She surveyed the area for a house, a tree, any sign of civilization, but there was nothing. She wondered how a storm cellar could exist without anything else around it. Shivering, she wondered how many natural disasters had ravaged the area in recent years. A large hailstone landed near her hand on the storm door and shattered into tiny crystals.
Reaching for the handle, she noticed a rusty chain attached to a padlock. She took the chain in her hand and pulled, but it didn’t break. Slamming it back down, she listened to the unending clamor around her. The padlock may have been rusting in the elements since before she was born, but it still managed to lock her out. With both hands, she desperately rummaged in her bag for her lock picking tools, found one with her fingertips, and inserted it into the lock while hail crashed all around her.
She pictured the first lock she’d solved years earlier to keep herself calm as she worked. The padlock sprang apart. Lareina flung the door open, plunged into her miraculous shelter, and pulled the door down tight against the icy barrage above.
Sitting on a cold concrete step, she waited for her heartbeat and breathing to return to normal. As dark as the sky had been, the storm cellar was a black void in comparison. Thuds from the hail echoed eerily through the shelter and her inability to see anything only made her more anxious. Then, she remembered the flashlight in her backpack. Violent shivering slowed her attempts to unzip her bag and locate the desired object by touch. Finally, she pulled it out and slid the switch forward.
A white beam of light perforated the darkness. Tired and stiff, she hobbled down the stairs. Even with light, there wasn’t much to see in the little room. Some makeshift shelves stood against the back wall. Moving the light from the bottom shelf upward revealed each was empty—until her beam reached the top and illuminated five fabric cylinders. She reached up and, using the tips of her fingers, pushed one of the lightweight objects toward the front of the shelf. It fell to the floor with a soft thump and bounced to a halt against her feet.
She reached down and touched the smooth, soft material. Sleeping bags, she thought with a smile. The first good news since she’d left the train. Her fingers were so numb she could barely grip anything, but she managed to pull two more sleeping bags from the shelf, unroll them, and pile them in the middle of the room.
Lareina placed her flashlight on the shelf to chase away as much darkness as possible. She unzipped her jacket and slowly pulled her arms out of the sleeves, cringing every time heavy material touched her bruised skin. The dripping jacket plopped to the floor and her arm slid into the sliver of light. Black and blue and covered in welts, it looked like the arm of some grotesque creature. She pulled it back from the light and closed her eyes.
“It’s n-not that bad,” she whispered through chattering teeth. “It’ll be b-better tomorrow.”
After slipping out of her shoes, she removed the rest of her clothing, being careful to avoid standing in the light so she wouldn’t see more of her injuries. Despite her shivering, she took the time to hang her dripping clothing from the shelf to dry for the next day. Then, too exhausted to concern herself with anything else, she placed one sleeping bag on top of another and wriggled inside the top tube of material. She pulled the third sleeping bag over her and turned the flashlight off.
Warmth from the sleeping bags brought her shivering to a more tolerable level, but this was her first night alone in some time, so despite her exhaustion strange sounds in the darkness kept her awake. Thump . . . clank, drip . . . thump . . . thump, drip. Her flashlight made the cellar much less ominous, but she couldn’t afford to drain the batteries. Lacking any other sources of comfort, she tugged the top sleeping bag over her head like she had done with blankets as a child.
Her thoughts drifted back to Maibe. It wasn’t the place she had been born, and she had only lived there for a year, but it was the only place she’d felt a sense of belonging.
“I just want to go home,” she whimpered, and hunkered deeper into her bed.
Chapter 16
Squeezing her backpack strap in her hand, Lareina squinted ahead at a line of trees interspersed with the shadowy outlines of buildings. As she drew nearer, what she thought had been a town became a house surrounded by sheds and a barn. She understood the risks she faced by stepping onto that property, but continued her course anyway. As much as she wanted to avoid contact with people, she couldn’t survive much longer without help. The sight of a house gave her hope that she hadn’t been walking in circles after all, but also beckoned as a possible shelter from increasingly treacherous weather.
The past three days had left her lost, exhausted, and out of food. Rain drenched her and the nighttime temperatures were uncomfortably cold. Afraid of hypothermia, she barely slept and didn’t rest for more than an hour at a time.
Although a thick cover of clouds hid the sun from view, she guessed the time to be early afternoon as she crunched through ankle deep leaves to the nearest shed. Flattening herself against a cool metal wall, she peeked around the corner and surveyed the house. Every pane of glass reflected the outside world, smooth and unbroken. The roof wasn’t missing one shingle. That house represented warmth, dry clothes, and possible food. With everything she desperately needed waiting only feet away, she lost patience for caution, for surveillance, or for reason.
She took a teetering step away from the shed, but crunching gravel sent her scrambling back for cover. Breathing rapidly, she looked out across the yard. The house, several sheds, and a thick perimeter of trees all looked the same until movement near the barn caught her eye. First she noticed familiar black boots. Her eyes moved upward to dark blue jeans, a red flannel shirt, and then the face that stalked her nightmares. Galloway looked toward the house. He had caught up with her, but he didn’t know it yet. I’m still in control, she told herself. I just have to hide until Galloway leaves and then walk in the opposite direction.
Heart pounding against her chest, she struggled to keep her panicked breathing quiet. Every part of her wanted to run, but she knew that remaining absolutely still would be her best chance to escape. She flattened herself against the shed and held her breath, curious and nervous about Galloway’s next move. She squeezed the pendant tightly against the palm of her hand.
Galloway stomped up hollow stairs to the farmhouse’s front door. He knocked loudly, impatiently, then waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Seconds passed before he pounded more persistently. The door opened just enough for someone to peek out.
Holding up his badge, he announced, “Detective Russ Galloway. I have a few quick questions.”
The door opened wider and a tall, thin man stepped out onto the porch.
“What can I help you with, Detective?”
Galloway handed the man a sheet of paper and asked, “Have you seen this girl? She’s wanted for murder and I have reason to believe she’s nearby.”
The man shook his head. “No sir. It’s pretty quiet out here. I never have visitors.”
“You wouldn’t mind if I take a look around your property, just to ensure your safety?”
“No sir, not at all. I don’t want any criminal wandering around my place,” the man said, surveying his yard suspiciously.
If only he knew, Lareina thought. She edged to the farthest end of the shed as Galloway began his search. Her stomach growled and a cold gust of wind cut through her jacket like it was a t-shirt. The lost opportunity for food and shelter brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Maybe she could escape Galloway, but that left her with the choice of death by starvation or exposure to the elements, whichever came first.
“I know you’re here somewhere. Why don’t you just make it easy and come out of hiding.” Galloway looked down at something in his hand then held it out in front of him like he was trying to pick up a signal.
Is he using some kind of tracking device? Like in a spy novel? Is that how he keeps finding me? But it didn’t make sense. He had never been close enough to plant anything. Her ches
t constricted as she stared down at her mud-splattered shoes. There was no other explanation. Fighting against every instinct screaming in her head, she slipped one foot free and then the other. The cold, wet ground seeped through her socks.
She narrowed her focus to the space surrounding her in search of another hiding place and a way to get there without anyone spotting her. Galloway would surely check every inch of the farm, so she couldn’t remain stationary. Two more sheds stretched toward a thin line of trees that separated the farm from a pasture. A second clump of trees sprouted just beyond that. It wouldn’t be much cover, but if she could make it to that last cluster of trees, she would have a chance to escape and once again lose Galloway.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to persuade her heartbeat to slow to normal. Galloway squatted near the front porch, shining his light through the lattice screen. Darting forward, she slipped silently into the shadows projected by the second shed. She held her breath and waited, but no footsteps approached. One more shed, then thirty yards of exposed space before the shelterbelt’s arms of protection embraced her.
Something soft and warm grazed her hand. She let out a silent gasp of surprise. A golden retriever wagged its tail at her. Dogs didn’t scare her, but their friendly nature could easily reveal her hiding place.
Lareina waved her hands in front of her. “Shooo. Go away,” she whispered.
The dog just stretched its front paws forward and made a high-pitched whining sound.
“Shhh,” she scolded and edged another step along the wall. A low, rumbling growl radiated from the animal. Their eyes met, but the dog didn’t share her sense of caution. He let out a loud bark then continued, growing louder by the minute.
Crunch . . . Scrape . . . Crunch-scrape. Galloway’s boots rushed across the gravel driveway toward her. She didn’t wait for him to enter her line of vision. Without looking back, she sprinted toward the tree line.
“Hey! Stop!” Galloway’s voice boomed right over her shoulder.
She didn’t have to turn to know Galloway followed close behind her, growing nearer every minute. But, without the city’s labyrinth of alleys and hidden alcoves, she didn’t know how to evade her pursuer. The reverberating echo of a gun bounced around her and a section of wet pasture splattered up her leg.
“The next one’ll be in your arm if you don’t stop,” Galloway called, out of breath.
She began swerving back and forth, refusing to make herself an easy target. Shaky from hunger and clumsy from cold, her refuge appeared to be miles away, when in reality, it was only thirty feet. It seemed inevitable her legs or lungs would give out any second.
Another bang tore across the pasture as a searing pain sliced across her right arm, just below the shoulder. She staggered forward and crashed against spongy ground, but immediately scrambled to her feet. Galloway caught her bag and yanked her backward. Feet sliding against thick mud, she used the ground as a springboard and slammed all of her weight back against him. The force threw him off balance and they landed with a splash in the saturated sludge.
Lareina disentangled her arms from twisted backpack straps and tried to pull away, but Galloway clenched her left wrist. Hoping the mud would make her arm slippery, she heaved away from him, but he only gripped her tighter, slamming her back against the ground. She lifted her face and twisted sideways just as he reached for her other arm. Without time to think, she pulled her leg forward and kicked hard, aiming for his nose.
He released her wrist with a curse, hands going to his face. Lareina slid away from him, scrambled to her feet, and resumed running.
“You’ll pay for that,” Galloway growled. She didn’t look back. Stiff, shaking, stumbling, her feet shuffled forward under wobbly legs.
He still had her backpack, but she had the pendant, and that was enough. She would replace everything else later. Darting into the brush, she felt every rock and twig under her unprotected feet, warm blood trickled down her arm, and she fought her way through punishing branches that scratched her face and snagged her clothes.
Scanning her surroundings, she spotted a tangle of thick bushes and lunged into them. Her next step found her flailing through open air before splashing into a trench of frigid water. Patches of gray swirled and mixed with thick, angled branches as the world rotated left and then back again. Shadowy silhouettes of twigs trembled against a darkening sky. Enough light streamed in for her to determine she had fallen into an old drainage ditch screened by the bushes she had planned to hide in. At one time it probably directed water beneath a gravel road, but time and lack of traffic had allowed the rain and brush to erase any evidence of civilization from history. Dazed and out of breath, she crawled deeper into the culvert and flattened herself into the mud, hoping Galloway wouldn’t discover her accidental refuge.
Her arm throbbed, cold mud seeped through her clothes, and time passed, but fear held her captive. The familiar shape of the pendant in her hand stood between sense and insanity. Logic begged her to give up, but hope wouldn’t let her die there, alone. She promised herself that once she was free of Galloway, she would find someone who cared about her, someone to call family, and stay with them for the rest of her life. That hope provided the final surge of strength she needed.
Holding her injured arm tight to her chest and gripping roots and brush with her other hand, she pulled herself out of the ditch. Already exhausted from the short climb, she fell to her knees and stared up at the night sky, irritated that she had lost hours of daylight and warmth.
Lareina shivered as violently as the trees against icy gusts of wind. Her wet clothes and hair made the temperature feel twenty degrees colder, and every step required more energy than she could muster. Dizziness spun the world into an unfamiliar place, so the glimmer of light ahead was surely nothing more than a hallucination. But with each step, she moved closer and closer to the unwavering glow until she realized the little squares of light came from hundreds of windows. Buildings stood just out of her reach beyond a tall, concrete wall. She drew nearer, pressing her hands against solid blocks, looking for a way to get inside, her last chance for food and warmth.
What if Galloway is inside? What if he’s been here with one of those posters? What kind of people live inside of a wall? The questions deteriorated any courage she had built up. Cautiously, she took a few steps back and looked around, but everything remained dark and quiet. She had to find a way to see over the wall, to know if anyone waited on the other side. Continuing forward, her foot caught something and she stumbled forward. A five-gallon bucket stuck up out of the grass. She turned it upside down and stepped onto it, but it wasn’t enough; the wall succeeded in its mission to keep her out. The bucket tilted beneath her feet and she shifted her weight to balance it, but the sloping ground aided gravity.
Lareina and the bucket crashed to the ground. Every instinct screamed for her to run, but she couldn’t move. Her arms and legs felt so numb she couldn’t even guess whether she was injured in the fall. This is it, she thought. Either Galloway will catch me or I’ll freeze to death right here. Low voices shouted, close and far away at the same time, and footsteps squished toward her. Huddled against the wall, holding her breath, and trying to stifle her shivering, she could only hope for the best as a flashlight beam found her.
“Who are you? What do you want here?” The voice was male, but its owner had to be young, maybe younger than her. Soggy footsteps slurped forward through thick mud.
Already caught and too exhausted to move, she could only wait to face the person behind the voice, prepare to accept the consequences, and perhaps take her last breath of freedom. Rallying all of her energy, she tilted her head sideways and opened her eyes. Two silhouettes hovered over her, fading in and out of focus like ghosts. She rubbed a hand over her face.
The taller one kept a flashlight aimed at her and the other held his gun in front of him, ready to defend whatever he guarded.
“Answer the question,” the boy holding a gun demanded.
“I-I-I’m lost.” She shivered so hard she could barely speak.
The two guards remained in position, studying the ragged intruder.
“Get up,” the boy with a flashlight ordered.
She knew the two strangers would continue to view her as a threat until she proved herself harmless. It wouldn’t be difficult in her condition, but still she intended to put on a good show. Bending her left elbow, she propped herself a few inches off the ground before collapsing. The flashlight beam came closer, but she could only shiver and curl her knees to her chest. A hand grasped her arm, lifted it, then dropped it. Pain surged from her elbow to her wrist, and she let out a weak yelp.
“She’s hurt,” the guard with the flashlight exclaimed. “Her sleeve is soaked with blood.” Whether the guard expressed concern or fear, she couldn’t surmise from his dull, stiff voice.
“She must have enemies,” the other guard whispered, a hint of panic in his voice. “We should get out of here.”
If they left her out in the cold, she would die before morning, but if they determined she was a threat, she might not survive another hour. Feeling the situation slipping out of her control, she tried to lift her head from the ground without success.
“We can’t leave her out here.” The beam of light quivered slightly. “She’ll die out here.”
“If this goes wrong, it’s on you,” the other warned. “You can explain it to the president.”
“Just shut up and keep your eyes open for the enemies you’re worried about.”
His words sounded louder and closer to her ear and then she felt herself being lifted, held against him, cold air blocked from her body as they moved through the mist. A new panic gripped her mind and stole her breath. Where would they take her? What would she encounter on the other side of the wall? Not wanting to pose any kind of threat, she fought the desire to open her eyes and remained as limp as possible.
Hope for the Best Page 14