by Dean Murray
I felt as if I were a balloon being slowly deflated. He was right. Learning the truth hadn’t helped. If anything, my heart clenched tighter at discovering how close he had come to saving them. So many should-haves, could-haves, and what-ifs; so many alternate outcomes; so close to the one that wouldn’t have ruined all of our lives...
He had tried.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He hooked an eyebrow and glanced at me.
“For telling me,” I added. “For trying.”
Though I knew he did, he gave no indication that he heard me. And I thought I was good at avoidance. He excelled at it.
He suddenly gripped my wrist tightly, and pulled my hand closer. “This is the last one. It’s deep.”
The way he put his arm over top of mine to trap it against his torso worried me. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
He finally looked at me, and held my gaze. “You punched a mirror,” he deadpanned. “Of course it’s going to hurt.”
He was right. It hurt. A lot. Fortunately, I had no tears left to shed.
He had suggested that we take the rest of the day easy, and postpone our trip into town until tomorrow. I insisted on doing it today. More than anything, I needed to get my mind off of everything I had learned. Besides, after getting some answers from him, I was greedy for more. Surely, the Kala had learned something by now.
Not that I was in a hurry to leave the cabin. Not now. It had grown on me and, even if he was intolerable most of the time, so had Nathan. Times like now, when he wasn’t an unbearable jackass, I even enjoyed his company.
He sure was easy to mess with, too.
“Hey, Sensei?”
We were stopped at the gas station to fill up the tank on the motorcycle. His eyes rolled to mine. “Stop calling me that.”
I ignored him and extended my hand, palm up. “I’ll go inside to pay for the gas if you buy me a candy bar.”
He handed over his hat and a wad of cash. “Get two.”
I slipped the hat on with a smile and backed away. “As you wish, Sensei.” I didn’t stick around long enough to hear him complain about the nickname. I liked it; it was a keeper.
I circled the candy aisle a few times before I settled on a variety of king-sized chocolate bars. By the time I got to the counter, Nathan had finished pumping, and I paid for the gas and candy all at once. I had taken awhile deciding on the snacks, and was surprised Nathan hadn’t already stormed inside to look for me. Once the chocolate was safely bagged, I hurried out the door.
Nathan had parked the motorcycle next to the entrance. He was straddling it, staring intently across the street, and paying no attention to me. I probably could have spent all day in the store and he wouldn’t have noticed.
“What’s up?” I asked as I glided up beside him, and followed his gaze.
Across the street was Dee’s—I assumed our next destination, and where I hoped we would grab lunch. But then, there was something about the look on Nathan’s face that told me that wasn’t going to happen. I had seen that look before.
“Nathan? What is it?”
He didn’t move. “See those guys over there?”
I reexamined Dee’s parking lot. It was full. I assumed that was because it was a Sunday, and Dee’s was a perfect after-church kind of place. I watched a family of five exit the restaurant, and the young kids squealed as they raced to their minivan. A middle-aged man sat on a bench by the front door, reading a newspaper. A young man paced beside a black truck as he talked on his cellphone. Nothing looked amiss to me.
“They’re waiting for us,” Nathan said quietly.
A goose bump producing shiver whipped down my spine at the iciness of his voice. I zeroed in on the guy on his phone. He seemed the most likely suspect. “How do you know?”
Nathan tossed me the helmet. “They found us. We have to go.”
My hands trembled as I put Nathan’s hat and the candy bars into the backpack. I slung it over my shoulder, and strapped the helmet on with forced poise. Nathan waited until I was securely seated behind him before he started the engine.
We shot out of the parking lot and onto the road, angling away from Dee’s. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw the man still on his phone as he paced beside the truck. No one followed us.
As we sped out of town, I realized that Nathan had gone slowly the other times. Now, he pushed the bike so fast I half expected it to sprout wings and fly. I molded myself to his back, held on tight, and tried to lean into the turns with him.
We leaned into one turn so far, I swore my helmet was inches from scrapping blacktop. I squeezed tighter, closed my eyes, and didn’t open them again until we came to a stop in front of the shed. I jumped off the bike, unscathed but shaking. Nathan’s urgency, on top of the hellish ride, had turned me into a wobbly bundle of nerves.
“Put a few changes of clothes for both of us and some food in the bag.” He walked backwards toward the shed as he talked, and waved his hand at me dismissively. “Pack whatever you think we might need for a few days and meet me back here.”
He ran to the shed, and I hurried to the cabin.
I was terrified, but managed to keep my fear under control long enough to concentrate on what I needed to do. I packed the clothes first, then darted to the kitchen and threw a few rations of food in. I paused to survey the cabin, looking for anything else we might need. Confident I hadn’t missed anything, I turned for the door.
Nathan was already there, waiting for me.
“I think I got everything,” I told him as I tossed the bag over my shoulder.
I had expected to have to run to keep up with him as he sprinted for the motorcycle. Instead, he stepped farther into the cabin, and crossed the short distance between us in a few strides.
I stood, frozen by the odd sensation that something wasn’t right. What exactly that was, I couldn’t put a finger on.
Until Nathan’s hands reached out and enclosed around my neck.
CHAPTER 18
My eyes bulged both from the shock and the pressure on my throat. I gasped for air, and got nothing. My nails dug into his arms, drawing blood, but his grip never loosened. His lips were tight with exertion as he squeezed. There was no question he was trying to kill me…and would kill me.
“Everyone wants you dead,” he grunted, his voice cold and alien.
I didn’t have time to dwell on what was wrong with him or why everyone, including him, wanted me dead. Spots filled my vision as the blackness closed in. This time, Nathan wouldn’t save me.
Desperation kicked in. I dug my nails deeper, and hit him when that didn’t work. I kicked his shin and stomped on his feet. His response was to coolly press his thumb into my windpipe so hard I feared he would snap it in half.
There was no use trying any of the self-defense moves he had shown me. He had control now and beat me ninety-nine percent of the time anyway, in practice, when he wasn’t trying. He was definitely trying now.
I was seconds from unconsciousness and death—at the hands of the one I had come to count on. This time, my life was in my own hands. It was up to me, and there was only one thing I thought of that might work.
I packed as much force as I could behind my knee as I drove it up and into his groin. His grip loosened as he doubled over, allowing me to slip from his grasp and take a ragged breath.
He reached for me, but I dodged him and brought my knee up again. It connected with his face, and sent him stumbling back as blood spurted from his nose. I didn’t stop to admire my accomplishment this time.
I ran.
He wouldn’t stay down long and, when he recovered, I would need a weapon. My only chance was to make it to the shed. I glanced over my shoulder as I jumped off the porch, and saw him coming fast behind me. I put my head down and pumped my arms and legs harder.
I reached the shed, scrambled through the door, and picked up the first weapon I found. I spun around, lifting a pistol, as Nathan appeared in the doorway.
; He cocked his head to the side like he was amused to see me armed, but didn’t come any closer. I backed up, putting as much distance between myself and him as I could, until I bumped into the counter behind me.
“What’s wrong with you?” I shouted at him.
Something had to be wrong. It was like he was possessed.
He grinned wickedly and took a menacing step forward. His eyes shifted to the counter to his right, to the weapons just out of his reach. Only two swift steps separated him from them.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned. My hands shook so hard I was in danger of dropping the gun, but I kept it trained on him. If he lunged for the weapons, I would have to shoot him. Otherwise, I would be dead the moment he had something in his hands.
It was me or him.
He took a step to his right.
I wondered if the gun had coated or regular bullets. If I knew it was loaded with non-coated bullets, I could wound him and buy myself some time to determine what was wrong him. If they were coated, and I was forced to shoot him, I would kill him.
I wasn’t sure I was prepared to do that. Not to anyone. Especially him.
“Don’t make me shoot you,” I pleaded.
He lifted a foot to take another step, and his callous grin dared me to pull the trigger. I had a second to convince myself to shoot. I pointed the gun at his knee and prayed the bullets weren’t coated.
A thunderous shot rang out. He fell forward, face down and motionless. And then he was gone.
“No!” I screamed.
No, no, no, no.
I stared in disbelief at the spot on the floor where he had fallen. I had adjusted my aim, I knew I had. I didn’t even remember pulling the trigger, but I must have because Nathan was gone. Dead and gone.
And then he wasn’t.
He rounded the corner of the shed frantically, concern etched all over his face. I automatically lifted the gun rattling in my hands and pointed it at him. Again.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he shouted. He threw his arms out in front of him, with the gun in his hands held out to me in a nonthreatening way. His eyes raked over me anxiously. “Are you hurt?”
What? I grimaced at him. I couldn’t have imagined it. My throat was still raw from being strangled, nearly to death. “You j—you just tried to kill me.” My wail sounded like a question because I had no idea what was happening.
His eyes lowered to the crimson spot on the floor. It was evidence that I had not imagined the body that had fallen there a moment ago. So how was he standing in front of me now?
“It wasn’t me, Kris,” Nathan said slowly.
“What?” I half choked, half whimpered.
“It was a mirror image of me,” he explained as he edged closer, and motioned over his shoulder. “I killed two of his buddies behind the cabin. I saw him chasing you in here, and I shot him. It was me who shot.”
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was telling me. I wasn’t capable of computing two plus two. “You can create mirror images of each other?”
He nodded. “Some can.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“I didn’t think that was something you would need to know yet.” He visibly regretted omitting that tidbit of information now.
“Everybody wants me dead.” I kept the gun raised, shakily fixed on him.
“I don’t,” he said softly. “I’ve invested way too much time and energy into keeping you safe all this time to want you dead now, don’t you think?”
“Don’t over explain things. Just say what you mean!”
“I thought I did.” He took a careful step toward me, holding his hands out like I was an escaped circus animal he was attempting to tame. His eyes held mine unflinchingly. He looked sincere, and I wanted to believe him. I really did.
He took another step. Too close. “Stop!” I yelled.
He straightened, and his eyes lowered to the gun as it rattled in my hands. We both knew it was more likely that I would unintentionally pull the trigger from shaking so hard than on purpose.
“Kris,” he said gently. “Give me the gun.”
He took another step forward. From this close range, if I pulled the trigger, I would kill him. I wanted to trust him, because I didn’t think I could ever kill him. Not really. Just thinking about those few seconds when I thought I had, I wanted to cry.
I wanted the gun out of my hands now.
“Nathan…”
“It’s okay.” He reached slowly and grabbed the barrel. “Let me take it.”
I released my grip and let him pull it from my grasp. My hands dropped to my sides numbly as he engaged the safety and placed the gun on the counter behind me. His hands gripped my shoulders tightly. I expected a shake and a good tongue lashing, but got neither. He must have been more afraid I was going to shoot him than I thought.
He was too stunned to yell at me. That was a new one.
His eyes lowered to my neck and hardened at what he saw there. One hand moved from my shoulder and followed the path of his gaze. Goose bumps prickled under his fingers as they skimmed over my skin. It was a little embarrassing what his simple touch did to me. I hoped he didn’t notice. When his eyes rose to mine again, I had a difficult time meeting them. His hand fisted and dropped to his side.
“Kris,” he said gently. “I would never do anything to harm you. You know that, right?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He was standing so close, and my skin still tingled from where he had touched me. As if noticing our proximity for the first time, he straightened and backed up a step, enough for me to breath normally again.
His lips lifted into a ghost of a smile. “If I do, you have my permission to shoot me.”
I finally met his eyes and smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
He nodded. Behind his clouded eyes, I saw the silent promise he made himself. When he said he would never harm me, he meant it. Nor would he let anyone else harm me.
My hero was back, with a newfound determination.
It was shortly after lunchtime when we left. We headed west across the state of Tennessee. We stuck to rural roads, and rode well into evening, stopping only for gas and bathroom breaks. The temperature had dropped with the sun and I held on to Nathan, not only because I had to, but for warmth. He blocked most of the wind for me. I didn’t know how he tolerated it. I was colder out of pity for him.
About thirty miles outside of Memphis, we stopped at a quiet drab interchange, where a flickering hotel sign promised an available room.
Nathan took one look at me and my neck, and suggested that I wait outside. I had seen the bruises in a rest stop mirror earlier. I knew how bad they looked. Waltzing into a shabby hotel lobby, looking like I did, would only attract attention we were trying to avoid.
Nathan had parked where he could easily see me from the lobby. That meant I had an unobstructed view of him where he stood at the front desk that allowed me to witness the brazen flirting that transpired on the opposite side of the windows.
The twenty-something, perky, fake-blonde working the night shift visibly brightened when she spotted Nathan. I couldn’t hear her, or him, but it was clear from her body language that she was laying it on thick. I shifted into a better location to see Nathan’s face.
My mouth dropped open when I saw the smile on his face. As I watched him skillfully flirt with the cleavage exhibit behind the counter, it became apparent that he was much better with girls than I had thought.
He signed the papers as he talked with the clerk animatedly. He glanced in my direction twice. Once, the girl followed his gaze and locked eyes with me. She looked temporarily disappointed before she resumed her shameless seduction.
I scoffed. She totally saw me. She should have at least had the decency to tone down the flirting. But no, she didn’t tone anything down.
I turned away from the spectacle to pace around the motorcycle before I got too worked up over it. It wasn’t that I cared about
the flirting. There was a girl code, I thought, that girls—obviously not this one—knew. You weren’t supposed to flirt with another girl’s guy right in front of her. And this girl should have assumed that Nathan was mine. Even if he wasn’t, he did have a girlfriend. It wasn’t Nathan I was worked up over. It was the principle. Definitely the principle.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nathan asked as he let the lobby door shut behind him. I was so deep into my thoughts that I hadn’t realized I was glaring at him.
“You shouldn’t do that.” I grimaced. There I go speaking before thinking again.
He picked up his helmet and threw me a sideways glance. “Do what?”
“Flirt with the clerk like that,” I returned quickly before I lost my nerve.
He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “That was flirting?”
I gave him my best are-you-serious face as I picked up my helmet to put it on.
“No, we don’t have to ride. We’re right there,” he said, pointing to a chipped red door not far away.
He kicked the stand on the bike and started pushing it toward our room. I tucked my helmet under my arm and walked beside him.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “she did give me a discount.” I heard the laugh he held back.
I feigned shock. “I wonder why?”
“I wasn’t flirting.” He finally chuckled. “I can’t speak for her.”
“But you went along with it.”
“I told you she gave me a discount. I had to be nice. That’s not the same as flirting.”
“You didn’t question why she would give you a discount?”
He looked ahead with a tight grin on his face. He knew I was right. Finally, he shrugged in defeat.
“Does your girlfriend know how big of a flirt you are with complete strangers?” I was only messing with him now, but even I detected the hint of accusation in my voice.
“I’m not a flirt,” he argued automatically, then blinked and turned his head to me curiously. “Wait a minute. What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”