by Mike Nappa
“Little girl?” he says. “Little girl inside the bunker? Can you hear me?”
Dog starts growling. I don’t say nothing.
“Little girl?” he says again. “We come in peace.”
Even I roll my eyes. I hear the woman.
“Idiot,” she says. “Why are all men idiots?”
“Little girl—”
She interrupts him. “Stop calling her little girl. Clearly she has a name.”
“Well, we don’t know her name, do we?”
Now the woman is close to the door.
“What’s your name, sweetie? My name is Trudi. The handsome idiot with me is Samuel. Will you tell us your name?”
Something in me wants to answer this woman. But I’m not ready to tell her my name. Not yet.
“What you want?” I say.
I hear the woman shushing the man.
“Truck sent us,” she says.
“How do you know my uncle?” I say.
“Uncle?” It’s the man. “Leonard Truckson is your uncle?”
I don’t answer. I hear the woman talking to the man again. “Will you keep your mouth shut for just five minutes? Please?” Then to me she says, “Samuel used to work for him. For your uncle.”
Something’s not right with that answer. I ain’t never seen this guy ’round Truck’s farm. ’Course, Uncle Truck traveled a lot. He could have hired this guy from anywhere. But that wasn’t the problem at this juncture.
“What do you mean, ‘used to’?” I say.
They don’t respond right away. Then the woman speaks.
“Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this. Your uncle is, um, well, he’s dead. He was killed in a raid on your farm here. I’m sorry.”
Baby girl time again. I can’t stop tears from choking through me. The dog stands and walks a circle around me, then sits again, pressing his side against my hip.
Truck’s dead? That would explain why he ain’t never come to get me. But it don’t explain why I feel so suddenly lost in a foggy sea.
I hear whispering on the other side of the door, and finally the woman hisses to the man, “Just give her a minute. She just lost her uncle. Give her a little courtesy, okay?”
I’m starting to like this cranky woman. I sit in the chair at the table and let myself heave out a few sobs. It don’t take long, just long enough. When I’m ready, I call out to the door.
“What you want? There’s nothing in here but me and this dog.”
“Honey.” The woman’s voice sounds almost like family. “Are you okay in there? Do you need anything?”
“Tell her to call off the dog so we can go in,” the man says. She ignores him.
“Have you eaten? Do you need some food?” she says.
“Tell that man I can’t let him in,” I say. “I can’t let anybody in unless they know the safe code Truck give me.”
The man curses. I think he thinks I didn’t hear him. “Could you make this any harder, Truck?”
“Okay,” the woman says. “That’s okay. But can you at least tell us your name, honey. And if there’s anybody you want us to call for you?”
Rendel, I think. Curtis. Kenny. The Mute. Any of Truck’s boys, really. But I don’t say that out loud. If they don’t know Truck’s boys, I won’t give ’em away.
“Annabel,” I say at last. “Annabel Truckson.”
There’s a little commotion on the other side of the door.
“Wait a minute,” the woman says. “Is your name Annabel Lee Truckson?”
I feel a shiver. She knows my name?
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. “Annabel Lee Truckson.”
There’s whispering on the other side of the door. I get up and move closer so’s I can hear it better.
“. . . the map. Don’t you see?” It’s the woman. “Truck didn’t mean ‘Alabama’ when he put ‘AL’ on that map. He meant Annabel Lee. He meant the poem, and his niece.”
“I don’t get it,” the man whispers. “How does that help us?”
“Give me a second,” she says. Then I hear her begin to recite my poem. “‘It was many and many a year ago’—Line 1. ‘In a kingdom by the sea’—Line 2. ‘That a maiden there lived whom you may know’—Line 3. ‘By the name of Annabel Lee’—Line 4.”
I find myself reciting alongside her.
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea . . .
She stops, and I hear her counting. “Line 9,” she mutters, “words 6 through 11 . . .”
I step back from the door. Dog is by my side, snarling at the steel before us.
“Annabel, honey,” the woman says to me. “Love that was more than love.”
I feel something release inside me, a gratefulness that I just can’t describe.
So, Truck didn’t leave me all alone out on that sea. Truck had a backup plan, and that plan is standing outside right now.
“Geht!” I say to the dog, motioning toward the outhouse. When he stands at the door to the toilets, I tell him “Ruhig sein.” Be quiet. “Sich hinlegen.” Lie down. “In Frieden.” Be at peace. Dog obeys me, but he don’t seem happy about it.
“Ma’am,” I say, “I’m gonna open the door.”
33
Trudi
Trudi tried to move in front of Samuel so that she’d be the first thing the girl saw when she opened the door, but her ex-husband would have nothing to do with that. The memory of the attack dog was too fresh, apparently. He jutted out his arm and took two steps backward, forcing Trudi to do the same.
It was only a moment before she heard the bottom lock click and the heavy steel door begin to scrape. The girl was not as strong as Samuel, so it took her a few tugs to get it to open wide enough for a clear view.
She was a pretty little thing, with a face that was much too serious for a child at her stage in life. Trudi guessed Annabel was twelve or thirteen, but she couldn’t be sure. She had chestnut hair that dipped past her shoulders, and a lean but healthy frame that looked used to chores on a farm. Trudi gazed into her eyes and felt a dawning realization.
In front of her, Samuel stood carefully aloof, trying not to scare her and thus incite the ire of the guard dog. He searched the room before saying anything, making sure he knew where the dog was stationed, making sure he was ready in case of another attack. When it became clear that the girl had subdued the German shepherd in an open-air doorway across the room, he turned his attention to the child.
He knelt down partway until he was about eye level with her, and he extended his hand. “Ms. Truckson,” he said, “my name is Samuel Hill. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The girl flushed a little in her cheeks, but her expression remained serious. She shook his hand gently. “You can call me Annabel,” she said.
Samuel held her eyes for a moment, and Trudi could see that he’d made the same deduction she had. He sighed ever so slightly, and nodded. “You have beautiful green eyes, Annabel,” he said. He let his gaze drift sideways up to Trudi. “Like two emeralds. Priceless.”
So Truck hadn’t hidden gemstones in this underground bunker. He’d hidden his niece, his priceless niece. Someone he desperately wanted to keep safe.
Trudi stepped forward and also extended a hand. “I’m Trudi,” she said. “May we come in?”
Annabel vacated the doorway to let them enter. Over by the wall, the dog sat up on his front legs and started growling.
“Aufhören!” the girl said sharply. “Ruhig sein.” The dog responded immediately. He licked his lips nervously but stopped growling and baring his teeth.
“Aufhören,” Samuel said genially. “I think that means ‘stop it’ or something like that, am I right?”
“Cease,” the girl said. “You speak German?”
“Only a little.” He grinned. “Only when Truck was yelling at me and expecting me to know what he said.”
&nb
sp; The girl gave a small smile. Apparently she and Samuel had had similar experiences with Leonard Truckson.
“Ruhig sein,” Samuel said. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Be quiet,” Annabel said. “I told him to stop growling at you.”
Trudi and Sam both nodded. Trudi began to take stock of the surroundings. Food on shelves. Bunk beds. Water in a bucket on the floor. And a table in the middle of the room with four chairs around it.
“How long have you been down here, sweetie?” she asked.
The girl shrugged. “I kinda lost track of things.”
“I can see how that could happen,” Trudi said.
“Miss Annabel,” Samuel said, motioning to the table, “may we sit down and talk to you for a minute or two? I think we all have some things to figure out.”
Annabel nodded and took a chair at the table, sitting on the far side, facing toward the steel door. Samuel and Trudi occupied the seats on her right and her left.
“Where are you from, Annabel?” Samuel asked.
“Right here on Truck’s farm.” She looked at Samuel like he’d just asked a stupid question.
Samuel cleared his throat and tried again.
“I mean, where are you from originally?”
“Alabama.”
Samuel looked mildly frustrated.
“Where were you born?”
“Peachtree, I guess. Or maybe Mobile.” She shrugged. “Truck never said what hospital exactly I was born in.”
A light sigh escaped Samuel’s lips.
“I mean, where are your parents from?”
“What’s the big deal with where she’s from, Samuel?” Trudi interrupted. “Give her a break. She’s from here. She lives with her uncle. Isn’t that enough for now?”
“No, Trudi, that’s not enough,” Samuel said evenly. “You don’t understand what’s going on here, so just let me do my job. Okay?”
“What’s going on, mister?” Annabel said.
Samuel leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as if asking for patience. Or wisdom. Or both.
“What do you know about your uncle’s work?” he asked at last. “Did he ever talk to you about that?”
“You mean the work here on the farm? Or . . . or the other stuff?”
“The other stuff.”
“No. He never talked much about that. Nothing specific, at least.”
“What are you getting at, Samuel?” Trudi asked. She was losing her patience. “Just lay it out and stop playing spy games. We’re in a bunker ten feet underground where we found a little girl and a rabid dog. We’ve got strange people chasing us, maybe wanting to kill us, and a mute assassin waiting for us at a rendezvous point. I think we’re well past whatever you think is ‘classified’ at this point.”
“She’s a Fade, Trudi.” Samuel sounded remarkably calm. “I’m just trying to find out why and where she came from. I’ve never known Truck to Fade a child before, so you’ll forgive me for not having all the answers right now, okay?”
Trudi felt like her ex-husband was speaking a foreign language, or that they were speaking a language where all the words had different meanings.
“What in the world is a Fade?”
Samuel turned to the girl. “Do you know what a Fade is, Annabel? Did Truck ever talk to you about that?”
She shook her head slowly. The girl was trying to keep up with the conversation but was clearly just as confused as Trudi was.
“Did Truck ever talk to you about leaving this farm, about leaving Alabama?”
Annabel shook her head, then paused. “Well, he said that when I turned thirteen he was planning to take me on a trip to see the world. Something like that.”
Samuel nodded. “Okay,” he said. “That helps. That probably means you are a Fade Thirteen, meaning you are to stay Faded until you turn thirteen and you can reclaim. How old are you now?”
“Eleven,” Annabel said. “I’ll be twelve on December 13.”
Trudi felt as confused as she imagined the girl to be. She tried not to sound annoyed.
“Samuel,” she said. “I don’t know about Annabel here, but I’m lost. Can you start at the beginning and explain this to me? What’s a Fade?”
Samuel looked at Trudi, then back at Annabel.
“Okay,” he said, “here it is. In a nutshell. Truck was a professional Fader. That was his main job with the CIA.”
“Uncle Truck was CIA?” Annabel sounded genuinely surprised. Samuel nodded.
“What does a professional Fader do?” Trudi asked.
Seemingly unaware that he was doing it, Samuel rubbed a spot on his forearm. Trudi noticed the place he rubbed was where an Army Special Forces tattoo was inked into his skin.
“A Fader helps people escape from, well, impossible circumstances. He hides them away until it’s safe for them to come back.”
“Like the witness protection program?”
“Similar, but not exactly. With witness protection, the person disappears into a completely different life forever. With a Fade, the subject is just hidden for a time, and any assets the subject has are kept in trust or hidden until the end of the Fade when they can be reclaimed.”
“If that’s what Truck was doing, then why did you think he was keeping gemstones in this bunker?”
Samuel looked a little embarrassed. “Well, it’s kind of expensive to implement a Fade. And Truck was never shy about getting paid.”
“I see,” Trudi said. “So Truck was allowed to steal from the people he Faded. To skim off the top of their bank accounts and valuables for himself.”
“The CIA called it his ‘commission’ for services rendered.” Samuel shrugged. “I never said Truck was a saint. Anyway, a Fade may last years, but in the end it’s always temporary. That’s why I need to know where Annabel came from, what her life was before she came to Truck. So she can reclaim her life. That’s what Truck intended.”
“I been with Uncle Truck for longer than I can remember,” Annabel interrupted suddenly. “Since I was a baby. He told me my parents was killed in a war.” A hesitation, like she wasn’t sure she should reveal what came next. “I think maybe the war in Iraq. Truck said my mother give me to him to take care of.”
Samuel looked thoughtful. He leaned over the table and looked deeply into Annabel’s eyes.
“You should know,” he said, “that Truck never personally watched over a Fade, not that I ever knew of. The fact that he actually made you a part of his family and stayed with you all these years means you must be something special. Your mother too.”
The girl looked grateful at Samuel’s words. There was a thick moment of silence among them, then she asked, “What happened to Uncle Truck?”
Trudi looked to Samuel, who hung his head slightly. “I don’t know all the details, Annabel, I was just told that he’d been killed. Told by someone close to him.”
“Who.”
It wasn’t a question, it was an assumption that Samuel would tell her whatever she wanted to know.
“Well, I don’t know his real name.” Samuel actually looked a little flustered. “He’s one of Truck’s old army boys. He goes by a nickname.”
“What nickname?”
Samuel shrugged. “Well, Truck always called him The Mute.”
Trudi started to roll her eyes at her ex-husband, but then she saw a flicker of recognition cross the girl’s face. Was that hope in her eyes?
“The Mute,” Annabel said. Her face brightened considerably. “The Mute. Is he here? Is he with you?”
Trudi and Samuel exchanged a glance.
“You know The Mute?” Trudi asked. The girl nodded.
“Is he with you?” she asked again.
Trudi got the feeling that once this child asked a question, she never let it go until it was answered. Kind of like The Little Prince, Trudi thought, in the classic book by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Then, in a moment of randomness, Wow, I should read that book again . . . Trudi pushed that thought aside and
forced her mind to return to the present moment.
“No,” she said to Annabel, “The Mute’s not here with us now. Not yet, at least.”
“But he is in the area,” Samuel said. “He’s very concerned about you and your safety. We’re supposed to meet him. Soon.”
“If you want,” Trudi said, “we’ll take you to him, honey.”
Annabel nodded. “If The Mute’s here, he’ll help me. He’ll help us. He has to.”
Trudi and Samuel exchanged a glance. Stone-cold killer is a friend of this little girl’s? Trudi thought. There’s definitely more to this child than meets the eye.
“Why is that?” Samuel asked.
“He’s my godfather. Truck made him so. He’s bound to me. He’ll help me.”
“Godfather?” Samuel snorted in surprise. “Don’t you have to be Catholic for that? I don’t know that Truck ever found religion, did he?”
Annabel shrugged. “My uncle never said. But The Mute’s my godfather either way.”
“All right then,” Samuel said. “The Mute is your godfather.” He looked around the bunker again, and his eyes fell on the dog. “Is it safe to travel with that dog?”
The girl turned and faced her pet. There was genuine confusion on her face. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I never took him anywhere.”
Samuel’s hand brushed nervously at his sternum. If possible, Trudi thought she saw the dog grin at that. But of course, that wasn’t possible. Samuel peered through the open doorway and down the tunnel.
“Does The Mute know your dog?” Trudi asked. “Does the dog know The Mute?”
The girl nodded. “He helped Truck to train him a few years back.”
The girl’s eyes flicked to the floor, then toward the dog in the corner. Trudi noticed that she stuffed her hands underneath her thighs in her chair. The girl seemed uncomfortable at the thought of the dog’s training but didn’t say anything more.
“Okay, then,” Trudi said. She turned to her ex-husband. “Why don’t you go get The Mute and bring him here, Samuel? My guess is he’s already got a plan for traveling with both the dog and the girl.” She turned back to the child. “I’ll stay here with Annabel. We’ll tell stories to each other to pass the time until you get back.”
Samuel hesitated. He nodded toward the dog. “Will she be safe in here with your pet?” he asked the girl.