Hunted: A Suspense Collection

by J. L. Drake

  I kept running anyway, putting more distance between me and LOHP. I expected him to chase me down, but he didn’t. Part of me hoped that he would. But like usual, I was on my own. Again. Just as it should be, I thought breathlessly.

  Chapter 24

  I had no money and nowhere to go. I walked until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and then I stuck out my thumb on the side of I-65. It was a cold, drizzly night on the cusp of winter. If I stayed out here too much longer in my thin, knitted tee, I’d be sick with pneumonia for sure.

  I didn’t expect anyone to pick me up, but surprisingly, a truck driver pulled over around midnight. It was one of those enormous big rigs, and he was pulling two trailers behind him. He waited patiently for me to climb up into his cab.

  “Hey, there! I’m Mick. Where ya headed?” he asked cheerily. Mick was nearly ten years older than me, with a beer gut and grayish brown hair. He had a thick country accent that made Remy sound like a New Yorker.

  I climbed into the cab, grateful to accept a ride from anyone in this weather. “Anywhere but here.” It sounded like a great movie line, and it was the truth.

  Mick was a commercial truck driver, and I spent the next five months roaming the countryside with him. It felt great, belonging nowhere. In a one year period, I visited nearly all fifty states. I felt lucky and free, like a wanderer that belonged nowhere, but everywhere at the same time. I was wild and free.

  Mick was gentle-natured and had one of those go-with-the-flow hippie attitudes that I sort of loved, and sort of loathed. There were a lot of great things about Mick. But like most of the men in my life, Mick was heavily into drugs. He liked any drug that sped him up and kept him awake on the road. He got paid by the mile, so there was a lot of incentive for staying awake and driving as much as he could.

  Heroin was still my thing, and I eventually got him hooked. We charged down the endless highways, revved up on coke, speed, or heroin. Sometimes we did all three. Eventually, being on the road made it hard to establish trustworthy drug connections, and after being ripped off a half dozen times, we started to reduce our traveling schedule.

  For a three month stretch, we stayed at one of those rent-by-the-week campgrounds. It was barely March when we first got there, and we nearly froze our asses off in a tent. We could have slept in the truck, but it was uncomfortable and we were determined to camp. It seemed like a fun idea at first, but then it just seemed miserable.

  When Mick and I were high, we could stay up all night, hanging out around the campfire, telling stories and philosophizing on life. But when we weren’t, we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, and we’d roam around the campground aimlessly, waiting for our next score.

  The thing about Mick is that he was a veteran of the Gulf War. He never talked about his time spent there or what he did exactly, and he never asked me about my trauma either. I think that’s another reason why we liked each other; we’d both been through some shit but we never bothered each other with the details. Eventually we ran out of money, and Mick needed a steady trucking job.

  We decided to settle down, and try to stay somewhere permanently that didn’t involve using a tent. He got a job driving for only a few days at a time for a local trucking company in Albuquerque, which gave us some time to be stationary. It also gave me some time to myself on those nights when he was away. I spent a lot of time thinking about Claire and my parents again. There’s just something about being alone with my thoughts that has always driven me crazy.

  I don’t know why I went back to the drugs after rehab. Running away from there and right in the arms of another user was just my luck. The drugs and the men…never a good combination for me. The truth is, I think I unconsciously selected men that were users. Maybe it was how they carried themselves or their overall appearance. Or maybe it was the way they spoke. I really don’t know. I don’t think it was all me though. I think men like that were drawn to me as well. It was like two fast moving train cars crashing into each other at the speed of light…

  Our apartment was a dump. Furthermore, my life was in shambles. The last thing I wanted to do was go back to rehab, but I was on the cusp of my twenty-first birthday, and I had a deadline to keep.

  I’d hit a turning point in my life. Maybe I was simply just burned out from the drugs and hard living. Maybe I was sick of taking drugs that no longer made me feel high, and only made me feel “normal.” I woke up feeling awful, and I needed the fix just to reach a semi-normal physical and mental state. It all felt like a waste. A waste of time and a waste of a life in general.

  I don’t know what made me change my mind…but maybe it was when I was searching for Remy’s telephone number in Jacksonville, and I found her obituary instead. There was no information on cause of death. No need. I knew in my heart she’d overdosed.

  ***

  I still didn’t know where my straw was, but I used the dollar bill to take my last hit. It was time to go back to rehab, but this time things were going to be different. For the first time in my life, I had a solid game plan. Step one of the plan was getting clean, obviously, because all good plans require clear thinking. After that, I was going after Jeanna and everyone involved in my kidnapping and Claire’s death.

  Claire deserved an obituary. Her parents deserved to know the truth. My parents deserved it too. Remy was right all along, and if she was still alive, I’d let her tell me “Told you so.”

  God knows it was time to go back to rehab. I’d hidden from the world of Wendi Wise long enough, and it was time to go back to the town I’d fled and face down the demons that ran me out.

  I’d had enough time to think things over, and I’d come to the conclusion that I wanted revenge more than I wanted any drug, man, or safety net in the world. The other day, I read a catchy quote that said, “I can’t drown my demons. They know how to swim.” Well, that saying might be true, but if I can’t drown mine, then I’m going to slice them up instead. Hence, my sharp set of butcher knives…

  Part Two

  Chapter 25

  The End

  The doors to the rehab center opened before me and I sucked in deep breaths of cool, fresh air and sunshine. It felt good to finally be free, free of the treatment program, but mostly, free from the drugs.

  For the first time in my life I had a plan. Miss Ally had a plan for me three years ago, and it didn’t work out on her terms. But this time around, I was the one doing the planning. I’d been through drug treatment before—four times in fact—but this time around I’d taken it seriously. I’d gotten up early every morning and attended every single meeting that was offered at the center. I didn’t miss any, not even one. Instead of sitting back and listening to others’ stories, I became a leader, speaking out daily about my addiction and traumatic experiences with drugs.

  I never told anyone about the rape though, or about what happened to Claire. It’s not that I was afraid this time; it was that I wanted to deal with it on my own. Like I said, I had a plan.

  My plan would be time-consuming, difficult, and dangerous…but I was ready nevertheless. For the past ninety days I’d been eyeing the McDonald’s across the street from the treatment program. My first order of business was to get a job and establish some sort of income.

  It was nearly noon when I walked through the door of McDonald’s. It was filled with people eating at tables and waiting in lines for their food. It was definitely rush hour for this particular establishment. I had less than twenty dollars to my name, but I ordered a mocha flavored milkshake and one of those dollar burgers.

  The place was filled with a greasy aroma, and my stomach rumbled as I carried my tray through the crowd of customers. I took a seat at the only empty table in the back, and I watched the traffic come and go on the street outside, and the foot traffic inside the restaurant.

  There were workers dressed in neat, button-down shirts with the restaurant’s logo on the breast pocket; they were working the front counter, drive thru, and back line. I knew their starting wa
ge couldn’t be much, but it would be enough to get me back on my feet. After all, something was better than nothing.

  I also liked the idea of working close to the rehab center. All I had to do was glance out the window at its shiny, red doors and be reminded of what I never wanted to go back to.

  When the lines had slimmed down and the tables were cleared, I went to the front counter and requested a job application. The pert, friendly girl at the front dug beneath the counter and produced a crisp, white three-page form. I thanked her and resumed my seat in the back.

  I filled it out as honestly as possible, and made up stuff when I had to. Maintaining my fake persona had proven to be more difficult as an adult, but I thought I could manage it just fine. Despite the low pay, the way I figured it, if I could work forty hours per week, I could earn enough money within the month for what I needed.

  Primarily, I needed a bus ticket to Flocksdale. Once there, I would need money to put down a deposit on an apartment and the first month’s rent, as well as basic living expenses. I would need to get another job in Flocksdale to support myself, and then I would get my revenge. After doing the math, I figured I’d need at least twelve hundred bucks to get started. It seemed like a reachable goal.

  Chapter 26

  I couldn’t start working for a week. They had to run a background check with my driver’s license and social security number, which was fine because neither Elsie McClain nor Wendi Wise had ever been arrested, surprisingly. On paper, I was Elsie. Maybe after all this time I would always be Elsie.

  I also had to submit to a drug screen, which was also fine because I was, for the first time in a long time, clean. How did I survive for a week with less than twenty bucks and nothing to my name except a flimsy backpack filled with random crap? I stayed at the local homeless shelter. It was a dreary place, but who was I to complain?

  I was grateful to have a roof over my head and a couple square meals per day. I had never been to church in my life, but I started praying daily, asking for salvation for all of the terrible things I’d done and was still planning to do.

  While I stayed at the homeless shelter, I attended several AA meetings. They held them every other week day in the cafeteria. People from all over town showed up for them. I’d been to plenty of meetings before, the ones held on the inpatient unit, but these were different: the people who showed up at these did so voluntarily. I listened to their stories and told them about mine. For the first in a long time, I had few, if any, cravings to use. The fact was that my memories of using were more terrible than good, and the trauma I associated with doing the drugs and withdrawing from them was enough to make me never want to do them again.

  Whenever I thought about using, I imagined one of those old seesaws you see on primary school playgrounds. On one end were all of the things I liked about using: The numbness. The excitement. The comfort. But on the other end was all of the bad things: Lost jobs. Lost friends. Disappointed faces. Terrible, writhing pain that rattled my bones and scared me shitless.

  Needless to say, the bad side of the seesaw far outweighed the good. I never wanted to use again, and this time I really meant it.

  ***

  My first day on the job was sort of a struggle. There were tons of buttons to memorize on the register, and many health-related rules to learn. On my second day, I learned how to make the food, and remembering the different combinations of ingredients was harder than I had ever imagined. Who would have thought that working a fast food job would prove to be so difficult?

  I actually did really well on day three, when they put me on the drive thru station. When I didn’t have to talk to people face-to-face, I seemed to feel more at ease. I knew how to be polite to people, and I listened to their orders carefully.

  “I think we’ve found your calling, my dear,” my manager, Mark Greensburg, announced cheerfully. I smiled at him, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

  But my greatest sense of accomplishment came on that Friday when I received my first paycheck. I had received paychecks before when I’d worked at Costco, but this time it was different. This time I got to handle the money on my own, and that paper check in my hand represented so much more.

  I had a greater purpose for my money; I needed it so that I could go back to being Wendi, back to being myself.

  Chapter 27

  I had planned on saving up four checks, but I waited until I had six, just to be certain I had enough money. I saved every dime. My original plan was to just skip town when I had enough money in hand, but I couldn’t do that to Mark. Besides my father and a couple others, Mark was the only man in my life who was nice to me for reasons that had nothing to do with sex or drugs. He deserved a proper resignation.

  I told Mark the nearest thing to the truth I could manage. I told him I had to return to my hometown of Flocksdale because I missed my family and had personal business to attend to there.

  “There are McDonalds’ all over the country, you know,” he said, when I was finished with my goodbye speech.

  I wanted to say “duh,” but I remembered he was still my supervisor, and I needed to be respectful.

  “What I mean is that I’m sure there’s a McDonald’s in Flocksdale. Why don’t I put in a transfer request for you?” he offered sweetly.

  It was a splendid idea, and would save me the trouble of having to find a new job once I got there. I thanked him profusely, and we got busy filling out the paperwork for my transfer. Everything seemed to be falling in place. It almost seemed too easy, like I was expecting someone or something to screw up. Like myself, for instance.

  But I stayed clean and worked hard, and my transfer request was approved on Tuesday night. I hung up my apron, turned in my uniform, and kissed Mark goodbye on the cheek.

  The next morning, I boarded a Greyhound bus and headed home to Flocksdale for the first time in nearly eight years. The last time I made this voyage, I’d just been released by my kidnappers. It was a grueling, painful trip that time, but this time would be much simpler. I expected the trip to be meaningful and symbolic for me, but honestly, I mostly slept. I had to get rested for what lie ahead.

  Chapter 28

  In some ways, Flocksdale looked just the same as it always had. But new businesses filled in the gaps between old ones, and the roads looked wider, newly painted. The houses were the same. I wasn’t ready to go to my parents’ house, and even if I was, it was miles away from the bus stop and I didn’t have a vehicle yet. Sometimes I missed the old Corolla, but I knew someday I’d have another car to call my own. Lord only knew what happened to it. I never went back to that rundown apartment, afraid Officer Milby would be waiting for me.

  Now I had no reason to worry about Officer Milby, but I had every reason to worry about Jeanna and being spotted by local townspeople who remembered me as the missing Wendi Wise.

  There was only one McDonald’s in the entire town of Flocksdale. It took me nearly a mile to get there from the bus stop, and I was relieved when I saw the familiar arches towering above me in the distance. I went inside and introduced myself to my new supervisor, Andrea Dobson.

  Andrea was heavyset but pretty, and she smiled at me pleasantly when I told her who I was. She provided me with a copy of the schedule, which was similar to the one I’d followed before. I’d be working Monday through Friday, alternating shifts, and filling in every other weekend.

  I was on the schedule for the next morning. “See you tomorrow,” Andrea said, waving me away.

  Now was the hard part. I had to find an apartment for less than four hundred a month and it had to be within walking distance from work. I was carrying every bit of cash that I owned in my pocket, and I had this terrible fear of dropping it or having it stolen from me.

  There was a small coffee shop and drug store across the street from McDonald’s. I looked both ways and took off across the semi-busy road. I went to the drugstore first. I purchased one of those cheap prepaid cell phones that come with minutes already on it, and I bought a single
box of hair dye. It had been years since Wendi Wise supposedly ran away, and I highly doubted anyone would recognize me, but I couldn’t take any chances. A change in hair color would provide extra protection.

  After my purchases, I headed over to a coffee shop. It was one of those hip, trendy locales where kids in tight pants showed up with their laptops, quirky messenger bags, and epic manuscripts. I didn’t remember it being here when I was a kid. If only I’d chosen to spend my youth in dull places such as this, maybe I wouldn’t have gone through what I did or ran into the likes of monsters like Jeanna, I thought wearily.

  I purchased one of their cheaper brews and selected a blueberry muffin that glistened with sugar to munch on. After the lengthy bus ride, I was famished.

  I sat down with my muffin and coffee, eating and drinking them slowly. The coffee was piping hot, but I was so dehydrated I couldn’t wait, so I sacrificed a few taste buds anyway. When I was nearly finished, I spotted a rack in the corner filled with magazines and newspapers. That was exactly what I’d been hoping for. I spread out a copy of the local paper in front of me on the table, flipping through it until I found a section filled with wanted ads. There were several local listings for prospective renters, and I went to work, searching for my new home.

  Chapter 29

  The house I found was over six hundred a month, which was way over my budget. However, because of its location, it had to be the one. Additionally, the utility expenses were included, and the ad claimed it was partially furnished. This made the price seem less daunting. It was also further away from work, but again, its location was perfect considering my future plans.