“Just tired.”
Another hundred feet.
“It’s last night, isn’t it?” he said. “If you want to talk about it…”
“Not really.”
Every few steps, he’d glance my way. I wasn’t in the mood to share, but my silence was obviously bugging him, so I said, “I keep thinking about when I first saw that girl in trouble. When I thought it was real. I was going to do something—”
“What?” he cut in.
I shrugged. “Yell. Distract him.”
“If it was real, you shouldn’t have even thought of getting involved. The guy had a knife. He was obviously ready to use it.”
“That wasn’t really the point,” I murmured, watching my toe kick a pebble along the roadside.
“Okay. So the point was…”
“I saw that knife and I froze. All I could think about was that girl in the alley, the one who held a knife on me. If last night had been real, I might have let someone die because I was too freaked out to do anything.”
“But it wasn’t real.”
I looked up at him.
“Okay,” he said. “Again that wasn’t your point. But what happened in that alley—you still hadn’t had time to slow down and…” He gestured, searching for a word. “Process it. You talked to Simon about it, right?”
I shook my head.
He frowned. “But you did tell him what happened.”
Another head shake.
“You should. You need to talk to someone. You sure can’t talk to Tori. Liz is probably a good listener, but she’s not around.” He paused. “You could talk to me, but you’ve probably figured out I’m not good with stuff like that. I mean, if you wanted to…” He trailed off, then came back firmer, shoulders hunching against the morning chill. “It should be Simon. He’d want to know what happened, and he’d want you to be the one to tell him.”
I nodded, though I didn’t know whether I would. Simon had spent enough time lately on Chloe-comfort duty. I needed to start working stuff out by myself. But there was a related issue I did want help with.
“I’ve been thinking,” I began. “After what happened, I should learn how to defend myself. Some basic self-defense moves.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Great, so could you—?”
“I’ll ask Simon to teach you some,” he continued.
“Oh. I thought…I guess I thought that would be more your area.”
“Our dad taught us both. Simon’s good. Unless…” He glanced down at me. “I mean, if you want, sure, I can help out. But Simon would be a better teacher. He’s got the patience for it.”
“Right. I’ll talk to Simon then.”
He nodded and we lapsed into silence again.
We reached the bus station with twenty minutes to spare. Derek had me hang back, where the agent could see I was a teenager without getting too close a look, in case my photo was circulating. He went up to the counter alone. When he seemed to be having trouble, though, I joined him.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“She won’t give us the youth fare.”
“It’s not a youth fare,” the woman said. “It’s a student fare. If you can’t produce ID, you don’t get it.”
“But we got tickets in Buffalo without any ID.” I put my used ticket on the counter.
“That’s Buffalo,” she said with a sniff. “Here in the state’s capital we follow the rules. No ID, no student fare.”
“Okay, adult tickets, then.”
“We don’t have enough,” Derek murmured.
“What?”
“It’s thirty-eight each for adults. We’re six bucks short.”
I leaned into the wicket. “Please, it’s really important. You can see on our ticket there that we already bought fares to New York, but my friend got sick and we had to get off the bus—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How about one adult and one youth? We have enough—”
“Next!” she called, and waved up the man behind us.
The bus station also serviced Greyhound, but their sign clearly stated that their student fares required a special card, which was why we hadn’t bought from them in Buffalo. I tried anyway. The woman there was more sympathetic, but she explained that she couldn’t issue the reduced fare tickets without entering a student discount card number into the computer. So we were out of luck.
“We’ll figure something out,” I said as we moved away from the Greyhound counter.
“You go. I’ll give you directions to Andrew’s house. He can pick me up here—”
“What if he’s not there? He could have moved or could be away. Then I’d have to find Simon, use a good chunk of money for us all to come back and get you….”
Derek nodded, conceding my point.
“You lived around here for a while.” I raised my hands. “I know, it’s not your favorite place to remember, but is there anyone you could borrow ten bucks from?”
“A friend?”
“Well, sure, maybe…”
A small laugh. “Yeah, you sound as doubtful about that as you should. You may have guessed I don’t go out of my way to make friends. I don’t see the point, especially when I’m never in one place long. I’ve got my dad and Simon. That’s enough.”
His pack…
He continued, “I suppose I could find someone. Simon’s bound to have a friend or teammate who owed him money. He’s bad for stuff like that—lends it and never asks for it back.”
“On second thought, considering you vanished under bad circumstances, reappearing now might not be the wisest idea. The last thing we need is someone calling the cops.”
I walked to the stand of brochures and took one listing fares and schedules. Then I went to the map of New York State and studied the two. Derek read over my shoulder.
“There,” he said, pointing to a town on the map. “We can afford the full fare to New York from there.”
“As for how we’ll get there…”
That was the question.
Thirty-one
OUR BEST SHOT OF getting where we wanted to go was by hitchhiking. We weren’t stupid enough to thumb a ride, but we might be able to sneak one. So we decided to go back to the truck stop. I dozed for a few minutes while we rode the city bus, then we started the long walk.
We were about halfway there when Derek said, gruffly, “I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“This. You helped me last night after all the crap I put you through. And this is your reward. Stranded in Albany.”
“It’s an adventure. I can’t remember the last time I took a city bus. I’m getting my exercise, too. After a week cooped up in Lyle House and that laboratory, I’ve never been more in the mood for a long walk.”
We walked a while longer.
“I know you’re tired,” he said. “And hungry. And pissed off.”
“Tired, yes. Hungry, a bit. Pissed off? No.” I looked up at him. “Seriously. I’m not.”
“You’ve been really quiet.”
I laughed. “I’m normally really quiet. But these last couple of weeks have not been normal.”
“I know you don’t always say a lot, you’ve just been…” He shrugged. “I thought you were mad.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “About that—being mad. You were right the other night, after what happened in that alley. I was mad at myself. It just took me a while to calm down enough to figure that out.”
I nodded.
“What I did, when we lived here, hurting that kid. I didn’t think it could ever happen again. I’ve been through it so many times, thinking of what went wrong and what I’d do if I ever got into that situation again, all the coping strategies Dr. Gill taught me.”
“Dr. Gill?”
“Yeah, I know. She creeped me out even before we knew about the Edison Group. But she was a real shrink, and she did try to help. It was in their best interests to teach me to control my temper. So I was sure, if anything like that
ever happened again, there was no question that I’d handle it better. And what happened? Almost the exact same scenario…and I did the exact same thing.”
“You stopped yourself before you threw her into the wall.”
“No, you stopped me. If you hadn’t yelled, I would have done it. All those strategies. All that mental rehearsal. And when it happened, I never considered doing anything different. I couldn’t. My brain just shut down.”
“But it didn’t take much to turn it back on again.”
He shrugged.
“That’s got to be progress, right?”
“I suppose so,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
At the truck stop, our plan was to stow away in a transport. We sat in the restaurant, nursing sodas while Derek listened to the conversations around us, and picked out truckers heading our way.
The first truck was parked up front, making it impossible to sneak on without being seen. The second time, the trailer had a huge padlock on it, too big for Derek to break. The third time, as the saying goes, was the charm.
We’d followed the driver to his vehicle, which turned out to be a cube van. After he got into the cab, we snuck in the back.
The guy ran some kind of construction business. The van smelled of wood chips and oil and was full of tools, ropes, ladders, and tarps. When the truck reached the highway and the road noise was loud enough to drown us out, Derek took the tarps and made a bed on the floor.
“You need sleep,” he said. “They stink but…”
“They’re softer than cardboard. Thanks.”
He handed me half an energy bar that he must have been saving.
“No, keep it,” I said.
“You’ll sleep better if your stomach isn’t growling. And don’t say it isn’t. I can hear it.”
I accepted the bar.
“And take this.” He stripped off his sweatshirt. “Again, it might not smell great, but it’s warm.”
“You need—”
“I don’t. I’ve still got a touch of fever from last night.”
I took the sweatshirt. “It’s okay, Derek. I’m not mad.”
“I know.”
I settled onto the tarp bed and pulled the sweatshirt over me, like a blanket. Then I ate the rest of the energy bar.
When I finished, Derek said, “You can’t sleep with your eyes open, Chloe.”
“I don’t want to drift off, in case anything happens.”
“I’m here. Go to sleep.”
I closed my eyes.
I woke when the truck slowed. Derek was at the back, opening the door to peek out.
“Is this our stop?” I asked.
“We should be far enough. We aren’t in a town, though. It’s another truck stop.”
“A pee break after that mega-coffee he bought.”
“Yeah.” He opened the door farther for a better look. “I’d rather be in a town….”
“But he might not stop at one. We should get out while we can.”
Derek nodded and closed the door. The truck pulled into a spot and stopped.
“Get under a tarp,” Derek whispered, “in case he checks the back.”
A minute later, the rear door squealed open. I held my breath. The cube van wasn’t that big, and if the driver climbed inside to get something, he’d probably step on us. But he stayed at the tailgate. Tools clattered, like he was getting one from a box. Then the noise stopped. I tensed.
“I did forget the new vise grips,” the man muttered. “Great.”
The door shut with a bang. When I started pulling off the tarp, Derek whispered, “Wait. He’s still walking away.”
A minute passed as he listened, then he said, “Okay.”
I got up and pushed the tarps back where we’d found them as Derek peeked outside again.
“Trees to our left,” he said. “We’ll head through there, then circle and grab something to drink from the restaurant before we head out.”
“And use the bathroom.”
“Yeah. Follow me.”
We slipped out of the van and darted to the trees. Running behind Derek was worse than running behind Tori—with his long legs he barely needed to walk fast before the gap between us widened.
When he stopped short and spun to face me, I expected a scowl and an order to keep up, but his lips formed a curse. Running footfalls sounded behind me. I was about to break into a sprint when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
Derek started to charge. I saw his expression, that telltale curl of his lip, and I wildly gestured for him to stop. He did, skidding to a halt, but his gaze stayed fixed over my head, watching my captor.
“I thought I’d picked up a passenger or two,” said a man’s voice.
He turned me around. It was the driver of the van. He was middle-aged with a gray ponytail and a craggy face.
“W-we didn’t take anything,” I said. “I’m sorry. We just needed a ride.”
“Jesus,” he said, shifting me into the sun for a better look. “How old are you?”
“F-fifteen.”
“Just barely, I’ll bet.” He shook his head. “Running away from home. I’d bet on that, too.” His voice softened. “That’s not a road you want to take, kids. Speaking from experience, it is not the road at all.”
Derek sidled closer, gaze fixed on the man, so intent I don’t think he heard a word the guy said. I slid my hand into my pocket, fingertips touching my knife, not taking it out, just reminding myself it was there, that I wasn’t as helpless as I felt.
I caught Derek’s attention, not sure he’d notice, but he did, nodding absently, letting me know he was still in control.
The man continued, “Whatever is going on at home, it’s not as bad as you think.”
I lifted my gaze to his. “And if it is?”
A pause, then a slow, sad nod. “All right. Maybe that’s so. It happens, more than you think, but there are other ways to deal with it. Places you can go. People who can help.”
“We’re fine,” Derek said, his voice a low rumble.
The man shook his head. “You’re not fine, son. You’re, what, seventeen? On the run? Catching rides in the back of vans?”
“We’re fine.” Derek’s rumble had gone lower, a growl now. He cleared his throat and eased back. “We appreciate your concern, sir.”
“Do you, son? Do you really?” He shook his head. “I’m going to take you both inside and get you a hot meal. Then I’ll make some calls. Find you a place to stay.”
“We can’t—” I began.
“No one’s going to send you home. Now come on.” His hand tightened on my shoulder.
Derek stepped forward. “Sorry, sir, but we can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
Derek waved for me to come over to him. I took a step. The man’s hand tightened more.
“Let her go.” The growl had returned to Derek’s voice.
“No, son. I won’t hurt your friend, but I’m going to take her inside and call someone who can help. I’m hoping you’ll come with us, but that’s your choice.”
“Go,” I whispered, low enough that only Derek could hear. “I’ll catch up.”
I was sure he’d heard, but he pretended not to.
“I’m going to ask you again, sir. Let her go.”
“That sounds an awful lot like a threat, son. You’re a big boy, but you don’t want to take on a guy who’s been in construction for twenty years and in more fights than he cares to admit to. I don’t want to hurt you—”
Derek sprang, lightning fast. He had his arm around the man’s throat before the guy even got his fists up. As he yanked the man down in a headlock, I stumbled out of the way, my hand flying from my pocket, knife sailing to the ground. The man stared at it. I scooped it up and put it back in my pocket.
“We don’t want to hurt you either,” Derek said. “But you can see”—he tightened his grip until the man’s eyes bugged—“that I could. I know you’re trying to help us, but you don’t
understand the situation.”
Derek looked at me. “Run back to the van. Grab rope and some rags.”
I took off.
Thirty-two
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, WE were a mile from the truck stop, trudging through a field. Ahead was a road that ran alongside the highway.
“You don’t think we did the right thing,” Derek said.
I shrugged.
“I didn’t tie him too tight. He’ll get out in an hour, probably less, and I left his cell phone right there, in case there’s any problem.”
I nodded. We walked another fifty feet.
“What would you have done?” he asked.
“You know my plan. It’s the one you pretended not to hear.”
We reached the roadside before he answered. “Yeah, okay. I heard. But it didn’t look to me like he was going to give you a chance to escape. I knew I could take him down safely, without hurting him, before things got worse. And if I can do that, then that’s the choice I’m going to make. It’s how our dad taught us to handle situations like that.”
I considered it, then nodded. “You’re right.”
He looked surprised.
“I don’t have experience with this stuff, these kinds of decisions,” I said. “With the girl in the alley or the Edison Group, the answer was easy. If someone’s trying to hurt us, we have every right to strike back. It’s just…”
“That guy was trying to help a couple of runaways. He didn’t deserve to end up bound and gagged.”
I nodded.
“Even someone like that is a threat, Chloe. Whether he means to be or not. We had to get away or his ‘help’ would have landed us back with the Edison Group.”
“I know.”
We moved to the side of the road for a passing car, tensing as it went by, making sure the brake lights didn’t flash, the car didn’t slow. It wouldn’t matter if the driver was a psycho trying to abduct us or a grandmother offering us a lift. We had to react the same way. Run. And if we couldn’t run, fight.
The car continued, speed unchecked.
“We can’t trust anyone now,” I murmured, “even the good guys.”
“Yeah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
It did.
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