by Kelly Utt
The night air was cool as the threesome exited through the back door of the building. The wind was still, and the world was quiet. Most of the people of Rosemary Run were sleeping at this hour. The moon was nearly full and brightly lit. It illuminated their surroundings. Marshall mentioned that complete darkness would have been better, but the soft light of the moon provided a small comfort to Penelope and Hana. They weren’t ashamed to admit it: they were scared. If it weren’t for Marshall being there to physically protect them, they weren’t sure what they would have done. Neither felt strong enough to fight their way out of danger with their hands alone. If Marshall hadn’t been there when the blonde man had approached with the gun, the situation would have surely turned out quite differently.
The blonde woman out front had been at her post and sitting on her motorcycle, the last glimpse Penelope had gotten of her as she pulled the shades shut. She hoped to God that the woman would stay put long enough for them to get off the property and on their way. She also hoped that the woman didn’t have a colleague who was watching the back. It was all so strange. Penelope couldn’t begin to understand it. But she was determined to get through alive. She wasn’t ready for her life to end. Not when it was just getting started.
“Keep your steps soft,” Marshall whispered. “Stay close to me.”
They were wearing all black and slinking around like cat burglars. Marshall led the way, followed by Penelope, then Hana.
“Okay,” Hana said loudly from the back.
“Shh,” Penelope hushed. “That was loud, Hana. Be quieter.”
“Okay,” Hana tried again, in a whisper this time.
Penelope thought of the absurdity of it all as they cleared the parking lot and made their way south down a side street. Here they were, walking for miles in the middle of the night, going to a man’s house without advance notice, and expecting to be welcomed into a doomsday bunker where they’d set up a base of operations to lure whatever assassins were after them and collect evidence for the police. Or something like that. Maybe she had the steps out of order. Or maybe she was missing steps. At any rate, their current truth was stranger than fiction. Even though she was mad at Cheryl, Penelope could understand how ridiculous this looked. And Cheryl didn’t even hear this part of the story. She didn’t even know about the blonde man in the bay. She would probably have gone even more berserk if she had known.
“Quick,” Marshall said as a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. “Over here.”
The ladies followed his lead, stepping into a dark alley and pressing themselves up against a concrete wall. They watched as the vehicle drove slowly past, oblivious to their presence. So far, so good. They were undetected.
“Okay, clear,” Marshall called. “It will be easier once we get out of the densely populated part of town. A few more miles and there won’t be many cars going by.”
They stepped back onto the street and hurried, hugging the curb.
“Can we talk now?” Hana asked. “It would help me relax. I’m a bundle of nerves.”
“Let’s wait awhile longer,” Marshall replied. “At least until we get a little farther. Keep your eyes peeled for other people. Focus on that. We don’t want to be seen.”
“Okay,” Hana repeated. She inhaled deeply.
“Good going, Hana,” Penelope offered. “We’ll get through this.”
“Hey,” Hana tried. “Can I hum?”
Marshall turned and looked back at her, frustrated. “The idea is to get to Brian’s without being seen. And being heard might lead to being seen. You know? Let’s be quiet. Please.”
Hana sighed. “Okay.”
A few moments passed as they walked in silence.
“Should we run?” Hana asked.
Marshall and Penelope thought Hana was just nervous again, and asking about things that would help her cope.
“Shh,” Penelope said, motioning with one hand.
“I mean it. Guy? Should we run?”
Penelope and Marshall turned and saw a dog rushing towards them. It wasn’t barking— thank God— but it was moving fast, panting with exertion. Penelope couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like a German Shepherd. It was big. And dark. She could barely make out its coloring. It looked menacing.
“Oh, shit!” Marshall exclaimed.
“What do we do?” Penelope asked.
They were still walking, but the terror coursing throughout their bodies beckoned them to run, just as Hana had suggested.
“I think this is a trained attack dog. Someone sent it after us,” Marshall said.
Hearing his words, Penelope and Hana froze. Marshall stopped, then turned to face the beast.
“Keep going,” Marshall said without taking his eyes off the dog. “I told you Brian’s address. Do you remember it?”
“But…” Penelope mumbled.
“No time, Pen. Do you remember the address?”
“Yes!” Hana screamed. “I remember it.”
“Then go there. Run. Right now. Tell him who you are to me. I’ll catch up to you as soon as I can.”
“Marshall, I won’t leave you,” Penelope said, bursting into tears. “I can’t…”
“Penelope, GO!” Marshall yelled. “Go, now!”
Hana pulled on her friend’s arm, ushering her away. Penelope screamed, filling the night with sound. But she did as Marshall instructed. She ran. She turned her back to him and, along with Hana, ran as fast as she could south out of town. They heard the sickening thud as the dog made impact with Marshall’s body, but they didn’t look back.
Terror had descended upon them. Like victims in a horror movie, Penelope and Hana feared the unseen and the unknown. They were afraid to look back and afraid to look ahead. They weren’t sure how they would make it the eight miles to Brian’s house without being taken down by whoever was chasing them. And that was just the first of many uncertainties. They didn’t know if Brian would let them in when they arrived. What if he didn’t believe them? What if he didn’t care?
They ran. And they ran. They didn’t speak. They just ran.
Hana led the way, showing a surprising knack for remembering what Marshall had said and following his directions. They made it to Brian’s house on the outskirts of town without so much as one wrong turn. Their legs felt like jello when they arrived, but thanks to adrenaline, their limbs had not failed them.
They walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
16
Brian’s house was unassuming. It was a small country cottage, much like the one Penelope had envisioned her and Marshall growing old in. It sat on a large plot of land with what looked like a garden that had recently been planted around one side. Penelope and Hana could see from the front porch that the soil had been freshly tilled. The smell of manure wafted through the air. It must have been laid down as fertilizer for the growing seeds.
There was an old Ford pickup truck in the driveway. Probably a seventies model. Red with horizontal white stripes down both sides. Penelope wasn’t much of a car buff, but it reminded her of a truck Felix had when she was a kid. A windsock rippled with a light breeze.
A child’s tricycle sat on one side of the driveway near the barn. It looked relatively new and had sparkly streamers hanging from each handlebar. A little girl. Brian had a little girl. A quick scan of the property told Penelope that this little girl was well cared for. A tire swing hung in a large tree in the front yard. And a chalk drawing had recently been added to the front walk. Penelope estimated that she was three or four, based on her interests.
Penelope had good memories of her own from ages three and four. Jean had been more stable at that time, flush with a support system of extended family and friends. Perhaps Jean’s mental illness hadn’t yet reared its ugly head. Or perhaps Jean could better deal with a child too young to have her own opinions that contradicted her own. Either way, Penelope looked back on that age and remembered happy times.
“Look,” Penelope said to Hana, gesturing with h
er head. “He has a child.”
Hana looked around as they waited for someone to come to the door. “That means he’ll be more protective,” Hana replied. “He’ll want to keep her safe.”
“You’re right,” Penelope agreed. “Let’s hope he doesn’t shoot us dead on the spot. Wouldn’t you? If someone came to your country house in the middle of the night asking you to take them in because assassins were after them and your Marine Corps buddy told you to take refuge here?”
“It’s a lot,” Hana agreed.
“You can say that again.”
When a few minutes had passed and no one came, Penelope knocked. “Maybe the bell is busted.”
They waited another few minutes, periodically glancing over their shoulders and hoping no one would find them here. Except Marshall, of course. They would have both liked to see him walk up the driveway and reassure them everything was okay.
“Maybe it’s the wrong house,” Penelope tried. “Tell me again the address Marshall gave us?”
“This is it,” Hana replied. “1532 Morningbell Lane. It’s a Rosemary Run address, even though it’s outside the city limits.”
“That’s what I remember, too,” Penelope said. “And it’s right there on the mailbox out by the road: 1532 Morningbell Lane. This is Brian’s house.”
“Unless he moved or something,” Hana tried. “Maybe Marshall lost touch.”
“I don’t know,” Penelope said, shoving her hands into her pockets to warm them. Temperatures had dropped overnight. It was cool. “It seems like a guy who goes to the trouble of building an underground bunker wouldn’t up and leave it.”
“Right?” Hana asked.
Finally, they heard movement inside the house. Someone was up.
“Here we go,” Penelope said. “Let’s hope this doesn’t go sideways. We’re running out of options. And fast.”
The door handle jingled as if there were bells on the inside. Heavy footsteps shuffled. A light turned on, and as it did, it illuminated a U.S. Marine Corps decal affixed to the front door just above the handle. It had been hard to see before due to a screen. The wooden door creaked as it opened, finally revealing a face that reminded Penelope of Marshall’s.
“That’s got to be him,” she whispered to Hana.
Hana nodded.
“Hello? Brian Patterson?” Penelope tried.
“Who wants to know?” the man replied, keeping one hand hidden behind the door.
“I told you,” Penelope whispered to Hana. “He probably has a gun behind the door. And we’re unarmed.”
The man looked at them hard, suspicious of their whispering. Penelope told herself to get it together.
“Um, I know this is crazy… It’s the middle of the night and all…”
“Just get to the point,” the man said. “Where did you get that name?”
“Brian?” Penelope asked.
Hana elbowed her and gave her a look that said to get on with it.
The man nodded, then sort of grunted. He seemed rougher than Marshall.
“Right,” Penelope continued, trying to focus. “Marshall Erving. Our friend… my boyfriend…”
“Marshall?” the man’s face said, noticeably softening.
“Yes. Marshall told us to come to you. He was with us, but a dog chased him. It’s a long story.”
“Marshall Erving told you to come here? To me?”
“Yes,” Penelope confirmed. “He said you two served in Iraq together and that you had an underground bunker where we’d be…”
The man opened the screen door and pulled Penelope and Hana inside with one hand, carefully looking around outside to make sure no one was watching. As Penelope expected, he had a rifle in his other hand.
“Come in,” he said.
He gestured to a leather sofa in front of a fireplace, then bolted up the front door behind them. Penelope counted six deadbolts and two chains. She’d never seen anyone so well protected or prepared. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Hana apparently felt the same way. Her eyes were wide. She was sitting on her hands, probably to keep from chewing on what was left of her fingernails.
The man sat down in a recliner across from them, letting the rifle rest across his lap. Penelope wasn’t very knowledgeable about guns, but she thought she recognized the clip, inserted into the weapon and ready to go.
“I’m Brian Patterson,” he confirmed, taking a wad of chewing tobacco out of a metal container and tucking it under his bottom lip. “What the hell are you two doing out here? And tell me the whole story, beginning to end.”
Penelope began explaining how long she’d known Marshall and how she didn’t requite his feelings, leading him to marry Reggie.
“Marshall Erving? Married to a man?” Brian asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yes,” Penelope replied.
“Huh,” Brian said. “Okay, then.”
She continued with the story of the escort service and how Marshall had gotten wrapped up in it with Reggie. She told him about her and Hana’s jobs that included recruiting young girls and entertaining prospective clients, especially those who would tell their wealthy friends.
“So you’re high dollar prostitutes?” Brian asked.
He focused his attention on Penelope as she was talking, but his eyes repeatedly wandered to Hana. He was taken by her striking beauty, Penelope could tell. She wondered if Brian had a wife or a girlfriend. The little girl had a mother somewhere, or at least, at some point. Penelope didn’t immediately see evidence of a woman in the house. It looked like a man had done the decorating. It was all masculine, with little girl toys here and there.
Penelope thought maybe she should let Hana do the talking. If Hana’s looks could help them now, then Penelope was all for using that to their advantage. They needed all the help they could get.
“No,” Hana blurted, sensing Brian’s interest in her. “We don’t sleep with the men and we are definitely not prostitutes. And we’re getting out of it, anyway.”
If Penelope didn’t know better, she thought she saw Hana showing interest in Brian, too. She was sitting up straight, her back arched seductively. She crossed one leg over the other in a feminine pose.
“I see,” Brian said. “Just asking. That’s all. I don’t mean any offense.”
Hana picked up where Penelope had left off. Marshall had said they’d tell Brian everything, so the ladies felt compelled to do so. The details might be important to Brian, if he agreed to help them.
Hana explained about Audrey and the men who had drugged her then let her slide underwater in the pool. She told Brian about the next morning and the blonde man she’d seen hiding in the hedges at Reggie’s house, and how he’d approached them on the dock while holding Reggie at gunpoint. Brian’s eyebrows raised as he listened. He seemed like a pretty stoic guy, but he was surprised. He nearly rose out of his chair when Hana told him how the blonde man had wanted to take her.
“He had a gun on you?” Brian asked, his voice sounding protective.
Penelope saw the smile that began to form at the edge of Hana’s lips. She liked this guy. Who would have thought? They seemed like an odd pair, but opposites often do attract.
“He did,” Hana said. “It was scary. I hid behind Marshall.”
“That’s my guy,” Brian said. “Good dude, that Marshall Erving.”
Penelope and Hana nodded their agreement. “The best,” Penelope said softly.
Hana continued the story, explaining how Marshall and then Penelope had wrestled with the blonde man, eventually choking him and letting his lifeless body drop into the bay.
“It was intense,” Hana concluded.
“Sounds like it,” Brian said. “But how did you get here? Did you walk?”
“Yes. Well, more like we ran,” Hana said. She explained the rest: the blonde woman, Marshall’s plan, the German Shepherd. “And here we are.”
“So, you’re telling me Marshall got snarled up with an attack dog? And you don’t know where he is right
now?”
“That’s right,” Penelope said. “He told us to keep going and to find you. He said he’d catch up to us as soon as he could.”
Brian stood up and carefully looked out the windows. He seemed to be debating what to do. Penelope and Hana could tell he was a good guy, just like Marshall had said. Brian was a protector. It almost seemed like he wanted to go look for Marshall. When his eyes left the windows, they moved to an interior hallway. His little girl was probably asleep there in her bedroom.
“You have a child?” Hana asked.
Brian sat back down in the chair. Same pose, with his rifle resting on his lap.
“I do. A girl. Madeline. She’s four.”
“Aw,” Penelope said. “How sweet.”
She often dreamed of a little girl. She’d tried to push the thought out of her mind. She wasn’t even coupled until yesterday, let alone married. But visions of a little girl had occupied her mind, along with the blue cottage and big yard and puppies. Penelope and Marshall’s girl would be smart. And pretty. She’d have brown hair like the both of them, and long limbs like Penelope. Most importantly, she’d be loved and cherished. Not just when she was little, but for her whole life. She’d be loved unconditionally. She would never be yelled at or ridiculed the way Penelope had. They’d break the cycle. Whatever it took.
Not a sole in the whole wide world knew it, but in the back of Penelope’s bedroom closet, she had a bag filled with three little-girl outfits she’d purchased. One was a footed onesie for a newborn. It was pastel pink with small green and white flowers. It zipped up the front. Another was a summer sundress that was perfect for a first birthday celebration. It had big blue and purple flowers, with a bow on the front. The third item was a matched set of pants and a top for a toddler. The pants were blue and the top was pink and purple, colors that Penelope had always liked. They were colors that her mother had often dressed her in. Before Jean had turned mean and unforgiving.