by Sharon Sala
“Mama?”
“What baby?”
“Will you sleep with me tonight?”
“Absolutely, just let me call Dwight first about our ride home.”
Jordan closed her eyes, listening to her mother’s voice as they set up the time for the jet to pick them up. If her jaw wasn’t sore, and if her lips weren’t still swollen, it would almost feel like she was home...and nothing bad had ever happened.
When Tara turned out the lights, a nightlight came on in the bathroom. Nice touch, she thought. She went to the dresser, pulled out Brownie Bear and, scooting up next to where Jordan was sitting, tucked the old floppy bear in her arms.
“Brownie was waiting for you when I brought you home from the hospital. He’s been waiting for you to come home again, so I brought him with me this time.”
“Oh, Mama, thank you,” Jordan whispered, then slid down between the covers until her head was in Tara’s lap, with Brownie tucked beneath her chin.
Tara patted the crown of Jordan’s head without thinking, but when she did, Jordan winced.
“There’s a cut there, Mama.”
Tara turned on the lamp and then carefully parted the hair until she found it, and in that moment she didn’t even ask how it happened. That it was even there was a brutal reminder of what Jud had done to their child.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry this happened to you, but I am so grateful to have you back in my arms. I love you more than anything in this world, and we’ll get through this together, like we’ve faced everything else. Okay?”
Maybe it was just knowing she was safe now...and maybe it was the little brown bear in her arms that gave her the courage to say it.
“Daddy stabbed me in the neck with a syringe full of drugs,” she said and started sobbing.
Tara gasped. “What? No! Oh my God! That place turned him into a monster! I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”
After that, the truth began spilling out of Jordan in fits and starts, from when she first realized she was being kidnapped, then figuring out what Fourth Dimension was all about. One story after another kept coming, and Tara held on, crying with her now, as Jordan told how she defied the Master and the rules.
And about being locked in the old dorm with nothing to sleep on but a dirty mattress, and then killing snakes and rats.
Breaking out all of the windows.
Being locked up every day with the Sprites.
Refusing to eat for fear they’d drug her again.
Publicly defying the Master time and time again.
Sabotaging the mending, and getting beaten for it.
Jordan kept talking, vomiting out one incident after another until she finally cried herself to sleep, comforted by the feel of her mama’s hand on her back.
Tara’s eyes were swollen and her heart had broken a thousand times. It felt like she would never sleep again; she was so enraged she was shaking.
As soon as they got home, she was taking Jordan straight to their family doctor for a thorough checkup. Just knowing she’d suffered a head injury that knocked her out and she’d had no medical treatments for anything had Tara bordering on panic. At that moment, if someone had given her the opportunity, she would have put a gun between Jud Bien’s eyes and pulled the trigger without one moment of remorse.
* * *
While Jordan had been reuniting with her mother, the other girls arrived at the ER and paired up with an advocate, then began undergoing physical exams that involved blood work and countless questions about their food and living conditions. As word began to spread about their presence there, the media who’d been at the prison began gathering outside the hospital in hopes of getting footage of them, as well.
Reporters tried more than once to sneak into the girls’ exam rooms, snapping pictures and asking questions the girls didn’t even understand. Their advocates did all they could to protect the girls’ privacy, but it quickly got out of hand.
Hospital security was finally called; they stood guard at the entrance, making sure no one got in again.
But the biggest issue for the girls came when they were separated in the ER. Before, they’d done everything together, including sharing pain and fear; now they were apart and with strangers. They didn’t know where the other girls were. They couldn’t see them. They couldn’t hear them.
Katie finally broke down in tears.
“I want to go home,” she wailed, pulling the sheet up over her head, and then quit talking.
Barbie had thrown up twice from the stress.
And Randi was sitting in the middle of the bed with the sheet wrapped around her, refusing to lie down among so many strangers.
One of the younger girls had leaped from the bed and run into a corner, then squatted down with her arms over her head in sheer terror.
Another girl got out of the exam room and began running, crying and screaming.
The ER was used to broken bodies, but they didn’t have medicine for what was broken within each child. It was the promise of all going together to get food that finally soothed them, and after the basic tests had been run and they were reunited, calm returned.
Federal agents and advocates escorted them down to the hospital cafeteria, and when the girls were given free choices to have whatever they wanted to eat, they couldn’t decide. They hadn’t been given a choice about anything, and there were so many options they didn’t know how to choose. Finally, the agents began choosing for them, and the girls relaxed and were intrigued by getting to carry their own trays to the table.
Finally, they finished eating, and when the agents began getting them all together again, they all bunched up together, holding hands.
“Where are we going?” Katie asked.
“Next stop is the police department,” Agent Barrow said.
“Why are we going there? Are we being arrested?” Randi asked.
“No, no. Absolutely not,” Agent Jergans added. “This is where you get to tell your story. Remember I told you they would want to hear how each one of you was kidnapped and taken to the compound?”
Randi nodded.
“So this is where that’s going to happen. Don’t worry. Agent Barrow and I will be with you the whole time.”
“Okay,” Randi said, and then they were loaded back up on the buses and transported to a conference room at the main branch of the Lexington Police Department.
It was late afternoon before they finished. When they put them back up on the buses to take them to a hotel to spend the night, they were so overwhelmed by the day that they just sat in their seats and cried, and it was no wonder.
They had all been diagnosed with varying levels of PTSD. The mothers were anemic. The babies were underweight. And they were all suffering from a lack of Vitamin D from being locked away from the sun.
Tomorrow, the process of returning them to their families would begin. US marshals would begin showing up in the morning to transport children back to their homes. The Feds had been able to locate all of the families, even Barbie’s parents, and the notifications had been made.
Upon arrival at the hotel, the girls were housed in separate suites, much as they had been separated at the compound.
The married girls and babies were in one, along with agents who would stay with them until they were officially assigned to the US marshals, and the Sprites were in another suite under guard, as well.
Foldaway beds and playpens had been brought into the mothers’ suite. And more foldaway beds had been taken to the suite where the Sprites were. Their food of choice—pop, pizza and ice cream—had been delivered to both the rooms, along with baby food and milk for bottles.
The luxury of the suites, compared to the stark existence they’d been living, was obvious, but their greatest comfort came from just knowing they were safe and they were together, and could choose the food
they wanted.
The Sprites were all bunched together on the beds watching television. It was the first time they’d seen a TV show since they’d been taken from their homes, and they’d turned into little zombies, watching one cartoon show after another, their laughter often bordering on hysteria from being unable to process the drastic changes.
There was a much different vibe in the other suite. Babies still cried and had to be fed. Diapers still had to be changed. And the unfamiliarity of the hotel made them cranky.
The young mothers were exhausted by the time they got the babies fed and settled down to play, but the pizza and the pop were still waiting, and they didn’t care if the pop was no longer cold and the pizza was a little soggy. They just kept chattering about how good it tasted, and how long it had been since they’d had it.
Maria was the exception.
She’d turned fifteen years old this morning, and shot her husband on her birthday to save her child. For the rest of her life, her birthday would be a resurrection of the memory, and the reality of the day was beginning to set in.
She was crying as she ate but seemed unaware of the tears. She kept getting up to go check on her baby, even though he’d fallen asleep in the playpen, and couldn’t seem to sit still. During a lull in the conversation, she finally uttered the greatest of her fears.
“In the Bible, it says it’s a sin to kill someone.”
There was a moment of shock, and then everyone began talking at once. With the truth of her sin finally uttered, Maria couldn’t stop trembling.
But it was something one of the agents said that made the difference.
“Maria! You didn’t kill an innocent person. You were protecting your child. Your baby is alive because of you. Understand?”
All of the girls were nodding in agreement and praising her bravery. Maria wanted this to be true, and kept searching their faces for some kind of silent judgment, but she saw nothing but empathy.
“Today’s my birthday,” she said. “I’m fifteen. One more year and I can drive.”
* * *
Charlie stopped in Nashville for the night, then followed Wyrick’s directions to the hotel she’d picked out.
“There it is,” Wyrick said, pointing up the street to the Nashville Airport Marriott.
Charlie turned off the street and pulled up to the entrance, stopping in valet parking. They retrieved the bags they wanted for the night and went into the lobby to register.
The clerk smiled cordially as they approached the desk.
“Welcome to Nashville Airport Marriott.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said. “We need two rooms with king-size beds. The rooms can either be side by side or across the hall from each other, with morning checkout.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said and pulled up a screen to check availability. “We have two single kings that are side by side on the fifth floor. Will that be okay?”
“Yes,” Charlie said, taking out a credit card and a photo ID.
Wyrick was so ready for some real food and a soak in a hot bath that she’d inactivated her normal sarcasm. By the time they were registered and in possession of their room keys, Charlie had already inquired as to restaurant and breakfast options.
Wyrick was good at navigating and research.
Charlie was the bomb at scouting out the best places to eat.
They shouldered their bags and walked to the elevators, rode up to the fifth floor, then headed down the hall to their rooms in a comfortable silence.
Charlie paused outside his door.
“How about you meet me out here in ten minutes, and we’ll go to dinner before we hole up for the night?”
“I’m good with that,” Wyrick said and went inside after swiping her keycard.
She could already hear Charlie thumping around in the adjoining room, so she dumped her bag on the bed and hurried to the bathroom to wash up.
A few minutes later they walked into Champions, the restaurant/sports bar on site. The place was big and inviting, with more than half the tables filled with diners.
The food looked good and smelled good, and with a total of thirty big-screen TVs tuned to continuing sports feeds, Charlie was happy.
Wyrick couldn’t have cared less about sports, and as soon as they were seated, they checked out the finer points of their menus.
At that point, a young man appeared.
“Good evening. My name is Justin. I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?”
“Do you have Blue Moon on tap?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, we do,” he said.
“I’ll have that,” Charlie said.
Justin eyed Wyrick carefully.
“And for you, ma’am?”
“Sweet tea and keep it coming,” she said.
Justin smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
Wyrick reached across the table, snagged a couple of mini pretzel twists from a bowl between the salt and pepper, and popped one in her mouth.
Charlie began checking his phone for missed messages. His eternal fear every time he left town had to do with Annie, but there were none from Morning Light, so he ignored the rest and put the phone back in his pocket just as the server returned with their drinks.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Justin asked.
“I’m ready,” Charlie said. “I’ll have the New York strip, medium rare.”
“And you, ma’am?” Justin asked.
“Smoked chicken with barbecue dipping sauce.”
“Want an appetizer?” Charlie asked.
“If you do,” she said.
“I’ve had shrimp, but I’ve never had Boom Boom Shrimp,” Charlie said. “I think it’s time we try it.”
“I’m good with that,” Wyrick said.
Justin paused.
“Just a warning, ma’am. It’s spicy.”
When Charlie saw Wyrick’s eyes narrow, he knew Justin was about to be schooled.
Wyrick leaned forward, both elbows on the table, as she checked him out from head to toe, then almost smiled.
“That’s okay, kid. I like everything hot.”
Charlie grinned.
Justin blushed, then stuttered. “Uh...yes, yes, ma’am. I’ll get that out just as soon as I can,” he said and went to turn in their order.
“You made him blush,” Charlie said.
“He assumed I didn’t have sense enough to read a menu,” she said, then took a long drink of her sweet tea and popped another pretzel in her mouth.
Because Charlie was so entranced by whatever sports event he was watching on the TV screen behind her, she glanced up at the one in front of her, staring for a few seconds at the feed.
From where Charlie was sitting, he could see two different sports in progress. One was pro basketball, and another one was horse racing. Then, as he reached for another pretzel, he noticed the expression on Wyrick’s face.
“What are you watching?” he asked.
“College baseball, I think.”
“Do you follow it?” Charlie asked.
She shook her head. “No. I never played a sport, so I don’t know any of the rules except for the obvious, like home runs are instant scores, and balls that go in the baskets are gold, and footballs caught in the end zones make crowds roar in the stadiums.”
“I’ll bet you would have been good at sports,” Charlie said. “Your ability to focus is off the charts.”
Wyrick hid the spurt of delight she felt from the praise. “I do enjoy running. They had an indoor track at UT. I ran at least a mile during my lunch hour every day.”
This was something Charlie hadn’t known about her.
“Really? What was your best time?”
She shrugged. “Oh, probably thirty or forty s
econds over three minutes.”
Charlie’s lips parted, but it took him a couple of moments to process what she said.
“Three minutes and change. Are you serious?” he finally said.
She nodded. “Why?”
Charlie grabbed his phone and went straight to Google.
“What are you doing?” Wyrick asked.
A few seconds later, he looked up at her in disbelief.
“The world record for running a mile is three minutes and forty-three seconds, set back in 1999 by some dude with a name I can’t pronounce. The women’s world record is a few seconds over four minutes. You broke both of those records.”
“Yay me,” Wyrick said. “I’m starving, and here comes our spicy shrimp.”
They waited as the server delivered the appetizer and the plates.
“Enjoy,” Justin said and bolted.
“Looks good,” Charlie said. “You first.”
Wyrick picked up a small plate and put a couple of shrimp on it, then took a bite.
“Yum. Good choice,” she said.
Charlie ate a couple, agreeing they were tasty, but he couldn’t let go of what she’d told him.
“Could you still do that? Run that fast, I mean.”
Wyrick sighed. He was beginning to push buttons.
“I don’t know, Charlie Dodge. But it doesn’t matter.”
“Not even if you could go down on record as the fastest person alive?”
Wyrick leaned across the table and lowered her voice.
“I’m already the strangest and the smartest. I don’t need to be the fastest, too, and I don’t want my name in record books. It would please me greatly to be anonymous in this world.”
He stared at her for a few moments, but he finally got it.
“Sometimes, Jade Wyrick, I forget how completely unique you are. I take what you do for granted daily, and I apologize.”
She glared. “Jade belongs to my past and you know it.”
“You’re the one who brought up your assets, and what I said is called a compliment. Calm down and eat your spicy shrimp, dammit.”
Wyrick let it go. She’d gotten back under his skin, which was where she felt safest.