Untraceable (The Nature of Grace Series)

by S. R. Johannes

  Mo kneels next to me. “I’m sorry about all this.”

  All my unasked questions resurface. “So, does this mean you’ve known Al and Billy this whole time? Were you there when they attacked me?”

  “I was out collecting a sample, because believe it or not, I do want to be a geologist. I saw you snooping around their truck and head off into the woods. I remembered you from the river and followed because I knew what those guys were like. When they attacked you, I had no choice but to intervene. At the risk of ruining my cover.” He stops, probably expecting me to ask a question.

  “Why’d you pretend not to know them?”

  Mo wipes his bloody brow with the hem of his t-shirt. “We worked out a deal later to keep it all quiet so none of us would get in trouble. That’s why I’ve been here so long. Waiting to find out who’s running this whole thing. Now I know.”

  “Then why’d you show up at the river that day? Seems like it would’ve been safer for you to just stay away.”

  He looks up at the faint light source, as if thinking of a response. “Pretty daft of me. I knew I shouldn’t, but after our time in the cave, I was worried someone would see you. Hurt you like your dad.” He rubs my shoulder with one hand. “I’m sorry.”

  I crouch over and suck in gulps of air. “I can’t believe all this is about money.”

  Mo agrees with me. “Carl has the perfect set-up. He can have his men kill bears without anyone knowing. He’s been in charge out here and only one person could stop him—”

  I finish his statement. “My dad.” Then I mutter under my breath. “Well, don’t underestimate me.”

  He grins. “I wouldn’t. I’ve seen your moves. Up close and personal.”

  I try to smile back, but my lips seem cemented in place. “I wish I knew what happened that day at the river.”

  Mo sighs. “Your dad found out what was going on. He walked right into a trap.” He averts his eyes, refusing to meet mine.

  The look on his face scares me. “Is he really dead?”

  Mo hugs me and whispers in my ear. “I honestly don’t know, blossom. These guys are unpredictable. Who knows what they’ve done. The thing we need to do right now is get the hell out of here. Alive. Get help. We can come back for answers later. And we need to move fast because I have a feeling we don’t have much time left.”

  “But how? This is some underground tomb. Only one way out.” I point at the door Carl exited through.

  He motions toward the natural skylight. “Not the only way.”

  I look up. “Yeah, but how in the world do we get up there? It’s too smooth to free climb.”

  He runs his hands though his hair. “I have no idea.”

  For some time, I remain curled up in a fetal position. My body’s crashed, like an old computer. Unable to perform any of the basic functions. Standing, talking, even breathing. I’ve seen it happen to the people Dad’s rescued on the mountain. Shock is a powerful weapon for the enemy. My body is unresponsive to any activity swirling in my brain. As if the hope’s drained out, leaving behind an empty shell.

  As if I’m already dead.

  Mom’s face pops into my mind. I wonder what she’s thinking right now. Is she worried? Is she fed up? Does she think something’s wrong or wonder if I’ve run away for good this time? It’s hard for me to calculate how much time has passed since I saw her last. Hours? Days?

  Mo paces the cave, searching for a way out. I track him with my eyes, noting every detail. How he thinks with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. How he fiddles with his hair when he’s frustrated. Every few minutes, he musters up the energy to try something new. Attempting to move the boulder in front of the tunnel with a large stick. Trying to scale the slick wall using shoelaces as temporary footholds. But of course, nothing works.

  The more he fails, the more I realize that this could really be the end.

  I stay curled on the ground, unable to gather any energy to help. I focus in on the night sounds. Crickets and frogs compete to see who can make the loudest noise. An owl hoots from far away, and the cicadas chirp in rounds.

  Mo squats down next to me and strokes my hair. The dead flower bracelet I gave him scratches my hand.

  I smile and kiss his forehead.

  As he resumes his obsessive pacing, I stare up at the moon’s face, peering down on us from high in the sky. I can’t help but think of Wyn and all the times we argued back and forth about whether there really was a man in the moon. Even when I pointed out facial features, he still said he couldn’t see it.

  Now I miss him annoying me. I wonder if he’s thinking about me too.

  The owl calls out again. This time, it sounds much closer than before.

  An idea crosses my mind. It’s a long shot, but it’s possible.

  I stand up and hoot toward the punched-out hole in the ceiling.

  Mo moves next to me. “What is it?”

  “What do you think? It’s an owl.” I focus on the patch of light. Watching. Wondering. Hoping. The owl hoots again. I answer back one more time, just in case. My hunch might be crazy, but if I’m right, I just might get us out of this hell hole.

  Mo squints at me in the dim light, looking confused. “Are you expecting an owl to rescue us?”

  I shush him as the shadow of a head appears over the side.

  Survival Skill #47

  Before moving away from safety, always plan a course of action and a contingency plan.

  I squeeze Mo’s arm. “It’s Tommy!”

  Mo and I stare up at the entrance. Seconds later, a climbing rope uncurls in front of us.

  He motions us up at the same time I hear voices yelling in the distance. Tommy changes his mind and climbs down the rope, never once making a sound. When he reaches the bottom, he puts his finger to his lips and stares up at the entrance until he thinks it’s clear. Then he whispers. “Sorry, I was going to just pull you up until I thought they saw me. There’s a swarm of people up there.”

  I barely even hear what he says because I pounce on him. “Tommy!”

  He clutches my arms. “Elu, (t)do-`hi-tsu!”

  I nod. “I’m fine. How did you know where we were?”

  He squeezes me hard. “I had a hunch you’d come here so I came prepared. Just in case.”

  I pull away and search his face. “Wait. I thought you didn’t want to get involved.”

  He winks. “I changed my mind.”

  I smile and pat his hand. “Well, then, it’s true. You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

  His face softens. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  I peck his cheek. “Already have.”

  Tommy smiles, and I hug him again. As he holds me, he sticks out his other hand to introduce himself. “You must be Mo.”

  Mo looks at me as if to ask for my permission in answering him. I nod. This isn’t the time to bombard Tommy with all the details I’ve uncovered about Mo today. I’ll fill him in on everything later, once we’re safe. I owe him that much.

  “Yes, sir.” Mo shakes Tommy’s tan hand. “How did you know we were down here?”

  Tommy frowns at me while answering. “By the time I got here, I saw them dragging you guys into camp. Unfortunately, there were too many of them around you so I had to wait. You both okay?”

  “Yes. Did you see Les?”

  Tommy shakes his head. “Saw the big dude dragging him out of here. He didn’t look so good. What’s going on?”

  I mutter. “Les’s been protecting me this whole time. Carl and some other people in our town are involved in this. Did you know what was going on?”

  Tommy drops his head and makes a clucking noise. “No. But Carl came into my store a few days ago saying he had someone who wanted to finance the store. Maybe help me expand. Acted kinda strange when I asked him where the money was coming from. I turned him down. Kinda like my store the way it is.”

  “I thought you wanted to make it bigger?”

  “Changed my mind. Lucky I did.” Tommy takes off his fishi
ng hat. “Man, how money can change a person.”

  I clutch his forearm. “Have you seen any sign of Dad?”

  Tommy shakes his head. “Not so much as a clue or a track. I looked. Is he here?”

  Mo remains silent so I just shrug. “No one knows.”

  Tommy points up. “Well, I’m thinking we should get out of here. Probably don’t have much time before they come back for you two.” He addresses me. “You strong enough to climb this rope?”

  I tug on the frayed end. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Mo stops us. “Wait. First, we need a plan. I can tell you what I know about the layout of this place.” He squats and draws a diagram in the dirt with his finger.

  Tommy and I lean over him, studying the squiggly lines as he moves his finger along the picture. “Once we get up there, we’ll have a chance if we head out this way.” He points to a triangle shape. “The back side of the camp is less covered. It’s night, so they’ll be taking shifts. One person will be over here…” He points to a spot and then draws an X in another area. “Over here, there are usually two men patrolling the border.”

  Tommy looks a bit perplexed. “Wait? How do you know all this? Didn’t you both come here together?”

  I interject to cover up Mo’s involvement. For now. “Mo was watching the camp before we were caught.”

  Tommy searches my eyes for the truth. I simply smile, acting as normal as I can. He pushes the swinging rope toward me. “Let’s get you out first, Elu.”

  Mo catches the rope. “Sir, if you don’t mind. I’ll go first. Then, Grace. And, then you. That way, I can keep an eye on things while you two climb out.”

  Tommy pats Mo’s shoulder as if he’s an old friend. “Makes sense to me, son.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “Does anyone want my opinion?”

  Mo and Tommy answer in unison. “No.”

  Tommy smirks and points at Mo. “I think I’m gonna like this guy.”

  I smile. Tommy’s always had a good sense about people and can peg a bad seed in a field of clover. Maybe there’s hope for Mo yet.

  As planned, Mo curls the rope around his legs and shimmies up through the hole. When he reaches the top, he motions for me to go next.

  My shoulders throb and my arms shake with each grip, but giving up is not in my vocabulary today. I pour every ounce of strength and wrap my legs around the rope. As I climb the rope, sharp stabs of pain shoot off in all directions. I’m pretty sure I’ve broken some ribs and who knows what else. I block it all out, focusing on moving one hand over the other. I’m getting out of this dismal place.

  Alive.

  At the top, Mo clasps the back of my shirt and hauls me over the side.

  I crouch next to him and wait for Tommy to appear from the darkness. Even though he’s in his sixties, Tommy reaches the top much faster than me.

  The three of us squat, and no one says a word. We have darkness on our side as long as we stay out of the light given off by the hanging lanterns.

  Mo points ahead and Tommy nods in approval. As they communicate with hand signals, Mo squeezes my hand and smiles.

  In this one moment, I’m only sure of one thing. Mo really does care about me. My pulse quickens, and I feel a twinge of guilt for ever doubting him. No matter what he’s done, he’s obviously had one important reason. His dad. I know how love and fear can drive someone to do crazy things.

  At Mo’s signal, the three of us hunch over and creep along the ring of tents. Several times, he holds up his hand, warning us to stop. As we slink through the camp, men’s voices float around us, coming from different directions.

  A gunshot slices though the silence. The three of us flop onto the ground. Pebbles digs into my skin, but I don’t dare move. We wait, expecting to be attacked, but no one comes.

  A few minutes later, a few more cracking sounds are followed by a thunder of drunken laughter. Just what we need. Crazy drunk guys with guns. Mo motions us to continue, and the three of us crawl toward the border of the camp in single file line.

  Mo stops at the corner of the last tent and sits back on his heels. He points to a man’s head bobbing above the bushes. He’s the only thing standing between us and freedom. If we get past him, we might have a chance at getting help before anyone realizes we’re gone.

  Mo gives us a signal to stay in place and points, informing us he’s going after the lone gunman.

  I shake my head violently, begging him not to leave, and point in a different direction, suggesting we leave another way.

  He winks at me and eyes Tommy who grips both of my shoulders, holding me back. Mo crawls into the thick shrubs on his belly.

  I shift back and forth from leg to leg as anxiety pumps through me.

  Tommy clutches on to me tighter, knowing how impulsive I can be.

  Time slows down. I scan the area, wringing my hands. Where is he?

  A few seconds later, Mo pounces out of the bush like a wild cat and lands on top of the hunter, knocking him to the ground. The man fights back. Mo cups his hand over the guy’s mouth and tries to drag him into the leafy cover. Unfortunately, a gun discharges and sprays the treetops with bullets.

  Tommy and I stop breathing. Praying no one heard the disturbance.

  Suddenly, voices ring out all around us.

  The next few minutes of my world seem to play out over an entire lifetime. In an instant, everything reverts to a snail’s speed, as if someone’s pressed the slow motion button on my life. A fog rolls over me, leaving everything sounding muffled. Eventually, the sound shuts off too, like an old silent film.

  Mo tosses the man’s gun to Tommy. He catches it and presses the middle of my back, pushing me.

  I slug forward a few steps, but don’t move far because my legs seem to be lodged in a vat of jello.

  Mo clutches my hand and drags me behind him. My legs seem to be circling underneath me, but I can’t tell if they’re actually touching the ground.

  I glance over my shoulder to find Tommy, but a guy tackles me. My hand rips out of Mo’s. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Before I can think, the heel of my hand shoots out and clips the guy’s nose. Blood splatters on my arm as he falls to his knees, clutching an injured face. I quickly kick him hard in the chest, and he flies backwards into a tent, which collapses on top of him.

  Tommy shoots me a thumb’s up, and Mo tugs on my sleeve to remind me to keep moving. A man clambers out of the trees. I must have screamed because Tommy spins around just in time to duck a punch.

  I notice how fast he moves for his age, how confident and strong he seems all of a sudden. I run backwards after Mo and hold out my hand to Tommy as he runs to catch up.

  The man scrambles to his feet and jumps on Tommy’s back, dragging him down to the ground.

  Tommy rolls around with the guy on top, trying to scoot out from under his weight.

  Horrified, I yank against Mo’s hand, trying to break free from his vice grip, to go back and help. Mo locks his hand on harder and jerks my arm in the opposite direction. He’s stronger than me so I stumble behind him watching Tommy fight off a guy half his age and twice his size.

  I trip over something and lay in the dust, paralyzed in fear. Mo yanks me to my feet by my t-shirt.

  Out of nowhere, a man grabs my leg.

  Mo slams the butt of his gun into the guys’s temple.

  Still on the ground, I look back, searching for Tommy amidst smoke and gunfire. He’s still wrestling the same man. And this time, it doesn’t look like Tommy’s winning because he’s moving slower.

  In that second, Tommy glances up and our eyes meet. The light from the lanterns highlights the strong angles of his face. Something passes between us. I’m not sure what. Acknowledgment. Regret. Fear. Maybe all three. His face softens and he mouths one word, “Go.”

  Just as I get to my feet, faint popping noises break through my bubble of silence.

  Tommy jerks around as if he’s doing some strange dance before tumbling forward in slow m
otion. He slams against the ground, and his body jolts for a few seconds until all movement stops.

  I push through the terror muting me until total sound reenters my world.

  This time, I hear myself scream his name. A sound so primal and comes from somewhere deep.

  “Tommy!”

  Survival Skill #48

  Use body movements or positions to convey a message in a dangerous situation.

  Mo’s arms clutch onto my waist as he tugs my stiff body forward. But I can’t seem to move. As if someone’s has nailed my feet to the ground. I stand there, gawking at Tommy’s body, speckled in red. Mo blocks my view and yells in my face. “Grace! Grace! We’ve got to go! Now!”

  “Tommy!” My voice sounds raw and broken, as if I’ve been yelling for days. I jerk my arm away from Mo’s grip and sprint back to Tommy who’s not moving. I drop onto my knees next to his body. A couple of red holes dot his chest, and blood drips out of his nose and mouth.

  I shake him. “Oh, God! Tommy, Tommy. Please! Please don’t leave me. Oh, God. Please!”

  Tommy doesn’t answer me.

  Panic roars through my chest, making me frantic. Unleashed. Wild. I sob and try to drag his limp body behind me. My feet slip and slide in the loose dirt. Tommy’s body is pure dead weight, and it pulls me down.

  Mo slides in next to me, spraying dust into the air, and hollers in my face again. “Grace! He’s gone. We have to go!”

  All I hear is that he’s gone … because of me.

  I notice the tear stains on Tommy’s face. “I’m so sorry.” I kiss his cheek. “Gv-ge-yu-hi.”

  I don’t want to leave, wishing I could stay with him, but Mo grabs my hand and pulls. “Come on!”

  Gunfire echoes around me. I jolt to life as full sensation returns to my body. The world around me springs back to life, and my survival instinct kicks in. I peel myself away from Tommy and sprint alongside Mo down the dusty path. He clutches my sleeve and yanks me left and right, practically jerking my arm out of its socket. As I run, Tommy’s sweet face clouds my vision. For a split second, I want to go back.