Fugitives

by Jes Drew

  “All right. We'll look into it. Are you or anyone in immediate danger?”

  “Well, not immediate...”

  “Feel free to take shelter in your nearest police station. Call back should you have any further information.”

  “Okay-”

  The line goes dead.

  I frown and turn to Christopher. “She says we should take shelter in a police station.”

  Christopher considers this for a moment. “They'd expect that, I think.”

  “So what do we do?” The authorities would be able to protect us, right? Unless they have contacts with the Masters… How powerful is this enemy that we're up against anyway?

  If only Mom and Dad were here.

  Mom and Dad! “I haven’t called our parents yet!”

  I dial Dad’s phone number with Mom’s phone that she’s letting me borrow until I get a new one to replace the thing I threw at Rudolf Masters on the Island.

  I tap my fingers until I finally hear his voice. “Hey, Dad-”

  “I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now. But if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you when I can.”

  Sighing, I move the phone to my other ear.“Dad, this is Emily. Do not go home. I repeat: do not go home. The Masters have found us. Remember the Plan. We’re going to stay at Christopher’s for the night, but it probably won’t be safe for long, so we’ll head down to Bristol tomorrow. If we don’t meet you there, we’ll head over to the Meeting Place. Whatever you do, do not go home. See you soon. Bye.”

  I shut the phone and lean back. I hope they listen. I hope. I hope. I hope.

  ~~~

  “We’re here,” Christopher announces, waking me from my adrenaline-crash nap.

  And jerking me away from where my head seems to have fallen onto Oto's shoulder.

  I blink at it, horror filling me like it did when I did the same thing to Christopher. But unlike that time, Oto's looking right at me, studying the blush spreading across my face.

  He grins mischievously. “Comfy?”

  Oh, rapture me now.

  Blushing, I turn away and freeze when I catch sight of the 'here' we're parked outside of. My jaw drops for a whole different reason than a yawn- namely shock and awe at the sprawling mansion stretched out before us.

  “Whoa!” Mary-Ann cries, her eyes bulging. “Your house is huge!”

  Christopher shrugs his good arm as he strides up to the door.

  Chase glances around as we follow him. “And I thought our house was huge.”

  Oto follows behind with his hands in his pockets- something he never used to have before- and amused expression on his face. “Is your dad in league with the Masters?”

  Christopher ignores him and opens the passenger door for Grandmother.

  The rest of us pile out and together, we march up to Christopher’s front door. Before Christopher even has a chance to knock, a butler opens the door. At least, I think it’s a butler. He definitely plays the part with his formal black clothes and grim face.

  “Master Christopher,” he greets somberly, not even batting an eye at us.

  Yep; he’s definitely a butler.

  Christopher hands him his keys and walks past him, scanning the massive foyer complete with a fountain and a chandelier that he peers past, searching for something. “Is my father back yet?”

  “Yes, sir. Would you like me to take you to him?”

  Nodding, Christopher finally turns to him. “Yes, please.”

  “This way then.” The butler leads us down a hallway before stopping to knock on a closed door. “Mr. Williams, Master Christopher requests to see you.”

  “Send him in,” calls someone on the other side of the door.

  The butler opens the door for us.

  The room on the other side of it appears to be an office. A man whom I recognize from the cruise ship looks up from the papers scattered across his desk. But even if I hadn’t seen him on the ship, I would have recognized him as Christopher’s father. Same golden hair, though Mr. Williams' is tamer and has some flecks of gray. Same height and firm build. Same aloof manner. It's Christopher in twenty years, plus glasses.

  Mr. Williams glances between us before raising an eyebrow at us in much the same way that his son has been known to do so.

  “Father,” Christopher says, his stiff gallantry from when I first met him renewed. How could I have missed how much it had lessened until now? “This is Emily, Chase, Mary-Ann, Mrs. Rogers, Ata and Oto.”

  “Hi,” I say, stepping forward and offering my hand.

  Mr. Williams shakes it with the ease of an American- or, perhaps, a man who deals with Americans often- all the while studying his son.

  Christopher turns from his father's scrutiny and back to us. “Everyone, my father.”

  Mr. Williams follows his gaze. “A pleasure, I'm sure. But is there a certain reason that you’re here in my office right now?”

  “The Masters found us,” Christopher says, simply and straight-forwardly. But the words still send shivers down my spine.

  They also have the effect of making Mr. Williams suddenly more alert. “Are you sure?”

  If it’s not them, then it appears that we have more than one enemy who would send six armed men to the Rogers’ house.”

  For a second, fear flashes across Mr. Williams' face, but only for a moment. Then his face becomes emotionless again as he turns back to us. “You all may stay here for the night, but only for the night. They know where I live, and if they realize that Christopher is one of you, then they’ll come for all of us.”

  Something intangible chokes at my throat. Is there nowhere safe?

  Still, I find the composure to nod. Must be all the Britishness pervading the office. “Um...thank you for your hospitality.”

  “You're very welcome, Miss Rogers. Now, Mr. Underhill, take them to the guest rooms and see to it that they have everything that they’ll need for the night. Also, tell Cook that we’ll be having guests for dinner.”

  The butler nods. “Yes, sir.” Then he gestures for us to follow him away.

  ~~~

  “How come you told Mr. Underhill that you didn’t need a toothbrush?” Mary-Ann asks as she slips into the shirt that Mr. Underhill had provided for a nightgown.

  I pat my satchel that I had set on the nightstand in the room Mary-Ann and I had been given. “I never go anywhere without a toothbrush now.”

  She shrugs and I continue brushing my hair.

  “Hey!” she cries suddenly. “We match.”

  I glance down at the long, white shirt I had been given. “You’re right; we do match.”

  She smiles before running into our private bathroom

  I check the time for the tenth time since dinner. It’s eight. That’s an hour after my parents’ business meeting should have ended.

  Why haven’t they called yet?

  As if reading my mind, ‘my’ cell phone rings.

  I quickly flip it open. “Hello?”

  “Emily, it’s me, Dad. Is everything all right?”

  Playing at my hair, I begin to pace. “No, I mean we’re fine now, but everything is not all right.”

  “Is that what that strange message was all about?”

  “Yes. The cat is-” Remembering my previous embarrassment, I stop myself. “Well, the Masters found us. Don’t go home.”

  Dad sighs deeply. Like he's about to reprimand me but doesn't know how. “Look, I think you’re taking this a little too far, Emms. We’re pulling up now and everything seems fine.”

  My eyes about pop out of my scull. “Wait, you went home?! Turn back now!”

  “Don’t use that tone with me, young lady.”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to shake off all these constraints between them and their safety. “But you don’t understand- you’re in grave danger!”

  Dad sighs again, this time the fall-back sigh. “I’ll call back when you’re calm. Then we’re going to have a nice, long talk. Be sure to be very pol
ite and remember you are a guest at the Williams’.”

  “Dad! No!” I scream into the phone, but he doesn’t answer me. He’s already hung up.

  “What’s wrong?” Mary-Ann asks, running out of the bathroom, her eyes like saucers.

  I don’t answer her. I can’t. Instead, I throw myself onto the bed and cry.

  Come on, Emily, all’s not lost. Maybe the Masters’ men left. Maybe Mom and Dad and the other are all safe.

  I fall asleep clinging to maybes.

  ~~~

  “About half a dozen men with guns. We need to go now.”

  “You can’t shoot both of us.”

  “The passenger is aiming a gun at us!”

  “Shoot him and you die.”

  “Emily?”

  A scream tears through the air, snapping me awake. My throat is sore. It was my scream.

  I'm in darkness, bare feet on a cold, unfamiliar floor. Where am I?

  “Emily?”

  I turn to find Christopher's silhouette stepping forward, shining a flashlight on him.

  For a moment, I stare uncomprehending at him. Then it all comes crashing down. On the run. In his home. Without my parents.

  All the while, Christopher steps closer, his eyes shining in the darkness. “Did I startle you?”

  I blink, my own eyes accustoming to the light. When they do, I note the tousled nature of Christopher's hair. Then my eyes drop to the plain white t-shirt- more casual than anything I've ever seen him in- and soccer sweatpants as well as the glass of water in his hand.

  As I take in his appearance, I sense his own eyes on me. My face flushes as I remember the long shirt I'm wearing. Not long enough for midnight rendezvous, though.

  When I bring my eyes back to his face, he brings his own gaze back to mine. “It looks so long.”

  “What?”

  “My shirt. It looks so long on you.”

  Just when I don't think I can blush more. “I-uh- this is your shirt?”

  “I'm afraid I didn't have any more feminine nightclothes to offer.”

  “So girls don't usually stay the night here?” Please say no. Please say no…

  “There's been no woman here overnight since my mother left.”

  I blink and glance up at him from under my lashes. Has he gotten closer? Or was it me who closed the distance between us? When did it even happen?…

  “I'm so sorry,” I whisper, even though I don't know all the details about his parents' estrangement, or is it a divorce?

  “You didn't cause it,” he murmurs back, and tingles go down my back and back up. “You're innocent.”

  “I'm… what?”

  But whichever of us is more coherent doesn't really matter because just then, despite the flashlight in his hand, his rough thumb is gently caressing the side of my face.

  I exhale and close my eyes, waiting.

  Suddenly, his hand is gone, as his proximity, and I'm left with nothing but cold.

  When I open my eyes again, I find him standing several feet away, standing straight and tall, like it was just me who was feeling those tingles earlier.

  Then again, maybe it was.

  Maybe this is like my last sleepwalking episode on the island all over again.

  “I should let you get back to bed now,” he says before frowning down at his flashlight. Then he hands it to me. “So you find your way. Your terrible at directions.”

  I stare down at the device in my hand. Why is he acting like this? What's going on? “I'm okay. I was just...” What was I doing again?

  “Getting water?” He glances at the glass in his other hand before holding it out to me.

  Blinking, I stare at that. “Actually, I'm good.”

  “Right. Right. Of course. Well, good night.” Without another word, Christopher swings around and strides back up the dark hallway from whence he came with his water and leaves me alone with his flashlight.

  I stare after him until he's gone and then look around. If I was in these hallways earlier, I don't remember them. Definitely don't remember how to get back to my room.

  Sighing, I decide to take the way opposite Christopher first.

  Chapter Three

  Something tickles my nose.

  I open my eyes and find myself staring at an unfamiliar blanket. In an unfamiliar room. Where am I?

  The Masters. They found me!

  I jerk up and my eyes fall on a picture of Christopher and his father on the wall. I sigh in relief. The Masters found me, but they didn’t kidnap me. And I found this room again. I’m safe here at Christopher’s house with him, Grandmother, Mary-Ann, Chase, Oto, and Ata.

  But not my parents.

  I groan and sit up. Then I grab mom’s cell phone and walk into the bathroom, leaving Mary-Ann asleep in our bed.

  I try calling Dad. When he doesn’t answer, I call Uncle Gerald. Then I call Aunt Donna before calling Dad again.

  No one answers.

  Groaning, I grasp the sink and lean my forehead against the mirror. What am I supposed to do now?

  I’ll try to keep calm and persevere through this wait. That’s all I can do.

  ~~~

  “Something smells really good,” Chase says when Mary-Ann and I meet him in the hallway.

  “Chase,” I scold, “did you comb you hair when you got up?”

  “It smells like egg and bacon and-”

  I cross my arms and scowl at him.

  He throws his arms into the air. “Fine! I’ll comb my hair. Ugh, you sound just like Mom.” He stomps back into his room.

  “Good!” I call after him.

  By the time Mary-Ann, Chase, Ata, Oto, Grandmother, and I all make it to the dining room, Christopher and his dad are already there. Six other places have been set, and five of them have steaming plates piled high with eggs, bacon, French toast, and banana slices covered in… caramel?

  “Hey!” Chase cries, glancing around wildly. “Where’s my plate?”

  Suddenly, a pleasantly plump, middle-aged woman with a smiling face emerges from the kitchen carrying another plate of food.

  “Oh, hello, children,” she coos in a French accent. “I’m Cook. I wasn’t able to make your acquaintance last night because I had to leave for a charity event right after making dinner. If you’re still hungry when you finish your plates, just holler and I’ll get you more. Ten days on a deserted island.” She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “My, you must be starved. Don’t worry, though- I’ll fatten you up.”

  Ding.

  Cook jumps. “Oh! My cinnamon rolls are done!” And just like that, she totters quickly into the kitchen.

  I blink, feeling like I've just been hit with a French hurricane.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Mr. Williams greets now that he has the chance. He looks worn out, like he’s been working all night.

  Figures. All the adults I know are workaholics.

  Christopher, who is sitting across from me, smiles, his face clear like nothing at all happened or almost happened last night. Like I dreamed it all. Maybe I did. “Good morning, Emily-” His eyes search my face before clouding with concern. “Wait, is there something wrong?”

  “No-” I sigh. “Well, yes. My dad called me last night and said they were going home despite my warning.”

  Mary-Ann and Chase both turn toward me with wide eyes. Grandmother wearily rubs her forehead.

  “Have they called you back?” Christopher asks, leaning forward.

  I shake my head sadly. “I’m going to try calling them back after breakfast.”

  “Okay,” Christopher says. “If-”

  “Here are the cinnamon rolls!” Cook announces, returning with a tray piled high with cinnamony goodness.

  Christopher shakes his head. “If breakfast ever ends.”

  ~~~

  “Please have him answer. Please have him answer. Please have him answer,” I pray as I dial Dad’s number.

  “I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now. But if you leave your name and
number, I'll get back to you when I can.”

  No! No, no, no! “Uh, hi, Dad, it’s me, Emily. Please call me back ASAP.”

  I also call both my uncle’s and my aunt’s phones. All I get are the answering machines. “I hate answering machines!”

  “I take it that it didn't go well?”

  Startling, I turn to see Christopher standing in the hallway, looking absolutely dashing in a slightly unkempt white, button-down shirt half tucked into khaki slacks.

  But I don't have time for absolutely dashing. Especially when absolutely dashing keeps pulling away every time I think we're going to kiss. “I didn’t reach any of them.” I rub my temple. “Ugh, I didn’t I don’t know I they’ve turned off their phones or the Masters got them or what. I don’t even know how to find out!”

  Christopher frowns as he watches me throw my arms into the air and then drop them. Then his eyes light up. “Wait, I think I know a way.”

  I glance up in surprise. “How?”

  His eyes flash with mystery. “Round up your group and I’ll show you.”

  Once I’ve gathered everyone up, Christopher leads us outside and we walk across the street to a significantly smaller house than the one we left. There, Christopher rings the doorbell.

  A moment later, a pale man with black hair and black eyes answers the door.

  “Oh, Christopher!” he greets. “Joseph is in his room, as usual.”

  Christopher nods at the man as he steps into the house. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

  Mr. Jones sees us and raises an eyebrow. “When I said Joseph needed to meet more people, I didn’t mean… Oh, very well then.” He shakes his head and walks away.

  “This way,” Christopher tells us, making his way deeper into the house, seemingly without a care in the world.

  I glance at Oto, who glances back. Then we all follow him upstairs and to a door so layered in ‘keep out’ and ‘danger’ signs that I can’t tell what color the door is underneath.

  Christopher dares to knock on a ‘seriously- keep out’ sign.