by Gray Gardner
So what was written in there? What was the big super-secret? I nodded in acknowledgement to Chilton and tried my hardest to think of something. Anything. They were not going to let me leave until I told them what they wanted to hear. I couldn’t think with everyone looking at me. I cleared my throat and rubbed my temple.
“I’m sorry,” I choked, feeling like I could throw up. I really couldn’t help them.
“Baylor, would you like to go upstairs and rest for a little while? Chilton and I are going to take a little stroll along the beach,” President Austin said.
Yes, I wanted to be by myself more than anything at that moment.
“Okay,” I nodded, making a show of yawning and rubbing my eyes as I slung my backpack on, adjusting it a few times.
Austin came up behind me and placed his hand on my back, leading me towards the back of the house. The large staircase appeared, and as I began to climb he grabbed my dirty white sleeve and held tightly. I stumbled back onto the first step and looked back at him.
“We’ll continue this in one hour. I’m sure that by now you realize how important it is you tell us everything.”
“But I’ve already told you.”
“Good girl,” he smiled, releasing my shirt and patting me like a child as he turned to walk out of the rear doorway and over the bridge to the beach. His Secret Service shadowed him.
I sighed heavily and clomped up the blonde wood stairs to the long hallway at the top. I found a room at the end of the white hall, painted a nice blue with a just enough room for a double bed and a covered chair. Pulling the sailboat monogrammed curtains back, I smiled. I’d chosen the room because of its close proximity to the nice, heavily wooded area north of the house. Thick woods and only about fifty yards of open space between me and freedom.
First things first. Dropping to my knees, I fished my journal out of my backpack and quickly added an entry on a random day, indicating that my dad’s accountant had files and keys to safety deposit boxes. There. If the president searched the bag and discovered my stupid journal, maybe they’d find the entry and go bother my accountant, leaving me the hell alone.
Quickly and as quietly as possible I searched the bathroom and found some dental floss and a little silver mirror. Perfect. I was so MacGyver. Tying the floss to the mirror, I prayed that no one was downstairs on this side of the house. I pried the window open and leaned out. The shingled roof to the covered porch was not very steep, so I quietly climbed out and slid down to the edge, my knee dunking into icky gutter clutter. Slowly, I held the mirror out and dangled it over the edge, leaning over on my free hand and concentrating on the mirror.
It made me dizzy as it spun, but as I stretched my arm it finally slowed. I couldn’t see anyone on this side of the porch and through the window I only saw a large, empty office. Carefully, I pulled the mirror back up and set it on the shingles, then swung my legs around and suspended them over the edge.
My backpack stayed on the floor of my room as planned. I pushed backwards, but my sweater vest pulled up to my neck and there was a suspicious breeze under my skirt. My weight finally pulled me completely over the edge, and I only dangled for a second before I dropped and slapped my shoes and hands on the porch. Someone would have heard that.
Run, you idiot! I screamed at myself as I hopped over the railing and adjusted my clothes as I ran across the open gravel driveway towards the trees. I expected to hear the voices yelling from around the front of the house. I expected the loudest ones to belong to Ferguson and Dustin.
What I didn’t expect was gunfire.
It appears when there is yelling and running and of course, several Secret Service agents standing guard in watch towers, they shoot first, ask questions later. A sound policy to protect the President unless, naturally, you’re the one doing the running.
I screamed out loud this time and held my arms around my head as I continued to run for the thick trees and the gravel popped up in spurts all around me. Were they missing or were they just trying to scare me? I didn’t want to find out, so I didn’t look back as I made my mad dash for cover. I heard Ferguson and Dustin yelling for them to stop shooting, and I was almost glad until I heard the roar of engines.
Oh God. This was a bad idea.
Dead branches scraped my legs and pulled at my vest as I struggled through the muddy maze of trees and moss covered rocks. I fell several times, my clothes completely covered in wet mud, as I’m sure my face was, too. A huge leafy branch slapped against my face when I had turned back from looking over my shoulder. I just kept running at full speed. I had to get out of there. It didn’t matter that some Russian group was trying to kill me. Or torture me. Or whatever.
Everyone wanted something from me and I just couldn’t give them what they wanted. It wasn’t my fault. And I wasn’t about to stick around so two federal agencies in the two most powerful countries in the world could bully me. I leapt over a huge puddle and broke into an opening.
The road. I slipped on the wet grass and slid on my knees down a small incline, all the while searching for a car. Any car. I suddenly saw headlights through the mist in the distance. Would they stop and help me?
I squinted as the car drew nearer.
“Hey!” someone yelled from behind me. I glanced at the large man emerging from the trees. Secret Service.
Shit. I turned back and saw that the approaching car was a black Hummer, just like the ones parked off to the side of the president’s driveway. Double shit.
I darted across the road and into the tall trees beyond it. Glancing down, I saw that my hands were completely covered in mud. I panted as I looked behind me and thought about Predator. If Arnold could coat himself in mud and hide from an alien being who could see the heat he emitted, I could certainly hide from some meatheads chasing me without any sophisticated equipment.
Falling to a muddy puddle, I coated whatever part of my body I could. Then I wrestled my vest up around my face and pushed myself behind a tree, trying to sit as still as I possibly could.
“This way!”
“She’s out this way!”
I heard footsteps and saw people running past me, splashing in puddles and crunching twigs and leaves. They looked like they were carrying assault rifles. Great. This was all just great. I squished my tired body as far as it would go into the trunk. When the last guy disappeared and I could breathe again, I turned and doubled back. Yanking my vest down as I ran, I found the road again and quickly stumbled backwards as an eighteen wheeler zoomed by.
I sat on my back very still for a moment, unable to catch my breath. That had scared me more than the automatic weapons. I wiped my face off as I finally was able to get my heart back into my chest and groaned as I stood. Then, not knowing what else to do, I started jogging down the road. Someone else was sure to come by soon.
And yet, no one did. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead as I paused and leaned over onto my knees. This was ridiculous.
“Baylor!”
I heard several footsteps but didn’t bother turning to see who they belonged to. I just turned back into the trees and ran as hard as I could. The dense vegetation I had been in was nothing compared to the marsh I’d just entered. I splashed around as I picked my knees up and tried to navigate as fast as I could, but the water was up to my knees and I had very short legs. I fell forward and splashed head first, and when I came up to keep running something jerked on me back.
“Baylor!” that commanding voice was absolutely frightening, especially when speaking my name. I swear a helicopter zoomed overhead.
I struggled to pull away. The President wasn’t just scary because of all of the power he possessed. He was actually a very big man. And very fit. The rumors that he’d gotten the whole White House in shape had been true.
“What, were you going to swim back to London?” he asked, catching his breath and gesturing to the large body of water beyond the trees. His grip was locked on my arm and he jerked up as he yelled like I was some naughty toddler.<
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I kept pulling with all of my weight as I tried not to look at him. I knew if I looked at him for any extended period I’d say something I’d totally regret.
“You aren’t going anywhere so you might as well stop,” he said, still gripping one of my arms.
Stubbornly, I kept pulling away.
“No, stay back,” I heard him say. Oh great, did he have his Secret Service guys there with all the assault weapons? I glanced over my shoulder for a second and groaned. Yep. I really wished he would just let me go.
Suddenly, I found no force holding me back and flew face first into the water. I was totally submerged when two hands grabbed my shirt and yanked me upward. I coughed as the welcomed air filled my lungs.
“Are you going to stop running?” Austin asked.
I didn’t answer as I thought about it, and suddenly found myself under the water again. I kicked frantically as I was pulled up again. Answer him, you idiot!
“I won’t run!” I finally choked, grabbing his hand for support as I leaned over and coughed up some water. I heard the definite sounds of a helicopter again.
He nodded and started forward, my sleeve still in his grasp, and as he trekked out of the marsh and trees, I mostly stumbled and shivered in the cold. And the man wouldn’t stop. It was like that the entire way back to his house, his taciturn agents surrounding us. He was like a machine and I was utterly exhausted. Then something else occurred to me.
“Mr. President!” Reddy called, running up to us from the house and speaking into her big black cell phone. “He’s got her.”
It took about two seconds for the rest of the search party to materialize. The Secret Service guys were still on edge and nearly everyone had a weapon drawn. Everyone looked mad.
“Marty,” Chilton began, jumping out of a Hummer as it slid to a stop next to us.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Baylor!” Ferguson yelled, leaping out of another car and running over.
“She’s no fool,” Austin panted, nodding down at me with the slightest hint of respect. “May I take care of this first or would you like her, Chilton?”
“She’s mine,” Ferguson growled, as he approached us and grabbed my other arm. The President released me and I almost wished he hadn’t. Ferguson looked irate and he was holding my arm very tightly as he hauled me towards the house.
We burst inside and into the back corner office I’d seen in the dangling mirror earlier. He slammed the door behind us and as I slowly turned to say something he pushed me back to the desk. I fell back and leaned on it as he got right in my face.
“What in the bloody hell were you thinking?” he hollered, glowering down at me as my weak legs shook and I slithered over the edge of the desk towards the floor. He grabbed me and sat me on top, not letting me off that easily. “Well?”
I was so unbelievably cold that all I could do was fold my arms across my body and tuck my chin into my chest.
“I want an answer!” he shouted, holding his arms out. “You have got to be the stupidest damn kid I’ve ever met!”
That was a little harsh.
“What, you think you’re smart?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Yes.
“Do you even comprehend the kind of dangerous people that are out there right now? Looking for you? Trying to hurt you? Wanting you dead?”
I didn’t have a reply.
“How long until they find you? You need protection, Baylor! Or they will hunt you down and torture you until you talk!”
“But I don’t know anything!” I finally cried, as my teeth chattered. I closed my eyes and tried to control my shivering.
“They won’t care! They’ll just kill you when you’re no good to them anymore! Is that what you want?” he asked, right in my face, hands gripping the desk’s edge on either side of me.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Good!” he huffed, throwing his hands into the air and turning to face out of a window. “At least we know you don’t have a death wish.”
I shivered as I watched him. Was he mad because I tried to run away or was he mad because I didn’t have any protection? He rubbed his hand across his head a few times, then finally turned around.
“Look at you,” he sighed, walking over and picking me up off of the desk. I shivered uncontrollably as he carried me into the attached bathroom and started the water. Then he set me in the tub. I was fully clothed and about to object, but the rising water was so warm and my prickling skin felt so good getting de-iced that I just sank down and moaned in delight.
“This is awesome,” I mumbled through blue lips.
“Did you actually try and cover every inch of your body in muck?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the tub and watching me.
“Yeah,” I nodded, looking up at him and wiping dirty water out of my eyes with shaking hands.
He took a deep breath and looked out of the open door into the office. “The President is extremely upset with you.”
“I noticed.”
He fiddled with his tie as he looked down in thought. “You know, I really don’t believe there is a diary.”
“Agreed,” I sarcastically uttered, as my teeth chattered less and less. Because it was true.
He grinned and finally peered down at me. “I think it’s you.”
My muscles jerked uncontrollably but I still tried to look serious. “Me what?”
“I don’t think the diary, if it exists anywhere, holds the secret. I think you do.”
Well, that was just crazy. I didn’t know any secrets. Especially any super secrets. He looked like he really believed what he was saying, though.
“Don’t worry, sport. No one else shares my views on this matter. Just a hunch I have. They’re still behind the diary theory.”
“Excellent,” I gurgled, submerging my mouth and trying to forget the whole day.
At that moment, Chilton burst into the office, turned and saw us, then strode into the bathroom. “Get her into some dry clothes and out there in five.”
“Yes sir,” he quickly nodded, standing up. He leaned down and pulled the tub drain. I groaned. This what not the part I was looking forward to.
“You’re going to have to give me some privacy,” I stated, as he wrapped a huge fluffy towel around me and helped me out of the tub.
“Sure,” he smiled. “I’ll leave you all alone so that you can crawl out of the window and take off down the beach.”
“I’m not that dumb,” I grumbled, dripping wet.
“Neither am I,” he sighed, turning around and looking out of the window.
I waited for a second, then exhaled in complete humiliation and began undressing. My uniform peeled off of my body and it felt good to get the warm, gray sweats on. Obviously, they were the President’s and ten sizes too big, but they were comfortable nonetheless. I toweled my hair for a second and couldn’t find any more ways to stall as Ferguson turned back around.
“Blasted CIA,” he grumbled, taking a deep breath and not looking at me as he opened the door.
“What?”
He shook his head as he mumbled, “My job would be a lot easier if you weren’t so…”
I waited for the rest. He was just standing there, looking off somewhere. He finally sighed and put his hand on my back, leading me out into the rest of the house.
“So what?” I asked, trying to look back at him as he pushed me towards the large family room. What was he trying to say? I suddenly exited that train of thought as I saw President Austin, Chilton, Dustin, and Reddy all standing in front of the fireplace. Austin was holding my backpack. Like moths to the flame.
“Let’s talk,” he said, no hint of amusement on his face, no trace of the charm that was present at my arrival.
I glanced up at Ferguson, who was looking anywhere but at me, and slowly stumbled over the long legs of the oversized sweats as I made my way to one of the large couches. I sank down opposite the firing squad and waited with a lump in my throat. I mean, my plan had worked but I was
still afraid.
“What’s in here?” Austin asked, still holding my bag.
My mouth was completely dry, but I still managed to crackle, “Schoolwork.”
“That’s why you took it with you?” he asked, tossing it onto the couch next to me.
I eyed it as I replied, “Yes.”
“There’s nothing else of value in there?” he interrupted, looking very pissed off.
“Just my school stuff.”
“Empty it,” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. Chilton and Dustin held similar poses as Reddy walked around the room and began whispering with Ferguson. I could have sworn Dustin was fighting a grin.
I slowly reached over, pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt back, and unzipped my black backpack. I carefully pulled out my World History notebook and my British Literature spiral and set them on the coffee table. Austin approached and eyed them both as he towered over me.
“History and Brit Lit?” he asked, almost mockingly.
“I aced my World History midterm,” I confessed, then suddenly looked ashamed. “But Joyce confuses me.”
I heard the President exhale as he continued looming in front of me.
“Oh yeah?” he asked incredulously.
“Well…yes. I mean, I understand the time period and all, but…who in the hell can really believe it? Come on. That’s not reality.”
“Never mind,” he quickly huffed, throwing his hands down at my bag. “What are you hiding?”
“N-nothing,” I answered, still unable to look at his face.
“Dustin?” he called behind him, to my complete and utter surprise.
Agent Dustin walked forward and stood next to Austin. Oh no, this wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Are you familiar with the disciplinary standards at St. Andrews?” Austin asked. I choked on my own saliva as sweat beaded on my face.
“Quite,” Dustin replied, reaching down and taking hold of my arm.
“It’s in the bottom of my bag!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, backing up on the couch. I think I startled everyone, including myself, because I didn’t really mean to yell. I was just scared and wanted to get Dustin’s hands off of me.