See No More

by W B Dineen

  My dad explained, “Humans only have five senses to perceive the world around them. What if we had ten or fifty?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what those would be, Daddy. But I know I have eyes and my eyes tell me the sky is blue.”

  He explained, “The light radiating from the sun is really white. It only looks blue because the air in the earth’s atmosphere interacts with it by separating the blue molecules and spreading them around.”

  I reached over and held his hand as though assuring him I accepted his weird answer. “Okay, Daddy. If you say so.”

  I remember him squeezing mine in return. “Katie, the sky is only one of a thousand different things I know of that appears to be one way but is really another. If I know of a thousand, then there must be billions.”

  In retrospect, it seems like he was trying to warn me about something. I wonder if he knew at that time he was going to leave us and was trying to plant a seed of doubt in me. A seed meant to grow into questions I was to ask about his disappearance. Maybe the answers to those questions were meant to reunite us sooner. Sadly, the only ones I asked were along the lines of, “What did I do wrong that caused my daddy to leave us?”

  We finally pull off the road in a little town called Roseburg. Jake stops to get five dollars’ worth of gas and to pick up some lunch for us. After he hands the money to the attendant, I opine, “Five dollars? I don’t think that’s going to get us out of Oregon.”

  “Pretty sure you’re right,” he answers. “But I can’t use my credit cards, or we’ll be tracked.”

  “How are we supposed to get to California, then? Are we going to start robbing people?”

  I’m a little concerned he’s about to say yes, when he shakes his head. “Five dollars will get us to the safe house. There’s plenty of cash and credit cards there to take us wherever else we need to go.”

  “Of course there is,” I mumble. Today, I’ve learned that my dad isn’t necessarily dead, he didn’t go missing on purpose, and he was involved in something pretty flipping dangerous. “Does all this have anything to do with the reason Theo left my family twenty-five years ago?”

  Jake simply nods, “Yeah. Your dad never would have deserted you, if he hadn’t had to. He did it to keep you all safe.”

  I physically react to his answer with a jolt. It’s like being punched in the heart. Theodore Hawks, aka Jeffrey Randolph, aka Daddydid, never wanted to leave us. All those birthdays, summer vacations, Christmases, and picnics, he wanted to be there for all of it. What in the world had he gotten involved in that caused our lives to skid so spectacularly off track? A sob catches in my throat.

  I barely manage to nibble on a very questionable-tasting prepackaged tuna fish sandwich from the gas station. I feed bits to Buddy as I go. We share a bag of corn chips and a banana before I lie back and close my eyes.

  When the car stops again, we’re in the middle of a forested area, much like where Dad and Jake have their cabins in Albany. Sure enough, there’s a small structure a few yards away. “This is the safe house?” And before he has a chance to answer, I wonder aloud, “Is your cabin in Albany a safe house, too?’

  “Yeah, Theo initially thought he’d be there for a short time, but after a few years, when no one came after him, he built his house on the same land and settled in.”

  For no real reason, I say, “He was there for ten years.”

  Jake shrugs his shoulders. “That’s how these things go. You’re safe until you’re not. Sometimes you have an inkling they’re on to you, and sometimes you just disappear.”

  “Why would my dad have ever stayed in one place for so long? I’m guessing he was on the move for the first fifteen years?”

  “Stop digging, Kate. You’re going to get your answers very soon.” Then he opens the car. “Come on, let’s go inside and get cleaned up.”

  I glance down at myself and realize I look like I could have competed in a WWF mud-wrestling tournament. My once-favorite dress is going straight into the garbage, along with my remaining shoe. As of this minute, I have nothing left of my own possessions, which makes me feel enormously vulnerable and completely unconnected to the person I was before coming to Oregon.

  The inside of the cabin is very sparse. It was obviously only set up as a stopping off point, not a final destination. Before we pass the entry, Jake instructs, “Stay here and don’t move until I’m sure nothing has been compromised.”

  I don’t even twitch while he walks around checking out old-school traps, like making sure a thread on the back door is still in place and looking for uneven or disturbed dust patterns. After a trip into the bedroom, he calls out, “It looks okay.”

  I can’t help it, I let out a laugh. “What’s so funny?” he demands.

  “Your security measures seem a little nineteenth century for the kind of trouble we’re running from.”

  Jake chuckles. “True, but only because there’s no electricity here. We’re about as far off the grid as it’s possible to get in this country.”

  “How are we supposed to get clean, warm, or make dinner without electricity?” Then I see the fireplace. “I guess we can build a fire.” I’m not much of a camping, get-back-to-nature kind of girl, but as long as I have a roof over my head and warmth, I should be okay.

  “Kate, we’re on the run. Not only don’t we have electricity, but we’re not going to build a fire. We’re going to make as little impact on this location as humanly possible.”

  “What? Why? We’re clearly in the middle of nowhere. Who’s going to know if we build a fire?”

  “Anyone who notices smoke in the sky where there usually isn’t any.”

  I scoff, “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?” Then I realize maybe Theo wasn’t paranoid enough and that’s exactly why we’re all in our current situation, so I shut up.

  CHAPTER 19

  In case you’re wondering, I’m pretty sure MRE—meal ready to eat—bars, are the most disgusting thing that’s ever passed my lips. That would include the cricket I ate on a dare when I was eleven. After the first bite, I gag, “What in God’s name is this?”

  Jake grunts, “Dinner, breakfast, and probably lunch tomorrow, as well.”

  I want to cry. I want some of my mom’s strawberry jam on crackers with a cheeseburger chaser, but I’d settle for a Tic Tac. It’s getting dark out and as a result it’s getting a whole heck of a lot colder in here.

  Both Jake and I take sponge baths and we’re currently wearing clothes we found in a plastic storage bucket in the bedroom. I’ve got on “mom jeans” that are at least two sizes too big, a flannel shirt, and a pair of Vans that actually fit. Jake’s wearing track pants and a sweatshirt. The clothes not only look dated, but they smell like mildew and mothballs. There’s a reason Calvin Klein never turned that combination into a bestselling perfume.

  Our best find is a bucket full of toiletries. I’m able to brush my hair and teeth and even use real soap for my sponge bath. It’s the little things, I’m learning.

  With hours before bedtime and precious little light, Jake pulls out his smartphone and turns on the flashlight app to flicker. He puts it between us like we’re sharing a romantic candlelit dinner. “Tell me what it was like when your dad left.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “It was pretty much what you’d expect: gut-wrenching, life-changing, kind of like having your heart ripped out, but without the sweet release of death.”

  Jake winces. “How did you find out he was gone?”

  I cringe at the memory. “I found a note on the dining room table when I came home from school. It was addressed to my mom, but it wasn’t in an envelope or anything, so I read it.” I clear an excess of emotion from my throat. “It said, ‘Dear Bethanie, I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving and not planning to come back. Tell the girls I love them. I’ll send money when I can.’ He signed it Jeffrey.”

  Now that I realize my dad didn’t want to leave, I can’t imagine how agonizing it mu
st have been for him to write that. He knew what he was going to put us all through. He knew he would be the bad guy until the end of time, but he did it anyway, because he loved us, and wanted to keep us safe.

  Jake unfolds a blanket and hands it to me. “And how did other people act when they found out?”

  “In what way?”

  “Did they seem surprised? Did they help your mom? Did they bring meals over? Things like that.”

  I think for a minute. “I don’t remember a lot. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own heartache to pay attention to what else was going on.” Then I recall, “There were two professors who came by pretty regularly after he left.”

  He raises an eyebrow in question, so I continue, “Professor Feldman and Professor Ramos, I think. They used to bring little things for mom and sometimes candy for me and Jen.”

  Jake pulls out the box he retrieved from the coffin earlier in the day. “I opened it while you were getting cleaned up.” Then he takes off the lid. “They’re the letters your dad left in the cabin for us to take to California.”

  “What does that mean? How did the letters get from the cabin to the casket? Who put them in there?”

  Jake smiles contemplatively. “If I had to guess, I’d say Theo did it.”

  “That would mean he’s still alive!”

  Nodding his head, Jake replies, “That’s exactly what it would mean. It would also mean he hasn’t been captured and he needs our help to stay safe.” Then he explains, “The letters in the box are for some of his fellow professors. Our first stop when we get to California is going to be Caltech.”

  Suddenly, I’m not scared at all, I’m elated. I don’t care if MRE bars are the only food I have for an entire week. If Theo is alive and we can help him, that means I’m going to be able to see him again. I’m going to get my dad back!

  CHAPTER 20

  We zip two sleeping bags together and Jake, Buddy, and I all crawl in. I’m sure Buddy would have been fine on his own, but I need his extra warmth as well as his keen chaperoning abilities. He sleeps in the middle.

  I’m seriously attracted to Jake and the more trouble we get into, the more I want to throw caution to the wind and go for it, but two things are stopping me. The first is that it hasn’t even been a full day since I entertained concerns that he was one of the bad guys and was going to throw me into an open grave. The second is that I don’t want to get too close to someone who might wind up collateral damage in whatever we’ve gotten ourselves involved in.

  Although, when I wake up and look across Buddy at a sleeping Jake, all my reservations begin to drift away. God, he’s gorgeous. His sandy hair is mussed, and his morning beard makes him look like a rogue pirate. I want to shout out, “Ahoy, matey!” and hop aboard, but I remind myself what a bad idea that would be.

  Jake has no cell reception, so he can’t talk to Nikolay or get any messages until we find our way back to civilization. I’m not clear on what the plan is other than I’m not to expect real food until suppertime.

  The air is freezing cold when I pull my arms out from under the covers. If I didn’t have to go to the bathroom so badly, I’d go right back to sleep. Buddy wakes up as I stir and gives me a truly atrocious smelling dog kiss before he bounds out of bed and runs to the door. I shake Jake awake. “Can I let Buddy out by himself or do I need to go with him to make sure he’s safe?”

  His eyes open slowly and if I were to guess, he doesn’t quite remember where he is. He looks at me and I see the wheels start to turn in his man-brain. Then I see a tent form midway down the sleeping bag and I yell, “Jake, snap out of it!”

  He rubs his eyes and scrunches up his face like he’s trying to manually force alertness. “What’s your question?”

  “Can I let Buddy out to do his thing or do I need to go with him?”

  He yawns loudly. “Just let him out. He’s not going to wander off.”

  So, I open the back door for the dog before finding the facilities to relieve myself. By the time I’m done, Jake is up. “What do you want for breakfast, the crepes or the french toast?”

  I growl as I take the proffered MRE bar, “I’d settle for nothing if I could have a cup of hot coffee.”

  I’m about to open my breakfast when I hear a scratching at the door. Jake gets up to open it and Buddy comes tearing in like his tail is on fire. Jake leans down to give him a pat and pulls a piece of paper out of his collar.

  He unrolls it and reads it out loud, so I can hear.

  Jake, you’ve got less than three minutes to get out of there before the whole place blows. Go now! Theo

  Time starts to move in slow motion. Jake yells at me, “Get your shoes and run as fast as you can!” He throws various things in our bags, while I grab the dog and race for the door. I have my shoes in my hand, but I don’t stop to put them on. Instead I sprint across the damp ground in my socks, tramping on anything that gets in my way.

  I’m aware of a couple sharp jabs from broken branches, but there’s no way I’m going to take the time to stop and investigate the damage to my feet. If I do, there might not be any feet left to worry about.

  My legs are burning, and my heart is lurching in my chest. I’m in the middle of nowhere with a man I hardly know and once again I’m running for my life. I don’t know how many seconds or minutes pass when I the ground shakes and I hear a deafening explosion. I duck and cover, so I don’t get hit with flying debris.

  There’s no sign of Jake or my dad and I break out into a cold sweat. Who in the world is after us? What am I going to do if I’m out here alone? I have no money, no car, no phone, and someone is seriously trying to kill us. I feel like I’m about to throw up.

  I can’t run anymore without my shoes, so I hide behind a tree to put them on. I listen closely to the sounds around me, but the air is ominously silent. The birds aren’t even chirping. I wonder if the cabin is on fire and the thought makes me panic again. I know it’s wet out here, but if the trees catch on fire the whole forest could burn down around me.

  Then I hear a rumbling noise heading right toward me and I freeze. What if it’s the person who blew up the cabin? I can’t seem to will my feet to move. Just when I’m sure I’m going to drop dead from fright, I spy a four-wheeler coming right at me. Thank God, it’s Jake!

  His ride doesn’t look much bigger than a lawnmower, but I immediately jump on behind him and pull Buddy up. He takes off like the hounds of hell are nipping at our heels, and truthfully, they might be. I have no idea who’s responsible for the demise of the safe house.

  The woods smell of wet earth and decay with traces of smoke. Fingers of terror begin to crawl up the back of my neck. How can I possibly be in this situation? All I did was come to Oregon for my father’s funeral, and now I’m being threatened by gunfire and exploding buildings? Not to mention the strange man in black who chased me through the grocery store. This isn’t what I signed up for.

  Jake zigs and zags through the trees, driving as fast as our transportation allows. I don’t know how long we’re moving, but we cross two small creeks before we hit a road. He avoids the main thoroughfare and keeps maneuvering through the woods. We eventually come to the end and find ourselves at the edge of a grape vineyard.

  Jake stops the four-wheeler, and yells, “Damn it, the front tires are flat!”

  As we get off the vehicle, we hear rumbling coming through the woods behind us. It’s at least one more ATV, maybe two. He grabs my hand and yanks. “Follow me!”

  We run through a row of grapes when a thunderous crack of bullets is discharged in our direction. With every stride, my heart pushes up into my throat. It’s pounding like the robotic dubstep music they used to play in nightclubs. The rhythmic booming in my ears is nearly deafening.

  We head straight toward a barn with Buddy keeping pace, and we don’t slow down until we reach the structure. Jake puts a finger over his lips for me to be quiet. He quickly sneaks around the side and peeks in. After establishing the coast is clear, he motions for
me to climb into a beat-up Volvo station wagon parked by the side of the barn.

  After we pile in, Jake fusses with some wires under the steering wheel, and within moments the car roars to life. I look out the back window to see if we’re still being pursued and spot two off-roaders, barreling toward us. Before I can turn back around, the window takes a direct hit and spiderwebs into smithereens.

  The car smells like a combination of fertilizer, cigarettes, and mold. I try to speak coherently, but the only words that come out are, “Holy shit!” A moment later, I add, “What now?”

  Jake shakes his head, “I don’t know. I have to think for a second.” He turns onto the main road and speeds into town. After several minutes, he pulls over in front of a grocery store and announces, “We’ll park here.”

  We hurry to get out of the car and distance ourselves from the stolen vehicle as quickly as possible. As we near the entrance to the grocery store, Jake points. “Look.”

  I follow his finger and see he’s motioning toward a car rental place. He hands me a driver’s license. “Go talk to the guy behind the counter and distract him. Pretend you’re interested in renting something. I’m going to borrow one of their cars.”

  Before I process that he means steal, not borrow, I think of the rental car I’ve abandoned in Albany and wonder what kind of crazy charges I’m going to incur on it. Maybe Jake knows someone who can pick it up and return it for me.

  I grab the ID and take off. Thank heavens the bored-looking guy working the counter doesn’t ask to see my license because the picture looks nothing like me. He just yacks about the benefits of renting weekly versus daily. I let him talk until I see Jake pull around the corner in a mid-sized sedan.

  I promise to call and make a reservation before hightailing it out of there. Jake hurriedly gets back on the road to Albany and explains, “They’re going to expect us to keep going south toward California. They won’t think we’re stupid enough to backtrack north.”