybe she’s remembering back to last night at the washstand. We both saw the look in JJ’s eyes. The casualness. She’s killed someone before, maybe at close hand.

  “We’ve left our DNA all over, though,” I say, as I wipe my hand across my cheek. It comes away full of blood. “Plus, the mess we’ve made of the forest.”

  “You think they’re going to get all CSI out here if this piece of shit goes missing?”

  “Not sure. It’s possible, though, isn’t it?”

  “They’ll definitely do it,” Jessie says.

  “Shut up!” JJ and I say together.

  I get closer to JJ without taking my eyes off Jessie. She smells earthy, sweat and dirt mixed with a tinge of blood.

  “Let’s get the money first.”

  “First? What’s—”

  JJ turns and thrusts her hand out in a chopping motion against Jessie’s throat. Jessie falls to the ground, gasping, clutching her neck.

  “Shit, JJ. How’s she going to talk now?”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything permanent. That’ll keep her quiet for a minute. I couldn’t stand her talking anymore.”

  I watch Jessie rolling around on the ground, clutching her throat. I have to admit, it feels good to see her suffer.

  “You think we can get her to talk?” JJ says. “Tell us where the money is?”

  “I think so.”

  I walk to Jessie. I crouch down so I’m closer to her. She’s stopped struggling, but she’s still rubbing at her throat like she swallowed a pill down the wrong tube. The gash on her forehead is oozing and looks like the kind of thing that could get easily infected.

  “Where is it?”

  She coughs. Tries to speak. Coughs again. “Where’s what?” she finally gets out in a scratchy voice.

  “The money, moron. Our money.”

  “I’ve spent it.”

  “Come on. All of it?”

  “Most, anyway.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, I have.”

  “Living in the middle of nowhere, working in an elementary school? Nope, I’m not buying it. You, JJ?”

  “Not a fucking chance.”

  I shove the rock I’m still holding into the large pocket of my board shorts and reach out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  She takes it out of her pocket and gives it to me. It’s encased in one of those waterproof housing units, which is why I assume she was willing to bring it out on the water. While the cell reception on the other side of the lake is spotty, here her phone has four bars of service, something I’d noticed when JJ and I came over here two days ago. I hit the home button, and the lock screen appears.

  “What’s the password?”

  “123456.”

  JJ’s next to her in an instant. “You think this is funny?” She grabs one of Jessie’s arms and twists it behind her back. “Some kind of joke?”

  “Ow, no, no.”

  “Then what’s the fucking password?”

  “071090.”

  I shake my head as I enter my birthday. “You have no fucking respect, do you?”

  The screen clears. I flip through several screens till I come to a folder called “Bank.” I open it. There are several banking apps inside.

  “Which bank?”

  “Guess,” she says.

  JJ pulls her arm tighter. “Don’t think I won’t break it.”

  “Okay, okay, it’s the Wells Fargo one.”

  I open the app and enter in the same passcode. Nothing happens.

  “It’s not working. Is there a different password?”

  “No.”

  JJ tugs again.

  “I swear, it’s the same password.”

  I try it again and get the same error message.

  “Hand me the phone,” JJ says.

  I put it in her outstretched hand. She untwists Jessie’s arm and puts the phone in Jessie’s hand, then moves her thumb over the home button.

  “Two-factor ID,” she explains, then hands it back to me.

  The app is open. I check her account. She’s got less than $5,000 in it.

  “Is this all of it?”

  “Yes, I swear.”


  “What about these other bank apps?”

  “I just use those to . . . you know . . .”

  “Take other people’s money?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s what you were trying to do today in the airport with Five, right? Trying to get her to play the game, right in front of me. How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

  “I wasn’t, I swear, I—”

  “Enough! God, you’re such a liar.”

  JJ looks at me. “What are you thinking?”

  “She wired the money from my account to some account offshore. But these are domestic banks. I bet she did the same with your money. And the others.”

  “Right.” JJ turns back to Jessie. “Where’s the fucking money? And don’t even try to tell me that you’ve spent it. You only took Jess’s money a couple of months ago, right, Jess?”

  “That’s right. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  “So, there’s no way that’s gone.”

  Jessie tries a different angle. “It’s not that simple. I can’t transfer it by phone. I have to make some calls and answer security questions and—”

  “Then you’re going to tell us how to get it.”

  “And if I do? What happens to me?”

  “We’re not killers,” I say.

  She looks at me. “You might not be. I’m not so sure about her.”

  JJ tilts her head as if she’s proud. “If we say we’ll let you go, we’ll let you go.”

  “What assurance do I have?”

  “You’re going to have to trust us,” I say. “You have no other choice.”

  “At least let go of my arm. It hurts.”

  JJ looks to me for my opinion.

  “Do it,” I say.

  She lets go. Jessie moves a foot away and pulls her arm to her chest, rubbing it.

  “Tell us how to get the money,” I say.

  “Not here, okay? When we get back to camp. We can go to the lodge where there’s good Wi-Fi, and I’ll walk you through the whole process.”

  “No, tell us now.”

  “Or what?”

  JJ gives her a hard stare.

  “More arm twisting, for starters, I’d imagine,” I say. “Unless you start answering some questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what are you even doing here? Why didn’t you just tell me to go stuff it when I found you with Liam? Or throw me into the Ausable River?”

  “I tried.”

  “You what?”

  “I did try to push you into the river. Then those people came along.”

  “She’s shitting you,” JJ says.

  “You think?”

  “Course. Why would she admit that if she’s trying to live?”

  “Good point.” I crouch down in front of Jessie. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Who cares?” JJ says.

  “I want to know. Why did you do it? Why play along?”

  I hold Jessie’s gaze. She gives a shrug. “Couldn’t pass it up.”

  “What’s that?”

  She smiles in a way that reminds me of Todd. “The fun. Watching you flail around. Trying these desperate plans. It’s been . . . fun.”

  Her words have a ring of truth to them. And so there you have it. We’ve been amusing her. We’ve been sport.

  “Tell me something,” Jessie says.

  “What?”

  “What made you go looking? Why did you go through my bag?”

  “Liam was suspicious.”

  She makes a face. The face she always makes when Liam comes up.

  “Liam.”

  “Yeah, Liam. What about it? Why are you always so down on him? He frightens you, right? You knew he didn’t trust you.”

  Jessie shakes her head. “He doesn’t love you, you know. You’re just . . . a distraction.”

  “You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

  “Of course I do. Don’t you get it? I’ve studied you for a long time. And you, too, JJ. That’s what I do. You’re not the first of his little foundlings that he’s been with, did you know that? I bet you didn’t, I bet you—”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up!”

  She stops talking. Maybe she knows she’s pushed me too far.

  “Now, for the last time, tell us how to get the money back.”

  “We mean it, Jessie,” JJ says. “Last chance to cooperate.”

  She stands there, her eyes roving between us, weighing her options, and I can see her choosing the wrong thing as she does it.

  She runs.

  Chapter 31

  Fugue State

  “Everyone dies,” Todd always used to say, “except me.”

  It was how he started off his weekly meetings, those interminable Sundays where we had to make extra sure we were sitting the way he wanted and that we kept the younger children away. Once, a boy of about three fell off his chair, and we got half rations for a week. We made sure to pay attention as best we could even though none of it made any sense. Was Todd saying he was immortal? A god? Or was he being more figurative, that he’d be someone remembered by history long after he was gone, but we’d be the dust under his feet that no one remembered? I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it; it made about as much sense as anything Todd ever said. Besides, why couldn’t it be true? He’d convinced all these seemingly rational people to leave their lives and sign over their money and their children to his experiment. Maybe he had found the secret to eternal life?

  Only he did die. He did die, and I had questions.

  Not right away. Not when I was living with Kiki and acting like I was as wise as Liam. But after I failed, after I was left with my guilt and my regrets, I wanted answers. I wanted answers, finally, to all the questions I’d left behind, what had happened after I left, and what it meant for me and the people in my life who were still being affected by all of it on a daily basis.

  I only knew one place to get those kinds of answers.

  It was, unfortunately, the last place I wanted to go. But I was so angry that it overcame any rational objections. I was keeping to myself those days. I hadn’t seen Liam or The Twists in months. The guy I was seeing off and on wasn’t someone I could tell any of this to. And my work friends at FeedNews tended to give advice like: You don’t need negativity in your life, Jess. Light a candle and let it go.

  Fat fucking chance I was doing that, even if I was able to.

  So, I made my plans and took a few days off. I rented a car and navigated cautiously out of the city. Having only learned to drive as an adult—from Liam, of course—I still didn’t feel the confidence that I imagined came with learning at sixteen like a normal kid. It was one more thing that Kiki and I had bonded over. She’d learned to drive during her year in Ohio. She’d called me all excited about it, and the roommate who’d pushed her to do it. “I finally feel free,” she’d said, and I’d felt so fucking smug.

  And now she was gone, and my parents—who were not dead, despite what I’d told everyone—had settled on an old horse farm in Connecticut with some of the remnants from the Land of Todd. They didn’t get any money in the settlement, but one of the women had an inheritance she’d kept from Todd, this run-down property in the middle of nowhere. About twenty of them had gathered there after the LOT was closed down. My parents. Kiki’s parents, most of the originals who’d spent too much time living communally to go back out into the regular world.

  My mother had, bizarrely, sent me a Christmas card with the address a year after that New Year’s Eve party with Kiki. I didn’t know who it was from when I got it; I’d never seen my mother’s handwriting. The return address was for someone named Charlotte Williams, which I honest to God had forgotten was my mother’s actual name. I thought it might be some long-lost cousin reaching out after having read the piece in FeedNews. It had come out in September and had garnered a ton of attention, both for me and the cult itself. I’d gotten a steady stream of emails from people I ba
rely remembered. Some of them were thanking me. Others wished I’d left well enough alone. I didn’t care about them, though. What mattered to me was Kiki’s reaction, and the leg up the article had given me at work.

  I’d made Kiki the protagonist of the story. She’d started her year away in Ohio. I’d included that detail in the story too. Her happy ending, turning all the bad she’d suffered into something better for a new generation.

  “I don’t want people to know my business,” she’d said to me in a phone call after it had come out.

  “I hid your identity.” I’d called her Katherine in the story, her middle name.

  “That doesn’t change anything.”

  I felt like shit. I’d made the usually placid Kiki angry. All to advance my career. “I mean, I hoped that the story would get a lot of reads, and I told you I was writing it.”

  “You didn’t say it would be about me. You didn’t ask my permission.”

  “You’re right. I suck. Forgive me?”

  The line went staticky.

  “Kiki?”

  “I wanted to start over.”

  “I know. Me too.” I looked at the picture she’d painted for me for Christmas, which I’d hung on my wall. “No one will figure it out. And if they do, you can use it to your advantage. Like, I grew up in a cult! Isn’t that cool?”

  “I’m not cool; I’m going to be a kindergarten teacher.”

  “You’re the coolest person there ever was,” I said, and she laughed. “Besides, this story will be yesterday’s news tomorrow, and you can go on living your elementary schoolteacher dream in peace.”

  Those words have haunted me.

  So, there I was, on a hot June day four years ago, driving down a dusty road searching for an address that had been a bit blurry on the Christmas card my mother sent me. Inside was a premade Christmas message, but below that she’d written: We love you. And that was it. Nothing asking to see me. Nothing saying she was sorry. Just a declaration of love that I had trouble believing.

  I found the right road and turned left. From a distance, the house looked impressive—a large white farmhouse surrounded by pastures. Up close, though, the house screamed of neglect. The paint was flaking off, the garden was overgrown, and several rusted-out trucks were parked near the garage.

  It seemed almost abandoned, except for the little girl swinging in a tire hanging from a tree. It was the girl I’d seen with my parents at Todd’s funeral, the one who looked enough like me to be my sister. She was about seven then, and her yellow hair was in two pigtails caught at the end with red barrettes. She was wearing a pair of blue coveralls, and she looked so innocent and perfect that it occurred to me that she’d been placed there to lure people in.