Outlaw

by Amanda Lance

  He nodded wildly.

  “And what else?”

  “Uh—don’t let anybody in.”

  I patted him on the head. “Good boy.”

  I started counting in my own head, vowing to take the fastest shower known to mankind. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Polo, it was all the other cons and shifty-eyed punks I wasn’t real sure ’bout and leaving him alone as a guard probably wasn’t a real good idea to begin with.

  I was only a few steps away when he called out to me.

  “She gonna be okay, Charlie?”

  I had to hand it to Polo, for a guy with a little brain; he sure as hell had a big heart.

  “I hope so, man. I really hope so.”

  ***

  I’d cleaned up her foot with some peroxide and left her sandals on the edge of the bed, having slipped ’em into her backpack before we left the safe house. After all, with no other girls on board, I didn’t want her going without no shoes or nothing like that. And without thinkin’ ’bout it, I kept fingering that hair tie of hers in my pocket. I’d found it as we were leaving the safe house, nestled in dirt and dead weeds. I told myself I had taken it ’cause it was one less piece of evidence to leave behind. But in reality, I felt bad ’bout just letting it sit there, about it being one more thing I’d taken away from her.

  ***

  I’d been sketchin’ her for well over an hour when my hand started to cramp but I didn’t wanna stop. I thought the color was coming back to her face, but it could have just been wishful thinking—the bad lighting in the room playing tricks on me.

  That was the second or third drawing I was working on of her at the time. I woulda taken more time with each one, but I knew that if she did stay alive she wouldn’t let me sketch her, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna do it if she keeled over on me. I’m sure I was just greedy, but I never got a chance to sketch nothing that pretty before, and I wanted an opportunity to do it before I keeled over myself. In this business, you kinda live life grabbing each day by the balls, and while I felt crummy ’bout what I’d been a part of, this was no exception.

  I sighed and tossed my book to the side. Digging out the laptop, I jammed in the Wi-Fi card and did a quick search on her—or at least it was supposed to be a quick search. When I put in the name Addie Battes, there was everything ’bout her I coulda ever wanted to know and then some.

  Turns out her full name was Adeline Grace Battes—after her grandma or something. It said she was homeschooled, too—if you can believe it. I didn’t,’cause she seemed way too normal. Aren’t those kids all supposed to be religious freaks? Or just plain freaks?

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that she was an honor student, already takin’ college classes or that she had a high IQ. I guess I was surprised though that she was from New Jersey, especially since everybody I’d ever known from there was nothin’ but a grade-A jerk and so far she was just the opposite.

  Every couple of minutes there was a new article ’bout her online, whether it was ’bout her directly or her parents or something, it seemed like she was the only story on the planet, though I couldn’t say I minded that ’cause half the time they had pictures of her and those told me more about her than half the articles did.

  I pulled up and double-clicked the one with the baby picture of her and made it full-screen. Other than her face being a little longer she almost looked the same. There was one picture of her with a guy in an army uniform with a caption that said he was her brother, and in it they both had the same smirk. Addie was wearing a bright blue dress and had her hair up high with a blue flower in it. I decided I liked that picture the best outta all of ’em—even if there was another guy in it. The papers musta liked it too, because they featured it a lot.

  There was one picture of her when she was a kid which I didn’t care much for, but there was another one of her and her whole family which was kinda neat ’cause I could see how much she looked like her ma. But then I read the thing ’bout how her ma was dead and I got creeped out, sad then, because I had to be reminded that real soon, she might be dead, too.

  I looked around a little more, trying to get my head out of it. It seemed like she was the only thing going on in the news—or at least the most clicked on topic. Though, if I was being honest, that wasn’t too hard to understand, neither. Within a couple of minutes of knowing Addie, all I wanted to do was protect her, keep her safe—a feeling that was real weird for me, but probably normal for other people, natural even. And if all they had to do was look at a couple pictures of that smile, and read ’bout the way she kept up her ma’s grave and all the graves around ’em, then it wasn’t a wonder that they wanted to keep her safe, too.

  I shook my head, mad at myself that I wasn’t getting myself straight like I was supposed to. Not doing anything to help myself, I clicked on the video links at the top of the search engine. How was I supposed to keep her out of my head when we were in the same room?

  “While I respect all the efforts of both the federal and local law enforcement…”

  In front of a little house, cameras were goin’ off like crazy. They were focused on some older guy who stood in front of two uniform cops who looked like they were suckin’ on sour lemons.

  “…to suggest that my daughter is dead after less than 24 hours is an insult against my wife and the strongest young woman I have ever known.”

  I had to cover up my mouth to keep the laugh quiet. I recognized Addie’s old man from one of the family photos, but even from the press conference I couldn’t see any similarities between them. He had darker hair and one of those chins with the creases in the middle. I rubbed the side of my head.

  All the thinking about families was making me think about my own.

  After my ma left I used to pretend that she and my old man weren’t really related to me at all. I’d make believe that my Real Ma was out there somewhere and didn’t wanna do drugs, or make me steal things so she could buy booze. I’d hide under my bed with a flashlight, drawing with broken crayons, tryin’ to imagine that my real old man was rich and famous or some damn thing like that, instead of getting shot at doing B and E’s, and trying to beat down anybody of a different color than him.

  I only saw him one time after he did that liquor store in Calhoun. The foster mom they stuck me with was all religious and thought that seeing him was good for her soul or whatever, and I guess mine too, ’cause she dragged me with her. I remember thinkin’ at the time how much smaller he looked in the big visiting room, how much less color his hair had, though he wasn’t no older. I thought at the time ’bout how funny it was that nobody ever seemed to wanna change ’til something bad happened to ’em.

  Funny, how that happens.

  ***

  I shut the computer off when after a while more, I saw her ankles twitch. Silently, I hoped that what I had just seen wasn’t one of those death rattles I’d seen a million times before. When the dead die, they let out a couple of last huffs and puffs that trick you into thinking that they might still be alive. But since she hadn’t been bleeding outta her head for a good half an hour, I kinda figured that maybe she had a 50/50 shot either way.

  Real suddenly then, she sat up fast, like she had just had a nightmare or something and just for a second I kinda figured that maybe she thought she was having one, too.

  Her eyes went lookin’ all around, real crazy while they blinked over and over. I wondered if she couldn’t see real good and thought about finding more light or something, but didn’t want to make any moves that would scare her.

  Confused and scared, she lifted her hands up from the blanket I had put around her, staring at her hands like they were strangers. She wasn’t gonna hurt herself or something crazy like that, was she? What was I supposed to do if she did?

  I turned on the lamp next to me and watched her blink some more. I already knew she probably had a concussion, but it was easier to tell once her pupils didn’t react at the light. I was still sure she saw me though ’cause she backed away
towards the wall—darting fast like a scared squirrel. I think she woulda kept backing away further too, but the cabin was small, and there was nowhere else to go. The only thing she had left was the blanket I had draped over her. Once she realized it, she clutched it to her like it was her last friend in the whole wide world.

  While I wasn’t completely unaware or nothing, I was so glad to see her alive and well—as well as well could be, anyways, that I didn’t hesitate to check for the big gap on the back of her head, the one the fit into the wall from the safe house. I did stop though when she pulled away from me, cowering away like a wounded lamb afraid of the slaughter house.

  So I tried a different approach.

  I went over and grabbed a cup of joe for her that luckily was somewhat fresh—as fresh as Polo could make, anyhow, and handed one to her. She wouldn’t look at me, but took it and tried to drink it. For the billionth time in our friendship, I cursed Polo’s cooking skills.

  “W-what…” she tried, “happened?”

  I coulda been blind and still seen how bad she was shaking, so to keep it from burning her, I took the cup away. Truth told, it was a good distraction, because to hear her voice croak like that made my guts twist with blame. “You probably shouldn’t talk for ’while.”

  “Tell me.”

  Even through the croak she sounded demanding. I could honestly say that my windpipe was the one thing I probably hadn’t bruised, and I had to wonder if her neck hurt as much as it looked. The bruises were already formin’ on her neck, black and purple rainbows in finger shapes all around her pretty throat that made me sick just to think ’bout, let alone look at. Yet I knew I had to, that I had to be reminded of what I’d done. I deserved that pain; I deserved at least that much hurt.

  “Even though Ben told him to leave you be…” How was I supposed to tell her this, that she woulda gotten herself killed no matter what? No, I knew I couldn’t. I had to lie, for both our sakes. “Wallace thought you were too much of a risk factor to leave to chance.”

  She looked away, gasping and crying quietly like I was the one she didn’t wanna upset. Truthfully, I couldn’t have been more upset if someone had hit me over the head with a shovel. I hated to see her so afraid like that, so scared and lonesome. It wasn’t a lot, but I felt like I had to try and tell her just how sorry I was ’bout the whole business. Give her a sense she wasn’t alone in feeling miserable. “Hey,” I tried. “I’m, ah, sorry.” Saying the words, though, wasn’t even close to enough. But maybe if she knew I hated Wallace just as much as she did, then she wouldn’t hate me so much. “That son-of-a-bitch…”

  “Please,” her squeaky, little voice said. “I just want to go home.”

  So she didn’t want to hear my excuses, my lame reasons for why I wasn’t able to keep her safe. I wasn’t gonna force them on her. But then I was wishing that I had at least planned out how I was gonna break the next part to her—if I had, then maybe it would have been just a little easier.

  I backed up into the corner, not wanting her to see how hard of a time I was having findin’ the words. I guess I should have been preparing for her to freak out when I told her, I just didn’t know how bad. Would she try to attack me? Hurt herself? I knew I couldn’t be tying her up again, that I was just lucky she had lived through what she had. If she freaked out on me though, I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do.

  “B-by the time I got there, Wallace woulda come back to finish you off. Didn’t have much choice, did I?” I sounded like a stuttering idiot, but she musta got most of it by the way she paled.

  “Charlie…”

  There was something outta this world about her saying my name, like magic and puppies or a kid’s first ice cream cone or some damn thing like that. I looked back up at her, hoping real hard she’d say my name again, but instead she was just trying to stand up, her toes wiggling ’round on the floor like she wasn’t sure they’d hold up. “What are you saying to me?”

  I told myself to be a man and get it over with. “We gotta make a delivery to Singapore in six days. I—we didn’t know what to do, so we brought you with us.”

  Just like I thought, right away she started huffing and puffing like her throat was closing up, and hearing her struggle like that made my own breathing harder, too. I wanted to reach out for my chest and for her at the same time, but I knew none of it would do anybody any good. Here I’d been thinking that the worst-case would be her freaking out on me, or herself, but what if I’d scared her so bad that she was stroking out or something? Even if you’re healthy, can you be spooked so many times in a day that you just keel right over? What if I was giving her a heart-attack?

  I approached her real slow with my arms stretched out in front of me so she knew I wasn’t gonna try nothing. I didn’t know if it was making things better or worse, but with the lack of options, I didn’t see what choice I had. Sick-Bay was for crew members only, and the doctor and his guys on staff were all pretty legit. If I brought her there, it woulda raised all kinds of red flags. “Just—just relax, now.”

  She was real shifty and wild-eyed, her cheek caving in deep from her biting it. As much as I didn’t want it to, the lack of sleep was making my patience wearin’ out. “No. No. No. Where am I?”

  “The Diyu,” I told her. “A freighter just south of Canada.”

  “Wh—what?”

  I sighed. For a smart girl it was takin’ her an awful long time to piece this together. “Like I said, Wallace was ’bout to kill you when I came in. I did all but rip his arms off but Ben and Reid held me back long enough that he crawled out the back.”

  She covered up her ears with her hands, and it had me thinking that I had been too rough. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t some lowlife I was dealin’ with here, one of the fellas. This girl was something else entirely, and if I was serious ’bout keeping her safe, I had to respect that.

  “You wouldn’t wake up and we had port to make…” It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped to make my voice sound nicer. And instead of feeling any better, she just yelled at me again.

  “Then why didn’t you just leave me there? Or just leave me at a hospital somewhere?”

  I couldn’t think of a good lie, and shrugged. One thing for sure though, I hadn’t meant to sound so cold ’bout it. “’Cause we all kinda figured you’d die, and nobody wanted a murder charge.”

  She gasped and started shiverin’ even though I didn’t think she was cold.

  “No,” she said, all determined. “This is not happening. No, no, no, no, no.”

  I knew she was upset, but the way she was shaking her head back and forth was sorta interesting, almost like she was doing the first set of dance moves or had seen too many mimes in the park.

  When I opened my eyes from laughing, she was looking at me again, and I decided to mess with her, mostly ’cause I liked how it made me feel, but also ’cause I was so happy to see her alive enough to mess around with.

  “That’s a real funny way to say thank you.”

  Her eyes got small towards me as she took her hands away from her head. The way she glared at me woulda been scary if it were coming from a guy, and I had to remind myself that physically, she was harmless.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, I did save your life and all.” I smiled harder and took a step back. She was harmless, wasn’t she?

  “Are you kidding?”

  I never felt more like a crazy person than I did then, and I’m sure she was feeling like she was ’round one herself, judging by the way she was staring at me. I ended up laughin’ at her more, still amazed at how many wonderful expressions she had.

  “You would be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

  “I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you,” she spat at me.

  “That’s what I’m saying!”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  I glared at her, but we didn’t look away from one another until she went to get up completely.

  Right away she went for the
door. I could see she was startled to see that she wasn’t trapped inside, but I hadn’t seen the reason in that. After all, where was she gonna go? If I was real lucky, once she realized where she was, she would be too intimidated to go anywhere and finally use her brain to just stay put. Worst case scenario: she tried making a run for it again and ran into some crew member here on work release or Reid and…damn. Maybe I shoulda locked the door after all.

  If I stayed close by though, her chances were better. She musta known that too, ’cause she didn’t say nothin’ when I got up to follow her. It was almost kinda sad the way she was callin’ out, banging on doors that had nothing behind them. At the same time though, I didn’t have the heart to tell her it wouldn’t get her anywhere. Worse yet, like a little kid, she fell over after running down the hall. And as much as I wanted to, I knew better than to try and catch her on her way down.

  “Guess you ain’t got your sea legs yet, huh?”

  She glared up at me with those green daggers. “Take. Me. Home.”

  “I. Can’t.” Mimicking her might notta been the best idea, but at the time I thought it was funny as hell. Apparently she didn’t though, even as I offered my hand to help her back up.

  “Fine, but you or one of your thieving friends will have to shoot me if you expect me to cooperate. I’ll find my own way out of here.”

  I laughed at how stubborn she was. “What part of ‘in the middle of the Atlantic’ don’t you understand?”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I stopped laughin’ when I got my first decent idea of the day. “Wait here a second.”

  It musta only took me thirty seconds to run back to my cabin and grab what I was looking for, but even then my heart was jumping all around at leaving her unsupervised. Who knew what kinda trouble a girl like that could get into when left by herself?