Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  “You have no home!” he roared.

  She whirled, blue eyes blazing for the first time. “Whether or not you, the president, or anyone else acknowledges it, Logan Pond will always be my home.”

  “Logan Pond? There’s no one left in Logan Pond, Carrie. Your people left you. That’s right. They’re gone. I lied to you yesterday. That O’Brien guy wasn’t home. Not a single, illegal, traitorous clansman is left in Logan Pond. O’Brien told me last week that they were packing up and leaving. The place was deserted yesterday. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

  Her jaw set. “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

  “You think I’m wrong? You think I don’t know? Fine,” he said. “I’ll prove it to you.”

  He stormed over to the couch, grabbed her brother, and threw the kid over his shoulder. Then he started for the front door.

  “What are you doing?” Carrie jumped to her feet and ran after him. “Where are you going? David, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please put Zach down. David!”

  “Get in the car,” he said, huffing with the weight of the kid. “Bretton, Felix, komm! We’re going for a drive.”

  * * * * *

  Even before they turned into the north entrance of the Logan Pond subdivision, Carrie was searching every crack, corner, and tree for signs of life. Zach lay passed out against the back window, wearing that awful blue uniform, with two massive dogs sitting beside him.

  Jamansky didn’t say a single word as he sped toward Shelton, but his entire body was rigid with fury. Carrie didn’t speak either for fear of losing Amber. She shouldn’t have angered him like that. Not now. Not with so much at stake. Now, pulling into her neighborhood, she felt like she was about to lose more than she already had.

  Greg.

  She just needed Greg to see her.

  The second they reached Denton Trail, Jamansky slowed to a crawl. They crept past the Watson’s home and past the Trenton’s empty yard.

  “See,” he said. “They’re gone.”

  She refused to believe it even though her senses told her otherwise— the neighborhood felt dead. Then again, her clansmen had perfected the art of survival. Surviving meant hiding. If they were posting guards, they would have spotted the patrol car on the main road and sounded the alarm. They would have headed to May’s—or even the woods. Greg would have led them to safety.

  Carrie rolled down the window and stuck her head out in the soft drizzle so they could see her.

  Please, she begged. It’s me. Just look and see me.

  “Carrie,” Jamansky said in frustration. “My car.”

  She rolled up the damp window but continued searching down Denton Trail and onto Woodland Drive, past her house and around the wet, empty cul-de-sac.

  Suddenly her hands flew to her mouth. Sensing something had changed, Jamansky stopped in the middle of the road. He’d already passed Carrie’s house for a second time and now faced May and CJ’s home directly.

  The back gate hung open. Butterscotch’s rope hung empty. In all the years of hiding, they’d never taken the goats outside of the fence. Not once. Not even for government raids.

  Soft mist rolled down the windows, as if the car was mourning with her.

  “I need to get out,” she said, barely projecting her voice past a whisper. “I need to see for myself.”

  He gripped the steering wheel. “No way. We shouldn’t even be here. It’s time to go home.”

  “I am home,” she said. And with that, she yanked on the door handle. Nothing happened. The handle moved, but the door didn’t. Locked. She searched for a way to unlock her door but couldn’t find how.

  Understanding slowly dawned on her. She turned back to stare at Jamansky.

  “I really am your prisoner,” she said. Even if she wanted to run right now, he’d locked her in. Worse, a metal grate separated the front seat from the back, blocking her from her brother.

  “There’s a world out there that you don’t understand,” he said, looking straight ahead. “A world where a woman like you could end up dead in seconds. For your own sake, you’re safer here with me.”

  Her pulse sped up. “You have no right to keep me against—”

  “I have every right!” he snapped. “You’re an illegal citizen of the United States of America. If I say sit, you sit. If I say stay, you stay! Do you understand?”

  Her heartbeat thundered in her bad ear. She wanted to lash back, but instead she felt fear, legitimate, blinding fear that Amber and Zach might slip through her fingers again. Until they were safe, she had to tread carefully.

  Lowering her eyes, she nodded softly.

  He sighed and ran a hand over his blond hair. “Look, Carrie. I don’t want to fight with you. I know this is hard, seeing yourself abandoned, but Zach will wake up soon. We need to get him home. I’m sure you understand.”

  She glanced back at Zach through the metal mesh. His neck was bent awkwardly as he slept against the window. Then her gaze went to May’s empty, abandoned yard. Her throat burned. They had left. Not hidden. Left. Or were they in prisons themselves now?

  “Do you?” she whispered.

  “Do I what?” he said.

  She swallowed. “Do you understand what we’ve been through, David? My siblings and I have lost everything and everyone that ever meant anything to us. Our parents. Our home. Our freedom. Now our friends.” She thought about Greg and the possibility of never seeing him again. Greg, May and CJ, Little Jeffrey. “Right now, I need to get out and see for myself. If you can’t understand that, then take me back to prison. I’d rather be there than locked up by you.”

  The words tumbled out, reckless and unplanned. She didn’t want to go back to Rochelle, nor could she bear the thought of Zach being sent back. But something deep inside of her refused to recall her words.

  Live free. Live free. It had become her only desire for her and those she loved.

  His expression turned turbulent, but he said, “Fine. You have ten minutes. I shouldn’t even let you do that much. You have no idea how dangerous this is.” He reached down and pulled out his gun. “Where to?”

  forty-three

  THE CHOICE WAS EASY. Carrie picked the Trenton’s house and her own. Clutching his gun, Jamansky opened his dogs’ door first and grabbed their leashes. Then he opened Carrie’s door, releasing her from her new prison.

  Stomach clenched, she watched Bretton and Felix sniff around May and CJ’s driveway. What would she do if the dogs found her hiding friends? What would she do if they didn’t?

  “The dogs and I go in first,” Jamansky said, eyes darting back and forth, looking more agitated than his dogs. All the while, his gun stayed up and ready.

  Without knocking, he pushed open May’s front door. For a second, all of them stood outside looking in. May’s home looked dark and silent. Even worse, it felt abandoned.

  Carrie’s gaze stopped on a jar of withered lilac branches on the kitchen table, the same ones she’d brought May two weeks ago. Now they were dead. Dried leaves and petals lay beneath. May would have never left them out like that if she was still around.

  The dogs jerked forward against their leashes, suddenly barking, dragging Jamansky toward the hallway and bedrooms.

  Panic surged through Carrie as she suddenly questioned the wisdom of searching the homes.

  This could end very badly.

  Gun high, Jamansky gave her a sign to stay put, but she couldn’t. As he started for the dark hallway, she followed past Greg and Mariah’s old rooms and straight for the back bedroom. May’s bedroom door was shut, but the dogs were going wild at the door.

  “May?” Carrie called. Hope burst inside her. May and CJ hadn’t left. “May, it’s—”

  Suddenly she was thrown against the wall. Jamansky grabbed her and pinned her, clamping a hand over her mouth.

  “Do you want to get us killed?” he hissed.

  She couldn’t breathe. Could hardly think. He held her
so tightly she couldn’t even shake her head.

  Gun inches from her face, he released her slowly and glared at his barking dogs.

  “Sitz,” he ordered.

  The dogs dropped, falling silent.

  Pressing a finger to his lips, Jamansky slowly backed against May’s bedroom door. “This is Chief Jamansky,” he called through the door. “From the Kane County Patrols. I’m coming in.”

  The second he cracked open the door, the dogs shot forward. Jamansky released the leashes, letting them burst into May and CJ’s bedroom. Jamansky peered around the corner.

  Time seemed to slow.

  Carrie watched him tense. The muscles in his face, arm, and body stiffened. He took one step back, lifted his gun, and fired.

  Sound exploded through the house.

  One shot, then two, blasted in an ear-splitting, gut-wrenching sound.

  Carrie screamed and lurched forward.

  “No! Stop!”

  By the time she grabbed his arm, Jamansky was laughing. “It was just a raccoon. Look.” He opened the door wide. Bretton and Felix stood over a furry, now-dead heap of fur. “The poor guy was trapped in here.”

  Carrie was simultaneously soaring and sinking. Jamansky hadn’t shot anyone, but that was because there wasn’t anyone to shoot. May’s sheets, mattress, and pillows were gone. The dresser stood in one corner, but she had the feeling the drawers were empty, too. Even the closet door was open, revealing that May and CJ had packed up and moved out—which was better than the chance they had been arrested. That was better than arrest. But still…they were gone. They’d moved out long ago enough that a raccoon had moved in.

  She stared at the empty closet and yet saw nothing. Where had they gone? Not to a government municipality. May would rather die than submit to President Rigsby’s rule. But maybe they met up with that Sprucewood Clan. Somewhere else? Either way, they had left.

  Without her.

  But why wouldn’t they? Who would have ever thought she’d see the light of day again? She hadn’t.

  Heat built behind her eyes.

  Jamansky, still celebrating the raccoon’s demise, finally realized she was falling apart behind him.

  “I’m sorry, Carrie. We shouldn’t have come. Let’s get Zach home. With luck, we’ll have Amber tomorrow, and then you can start over. This isn’t the end of the world. I can get you a job with the government so you could get your legality back. You can build a comfortable life for your siblings in Sugar Grove.” When she couldn’t summon a response to such an unthinkable notion, he continued. “In a way, this is good. Now you don’t have to live in shambles. No more fear. Let’s go.”

  Every word dissolved the shock and replaced it with anger. “You said ten minutes. I need to get clothes for Zach and Amber, and I want to see my house anyway.”

  His glare returned. “Fine.”

  Escorting her back outside, they drove through the damp street and parked in her driveway. Her house, yard, and everything looked exactly as it had when she’d left that awful morning.

  “I’m going in first,” Jamansky said. “You stay here with Zach until I check it out.”

  She didn’t argue, needing time away from David. As he and his dogs ran up her wet sidewalk, she turned, wanting to reach back and shake her brother awake, but a metal grate separated them.

  “Zach,” she called. “Zach, please wake up. We’re home. Talk to me, Zach. What happened?”

  A small moan escaped her brother’s lips.

  “Please wake up.” She shook the metal grate. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. Zach?”

  His eyes stayed closed. His breathing deepened again.

  Giving up, she turned back and told herself that he would wake up once the anesthesia wore off. Then she would find out what had happened to him—even though part of her was terrified to hear. His burns, his scratches. Could he ever forgive her for what he’d been through? Could she ever forgive herself?

  Eyes closed, she lay back on her seat.

  Where would she bring Zach and Amber to? Back home to live and survive alone? No. They had to find their clan, but she didn’t know where to start. And if Greg really had been arrested…

  Two minutes.

  Since those fateful two minutes in the township office, all she had wanted was to come home. Now that she was here, she felt just as lost and alone.

  Carrie rubbed the emotions from her tear-worn eyes. She was tired of crying, tired of everything. More than anything, she wanted to fall into Greg’s arms and just forget the world.

  Her car door opened.

  “Your house is clear,” Jamansky said, “but I don’t think you should go in. You look pretty shaken up.”

  “No,” she said. “I need to get clothes for Zach and Amber.”

  “Fine. Make it fast.”

  A few steps up the sidewalk, she stopped with a sudden idea. “Can I have a few minutes alone, David?”

  He shook his blond head. “No way.”

  “You just checked out my house. The dogs found nothing. Besides, you’ll be out here if there are any problems.” Holding Zach hostage, she almost added bitterly. “I just need a few minutes alone to come to grips with everything. Please.”

  Jamansky peered down at his watch. “Five minutes. Not a second more. We shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Thank you.”

  She ran inside her hot, stuffy house. Shutting the door tightly behind her, she held her breath on the off chance, the one chance in a million…

  “Greg?” she called softly.

  She checked every counter and wall in her kitchen for a note or something. Another shot in the dark. Another disappointment.

  Refusing to give up, she glanced out the front window. Jamansky was putting his dogs in the backseat next to Zach. Then he got into the front seat and shut the doors, enjoying the air conditioning.

  In a burst of insanity, she ran to her front door and locked it. Then she dashed across her kitchen and opened her sliding glass door. Silently, she slipped out onto her deck. Adrenaline and the exhilaration of freedom pushed her down the old, wooden deck stairs. She passed up the hedge and glanced around the brick corner of her house.

  Empty.

  Taking a single, quick breath, she sprinted across her yard to the next home, but she didn’t stop. She kept running, crossing Dylan and Sasha’s yard as well, to be safe.

  Once clear, she turned left and ran along the bushes until she reached the next brick corner. Jamansky’s patrol car now sat two houses down from her.

  It’s now or never, she told herself.

  Praying he and his dogs wouldn’t notice, she took the biggest risk yet. She dashed across the street, pushing her lungs and legs at full force. She raced behind the next empty home and doubled over, gulping for air. Then she checked again. Jamansky’s car hadn’t budged. All the doors remained closed.

  She smiled in exultation. She had done it.

  Taking off again, she ran behind that house and through the next wild backyard, heading back for the home that sat directly across the street from her own.

  Greg’s.

  She bolted inside of Greg’s kitchen and looked around. His home’s emptiness pressed in around her, but she was desperate enough to call out anyway.

  “Greg?”

  She scrambled up his stairs, but at the top, she stopped, realizing she didn’t even know which room he slept in.

  She found his bedroom easily enough.

  Unlike May and CJ’s home, all of Greg’s things were still there: a pillow and blanket tossed haphazardly in one corner, his clothes piled in another. Which meant…

  Her legs buckled.

  Greg hadn’t packed up and left. He hadn’t moved with his grandparents somewhere. He’d been ripped away from his life—from their life. Arrested. Like she had been. Like Jamansky had said.

  She didn’t have time to collapse or cry. Instead, she scavenged his room, rifling through his clothing like a mad woman to figure out what he’d been weari
ng at the time of his arrest. His Yankees hat was gone. Work shirt, too. But she grabbed his light blue UNC shirt from the pile—his lucky shirt—and pressed it to her face. She inhaled the scent of him lingering in the fabric: something woodsy. A man who belonged in the trees.

  She wanted to scoop up everything of his and take it with her, but that wasn’t feasible. Jamansky would be suspicious enough. So, she stuffed Greg’s lucky shirt under the one she wore of Ashlee’s and ran back down the way she’d come. Outside and through his backyard.

  As she rounded the next house she saw Jamansky opening his car door.

  She had taken too long.

  Pushing her legs past their intended use, she flew across the next yard, dashed across the street, and then fled back toward her own. One house. Two houses. The faster she ran, the blurrier her vision got. She wasn’t fast enough.

  She scrambled up her wet deck stairs, nearly slipping on the second one, and then rushed inside the back door in time to hear Jamansky pounding on her front door.

  “Carrie, open up now!” Jamansky yelled. “Carrie!”

  There was no time to recover. No time to explain why she was breathless, and her shirt damp with misty rain. She ran to the front door and threw it open, begging the tears to start.

  It wasn’t hard.

  She buried her head in her hands and hid her breathlessness in fake sobs.

  “They’re gone,” she cried. “They’re all gone.”

  Jamansky looked stunned for a moment. Then he seemed to melt. “I know.”

  Parking his gun, he pulled her toward him with the other. His arm encircled her, but for once she didn’t push him away. She needed to catch her breath, to distract him from the fact that Greg’s shirt was shoved in between them.

  After a minute, he pushed her back and glared at her. “Why did you lock me out?”

  “I…um…sorry. It’s a habit.”

  An outright lie.

  His brows lowered. “Why did you take so long?”

  “I meant to gather Zach and Amber’s things, but I was just so overwhelmed.” She took a few shuddering breaths. “I didn’t even grab anything yet. I just need one more minute, please.”