Behind Peter, Abernathy stood as well and walked past him. He stood beside the woman and girl and rested his hand on the girl’s shoulder.
She was the girl from the dream, the girl who claimed to be his Lilly. Now that he faced her again in daylight in a much less stressful situation, he found himself wanting to believe that it was true.
“Jedidiah,” Abernathy said, “I gave you all that information so you’d be ready for this moment, so you’d understand it better, be able to place it in context and accept the truth. The images in your mind of what your wife and daughter look like are false, placed there by Nichols’s staff of psychologists. You must look past them now; you need to have faith—believe without seeing.” He paused, squeezed the girl’s shoulder, and smiled at the woman. “Jedidiah, this is your wife and daughter. Karen and Lillian.”
Peter began to tremble, as faintly as a shiver runs over the surface of skin. He had an inclination to shake his head, to demand the lies to stop, to run from the cabin. But he couldn’t. Something held him there. A desire to know, a need to explore the possibility and probe for the truth—the truth that transcended whatever false realities were piled up in his fractured brain.
He took a step closer to the couple. The woman who claimed to be Karen stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes and mouthed his name. Jed. Tears formed in her eyes, and her lower lip and chin began to quiver.
“Don’t rely on what your brain is telling you, Jedidiah,” Abernathy said. “Listen to what your heart says. And your soul. They can tamper with your mind but they can’t touch those.”
“They told you we died, didn’t they?” the woman said.
Peter did not respond. He needed to hear more, but how much more would convince him?
“They told us that you died,” she said. “In Afghanistan. They wanted Lilly to go to their school. Do you remember? The Centralia School?”
He did remember. The dream, the room, the brochure. The Andrews Academy. The school for gifted children.
“After they told us you died, that man visited us again. Several times. He wouldn’t give up.” She pulled the girl close and hugged her. “Lilly didn’t trust him. She kept saying that you wouldn’t want her to go there. She warned me.” Tears formed in the woman’s eyes and one spilled down her cheek. “I didn’t listen, though, and eventually gave in. That’s how we ended up in that prison.”
Her words sounded like truth, and why wouldn’t they? He remembered the man, the school, the decision they had made not to send Lilly there. But his memories were populated by a different wife and daughter.
“Daddy,” the girl said. Her voice was sweet and innocent. “You found my note, didn’t you? That’s why you came looking for us.”
A chill raced down Peter’s spine. She knew about the note. But how? The only other person he’d shown it to was Amy. Could it be . . . ?
The woman released her grip on her daughter and drew closer. “My Jed.”
The sound of her voice was beautiful, but it wasn’t Karen—at least not Karen as he remembered her. They were asking him to look past that, though. Believe without seeing or hearing.
She was before him then, barely a foot away. He looked deep into her eyes, searching for the truth, for some unquestionable evidence that she was indeed his Karen.
The woman moved even closer and rose onto her toes to place her mouth against his. The touch of her lips sent electric impulses through his body, not enough to move him but enough to stir images from some depth he didn’t even know existed. There was no flood of memories, no onslaught of revelations. But he was suddenly certain: there was no question now who this woman was. And with their lips still touching and him leaning into the kiss, Jedidiah Patrick began to cry. He wrapped his arms around Karen, his wife, his sweetheart, and pulled her close.
He eased away from Karen as his daughter, his precious Lilly, ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was really them. It would take some getting used to, but as unbelievable, as unlikely as it was, he was ready to believe it was them and—
In the distance, the faint sound of a chopper’s blades beating the air grew closer.
Abernathy moved across the room to the front of the house. His swiftness defied his age. “They’re coming.”
Habit joined him. The sound of the chopper grew louder.
“Jedidiah, you’ll have to take them and go,” Abernathy said.
“What about you?”
“I’ll hold them off. You need to get out of here.”
“We can’t leave you.”
Abernathy grasped his arm and squeezed. The intensity in his eyes could ignite a fire. “Listen to me. I’m an old man. I’ve done things of which I’m too ashamed to ever mention again. This is my time to make it right. To do some good. Now you and Lawrence take Karen and Lilly and get out of here.”
Habit stepped close to Abernathy. “I’m staying with you. Patrick, you take your family and go.”
The chopper grew closer and louder. “No, I can’t leave both of you. I won’t.”
“I owe you,” Habit said. “Remember? Hope. You gave me hope. Now it’s my turn.”
Abernathy crossed the room, opened a gun safe, and began pulling out a stockpile of weapons. He tossed one rifle to Habit as he spoke. “There’s an emergency exit through the floor, a tunnel that will drop you out farther down the mountain.”
“Won’t they be expecting that?” Karen said.
Abernathy lifted an area rug to reveal a trapdoor in the wood flooring. “They don’t know about it. I thought this day would come, sooner or later, when they’d need to get rid of the evidence. I had years to prepare myself.”
Outside, the chopper’s thumping grew still closer.
“Quickly now,” Abernathy said. “Down you go.” He passed off a rifle and a handgun. “Just in case.”
Habit handed over an envelope. “Hang on to this too. It’s your ticket out of this world. Good luck, Patrick.”
It would take a while to get used to, he knew, but even now the name Jed Patrick was starting to sound more and more like himself.
Habit lifted the trapdoor. Beneath it was a dirt tunnel lined with corrugated piping that dropped about twenty feet, then turned south. A wooden ladder fastened to the wall provided a way to descend. It must have taken Abernathy years to complete.
The chopper was now overhead, the concussion of its blades almost deafening. The windows of the house rattled; the floor vibrated.
“Go,” Habit shouted. “We’ll hold them off.”
Crouched by one of the front windows, Abernathy looked their way, gave a thumbs-up, then waved them on.
Jed squeezed Karen’s shoulder. “I’ll go first, then Lilly, then you.”
She nodded, worry and fear etching deep lines in her brow.
“Let’s go,” Jed said.
He descended the ladder and waited for Karen and Lilly to do the same. When Karen’s head had cleared the floor, Habit lowered the trapdoor back into place and darkness closed in on them.
Jed helped Lilly off the ladder, then Karen. He hugged them both.
“It’s really you, isn’t it, Daddy?” Lilly said.
Jed held her close and stroked her hair. Sporadic memories were falling into place, pieces to a complex puzzle slowly fitting together. “Yes, darling. And it’s really you.”
Karen pressed herself against her husband’s side. “I’m afraid, Jed.” Even in this terrifying moment, the sound of his name—his actual name—on her lips was like a balm washing over him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Stay put and let me get a feel for where we are.”
The darkness was oppressive, almost palpable, and seemed to have a weight all its own. But unlike the darkness of the underground cell, this was a pregnant darkness, one that promised a new start on the other end.
Above, they could hear hurried footsteps on the floor, then the pop-pop-pop of gunfire.
Jed frantically felt the walls of the tunnel, searching for any source of
light. He had no idea how long this tunnel was or what kind of turns or drops it took. He didn’t like the idea of groping around in the dark, buried two stories underground, in a metal tube barely wider than his shoulders. Finally his hands found a small plastic box. He unlatched it and lifted the lid. It was filled with objects of various sizes and textures, but there was one that was unmistakable. A flashlight. Jed switched it on and a swath of light illuminated the tunnel.
The firefight continued above. Gunfire, muffled by earth and floor, sounded like raindrops on a tin roof.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Jed said. “We need to move fast.” He knew Habit and Abernathy wouldn’t be able to hold them off for long. If the chopper had found them, it was a sure bet that ground forces wouldn’t be far behind. Soon the two men would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers and would be forced to either surrender or fight to the end.
On all fours, the threesome crawled, Jed in the lead, keeping the light pointed southward. Behind them darkness loomed and in front the light reached twenty, thirty feet, then was swallowed by what appeared to be an abyss of emptiness.
They crawled in silence for what seemed to be at least a quarter of a mile. Finally the tunnel took a slight turn upward and the light found an exit hatch.
Karen blew out a breath. “Oh, thank God.”
The exit hatch was round and had a hand wheel in the center to seal it from outside exposure. Jed grasped the wheel and tugged it counterclockwise. The wheel moaned as it broke loose from its locked position and began to turn.
Muted sunlight flooded the tunnel when the hatch swung open. Jed half expected there to be armed men waiting for them, but the surrounding forest was void of any gun-toting hit men. In the distance they could still hear the beating of the chopper blades and an occasional concussion of gunfire. Whether Abernathy and Habit would survive the ordeal, Jed couldn’t know, but they had succeeded in delaying their pursuers.
Jed helped Karen and Lilly from the tunnel, then surveyed their surroundings. The tunnel had opened on the side of a hill, the opening protected and hidden by a stand of serviceberries. Around them stood giant pines, oaks, and maples, their branches offering a shield from any hovering aircraft looking for three fugitives.
“Will Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Habit be okay?” Lilly asked.
Jed pulled her to him again and hugged her. The feel of her body against his was somehow so familiar, so ordinary. “They can take care of themselves.”
Karen looked around and rubbed her forehead. “Which way do we go?”
Jed reached into his pocket to retrieve the envelope Habit had handed him. He slipped the contents from the envelope and unfolded a bundle of papers. They were birth certificates, three of them. One for Eric Bingsley, born in Baltimore, Maryland; one for Angela Tiegel, born in Hartford, Connecticut; and a newer one for Abigail Bingsley, also born in Hartford. Included in the bundle was a map of the Coeur d’Alene National Forest in northern Idaho. A star marked a location along a service road deep in the heart of the forest.
Also in the bundle was a smaller sealed manila envelope. Jed broke the seal and slipped out a pair of keys, two driver’s licenses for Eric Bingsley and Angela Bingsley, and a fold of hundred-dollar bills totaling ten thousand dollars.
“What’s it for, Daddy?” Lilly said.
Jed tucked all the contents back into the envelope and stuffed it in the front pocket of his pants. “A new life, sweetie. For all of us.”
Trekking down the mountain, Jed led the way. The terrain was rough but not impassable. The soil was soft, but the carpet of pine needles, as well as the stones that jutted from the ground like worn molars, provided some traction.
They’d traveled not even twenty minutes, picking their way along at a pace slower than Jed liked, when he felt something slam into the back of his left shoulder and heard the distinct crack of a gun. The impact threw him forward and spun him around. Immediately he hollered for Karen and Lilly to get down even as another gunshot ripped through the still forest air.
Karen lay on the ground, facedown, Lilly pressed up against her. Jed had hit the ground too. His shoulder burned like a hot poker had worked into the muscle surrounding it and now wrenched this way and that. He tried to move it, but it was useless; any activation of the muscles surrounding the shoulder sent that poker deeper into the tissue.
Below them, about forty feet, sat an outcropping of boulders. They needed some cover.
Dirt kicked up to Jed’s left as another shot sounded.
Jed slid Karen the rifle. “Take it and head for the rocks. I’ll cover you. Stay low and use the trees for protection.”
Eyes wide with fear, Karen grabbed the rifle and nodded.
Jed rolled onto his left side, ignoring the pain that ate at his nerves, and lifted the handgun with his right hand. “Go,” he said to Karen and Lilly. He squeezed off three rounds as they scrambled to their feet and took off for the rocks.
More shots came from the higher ground. Jed returned fire and prayed Karen and Lilly had made it to the outcrop safely. He stole a glance behind him and didn’t see them.
Rolling to a tree five feet to his right, Jed got to his feet and used the thick pine for cover. He had seven rounds left, and the best he could tell, there were at least five gunman. He needed better cover than this tree; he too needed to head for the rocks.
Holding his left arm close to his body to minimize the jarring, Jed took off running, one tree to the next, zigzagging his way down the hill. Bullets zinged around him, took chunks out of the trees, and sprayed dirt. One nicked the flesh on the back of his right arm. It bit like a snake.
When he reached the rocks, he ducked behind them and found mother and daughter crouched, holding each other tightly.
The gunfire had stopped. Their pursuers were advancing.
Jed said to Karen, “Take the rifle and go with Lilly. You need to get out of here.” He handed her the envelope. “Here. I’ll hold them off.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Karen said.
“You have to. I’ll find you.” Though he knew he wouldn’t. He’d hold off the gunmen long enough for Karen and Lilly to escape, but the odds of his survival were not in his favor. “Now go. Quickly. They’re coming.”
Mother and daughter stood, Karen holding Lilly’s hand with her left and the rifle in her right.
“Ready?” Jed said.
They both nodded.
“It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
“God’s with us, Daddy. I know that.”
Jed wished he had the faith that Lilly possessed. Truth was, he honestly didn’t know if this would be the last time he’d see them. How tragic, he thought, to be brought together after so much only be torn apart again. A lump lodged in his throat. He had so much he wanted to say to them; they had so much missing time to relive. But there was no time now; there might never be time. He reached out and touched Lilly’s hand, then Karen’s. “Go!”
Hand in hand, they took off down the hill. The moment they cleared the rocks, Jed popped up and scanned the area above them. Two gunmen slid out from behind trees and raised their weapons, but before they could fire, Jed dropped them both with two quick shots.
Another round came from his left and ricocheted off the rock. Jed spun, found the shooter, and squeezed off a shot. Bark exploded off the tree next to the man.
Four rounds left.
Movement higher up the mountain caught Jed’s eye. Two more men dashed out from behind a tree. Jed fired twice, hitting one in the chest but missing the other.
Two men remained, one about thirty yards to his left, ten o’clock, the other higher up the mountain, fifty yards, at one o’clock.
He had only two shots left. He needed to draw them out into the open. He knew he was a quicker aim than they were. If they exposed themselves, he could get off a round before they could. But he didn’t want to initiate a confrontation too soon. Karen and Lilly needed time to descend the mountain and get a safe distance away.
Jed moved ar
ound to the right of the boulder, putting the bulk of it between himself and the gunman to his left. From this vantage point he would be able to focus on the gunman farther up the mountain without worrying about the other man getting off a clean shot. Every movement sent jarring pain through his arm, shoulder, and neck. The left side of his shirt was now soaked and clung to his body like plastic wrap.
Leaning against the cool rock, Jed again breathed a quick prayer, for Karen, for Lilly, for himself. It occurred to him then that he was falling back into old patterns, thinking it was up to him to save Lilly and Karen. Maybe he wasn’t the protection they needed. If he was to get out of this alive, it would not be by his own doing.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Jed lunged away from the rock. Pine needles crackled; leaves crunched. But instead of committing himself forward, he stopped his progress and quickly pushed back.
The distraction worked. Hearing the commotion, the gunman peeked out from behind his tree, rifle raised. Jed had only the smallest target. He aimed, pulled the trigger. Bark flew and the gunman cursed. Jed had only succeeded in knocking the rifle from the man’s hands.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jed stepped out again, this time far enough that the man to his left could see him. The gunman on the higher ground hadn’t retrieved his gun yet. He was crouched by the tree, holding his hand. Pressing his left arm to his body, Jed ran forward, up the hill, keeping an eye on the position of the gunman to his left.
As planned, the man showed himself. He swung out from behind the tree, rifle raised, and as he dove to the ground, Jed saw the muzzle flash. As he fell, Jed raised his handgun and fired at the gunman, hitting him square in the chest. The man’s arms flew up, the rifle sailed, and he fell back, motionless.
Centralia Page 27