by Yvonne Prinz
Back at the picnic table I looked through my backpack. There wasn’t much in there. I had my wallet but there was only three dollars in it. I had a half a pack of gum, Lucky’s book, his Swiss Army Knife, a Bic lighter, and a pen. I tried to think of what to do next. It was getting harder and harder to focus. My brain played tricks on me, feeding me a thought that seemed to make sense for a second and then confusing me by pelting me with hundreds of thoughts, so many that I couldn’t sort through them, I couldn’t choose.
On the inside back cover of the book, I wrote down a list of things I needed to do:
1. Find someone I can trust—Sharona? If something happens to me, someone else needs to know the truth.
2. Get something to defend myself with, a weapon—A gun? From where?
3. Plan an escape route—If I kept traveling inland, maybe I could hitch a ride.
4. Get some money out of the bank—How? Use my Culinary Institute fund?
5. Get shelter somewhere safe, just for now—Where?
“You mind if I sit down?”
I spun around. An old guy wearing camouflage pants, hiking boots, and a backpack was approaching. He carried a gnarled walking stick.
“Easy there. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
I looked around the campground. There were lots of empty picnic tables.
“I wouldn’t mind a little company,” he said. Had he read my mind?
“Uh, sure, okay.”
“Whatcha got there?” he said, picking up my book as he sat down. “Vonnegut?”
“It’s actually not mine. Please put it down.”
He set it down. “Vonnegut’s good. That’s not his best but it’s not bad. You want some beef jerky?”
“No, thanks.”
He pulled out a small ziplock plastic bag and popped a piece in his mouth. “Nice day. You live around here?”
“Why do you want to know where I live?”
“Just making conversation. I live in Petaluma. I’m just passing through here. I found some nice trails up there through the redwoods.” He pointed.
“Are you alone?” I looked around quickly.
“Yes.”
“Who do you work for?”
“I work for myself. I’m a doctor, semiretired. I like to get out on my days off. My wife passed away a few years ago and I bought a backpack and I just started walking. Now I can’t seem to stop.” He chuckled.
That sounded like something he said a lot. Maybe it was something he said so that people wouldn’t feel sorry for him, a lonely old widower, walking through the woods by himself. Or maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Dr. Saul had sent him.
“Do you know Dr. Saul?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Dr. Saul? No, I don’t think so. What kind of doctor is he?”
“A shrink.”
He looked at me differently now. “I’m a pediatrician.”
I looked up through the trees. Something blue dangling from a tree branch caught my eye. I realized that it was a blue flipper. This was the oak tree where Lucky’s friends had hung all the mementos. The doctor looked over at the tree.
“What is that?”
“A flipper.”
“A flipper? Are you sure? What would a flipper be doing hanging from a coast live oak tree?”
He seemed like the kind of guy who took pride in always getting the names of things correct, a smarty-pants.
“My brother died surfing. His friends hung a bunch of stuff in that tree, stuff to remember him by.”
“I’m very sorry. When did he die?”
I shook my head vigorously. I didn’t like what was happening. “I don’t remember.”
He looked at me closely. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”
“Not really.”
“Where are your parents?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they at home?”
“My parents are working. They work. Why all the questions?”
“Do they know you’re here? Can I call them for you? Do you need help?”
“No, no, and no.”
It occurred to me suddenly that it was kind of odd how he came up to me like that, out of nowhere, all casual and wanting to sit with me. Maybe he even followed me here. Maybe he worked for Fin. My scalp went all prickly. Maybe word was out that I was trying to go underground.
“You know, I think I will call my mom. Can I borrow your cell phone for a minute?”
“Yeah, sure.” He unzipped the pocket of his backpack and handed me his phone.
“Thanks.” I grabbed my pack and started walking away from the picnic table.
“Hey, where are you going?”
I started walking faster.
“Georgia!”
How did he know my name? I hadn’t told him my name.
I started running.
Thirty One
I heard the old man calling for me, but once I was away from the campground and inside the forest I was pretty sure he wouldn’t find me. I dropped my backpack and sat next to it on a carpet of leaves and pine needles. I hugged my knees. I put the phone down next to me. I knew I had to get rid of it. Cell phones can be traced. I picked it up and clicked through the recent calls. There was nothing I recognized. I dialed Sonia’s number. The phone rang a few times. I was ready to hang up and then she picked up.
“Hello?”
I couldn’t speak.
“George, is that you? Talk to me. I’m so worried about you.”
She waited. “I can hear you breathing, George. I heard about what happened at the Inn. Please talk to me. I’m sorry about before.”
I clicked the phone off. Fin had already gotten to Sonia. It was too late to intercept the bullshit he probably told her about me.
I wanted to carry on but my legs couldn’t move anymore. I would rest here for a few minutes and then ditch the phone. I didn’t have a jacket or a sweater with me but it was warm for now. I curled up on the ground and used my backpack as a pillow. Just a few minutes, I told myself.
When I woke up the temperature had dipped and I was shivering. My bare ankles were covered in insect bites, my face too. I could feel my right eye swelling up. The sun was low in the sky. I heard a helicopter. I looked up through the tops of the redwoods. The helicopter was hovering directly above the small stand of trees I was hiding in. The phone. It had to be the phone. I waited until the helicopter moved off a bit and then I grabbed my pack and wound my way down through the scrub manzanita and the tall grasses, keeping low to the ground. Below me I saw a pullout and staging area for a walking trail down to a beach. There was a public bathroom there, but I would have to cross the highway. The helicopter was louder now. I crashed down to the road and darted across two lanes like a small animal. I made a beeline for the bathroom and dropped the phone into the inground toilet. I looked up at the sky. The helicopter was still a ways off, but it had turned around now and it was headed back toward me. The thwap-thwap-thwap sound that the blades made was deafening. I dashed back across the highway and scrambled up the rocky embankment that ran along the road. I dove into the brush. I decided to wait there till I felt safer. “Please go away,” I said, over and over, as I rocked back and forth.
When it started to get dark I headed back inland. I was cold now and exhausted and I wanted to go home, but I couldn’t go there. Especially not the way I looked now. I wished Lucky were here to help me. Maybe he didn’t know how to find me out here. What if that were true? I could build a fire. That’s what I would do. Like when we were kids, a signal fire. I made my way back to the campground. A few more people had set up tents. Lanterns were lit and fires burned at each campsite. People sat around their fires in lawn chairs, talking and laughing. I walked quickly past them unseen. I walked all the way to the far end of the campground where there was no one. I put my backpack down next to the fire pit and walked over to a cinderblock open-ended shed filled with firewood. I hauled a few pieces and some kindling back to the site and dropped them in the fire pit. I took the lighter out of my
pack and built a pile of dry leaves, pine needles, and grass under the kindling. I clicked the lighter several times. My fingers were numb and shaking. I finally got it to catch and a tiny flame appeared. I added more and more kindling and then a small piece of wood. I blew gently on it till it caught. I added a couple of bigger pieces. I finally had a real fire.
I lay down next to the fire with my head on my backpack and looked up at the stars while I waited for Lucky. I put my hands between my thighs and fell asleep. I dreamt that there were hundreds of helicopters like giant flying bugs chasing me through an open field. I ran till I dropped from exhaustion. I covered the back of my head with my hands and waited for them to carry me away.
I woke suddenly to a sharp stabbing pain in my spine. I opened my left eye. My right eye wouldn’t open. It was daylight. My fire was out, and I was numb and stiff with cold. I felt around till I found my glasses on the ground next to me and put them on. I rolled over and sat up quickly. Two kids, a boy and a girl, were standing over me. They looked startled. The boy held a sharpened stick with burnt marshmallow goo on the end. They took a quick step back.
“What the hell?” My voice came out strained and husky.
“We thought you were dead,” said the boy.
“Get out of here!”
They darted back to their campsite, a few campsites away, shouting, “Mom!”
Their mom appeared and they said something to her, pointing at me. She gathered them to her and watched me. Her husband joined her with his hands on his hips.
“Hey! What is your fucking problem?” I shouted at them. “I have as much right to be here as you do!”
I saw the husband take out his cell and punch some numbers.
“I didn’t do anything!” I shouted. I grabbed my pack and ran deeper into the campground till I was out of sight. I came to another water spigot. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate or drank. I felt like a shadow. I looked at my hands. They were black. My fingernails were ragged and filthy. I could smell my own sweat. I could smell my own fear. I washed my hands and gulped some water. I put my pack on and started walking. I stopped several times to check the sky for helicopters. It was clear for now but it was hard to hear them coming above the now constant chatter in my head: Don’t trust anyone. I can hear you breathing. Is he dangerous? Please be happy for me. Are you okay? I’m pregnant. You passed out. I’m recommending hospitalization. We’re going to have to let you go . . .
I made it back down to the highway. I stopped next to the road and stayed crouched in the underbrush to see if the coast was clear before carrying on. I saw Fin’s truck coming up the road toward me, moving slow. He was scanning both sides of the highway, looking for me. My heart pounded in my chest. I stayed there, perfectly still, till he was out of sight. Then I walked down to the shoulder. I was moving as fast as I could, but a sharp pain shot up my right leg whenever I took a step. I’d walked for at least a mile when I heard honking behind me. I started jogging as fast as I could, but that wasn’t very fast. I heard a car door slam. I heard someone calling my name. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“George, didn’t you hear me?”
I spun around. It was Sharona. Her eyes grew wide when she saw me.
“Oh my God.” She took a step back. “What in the hell happened to you?”
I lowered my eyes. I was ashamed. “Nothing. I went camping. That’s all.”
“Here, get in my car.”
“I can’t go home.”
“No, no. I promise I won’t take you home. Just get in my car and talk to me for a minute, okay?”
She held my elbow as I limped back to where her car was pulled crookedly off the highway and got in. Sharona got in the driver’s side. She dug through the backseat and came up with a hooded sweatshirt.
“Here. Put this on. You’re shivering.”
I pulled the sweatshirt over my head.
“Okay, what’s going on? Who did this to you? Did someone hurt you?”
I shook my head.
“Then what? What happened to your eye?”
I exhaled. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“People are following me.”
“What people?”
I pointed to the sky.
“God?”
“No.”
“Come to my house with me. My mom’s at work. I’ll protect you,” she said naively, like she could.
“I can’t. I’m waiting for Lucky to contact me again. And if Fin finds me he’ll kill me. He wants me dead.”
“Fin? What do you mean?”
“Lucky talks to me. He wants me to help him.”
“Help him what?”
I stared out the windshield.
“George, help him what?” She raised her voice in frustration.
“Stop him.”
“Stop who?”
“Fin. Fin killed Lucky. Lucky wants me to stop him before he kills someone else.”
Sharona looked out the windshield and shook her head. “Okay, look, I’m going to take you to my house, okay? You’ll be safe there.”
“I can’t. I have to get out of here.” I grabbed for the door handle.
“Wait! Please! Come to my house and we’ll sort everything out there.”
I looked at her. I wanted to trust her.
“Please.”
I let go of the door handle.
Sharona pulled back onto the road. She started driving north. I hunkered down in the seat and pulled the hood of the sweatshirt over my head.
The house was small but tidy and bright. Sharona took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom.
“Get undressed. I think you should wash your hair. Can you do that?”
I shrugged.
“You get in the shower and I’m going to make you some tea. Are you hungry?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll make you some soup.” She closed the door.
I pulled off my clothes. They smelled really bad so I wrapped everything in a towel except Lucky’s Bugs Bunny T-shirt. In Sharona’s bright bathroom mirror I looked like a ghoul. My hair hung in long, greasy strands. My right eye was completely closed and I had swollen bites up and down my arms and on my neck. I was filthy. Sharona poked her head in the door. I quickly covered my naked body with a towel but I saw the shock in her eyes when she saw my rib cage and my bony hips. “Here, I brought you a pair of my jeans and a T-shirt. They’re too big for you but they’re clean,” she said.
I didn’t want to get in the shower. I wasn’t sure I could trust Sharona; I was afraid that she would call someone. But I turned the water on and got in quickly while it was still cold. I scrubbed myself as fast as I could. My hair was so tangled that I couldn’t even get my fingers through it. I turned the shower off and stepped out. In the medicine cabinet, I found a small pair of scissors and started cutting. Damp coils of blond hair fell onto my bare feet. I hacked away, closer and closer to my scalp, until my hair was short and jagged. I put my glasses back on and was startled at what I saw. I didn’t know who I was looking at.
I heard Sharona talking on the phone. I quietly cracked the bathroom door and listened.
“. . . I found her limping up the highway, looking half dead.” There was a pause. I pulled on my underwear, the Bugs Bunny T-shirt, and Sharona’s clothes.
“I can’t put her on. She’s showering. No, don’t come over here. I promised her I wouldn’t call anyone.”
I grabbed my backpack.
“Okay, I’ll try and get her in the car. Honestly, though, I think she needs a hospital.”
“Go!” said the voices. They said it loud. I tiptoed down the small hallway, grabbed my sneakers, and pushed the screen door open. The spring made a whining sound. I leapt off the porch and ran through Sharona’s neighbor’s backyard. I heard the door whine open again. Sharona was on the porch now. She called out to me but I kept running. I headed toward a hedge on the far side of the next property. I crouched down, panting like a wild a
nimal. I sat there like that for a minute till Sharona stopped calling my name. Maybe she was going for help. I picked the pebbles out of the soles of my feet and quickly pulled my sneakers on. I heard voices coming from the trees above my head. I clapped my hands over my ears but I could still hear them. They bled into the breeze in the treetops and the ocean below. They sounded like a hundred whispering children.
Sharona or someone else, someone worse, would come looking for me soon. I waited a few minutes, and then I crossed the highway and headed inland and over the hill in the direction of my house to come at it from behind. I remembered an old equipment shed at the top of the hill behind our house. It sat at the back of a small pasture on the bluff. Lucky knew about it. We used to play there when we were kids. He could find me there. I prayed it was still standing. I found the path and started moving faster. The path would take me just north of Sonia’s house but it would be a long walk, especially with my injured right leg. Sharona’s jeans slid off my hips every few steps but I yanked them up and kept moving. I could watch for Fin’s truck on the highway from the path. I checked the sky for the helicopters again. Nothing yet, but they would show up soon. A police cruiser appeared, traveling slowly north on the highway. I froze until he was well past me. After about an hour I came up next to Sonia’s house. There were no cars in the driveway. I walked quickly past her kitchen window and started up the hill past my own house. Fin’s red truck was in the driveway next to my mom’s Volvo. My dad’s truck wasn’t there. I crept along the fence line and quietly opened the gate and then darted through it and hid behind the jasmine where I could see into my mom’s studio. My mom was in there, sitting with her back to me at her worktable with her head in her hands. Fin was sitting next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.