The arrogance Victor possessed was inherent to his upbringing, but his lack of wisdom due to his young age of eighteen coupled with his uncertainty about his father’s wishes stayed his hand. Otherwise, he’d have given the orders for all three to be killed. Someday, Victor thought, when I’m ruler, I won’t be afraid of killing traitors in other countries.
*****
Paul and Sierra had reached the end of the tunnel where a ladder stood before them and a trap door up above.
“Where does it lead?” Sierra whispered.
“It’s a garage with a get-a-way car.” Paul reached up to unlatch the door, but the sound of footsteps above made him stop. He looked at Sierra and placed his finger on his lips to signal her to be quiet. He reached past her and twisted the light bulb over her head until it went out, leaving them in complete darkness.
They both listened as footsteps sounded above their heads. Muffled voices spoke unintelligibly. Their hearts raced with the terror of being found. Then the steps faded and they heard a door close.
Paul reached for the light bulb and twisted it back on. The low light washed over Sierra’s petrified face, and he was filled with anguish. He took her into his arms and held her trembling body.
“That was too close.”
“Are they gone?” she asked into his chest.
“I think so, but we should stay down here for a while. They are obviously searching outdoor buildings. If we try to drive away right now, we’ll be caught.”
“We missed our tiny escape window.”
“Yes. It was smaller than I thought it would be. We should have run into Sam and his crossers, but he must have evacuated his crossers already.”
“So what now?”
“We wait. We can’t go back, and we can’t go forward.”
“Limbo.”
“Exactly. Let’s sit down at least.”
He sat first and helped her down onto his lap so she wouldn’t have to sit on the dirt. They kept that position for a long time, till Paul’s legs went to sleep. She sensed his discomfort and moved to sit beside him.
“Paul, how long is this tunnel?”
“What do you mean?”
“How far away from your home are we?”
“The tunnel ends four homes away from mine. The garage above belongs to a friend of my father’s. He doesn’t have any idea about the tunnel, but he is aware that we keep an escape car inside.”
“Your family is wonderful. I sure hope everyone is alright.”
“Me too.”
*****
“Sir, the surrounding buildings have been cleared. Should we check the neighboring homes?”
“No. We don’t need to start a panic. Bring the informant to me.”
“Yes sir.”
Greg Bidell was ushered into the Bronsons’ home, past the three adults on the sofa who gave him the “if looks could kill, he’d be dead” glare, and was led to Victor Rawlings, who sat comfortably in the kitchen.
“Sit. Please,” Victor invited him.
Greg did as instructed.
“She’s not here,” Victor said.
“You should have raided last night, when I discovered her presence,” Greg said. He immediately regretted chastising Victor Rawlings, even though he was right. The look on Victor’s face had him worried for his safety now. He’d need to come up with some other information to satisfy Victor. “I don’t know where he might have taken her, but I can give you some profile information about him.”
“Go on.” Victor’s eyebrow shot up in interest.
“He’s nineteen and strong both physically and mentally, but he’s never taken care of a crosser before. He won’t know what to do or how long to stay away. He’ll call home. It’s only a matter of time.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Very well. He confided in me. He told me they had kissed. That’s how I found out he was housing a girl, not a guy. I informed you right away.”
“Did he sleep with her?”
“They’ve been sleeping in the same bed since she arrived.”
“No, you know what I mean.”
“Oh, oh I’m not sure. He was all excited over a kiss. Maybe it was more of a make-out, I don’t know. I don’t think they’ve … you know … done it.”
“You don’t think?” Victor asked sarcastically.
“Paul is not that type of guy.”
“Every guy is that type of guy.” Victor ran his fingers through his hair. “Alright, you will stay in this house and answer every phone call and doorbell. When he calls home, you tell him whatever it takes to find his location, and then call me. I’m going to take all my men back to Rendier to hopefully hasten his resurfacing. If he feels safe, he’ll peek his head out of his hole. Then we’ll grab him. If you fail in any way, I’ll be done with you, permanently.” Victor stood up and straightened his jacket and looked back at Greg with an evil glare in his eyes. “Next time you tell me what I should have done, I’ll kill you.”
“Yes sir.” Greg lowered his head. Victor left the kitchen, and Greg immediately started formulating his plan to find Paul. He knew exactly where to look and was glad he didn’t tell Victor everything about Paul.
*****
“What time is it, Paul?” Sierra asked.
He looked at his watch. “It’s noon. Are you hungry?”
“I am, but it’s alright. I can wait.”
“No, there’s food back in the crawlspace. I’ll go back and get some.”
“Don’t leave me, Paul.” The frantic panic in her voice pulled at his gut.
“It’s a long way back, and your ankle — ”
“What if someone comes while you’re gone? What if you’re captured? I can wait for food, honestly. I’d rather starve than be left alone and … risk losing you.”
“Alright, I’ll wait. Tell me about your life.”
Sierra shifted her position and turned to look at him. She knew he was only trying to get their minds off of the hunger pains. “My mom died when I was eight. I don’t remember very much about her, except her smile and tenderness.”
“How did she die?”
“I don’t know. I think she was ill, but I’m not sure. My father was so distraught that I didn’t ever question him. It always made him sad, so I didn’t dwell on my mother’s death.”
“Was there a death certificate?”
“Yes, but the cause of death was listed as natural.”
“Tell me about your father.”
“He worked for Reginald Rawlings as an advisor. Not that Reginald ever took his advice, but it looked good to the outside world that Donald Montgomery was advising him. Once Victor’s eye zoned in on me, Reginald decided he didn’t need my father for public support. He’d have his son marry Donald’s daughter and place a Montgomery within the palace.”
“I don’t understand the importance of your last name.”
“The king who was overthrown by Alexandar Rawlings was married to a Montgomery. She was a distant relation to my father. Once Alexandar had taken over the country, he began the Montgomery hunt. He had heard about rebellious factions wanting to assassinate him and place a Montgomery back in power, so he started killing them all. My father told me his parents went into hiding for many years. That’s where he met my mother, whom he would marry at a later date. Somewhere along the timeline, my grandparents died, as well as Alexandar, and that’s when Reginald became ruler.
“Reginald tried to appear good and wholesome for the first years of his reign. He urged the remaining Montgomery family to come out of hiding, although most of them were dead or had crossed the border already. Reginald gave my father the position as advisor, much to my mother’s dismay. She died when I was eight, and my father kept his position till the day Reginald murdered him.”
Paul completed Sierra’s story by saying, “Reginald wanted you to marry his son because of your last name. He’s struggling isn’t he?”
“He is. He started off his rule trying to be good, but it
didn’t last too long. Now the people mutter against him, and he realizes he doesn’t have as many supporters as he would like.”
“So, by putting you into the mix, he’ll get his desired support?”
“Right.”
“If the dissident factions would be satisfied with a Montgomery in the palace, wouldn’t they be even more satisfied if a Montgomery was in complete control of the country?”
“What are you getting at?”
“You seem to be the last remaining Montgomery. You could use your lineage to push your way to the top.”
“To the top of what? Ruling a country? I don’t want that, never did. I’d have to marry Victor in order to get into the palace.”
“Yes, but the doctor you talked about could poison Victor and Reginald and then you’d become the ruler.”
“Now you sound like them.” The disgust in her voice alarmed Paul.
“I didn’t mean to. I’m only saying you could use your name to rise to the top and get your country back.”
“It’s not that easy, Paul. As much as I want the Rawlings out of power, many still want them in power. If I succeeded in climbing to the top, I wouldn’t last long. I’d be assassinated. No one can waltz in and remove someone from power, except maybe another country’s government. Even then, the supporters of the dethroned dictator would always be a problem.”
“I guess I haven’t given it enough thought.”
“Well, could someone walk into Baylend’s presidential office and forcefully take over by killing your president? No. They’d be arrested, and the internal government would be readjusted, placing your vice president in charge. It’s kind of like that with a dictatorship too, only the first one to move up into position would be Reginald’s heir, then Reginald’s top advisor, then the second top advisor, and so on down the line. As much as the majority of my country hates being under an authoritative rule, there is a certain kind of comfort knowing what to expect from day to day. If someone like me tried to take over, it would cause civil war.”
“Sara, you are the wisest girl I’ve ever met.”
They talked through the afternoon as they sat in the cool damp tunnel, learning all about each other such as favorite hobbies, foods, activities and other personal preferences. After a while, she closed her eyes for a nap, leaving Paul to his own thoughts and his incredibly empty stomach. His thirst was paramount, and hers was obvious because her voice had gone dry. All the talking had dried her out, literally.
“Wake up, Sara.” Paul gently nudged her.
She sat up and looked around. Her tongue worked in her mouth in an attempt to find moisture. “What time is it?”
“Six o’clock.”
She exhaled slowly, “I wonder what Reginald told the people about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The wedding was supposed to take place today at four o’clock. He would have given an excuse, and I highly doubt he would say I’ve escaped.”
“Wow, you’d be married right now if you hadn’t crossed the border.”
“Is it time for us to leave the tunnel?” She changed the subject. She knew in her heart right now that she’d rather be dead than be forced to marry Victor.
“Yes, I think so. It’s dark out, so at least we have that advantage on our side.”
“Do we have to leave? I mean, couldn’t we stay here?”
“Something is not right. I think our house is still being watched, or else my father would have come down here. He would have noticed the car is still in the garage and come looking for us in the tunnel. The fact nothing has happened leads me to believe we are not safe down here and would not be safe back at my house either. We have to leave.”
“Alright.”
He helped her up. He positioned himself directly under the trap door to the garage. This door opened upward, not downward. He slowly pushed it up, peering out through the tiny crack. Not seeing anyone, he pushed it all the way open. He climbed out and turned around to help Sierra. She climbed the ladder with her one good foot as he pulled her up.
The only window in the garage faced the owner’s home. The porch light spilled through the dusty window to give a small bit of light in the otherwise dark garage. Assorted yard tools hung in an organized fashion on the walls next to a rudimentary work bench covered with small baby food jars full of screws, nuts and bolts. An old bicycle hung upside down from the rafters, just high enough that they didn’t bump their heads on it.
Paul helped her to the passenger side of the four-door sedan. It was clearly an escape car since it had no license plates, the keys were in the ignition, and it had been backed into the garage for a quick escape.
Sierra sat in the car on the cool vinyl seat and fastened her seatbelt, while Paul quickly opened the garage door and got in the car. He turned the key, hoping the ignition would take the first time. It did not.
He turned the key again and listened as the engine tried to cooperate. Still nothing. His heart began racing even faster than it already was. He tried it one more time, this time giving it a little gas, and the engine took off. A thick exhaust cloud filled the garage as they pulled forward out of the garage. Not a good sign.
Paul’s eyes searched for guards and snipers, hoping they would be able to escape unnoticed. At the end of the alley, he applied the brakes only to hear the engine sputter and protest and die.
“No!” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel and turned the key again. The engine responded. The road was clear of cars, so he was able to turn without completely stopping as he gave the struggling engine gas to coax it along. If he gunned it too hard, the noise would draw attention. A noisy, smoking, hauling-butt car would certainly draw the wrong attention. What had his father been thinking when he chose this car?
“Where is everyone?” Sierra asked as they drove through town.
“I don’t know. It’s a little eerie.” He looked in his rearview mirror and saw nothing behind him. “We have to watch for followers. If someone is on our tail, we can’t go to the cabin.”
“The cabin?”
“Yes, that’s where we’re going to hide. Keep your eyes peeled.”
They drove through the streets and turned onto the highway heading west. If they drove far enough, they would end up in Northtown, which was forty-five miles away. The turn off to the cabin lay only fifteen miles up this road, but it was literally “up.” They were about to climb in altitude.
The outlet of Slater Lake cut a rugged canyon through the hills to the west. The highway followed the small river for a couple of miles, then turned away and climbed the mountain with sharp switchbacks. The river continued on into a deep canyon, which was excellent for white-water rafting.
Greg and Paul had rafted the beautiful river many times. The south wall of the canyon had many waterfalls to view. The best waterfall was fifteen miles down the canyon on the right, named Moose Creek Falls. It fell dramatically off of an overhang about thirty feet above. The river at that point was calm and still and deep, perfect for swimming.
Whenever Paul rafted this river, he always knew where he was in relation to the highway because when they reached Moose Creek Falls, he was directly south of the cabin. Last summer, he and Greg had hiked from the bridge to the top of Moose Creek Falls. The hike was mostly downhill, and the small creek was in a constant state of falling until it plunged over the edge of the canyon. In hindsight, it was an idiotic, dangerous venture on their part, one his mother would have chastised him for.
They drove the precarious switchbacks in silence. The higher they climbed, the worse the weather became. Paul had to set the windshield wipers to double time to clear the wet snow flakes from the window. The stiff wind blew the snow in an unorganized fashion and made visibility limited. Needless to say, Paul was relieved they didn’t have to be out in this snowstorm.
He could see the small bridge up ahead that crossed over Moose Creek just east of the road to the cabin. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Up ahead around this cor
ner is a little road on the right …” The car began to sputter again even with the accelerator pressed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
The car died about a hundred feet from the turnoff. Paul pulled over as far as he could to the side before the car came to a complete stop. His mind reeled with panic. The cabin was over a mile down the road, or more like up the road. He’d thought too soon about feeling relieved they didn’t have to be out in the snowstorm. Now, they would have to walk the rest of the way. But what to do about the car? They couldn’t leave it where it currently sat. It would be all too obvious. They might as well hang a sign with a giant arrow pointing down the lane saying, “Escaped crosser that way.” Paul noticed Sierra was quiet. She hadn’t complained when the engine died, and she hadn’t worried out loud about what they were going to do now. Paul appreciated the fact that she didn’t demand answers, the likes of which he didn’t have.
He turned to her. “Some getaway car, huh?”
She smiled at him, but he could tell she was frightened.
“Well, um … we can’t leave this car on the side of the road, and we can’t stay here. The cabin is about a mile away, but it’s going to be a climb to get to it. As for the car — ” he turned around, looking back down the road they had come up. “I’ll help you out, and then I’ll guide the car backwards as far down the hill as I can. Maybe I can ditch it down a steep embankment and out of sight.”
She added to his thought, “The further away you can roll the car from the road to the cabin, the less likely anyone would piece together that we walked down it.”
“Right. Plus, I’ll walk back up the road, and that will only show one set of footprints. Perhaps we can give the impression that another car stopped and gave me a ride.” The plan seemed good except for one setback: her hurt leg. He would need to carry her one mile uphill to the cabin.
Well, let the games begin.
He gave her his coat to keep her warm while he moved the car. She initially protested this action, but he convinced her that his physical activity would keep him warm, but she would need all the warmth she could get.
Gravity helped roll the car backward, and Paul hoped no other cars were coming behind him. He maneuvered over the little bridge and around the tight corners until he found an adequate place where he could successfully hide the car. He stopped the car and got out, then pushed the vehicle down the slope and out of sight. The bitter cold of the wind and snow caused a shiver to shoot through his body as he began his hike back up to Sierra.
Scars Of Defiance Page 11