by Dermot Davis
“I can’t even look at you, right now” she said and quickly opened the door. Jumping out, she ran into the darkness.
“Fiona!” Andrew shouted and quickly opened his door to run out but was jerked back by his unbuckled seat beat. “Fiona!” he yelled again as he struggled to get free. Finally getting out of the car, he ran to the side of the dark and impenetrable woods. “Fiona!” he yelled again, squinting into the darkness. He peered into the gloom and saw nothing.
Spooked by the lights of an approaching vehicle, he hesitated. Should he leave the car by the side of the road, lights on and doors open, or should he stay by their car until the other car passed? Watching the car lights as they got closer, he saw what looked like a bank of emergency lights on the vehicle’s roof.
Worried that it might be a police car, Andrew turned his head so as not to be seen. He walked to the front right tire of the pickup, and kicked it, as if he was checking to see if he had a flat tire. The approaching lights slowed down, as if they might stop. “Everything okay?” a middle-aged officer asked, having rolled down the window of his patrol car. Andrew saw part of the word SHERIFF written on the side of the car.
“Yeah, thought I hit something,” Andrew answered. “Guess not,” he then said, shielding his face with his hand, as if the light that the Sheriff was directing to the rental pickup was too bright. “Thanks for stopping, though,” he said, urging the officer on his way.
“Will it drive?” the officer asked, as if parking it there was going to be a problem.
“Oh, yeah, sure thing, officer,” Andrew answered, as he opened the driver’s side door to get back in. Once seated, Andrew wondered why the officer had not yet driven off. Acting as casually as he could, he turned the key in the ignition. When the car turned over, he acted relieved and with a broad smile, he gave a thumbs-up gesture to the officer.
Nodding his head in acknowledgement, the police officer turned off his search light. Shifting the gear lever to drive, he drove slowly away.
Andrew watched until the rear red lights of the police car vanished. Taking a huge sigh of relief, he left the engine running and stepped out of the truck. He walked to the edge of the woods and took another look around. Not seeing anything obvious in the darkness and sensing her to have walked deeper into the forest, Andrew sighed deeply. “Oh, Fiona,” he said, annoyed, yet sympathetic.
Tired, alone and afraid, Fiona felt a massive sense of relief when she finally found her way out of the woods. Landing back onto a road which looked a bit like the one that she had left earlier, she looked around for Andrew. As she had no way of knowing where she was, or even if it was the same road, she was unsure which direction to walk in. She had no idea how far she had walked through the dark woodlands. For all she knew, she could have been walking in circles, all along.
She already had looked for her phone but decided that she had most likely had left it in her purse in the rental truck. Wanting desperately to be reunited with Andrew, she chided herself for being so impetuous. She was so very foolish to have left him behind like that.
What on earth was she thinking by walking so headstrong into a forested area in almost complete darkness? She was always very proud of her stubborn streak because she knew it was a trait which she had inherited from her mother. However, at certain times, like right now, she also realized that it did not always play out in her favor. Choosing what looked the most likely direction to take, she walked. She sent a silent prayer to Andrew that he should please come and save her right away.
As she walked, she thought about their argument. Why did she have such a strong reaction to Andrew’s suggestion that her father could have betrayed the two of them? Was she so strongly annoyed because that was indeed possible (the most probable explanation, given how rapidly they’d been found) or was it the fact that it was Andrew that was making the accusation? Did she storm off in some kind of blind defense of her father? Did she really have to choose between the two men in her life, as Andrew was suggesting?
It petrified her to think that she might not know her father as well as she’d thought. Could Andrew have been right? Was her father both deceptive and the kind of man that would put her in jeopardy to make a point? He’d had Andrew’s hat, in his ritual room. What did that mean exactly? What had he done?
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice a car coming up behind her until it slowed down and stopped. “Are you okay, miss?” a male driver asked through the open window of his pickup truck. Nicely dressed, he looked to be in his thirties.
“Oh, yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Fiona answered although she felt flustered and uneasy.
“Your car broken down or something?” the man asked, looking puzzled. “Where you headed?”
“I’m…” Fiona said and looking at the road ahead, didn’t know how to answer. “How far is the nearest town?” she then asked.
“There ain’t nothing for a good ways, miss,” the man answered. “I ain’t got a cell phone but I can drop you off at Crankston. They got some bars and restaurants and all that good stuff.”
“How far is that?” Fiona asked, contemplating a walk.
“How far?” the man asked as he looked ahead as if to mentally compute the distance. “It’s like maybe a three hour walk from here,” he then said. “I could get you there in ten, fifteen minutes,” he said, seeing her face drop. “Wouldn’t be taking me out of my way; I could just drop you off.”
Fiona quickly considered her options. The thought of a three-hour walk did not sound appealing.
“Hop in,” the man said, reaching over to open the passenger side door. “Get you there in fifteen minutes, tops,” he said smiling. She looked at him. He was clean and seemed okay. He was relaxed and wasn’t staring at her or anything creepy like that.
The thought of being together with Andrew sooner rather than later was too tempting for her to pass up. Opening the door wider, where the comfort of a soft seat awaited her, and relieved to escape the darkness of the night outside, Fiona got in.
Andrew drove down the unlit road with his headlights on high beams. He dimmed them whenever he saw a car approach, which was not frequently. He figured that he had completely circled the wooded area that had Fiona entered several times over and would continue to do so. He was sick to his stomach by her continued absence and the fear that something bad might have happened to her. Mentally begging for her to appear somewhere on the road before him, he scanned both sides of the road for any sign of life or movement.
Dimming his lights for a passing car, on the other side of the road, he failed to notice that it was the same patrol car that had stopped behind him earlier. The Sheriff’s Deputy had no problem recognizing the rental pickup truck, however. Deciding that it was worth investigating further, he slowed his car so that he could pick a good spot in the road to make a safe U-turn.
Fiona idly looked out the door window into the dark and foreboding forest. So thankful to be out of its dark and dense interior, she was beyond excited at the thought of being with Andrew again soon. Her heart and body feeling warm by merely imagining his tender face, she smiled.
“Good to be off the road, huh?” the driver asked, seeing her smile.
“You have no idea,” Fiona said, briefly turning her head to acknowledge him. Catching him checking out her bare legs gave her an instant jolt of panic.
“You got pretty scratched up, there,” the driver said, noticing her reaction and defending his stare. “You been running through those woods?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Fiona said, pulling her dress down further to cover her bare skin.
“You in trouble, miss?” the man asked. “You running from somebody?”
“No, I got separated, that’s all,” she replied, thinking quickly of a plausible scenario. “From my husband. We had an argument.”
“And he let you walk all by yourself?” he asked incredulously. “Out here in the boonies?”
“How far are we to town?” she then asked, realizing that they had been
driving for quite a while.
“We’re coming up right on it,” he answered. “I cannot believe someone would leave a beautiful woman like you all by herself out here in the wilderness,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Spooked by his reference to her physical looks and feeling increasingly creeped out and unsafe, Fiona turned to see if there were any other cars on the road behind them. To her relief there was another vehicle. “You know what?” she said, seeing the pair of headlights following. “I think that’s him, right behind us. Could you pull over, please?”
“Why do you think that’s him?” the man said, checking out the lights in his rear view mirror. “That’s just a pair of lights, could be anybody.”
“Please, pull over,” Fiona said firmly. “This is good here. I’d like to get out, if that’s okay.”
“We’re right close to town,” the man said. “You got nothing to fear from me; I ain’t going to hurt you.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d really like to get out and wait for my husband,” Fiona insisted. “You’ve been very kind to take me this far.”
He completely ignored her requests and even appeared to smile a bit at her silly request. His reaction terrified her. Oh, God, what an idiot she’d been to get in the car alone with a stranger in a remote location. She could die, or worse. Her terrified thoughts made her feel sick.
“Hey, if I wanted to do something to you, I woulda done something by now. I could have turned off into one of them dirt roads that we passed…”
“Let me out of this car right now!” Fiona yelled. “Stop this car and let me get out! Now!”
“Hey, relax, relax,” the driver said, slowing down and looking spooked by her outburst. “Where you going?” he then shouted as she opened the door and jumped out before he had come to a complete stop. “You left your shoe!” he said, grabbing it and jumping out to go after her.
Seeing the man hurriedly get out of the pickup in pursuit, Fiona ran faster and further away and out onto the road. She waved her arms frantically for the oncoming motorist to stop.
Andrew panicked when Fiona suddenly appeared in his headlights. Waving her arms about, she appeared to be in distress. “Fiona?” he yelled, hitting his brakes and pulling the truck off the road as he passed her. When the chasing man appeared right in front of him, Andrew swerved the truck to avoid hitting him. In doing so, he smashed into the man’s parked pickup truck.
“Andrew!” Fiona yelled in horror and rushed to his aid. As she got to the pickup, she immediately opened the passenger side door. “Andrew!” she yelled again, praying for his safety. Pinned behind the deployed airbag, Andrew pushed it away. He appeared to be okay. “Oh, my God, Andrew!” Fiona said tearfully and jumped into the truck to help him out.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Andrew said, almost laughing with joy that they were now finally together. “What just happened?” he asked, looking her over to make sure she wasn't hurt. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay,” she said crying with happiness. “Don’t ever let me do something that stupid, ever again,” she said, pulling him to her and spoiling his face with kisses.
“I won’t, I won’t,” he said, holding her face in his trembling hands and returning her kisses ten-fold. “No one will ever tear us apart, ever,” he assured her tearfully.
“Hands on the wheel,” a voice shouted to Andrew. They had not noticed the Sheriff patrol car pull up behind them, emergency lights flashing. Andrew now turned to see the policeman he had seen earlier. His gun drawn and pointed directly at Andrew, the officer looked in no mood for small talk. “I need to see your hands on the wheel,” he sternly demanded. “Miss?” he then shouted to Fiona. “I need you out of the truck and face down where I can see you. Now!”
As Andrew put his hands on the wheel, he wasn’t aware with how much force he was using to grab hold of it. “Can’t I catch a break?” he shouted loudly.
Chapter 13
Quickly transferred to Los Angeles, Andrew ended up back in the same cell of the same prison that he had escaped from.
“Morning, sunshine,” Henry said when he saw that Andrew’s eyes had finally opened. “Welcome back.”
Groggily, Andrew looked around the cell like it was all a bad dream. “How long have I been sleeping?” he asked.
“You’ve been out a long time,” Henry answered, getting dressed. “Did they give you something?” he asked but Andrew was too out of it to respond. “They sometimes do that,” Henry continued, “keep you sedated and servile. Well, you didn’t miss much, that’s for sure. Same old, same old. They slapped on a few more years for your Houdini act, huh?”
“Yeah,” Andrew said, feeling like he might actually prefer to die rather than face the rest of his life.
“You might want to grab some breakfast while you can,” Henry said as he prepared to leave the cell. “Your only chance to grab some coffee; I’m sure you could use some,” he said and left.
Spaced out and feeling numb, Andrew remained on the lumpy mattress of the top bunk of the prison cell. He could barely remember the past few days, nor did he want to. It was as if the memory of what had led up to his present was a painful blur. It was disturbing to recall the pained and tearful face of Fiona as he was being taken away in the back of a police car.
Divorcing the image from his mind, he felt like he dared not dwell on the memory of Fiona and the times that they had shared together. He was sure that the agony of dwelling upon their separation would surely destroy him. He needed to survive. In order to do so, he needed to adjust to the reality of his present, no matter how unpleasant it seemed.
What would happen if he simply stayed in bed, he wondered? In truth, that’s all he felt like doing. He didn’t actually have the strength or the will to get up. He didn’t want to die but he didn’t particularly want to live, either. He didn’t want to live without Fiona in his life. Indeed, how could he, considering that the thought of her was the only reason he could manage to take his next breath. She was the only good thing in his world; the only beam of sunlight that brought any kind of spark or brightness to his life.
Seeing her face was the only thing that could make him strong; her laugh the only thing that could make him smile; her words, the only thing that could touch his soul. I need to be strong, he thought.
For the sake of Fiona and in her name and honor, I need to go on, he told himself. I will not give in and I will not give up; for her. If not for me, then for her.
Deep in his heart he knew that were he to surrender his will and wilt, so too would Fiona. They might not be together in person but, deep within his soul, he understood how bonded they were. He intuitively knew that his strength was her strength; and her strength his. He knew that whatever decision he would make would affect not just him but her, also. For him to give up and give in would be to pass sentence upon her life. There was no way he would even contemplate hurting her in that way.
Even if he didn’t have the freedom and life that he desired, there was no way he would take Fiona down with him. Despite the pitiful circumstances of his life, he needed to stay positive. If he couldn’t stay strong for himself, he urged himself to remain strong for her.
Even though there was a strong possibility that they would never see each other again, he was not going to let her down. Even if she was to meet and be with someone else, he would not be so selfish as to take her out of the game, before her life had even begun. No matter how much he hurt and no matter how much he felt utterly alone, he would live to see her strong and happy. He would live to see her reach her full potential. He would live to see her tender and beautiful face, no matter what the future held.
Yes, he would see her again, he vowed. They would be a couple again; they were destined to be together, no matter what. Even though the future looked bleak and the possibilities of their togetherness looked remote, he urged himself, for her sake, not to give up.
Fiona would not give up, he reckoned. Fiona would expect him to man
up; in fact, she would insist upon it. He owed it to her not to give in and crumple like a broken person. They will not break me, he declared, feeling his hands clench into a tight fist. They will never tear us apart!
Jumping out of the bed, Andrew landed his bare feet onto the floor with a thump. “Good morning, prison life,” he said to his filthy, miserable cell. “You are not going to break me.”
Putting aside all feelings of dread and horror over his despicable surroundings, Andrew made his way to the cafeteria. Inmates hung out in their cells; some of them watched as he walked towards the stairs. Looking across to the other wing, Andrew noticed a pair of eyes that were beaming into him as he walked.
Surrounded in his cell, by some of his buddies, Duke stared across at Andrew. Andrew returned his look as the expression on Duke's face changed from surprise to one of glee. It was as if the criminal had been given a gift, an opportunity to exact his revenge. Duke smiled knowingly at Andrew. Just as Andrew had done the last time they saw each other, Duke formed a cartoon mouth with his hand and motioned “bye, bye,” mouthing the words menacingly as he moved his fingers.
Oh, great, Andrew thought to himself as he continued on his way, I’ll never make it out of here alive.
After a lousy breakfast, of possibly the worst coffee and food he had ever tasted, Andrew walked to the exercise yard. In contrast to the filth and claustrophobia of the inside, he took deep breaths of the outside air. With his eyes, he expressed his gratitude to the bright and hopeful, golden sun.
Quickening his step to power-walk some laps, he realized that his spirits were flagging. If he was going to make it through the day, he needed to give himself another inspirational pep talk. “You can do this,” he said, not realizing he had said it out loud.
“You can do what?” Henry asked, appearing from behind.
“This,” Andrew answered, gesturing to his surroundings. “How do you keep it together in here?” he then asked. “How do you not go stark raving crazy in here?”