by C
Mark took the clothes from Linda and handed them to Amanda. “Of course, that’s fine. I’m sorry to keep you. I should have realized you needed some rest first. There’s a small creek nearby that we use for bathing. Unfortunately, the cabin doesn’t have running water.”
“That’s okay. Compared with the past few days in the wilderness, this place feels like a five-star hotel.”
Ken scoffed. “I see you’ve never been to a five-star hotel.”
Mark led the way back downstairs, explaining as they went, “Just walk back around the house. The creek is a little farther through the trees. If you need anything, come find me. I’ll be up on the roof fixing those shingles. Oh, and we have some extra blankets in the corner of the loft, so help yourself once you’re ready.”
“Thank you so much. I’m not sure what would have happened to me without all of you.”
Amanda walked back outside and around the rambling cabin, trying to avoid the puddles that remained after last night’s downpour. She checked on Boots: Bethany and Rachel were with him. He seemed to be enjoying the attention.
The backyard of the house contained nothing special: just more pines and maples. She continued walking until, jumping back, she found herself no longer alone. About thirty yards from her, on a tree stump, sat a man—or, more specifically, a priest.
He embodied an imposing figure in his ankle-length black cassock. He wore a silver pectoral cross, hung from a chain with intricately worked links. His fair skin contrasted with his thick black beard, tinged with gray. He sat slightly bent, his eyes closed and lips moving, but no sound came forth.
“My dad didn’t mention him, huh?”
Amanda whirled around at the sound of the voice behind her. Laughter overhead led her to glance upward: Joe was perched on a tree branch above her, a mischievous grin on his face.
“Surprise …” He chuckled.
She decided to ignore his antics. “Who is he?”
“His name is Father Voloshin. He kinda keeps to himself. Prays a lot. You know, does priestly stuff. I’m sure you’ll talk to him at some point.”
“Yeah, probably.” That would be an interesting conversation.
She continued on her way to the creek. She found it easily: she just followed the unmistakable sound of rushing water. It seemed to beckon her. The clean, purifying waters called her forward from the filth of the past few days and weeks. She pulled back some tree branches and beheld the wide, swiftly flowing stream.
The pristine water made it possible to stand on the bank and still see through the passing ripples to the smooth pebbles lining the creek bed. She touched her hand to the surface, feeling the crisp coolness of the water, and took a deep breath. She cupped the water, letting it trickle through her hands.
Amanda pulled off her muddied clothing, the sweatshirt and jeans weighing her down with caked dirt. She brushed her messy curls out of her face, longing for the water to wash it all away. She waded into the creek, the water swirling around her ankles and legs. She closed her eyes, moving farther inward on numb feet. The cold temperature of the water made her gasp, but she didn’t stop. Waist deep, she dropped to her knees, the water embracing her on all sides. She looked above her, the clear sky broad and expansive.
I have done so many things wrong—so many countless things I wish I could take back … so many decisions I made in error, so many beginnings that ended so wrongly. What can I do now? I hate myself. … And You—You’re supposed to love me?
Taking a deep breath, she plunged downward into the underwater darkness, the icy veracity of the flowing water breaking apart the dirt and mud that covered her. A moment later, she broke through the surface of the water, emerging once again to the light that fell around her, which caused the surrounding water to glisten.
But I’m choosing to let it all go now. Everything that’s clung to me, the things I can’t hide anymore—I’m giving it all to You.
Leaving the creek and shivering all over, she dried off and put on the new clothes from Linda, marveling at the wonderful sensation of soft, clean fabric. For the first time in months, she felt something like peace within her. The feeling had become so foreign to her. Maybe it had actually been years since she last experienced such a—
Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff …
Amanda tensed, the distant, unnatural noise a startling contrast to the gurgling waters beside her. She searched the wooded area surrounding her. She waited, her heart pounding, the feeling of being on the verge of peace now broken.
Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff …
The sound grew louder, coming closer. She retreated from the open bank and knelt by the trunk of one of the large, dense blue spruces nearby. Through the camouflage of needles, she watched for the source of the sound, ready to confirm what she already strongly suspected.
A black helicopter soon came into view, the rotor blades whirring loudly. It followed the course of the stream and traveled as low to the line of trees as possible. The branches around her swayed in the manufactured wind, and she crouched lower to the ground. The helicopter bore no markings, but it had to belong to the JPD.
She waited until the helicopter disappeared from sight and sound and then crept back to the cabin, where she found the others assembled outside.
Mark greeted her somberly upon her return. “Did you see it too?”
She nodded. “It was the JPD, right?”
Mark’s look of concern spoke an affirmation. “It’s probably driven by a robotic drone, doing reconnaissance work for the NCP.”
Joe peered from face to face. “I wonder which one of us they’re looking for?”
Ken laughed bitterly. “Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? No one has seen a helicopter like that until today, coincidentally right after our newest addition arrived. And I’m not talking about the horse.”
Of course—they were looking for her.
Chapter Nineteen
Something to Hide
“Well, there’s nothing we can do for now,” Mark said.
The helicopter faded to a small speck in the distance, and Mark turned away. Amanda breathed easier, though not completely. The helicopter might be out of sight, but remained top of mind. She glanced at the group gathered around her. Their strained expressions suggested that they were thinking the same.
Linda sighed and shrugged. “We’ll just do what we do for everything: wait for Nasir.”
Amanda jumped at the chance to change the topic and deflect the attention. “Nasir? Who’s that?”
Joe grabbed a branch from the ground and began to methodically tear off twigs, flinging them into the distance. “Nasir keeps us from starving out here. He’s our food delivery guy.”
“And much more than that.” Mark turned toward Amanda. “He’s a doctor who lives with his family in New York City. They vacationed here for years. When we needed a place to stay, he offered to let us use it. Nasir’s due to come tomorrow. We haven’t seen him now for more than a week.”
Bethany rubbed her arms in the plain cotton shirt she wore—maybe to keep herself warm in the chill, or because of worry. “A lot can happen in seven days.”
Rachel grabbed her mother’s hand, pulling and dragging her toward the cabin’s door. “Mommy! I wanna go back inside now!”
Everyone filed into the building behind the two of them, Amanda trailing last. She checked on Boots, who seemed content, and took one final glance at the woods and the sky. Who might still be pursuing her, somewhere out there or maybe quite close? A shiver ran along the back of her neck. She closed and locked the front door behind her.
The imminent danger seemingly gone, Amanda sat down to rest her weary, blistered feet and to appreciate being clean, warm, and indoors. She positioned herself as near the fire as possible and even felt grateful for the old plastic crate on which she sat—it was more comfortable than riding in a saddle for hours at a time. She stretched out her legs, yawning.
Movement grabbed her attention. Actually, it was cons
tant movement: Mark could not sit still. First he hauled in a stack of wood. Then she watched him attack another project: a stubborn window that wouldn’t open. For a brief moment, he perched himself on the edge of a chair, his hands restlessly placed on his thighs, one knee bouncing up and down. He scanned the room, his eyes searching.
“Well, the horse is staying.” Though he spoke the words aloud, he seemed to be talking to himself. “Might as well build a shelter for him. We’ve got a boatload of wood out there.” He walked to the corner of the room where an old toolbox sat, the cover rusted, and began pulling out a hammer and creating a pile of miscellaneous nails. “Joe! I need your help! We’ve got work to do!”
Maybe she should offer to help—it was her horse, after all—but she hadn’t inherited her dad’s knack for building. She would only make things harder for them. … She already had.
His pockets bulging now with a collection of tools, Mark stood and raised his voice even louder: “Joseph, you better get in here!”
His wife stared at him from her nearby seat, a glint of resentment in her dull eyes.
“What’s it now?” Joe dragged himself down the stairs. His uncombed, unwashed hair stuck up at odd angles, and he slumped onto the crate next to Amanda.
“Come on, get up! You’re not going to spend another day laying around doing nothing. Grab that toolbox. I’ve got a job for you.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is that we’re the lucky ones. You understand that? We’re lucky. We could be captured right now. We could be at the JPD’s mercy. So quit your complaining! Come help me. Be useful for once!”
“Sometimes I wish they’d just find us!”
“Joseph!” Mark glared, his index finger wagging at Joe. “You say that one more time and I’ll—”
“What? Put me in timeout? Take away my computer? This whole thing’s a punishment. You think so too. I know you do. Why’d we end up here? What makes us so special that we’re safe while other people are getting killed?” Joe’s voice rose in a growing crescendo of fury. “Build whatever you want, but leave me alone!” He stormed out the door, slamming it behind him with such force that the adjacent wooden beams trembled under the pressure.
Amanda stared down at her shoes. She didn’t want to be a spectator of a family argument, but what else could she do? There was no privacy here.
“I’m going to have a talk with him.” Mark turned around to face his wife. “Feel free to chime in anytime. Need I remind you, I’m not the only parent here.”
“I did chime in. I chimed in when I said coming here was a stupid decision. Joe is right. You should listen to your son, even if you won’t listen to me.”
“And what would you have done? Sit at home in our reclining chairs like easy targets? Enjoy your specialty lattes and trips to the spa while the JPD stands knocking at our door?”
“We have been here two months! Two months, Mark! It never gets better, only harder. I miss home. I miss everything we worked so hard to create and build, over so many years. We had other choices; you just didn’t want to take them.”
“What are you suggesting? That we should have recanted? Denied our beliefs, our values, everything we live for?”
“It was an option. God would have forgiven us.”
Mark took a step back, as though reeling from Linda’s suggestion. He shook his head, deep frown lines furrowing his face. “Shouldn’t adversity bring people together? Lately, Linda, I feel like I don’t even know you.” Grabbing his tools, he walked outside alone.
Tears streamed down Linda’s cheeks, but she wore no makeup to smudge. Linda rose and left the room without bothering to make a remark to anyone.
Amanda rubbed her tired eyes. Emotions ricocheted across the tiny room, and trapped in the crossfire, she could barely contain her own feelings. Nearby, Ken gave a low whistle, and she turned to look at him.
He tossed aside the book he wasn’t reading and stood up, his arms open wide. “Welcome, Amanda, to the newest reality survivor show! On this week’s episode: Will they be rescued? Will they be captured? Maybe they’ll tear each other apart!” He chuckled to himself. “You’ll hear this tape played over and over again till you can recite the lines yourself. Linda’s favorite conversation piece is home. What she can’t get through her head is that home no longer exists. Let’s say, ‘Boom!’ All of a sudden, I can go back to my apartment. I won’t call it home anymore. I remember once flying into JFK from out of the country and feeling that nostalgic joy of landing on American soil. Land of the free, right?” Ken scoffed. “Not anymore. Everything’s changed. We can’t go back to how it used to be.”
A hard lump rose in Amanda’s throat, and she rallied all her willpower to fight the burning tears blurring her vision. The very word “home” was loaded now, for with it came visions of that place of familiarity and comfort, the house that stored so many memories of her mom and now memories of her dad and sister, who might also be gone from her. … Ken was right: everything had changed. She couldn’t go home anymore. There was no home.
That reality was more than she could handle right now, and she seized the first distraction that presented itself: “Is that the bucket you use for water?” Her voice shook, and she didn’t wait for a reply from Ken. She grabbed the bucket and walked outside into the afternoon sunshine.
But no privacy yet: Bethany stood just a few feet from the doorway. She held some acorns in her hand and looked down at her daughter, who clung to her leg with a vise-like grip.
“Please, Mommy?”
“Rachel, I’m sorry, but we have to wait. Why don’t you try to find some pretty leaves to go with your acorns? I’m sure they’ll look beautiful in the loft.”
“No.”
“We could go for another walk.”
“No! I’m hungry!”
Bethany, her eyes pained, reached down and stroked Rachel’s back. “I know you are, honey, but Nasir is coming tomorrow.”
“Isn’t it dinnertime, Mommy?”
“Yes, we usually eat around now, but we can’t help it—we just don’t have any food left.”
A chilling realization hit Amanda: the sandwiches and other food she had wolfed down just a few hours ago—that was the very last of their rations. How could she be so thoughtless, so greedy?
Her face grew hot as she said, “I … I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I never would have eaten as much as I did …”
“Of course you didn’t know. You needed the food more than we did. And, like I said, Nasir should be here tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, nothing is a guarantee. That’s just part of this kind of life. You have some shelter here and safety—for a time at least. But I’m afraid you aren’t that much better off than when you were on your own.”
“I think all of you were much better off when I was on my own.”
“No one here thinks that.” Bethany cocked her head. “Well … maybe Ken does.” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “We always have to keep searching for a new normal. You joined us today, out of the blue, and we have to acclimate to things. We all have to adjust, constantly, and sacrifice is always part of that. But you were led here somehow, and I’m sure there’s a reason for it.” Bethany reached down and picked Rachel up. Holding her in her arms, Bethany kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Rachel knows a lot about being brave and needing to make sacrifices.”
Thumb in her mouth, Rachel hid her face in her mother’s chest.
Bethany looked at Amanda, resilience in her eyes. “We all need to be brave and make sacrifices—for each other.”
Amanda nodded wordlessly in agreement and then continued her trek toward the stream, feeling as empty as the bucket that she held in her hands.
A long night came and passed. She was warmer and more comfortable in the cabin than she had been for days—ever since she’d fled the city, in fact—but gnawing hunger and growing trepidation kept sleep at bay. Morning arrived, and the hours ticked away. Still, Nasir
did not arrive. Would he come at all this time? She could hear that unspoken question and sense the unease that accompanied it.
The November sky had already turned dark, and the bare trees were mere shadows receding in the distance. In the depths of the Adirondacks, the night sky was clearer and the stars brighter than she had ever seen them. She and Ethan had sat in Central Park and gazed upon the stars together. Were these the same stars that looked back at her now? Was she the same person? Everything seemed different now.
The whole group gathered in the downstairs room. She assumed that no one wanted to go to bed. To do so would admit the disappointing truth that something had detained Nasir and therefore the food they desperately wanted would not be coming.
Knock-knock-knock!
Amanda bolted up and stared at the front door. Next to her, Bethany gasped. Ken and Mark’s conversation halted, and an immediate silence filled the room. Both men became still, watching and waiting. Amanda raised her eyebrows. Well, why didn’t they answer the door?
Knock-knock!
“Nasir!” Joe burst out. “That’s his signal!”
“Oh it is him!” Bethany’s face relaxed with relief.
Ken crossed the room and opened the door.
There stood a somber, dark-haired, olive-skinned man, bearing two large paper bags. “Good evening, Ken.”
“Nasir!” Rachel shouted. Awoken from her doze by the cool draft coming from the door, she jumped from her mother’s lap and began clapping. “Mommy, let’s eat!”
Food was the first priority. Amanda did her best to chip in and help with emptying the bags, passing around bowls and dishes, and distributing the contents of the late-night meal—a slice of bread, five crackers, and half a bowl of canned chicken noodle soup. As soon as everyone had his or her allotment, Amanda descended upon her own food. It wasn’t enough to satiate her hunger, but at least her empty stomach wouldn’t keep her up another night.
Next came the hunger for information. As she brushed the cracker crumbs from her lap, she eyed the visitor. What tidings did he bring?