by Rebecca Sky
For a moment it seems like we might get away from them.
As I burst through the door, my foot catches the ledge and I tumble to the ground, hands scraping over the stony concrete. Ben’s momentum drives him past. He skids to a stop, running back to help me. Heavy footsteps charge behind.
The men are upon us now.
I push up, pausing mid-motion, my arms shaking from the strain of holding my weight. But I can’t move, fear freezes my entire being – a gun barrel looms, inches from Ben’s face.
‘It’s OK, Rachel,’ Ben says. He’s like a deer in headlights – frozen, still – except for a hand motioning me to keep back.
‘Stop resisting or your friend gets hurt,’ the man tells me, jerking his gun at Ben.
My head spins, my heart hammers in my ears. The back of my throat fills with a phantom metallic taste. This is it. He’s going to die. And it’s my fault.
An arm reaches out, from one of the other men, and a new kind of horror rises in me. My insides twist at the thought of what I must do. ‘Ben, look out!’ I jump up and dive for Ben, slamming my shoulder into the gunman. Our bodies fold together, a tangle of limbs. Steel flashes in my vision as I wrestle for the gun.
‘Grab her!’ someone shouts.
My fingers slip over the cool surface as the gunman secures his grip on it. He knocks me to the ground and I curl into a ball, expecting to hear the blasting resound of a bullet rocketing from the gun. Instead, there’s a hollow click. The man growls and tosses the empty pistol at my head. I manage to block it with my forearm. The blow stings, but I ignore it and push up, running for Ben, who’s running for me. We meet halfway, he grabs my hand and I feel a surge of electricity. One of them lunges, holding me by my cardigan, trying to pull me back. ‘We’re not going to hurt you,’ he says.
‘Let go!’
Without hesitating, Ben punches the guy in the face. The man stumbles. Ben takes it as an opening to move me behind him. He raises his hands, ready to fight off the next assault.
People exit their houses, some pull out cellphones, others run over, stopping on the street, not sure what to do, who to help. It’s not every day you see a gun fight at church.
‘Hand her over and no one will get hurt,’ one of them says.
Ben reaches back, resting a protective hand on me. The men form a line before him.
Even if we get out of this, we’ll be found. The neighbours are taking pictures, probably calling the police. Maybe the Committee is a better option than jail. Maybe if we stop fighting they won’t hurt Ben. Maybe.
A rumbling engine comes up the street. I turn to see Kyle’s big red truck.
‘Over here!’ I wave and jump, stepping closer to the road, taking my first real breath in a while.
Kyle pulls up behind us. ‘What’s going on?’
The men charge, seeing our newfound escape route.
‘Go!’ Ben pushes me towards the truck then runs at them.
The men circle as he kicks and hits, blocking their attempts to get to me. It’s three on one, and Ben takes a lot of blows.
I teeter in the in-between. Do I go to the safety of Kyle and Marissa, or stay with Ben? The thought of losing him makes me ill. ‘I’m not leaving,’ I say, glancing around for something, anything that can help us.
‘Rach?’ Marissa calls. ‘Get out of there.’
‘Not without Ben.’ I turn back in time to see one of the men get past Ben and rush at me. I have nowhere to go. I raise my fists, prepared to protect myself, when large arms grab me and shove me back. Kyle appears in a blink, pushing over the man and heading into the fight.
‘Get in the truck,’ Ben yells again. He ducks in time to avoid a fist to the face, and one of the men grabs him from behind.
‘Oh. My. God. What’s happening?’ Marissa says as I hop in the back, looking for something to help. I pull a wooden bat from under the seat, gripping it tight, eyes fixed on the boys.
Kyle rips the guy off Ben’s back.
Ben turns from his current match, slamming his knee into the stomach of the guy Kyle’s holding. He spins back in time to block a fist and smash his palm into the jaw of the other man. The man’s eyes roll back and he timbers to the ground.
Marissa sits up. ‘Whoa.’
‘Dude,’ Kyle says, surveying the scene.
There’s a wake of unconscious men at Ben’s feet.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Ben rushes to us, and Kyle’s right behind.
I cling to the bat, knees tapping impatiently on the seat. My gaze bounces to the church doors, hoping no new attack comes rocketing out.
The boys dive in the front. Ben first, pressing Marissa into the corner to make room for Kyle behind the wheel.
One of the men manages to get up and get to the truck. He’s inches from grabbing Kyle.
‘Watch out!’ Marissa warns.
Instinct takes over and I spring over the seat, using Kyle’s shoulder for leverage, and strike the attacker. He falls to the ground with a humph. I throw the bat after him, and Kyle slams the door.
‘Drive!’ Ben says, slapping the dash.
Kyle slams the gas, sending me flying into the back. Tyre smoke clouds the parking lot as he peels on to the street.
We drive past a blue-and-yellow helicopter on the church’s front lawn. It wasn’t there when I went in. The door opens and a lady in a trousersuit steps out. She pauses, watching the truck speed by.
‘What’s going on?’ Kyle says, cutting off a station wagon going school-zone speeds.
Ben turns and looks over the seat at me. I don’t know what to tell him.
‘Whatever that was …’ Kyle continues. ‘Dude!’ He smacks the steering wheel.
‘Just keep driving,’ Ben says, wiping blood off his fists and holding out the seatbelt for Marissa to put on. ‘You should’ve stayed in the truck. I had things under control.’
‘If you call getting beat up in a church under control.’ Kyle scrunches his nose when he sees Ben’s hands. ‘Try not to get any blood on my seats.’ He reaches under his chair and grabs an old T-shirt. ‘Clean yourself off.’ He hands it to Ben. ‘Where to?’
‘Just don’t drive home,’ Ben says, taking the shirt, dabbing his lip and wrapping his hand. ‘We have to make sure we don’t have a tail first.’
I spin in my seat. Far down the road, a few men run after us with their phones raised, trying to capture our getaway as Kyle turns on to the next street and out of view.
‘What happened?’ Marissa asks.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t even know.’
‘It’s a little cramped up here,’ Ben says. ‘I’m going to slide into the back.’
‘Want me to pull over?’ Kyle asks.
‘No,’ Ben says, ‘put as much distance between us and that church as possible.’
Marissa sulks, clearly not wanting him to leave her side, but luckily Kyle starts into a wild recount of the fight and she gets caught up in the drama. Ben crawls over the seat, making himself comfortable on the back bench beside me.
He puts his seatbelt on then leans over, keeping space between us, and lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘Thank you.’
It’s suddenly very hard to catch my breath and the buzz under my skin surges. The combination of the two makes it difficult to form words. ‘Th … thank me?’
He lowers his eyes to my hands, clinging fiercely to my stomach, hoping to hold my gift in.
‘For what you did back there,’ he says softly. ‘I could’ve been shot.’
And I could be a prisoner of the Committee if it wasn’t for him. ‘I had a feeling they wouldn’t shoot me,’ I say, pushing further against my door, away from him, so I can catch my breath. ‘And that thanks goes both ways.’
Ben’s face twists with conflict. ‘Listen, Rach.’ He hesitates. ‘We need to get back to your dad and pack the car and leave, right now, tonight.’
‘You think the men will find us?’ He’s scaring me. I don’t want to leave Kyle and Joyce – we just got h
ere.
‘I have to tell you something,’ he says, taking a deep breath. ‘I left my jacket on purpose.’ Ben’s face shows no emotion. ‘At your house, for Ammon to find.’
‘What?’ I gasp out, my heart hammering at my ribs.
He looks at me but his eyes never connect. ‘Then when Marissa left me in the garage with your dad, I used the cordless to call him.’
I’m too shocked to reply.
‘He’s probably here already, looking for us. Maybe what just happened was because of me.’ I don’t correct him – he doesn’t know about the Committee. And then he looks at me properly – his eyes filling with something similar to how he looked at the elderly pizza driver, a sort of I will protect you look – and it makes my stomach flip.
‘I was doing what I thought was right,’ he confesses. ‘Becoming an officer is something I take seriously. I thought if I went along with you that it would help the police. You know, leave clues and collect info on you girls. I thought, maybe, it would secure me a slot in the academy. But now …’
My stomach sinks. Because of us he might lose the chance to live his dream.
Then I realize what he’s telling me and my heart sinks too. That’s why he didn’t scream and pound the glass, that’s why he’s been friendly with Marissa, that’s why … ‘You being nice to me, that was all just trying to win favour with the cops?’
He raps his head against the back seat. ‘No. That wasn’t fake. I pride myself in being a good judge of character and when I look at you I don’t see a villain.’ He shakes his head, brown strands falling over his eyes. I don’t respond, so he adds, ‘I’m not sure which side is the good guys, what’s right and wrong in all this. All I know is saving you felt right.’ A spark of mischief flashes in his eyes and it fires up my blood. ‘Plus, there’s no telling what your family would do to me if I let you get caught.’ He exhales an airy laugh then glances out the window, his mind wandering to another world. When he looks back at me, he’s a reflection of the lonely boy with the frayed cuffs that I first met in the cell. ‘Your family fights so hard to stay together,’ he says, softly. ‘There’s no denying you love each other. It’s been nice to be around that again. It’s been a while.’
My heart shatters. I glance up to see if Marissa is listening, but she’s still deep in conversation with Kyle. I’m about to ask Ben what he means by ‘a while’, but he continues, ‘Rach, if I’m going to trust you, then you need to trust me. I want to know everything.’
If I can’t trust Ben after he just risked his life to save me, then I can’t trust anyone. ‘OK,’ I say, feeling some of the weight of the years of keeping the Hedoness secrets lift from my shoulders.
‘OK.’ He smiles. ‘First, we should let your dad know what’s happened so he can make arrangements.’ He sits back, pushing the hair from his face and giving me enough distance to try to get my power back under control. ‘Does he have access to that Hedoness website thing? If not it’s probably not a good idea to use your phone.’
‘No, he doesn’t. Do you think the cops are tracking our calls?’
‘We can’t be too careful.’
I glance out the back window as he says that, half expecting to see that we’re being followed – luckily, we aren’t.
‘Kyle, can we borrow your cell?’ Ben says, loud enough to interrupt the conversation in front.
I pat my pocket, wondering about my own phone, thankful to find it there. After everything we went through, it could’ve easily fallen out or got crushed. I pull it out, only to discover the battery is dead. ‘Darn it.’ I shove it in the seat pocket in front of me.
‘Yeah, man – here,’ Kyle says, handing his back.
Ben scrolls through call history for Joyce’s cell number, putting it on speaker so we can all listen. It goes straight to voicemail. He hangs up and tries a few more times, always getting voicemail. ‘What’s your home number?’
‘615-555-0140.’
Once again, Ben punches in the number and puts the call on speaker.
‘Hello?’ a shaky voice whispers over the line.
‘Joyce?’
‘Is Kyle all right?’ she asks.
‘I’m fine, Mom,’ he calls back.
Ben sits forward, holding the phone closer to his mouth. ‘We’ve had an incident, but we’re all safe. What’s going on, you sound upset?’
‘Listen, you kids – don’t come home. There are police officers asking questions. They handcuffed your dad, Rachel. I’m out in the shed. They don’t know I’m here.’
‘What?’ I gasp.
‘They arrested Uncle Daniel? Why? Wait, Mom? Are you OK?’ Kyle reaches for the phone but Ben pushes him back.
‘Son? I’m fine. Just a little shaken is all.’
‘Turn around,’ I tell Kyle. ‘We need to help my dad.’
Kyle pulls on to the shoulder of the road, preparing for a U-turn.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Joyce says, her voice cracking. ‘You hear me? Do not come home …’
The line goes dead and we listen to the static for a few minutes before Ben ends the call and hands it back. I hug my stomach and try not to let the worry consume me, or the tears loose, or my power escape. My parents have both been arrested, separated from each other. All because of us.
‘They found us,’ Ben says, glancing at me, his eyes filled with an unspoken apology.
I can’t blame him. I might’ve even done the same thing in his shoes.
Kyle slams the truck in park. ‘Who found you? And why the hell has your dad been arrested – does it have anything to do with those thugs back there? If my mom gets hurt because of something you’ve done, I’m going to—’
‘Kyle.’ Ben cuts him off before he says something he’ll regret. It’s a kindness I don’t think Kyle picks up on, because he glares daggers at Ben. ‘Your mom will be OK. Do you know anywhere we can go? Away from cops. The girls have something they need to tell you.’
Kyle drives us to a grungy diner miles out of town, down a long dirt road, the type of road where things go to get lost. The first thing I notice as we pull up is a giant neon sign that flickers ‘arrow iner’ in a faded pink glow. It’s supposed to say Sparrow Diner, but some of the letters are burnt out. I can’t help feeling it’s no accident. Arrow iner is a little too personal.
I go to exit the truck, but Marissa grabs my arm, stopping me and blocking Ben. ‘Can the two of us have a minute?’ she asks him.
He looks at me, I shrug.
‘We’ll grab seats,’ he says, sliding out Kyle’s side. ‘Don’t be long.’
I watch the boys enter the foggy glass door peppered with posters and tape residue.
‘OK,’ says Marissa, ‘so what the hell are we going to do?’
I tug my cardigan closer to my body. ‘I think we should tell the boys the truth.’
‘I knew you’d have some stupid idea.’
‘For one, it’s not stupid, they deserve to know. Ben could’ve been killed tonight.’
‘What’s two?’ she asks, leaning into the dash and crossing her arms.
‘Two: you practically already told Kyle about us at the strip mall anyway.’
‘Whatever. All I said is they think we’re aliens. I’m happy to stick with that story.’
‘I don’t feel right lying to him any more.’
‘Him?’ She cocks her head.
‘Them,’ I say.
‘Fine. But if we get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.’ Marissa makes a hand-washing motion and holds out her palms.
I roll my eyes. ‘The Committee and the police are after us. My parents are in jail. No one can reach your mom. Who’s left to get in trouble with?’
‘Uh, the gods, duh.’
‘Like they’ll leave their perfect world to deal with us.’ As I say the words, I can’t help glancing at that neon sign.
Marissa sighs and leans over the seat, resting her head on her hands. ‘Do you think he’ll still like me?’
‘You can’t be serious.�
�
‘I mean it, Rach.’
‘Is that what this little talk is about? You’re worried that if you tell Ben you’re a Hedoness he won’t like you any more?’
She shrugs, and a sly smile spreads over her face. ‘I guess if he stops liking me, I can always make him like me.’
I smack her forehead.
‘Ouch, what the hell?’ She rubs her head and glares.
‘Now you’re the one being stupid,’ I say. But something deep inside me realizes – it is that simple.
‘Can we try this one more time?’ Ben says. ‘I want to make sure I heard you correctly.’ He speaks slowly, not letting any panic escape into his voice. But he forgets his eyes – they give away everything.
I take a breath and sit forward. Cupping my mug, ignoring the fresh nutty coffee smell and the plate of fries in front of me waiting to be devoured. I’m hungry, but I need to get this over with first. ‘We are descendants of Eros, and he—’
‘You seriously believe this?’ Kyle throws up his hands. ‘Is this a joke? My mom could be hurt and she’s cracking bad jokes?’ He turns to Ben for answers but is ignored.
‘We’re getting nowhere this way.’ Marissa picks at the ends of her hair.
‘Then explain it in a way that makes sense,’ Ben says.
I shove some fries in my mouth, wishing they tasted more like New York street fries and less like cardboard. Even fries make me miss home.
Marissa drops her curl and smiles. ‘I can do you one better. Watch.’ She slides out of the booth and starts for a table in the far corner.
I try to grab her, but I’m not fast enough. ‘Don’t even think about …’ It’s too late. Marissa leans in, making lip contact with a leather-wearing, face-pierced, tattooed biker. ‘Seriously?’ I huff. ‘Have you learned nothing from the last week?’
She glares at me and turns back to the biker, watching him slip out the side of the booth and fall to the ground, convulsing.
‘What the …? What’d she do?’ Kyle asks.
I excuse myself and go to the man. A scruffy waitress and two bikers from another table follow me over to help.
‘He’s OK, just a seizure,’ Marissa says, waving them away.