The chaperone, p.20
The Chaperone, page 20
I spin around just in time to see Harlan’s nightstick in the air above me.
Paul shakes the gun at him. “Drop it.”
Harlan obliges.
Paul pivots his eyes toward me while keeping the gun trained on Harlan. “Stella, catch.” He tosses me his keys with his empty hand. “Get the handcuffs out of the trunk.”
The short constable stops screaming. “I knew it! You’re her.”
“Shut up, dumbass,” Paul says.
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“We just did.”
CHAPTER 75
We lock them in the janitor’s closet, handcuffed together, with the keys we found on a cleaning cart.
Outside, another set of headlights appears. They’re lower to the ground. A small white hatchback flies up to the curb in front of us. I can barely hear the engine idling.
“It’s so quiet,” I say to Paul.
“It’s a hybrid. Gas and electric. They don’t make them here anymore. This is one of the last models. A vintage 2023 Prius.”
Our guy, as Paul called her, turns out to be a woman with short spiky hair and tinted glasses. Her window is rolled down. “You two okay?”
“We had an issue.” Paul nods at the red SUV, its doors still hanging open. “But we handled it.”
“That’s a relief.”
“More importantly.” Paul makes a show of looking at his watch. “It’s 3:30. Where the hell have you been?”
“I’m so damn sorry. There were constables all over the on-ramp. It’s like they knew I was coming. I had to take a different route.”
“Shit.” Paul looks over the roof of the hybrid as if he can see their red SUVs in the distance. “That’s not good.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“They’re everywhere tonight.”
“Yup.”
Paul shakes his head. “We have to create a diversion.”
* * *
Paul shoves paper towels into the gas tank of the Roanoke while simultaneously shouting instructions at us.
“Dr. B, alert backup.” It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking to the woman in the hybrid. “Tell them to meet me at the next exit.”
“On it,” Dr. B says from the driver’s seat while Paul lights a cigarette.
I turn to her. “You’re a doctor?”
She looks me in the eye for the first time. “Kind of. I’m a professor. I mean, I used to be. Before.”
Before. Everything was different before.
Paul keeps talking while he trails the paper towels out of the tank of the Roanoke like a tail. “Stella?” He nods toward the hybrid when I look at him. “Open the back door.”
I do what he says.
“Now get in and lie down. There’s a blanket. Put it on top of you.”
Paul lights the tail of the paper towels and shoves the cigarette into the tank of the Roanoke. Smoke curls away from the SUV while Paul rushes to the passenger door of the hybrid. The paper ignites just as he jumps in. I throw the blanket on top of me.
“Let’s get out of here.” Paul’s voice is almost as calm as if he were asking someone to pass the salt.
Dr. B peels out, swerving onto the highway. That’s when I hear it. The Roanoke exploding behind us like a volcano. I throw off the blanket and jump to my knees, peering out the back window. We’ve left the rest area, but it’s still visible, the night sky lighting up in a giant tower of orange flame.
“Stella!” Paul yells over his shoulder. “Get down!”
CHAPTER 76
I can’t see them from under the blanket, but I hear them.
The sirens.
There must be dozens of them. Dad could always tell the sirens apart, but I never learned to distinguish them. All I know for sure is there are way too many of them. Are they looking for us? Are they headed to the fire?
I raise my voice so he can hear me from under the blanket. “I’m sorry, Paul.”
He doesn’t respond at first but eventually says, “It’s not your fault.” His voice is subdued, resigned. “And this will make it harder for them to find us. Give Ana and me some time to get away.”
Get away? Will they really have to leave? And then I remember Angel. Of course, they will.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I get for spending that kind of cash on a car. That and not leaving sooner. We’ve been wanting to get out. This is just the kick in the ass we need to do it.”
Dr. B jumps in. “It’s hard to leave.” I hear the longing in her voice. “It’s hard to walk away from everything you’ve ever known.”
It never occurred to me that people their age would be unhappy here. It’s challenging for everyone. Neither of them says a word after that, their silence filling the air with regret.
Ten minutes later, the car veers off to the right. We must be at the exit.
We haven’t even come to a complete stop when I hear the passenger door fly open.
Before it closes, Paul’s voice reaches me in the backseat. “Good luck, Stella.” I peek out from under the blanket, so I can see his face one last time. “Ana and I are pulling for you.” He looks at the driver’s seat. “Dr. B too. We’re all pulling for you.”
I’m too moved to speak. Who are these people? Helping someone they don’t even know. Blowing up their cars. Risking their lives. Why would they do this?
Back on the highway, we pass more sirens. The hybrid speeds up.
I lift the blanket again.
“Hold on, Stella,” Dr. B says over her shoulder. “We gotta haul ass.”
CHAPTER 77
Less than thirty minutes pass before the hybrid slows again.
I hear barking. Loud barking.
“You can come out,” Dr. B says over her shoulder.
I throw the blanket off. A sunrise the same orange as the flames engulfing Paul’s car is peeking over the horizon. There’s just enough light to make out the beat-up trailer in front of us. A German shepherd barks madly, pulling against a fat chain tied to the stairs.
“Where are we?”
“Appomattox, a place formerly known as Charleston.”
Appomattox. The Ward Hallow train yard. Shelter number two.
“My hometown,” Dr. B says. “Also home to some of the most evil men in the world.”
Before I can ask if she’s talking about the Appomattox Six, the door of the trailer flies open. A uniformed security guard steps out. I gasp without thinking.
The man touches his head with one finger.
“It’s okay, Stella,” Dr. B says. “He’s one of us.”
The security guard struts over to Dr. B’s door. She rolls down the window.
“Hey, Sam.” There’s real affection in her voice. “May I present our latest renegade?” She hooks her thumb over the seat at me. “This is Stella.”
* * *
Sam leads us to a grid of abandoned train cars, the German shepherd straining at the leash five feet ahead of him. We walk down one row and turn right and then left and then right again. Like we’re climbing flat stairs. Pretty soon I’m all turned around, my sneakers covered with dust. I’d never find my way out alone.
Sam stops next to an old white train car with the letters CSX painted in red in the upper left-hand corner. I’m studying the peeling paint when Sam says, “This is it, Stella. Home sweet home. At least for the next sixteen or so hours.” He throws open the car door. “I got a cooler in here with rations. Some books and a monster flashlight. Heard you like yoga, so I got you one of those rubber mat things. Give you a chance to work those muscles.” He nods at a sleeping bag in the back corner. “Something to sleep on too.” A thin blanket and pillow are folded perfectly on top.
“Where do I—”
“Other end.” He points to a cardboard box in the opposite side of the car. “Like a litter box.”
“A what?”
“A litter box. That’s where a cat—” He starts to explain, but I interrupt him.
“I know.” I look from Sam to Dr. B. “I just…”
Dr. B offers me a shrug from behind her dark glasses.
Sam scratches his forehead. “Did you feel safe at home, Stella?”
The truth is, I should have felt safe, but I never did. “Is it safe here?”
“I’ll be watching the gate all day, and Killer here—” Sam nods at the German shepherd.
“Killer?”
“She’ll have the run of the place. No one’s gettin’ past her. Not alive anyway.”
My eyes roll over the grid of train cars, the dusty rows, the piles of trash. I really don’t want to get inside.
Dr. B senses my reluctance. “I know it’s frightening, Stella. But isn’t this what you wanted?”
Is it? Is it what I wanted?
“It’s just one day.”
Sam interjects. “Half a day.”
Dr. B agrees. “The fact is your life up until now has been incredibly privileged.”
Sam dips his head. “The question is, do you trust us?”
I consider the two of them. They both have thick dark hair and matching violet-blue eyes. They must be related. Brother and sister or something like that.
I do trust them. And even if I didn’t, what choice do I have?
CHAPTER 78
I lock the door from inside like Sam showed me. Only a thin line of sunlight seeps into the train car. I find myself longing for Paul and Ana’s clean space and carpeted floor, things I took for granted until today.
I devour the food Sam left in the cooler—a bologna and cheese sandwich, potato chips, a massive chocolate bar, two cans of soda. More food I’m not supposed to eat. I relish every bite. It tastes better than Mom’s New America Strip steak.
After that, I’m not sure what to do. I start one of the books Sam left me. Bless Me, Ultima. I get through fifty pages without even realizing it.
When I get sleepy, I do sun salutations. Sam is right. I need to stay at my best. Sister Laura was training me for this, and I didn’t even realize it. I have to keep up what she started.
After a half hour of yoga, I drop to the sleeping bag and try to read again.
I fall asleep without finishing the page.
* * *
I wake to the sound of barking in the distance.
Where am I?
I can’t see anything except a thin line of yellow light. The barking is getting closer. That’s when I remember.
Killer. Sam. The train yard.
Someone shouts over the barking. “We need to get the fuck out of here!” The voice is not far from my car.
I tiptoe to the crack in the door. Two men in gray pants and shirts sprint right for me.
Constables.
I back away, praying they didn’t see me.
Praise God for protecting women from harm.
Please please please, God.
Please protect me from harm.
Each time their feet hit the dirt, it sounds like Shea clapping with her mittens on. They’re close. Too close.
The clapping is replaced by a long sweeping sound. I peek out. One of them has slid to a stop right outside my car. He’s gasping for air and soaked with sweat, his face almost the same pink as his lips. I step back without letting out a single breath.
He yells at the other constable. “Hurry the fuck up, would you?”
Does he notice the car I’m in is white? Does he know that means something?
The other constable’s feet sound more like brushes than claps. He’s sprinting. A few seconds later, the barking is so loud I can’t hear either of them. Killer is right outside my car. I step up to the crack. The constables are gone. Killer turns her face toward me. Protecting me like Sam said she would. She lets out a single bark and takes off after the constables.
My heart is beating harder than it ever has before. I stumble to the sleeping bag and put my palm to my chest, willing it to slow to normal. But it’s no use.
Nothing will ever be normal again.
CHAPTER 79
My eyes open, but I can’t see anything.
The crack of sunlight is gone. Did I really sleep that long? I turn my wrist, lighting up my watch. 8:14 p.m. Thursday. Two days since I left.
If I were home, I’d be in my room reading, maybe talking to Sister Laura. By now the dinner dishes have been cleared. Mom is putting Shea to sleep. Dad is in his office. Or the garage.
Then again, maybe none of this is happening. Maybe nothing is the same. Maybe they’re out looking for me right now. The thought of Mom and Dad walking the streets with flashlights, calling my name overwhelms me with guilt. Is this what I’ve done to them? Made them the parents of a missing person?
Of course, this is what I’ve done.
It never occurred to me how they would be affected. I only thought about how it would affect me. How much I needed to get out.
I pray out loud this time. “Please, God, please help them move on. Please help them let me go. I want them to let me go.”
* * *
Three hours later the air inside the train car smells like a portable toilet. I’m sitting in the corner with my knees pulled up to my chest, worrying about what comes next, when Sam knocks on the door. The sound bounces off the walls like I’m inside a giant metal lunchbox.
“It’s me, Stella.”
“How do I know it’s you?”
“You’re wearing blue jeans and a Freedom Channel shirt so big it looks like you could fit a whole ’nother person in there.”
I undo the lock, and Sam slides the door open. When I jump down to the dirt, Killer licks my shoes.
* * *
A beat-up white delivery truck sits outside the front gate.
* * *
Shelter number three.
A haggard-looking man and woman stand in front of it. The man is chewing tobacco, and the woman stares at me like I’ve got a sign on my nose. When she catches Sam’s eye, she touches her forehead with a shaky finger.
Sam walks to the back of their truck and throws the doors open with both hands. A bright yellow blanket sits on top of a dirty mattress.
I look at Sam. “Is there a flashlight?”
“Well—”
I put my hands on my face in a futile attempt to stop tears that are bound to come.
“Stella.” Sam rests his hand on my back the same way Dad did when Sister Helen died. “You’re going to be okay.”
I drop my hands and stare into his eyes. But what I see there isn’t empathy. It’s admiration.
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I believe.” He hands me a threadbare handkerchief. “In six hours, this whole thing will be over. You’ll be on the other side.”
I contemplate the dark, empty truck. “I’m not getting in there.”
* * *
“We got to give her something.” The woman digs an orange bottle of pills out of her purse and hands them to Sam.
Sam holds out a small peach-colored pill, and the woman passes me her water bottle. Sister Laura told me to never take something if I don’t know what it is.
“It’s just a Xanax,” the woman says. “It’ll help you sleep. You need the rest for what comes next.”
The last leg of my trip. I’ll have to run through the woods and swim across the river.
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
Sam rubs my back. “You’ve trained for this, Stella. You’re just shook up. And dog tired. It’s all right. Lots of girls get cold feet at this point.”
“They do?”
All three of them nod though the woman looks more impatient than understanding. Sam still holds out the pill. I grab it and gulp it down.
“Not too much.” The woman reaches for her bottle. “We won’t be able to stop.”
Sam offers me a hand. I take it and climb into the back of the truck.
“Stella.” He grabs my ankle before I flop down on the mattress. “Don’t forget.” When I look at him, he says, “I believe in you.”
As soon as he closes the door and locks me inside, I’m surrounded by darkness.
The tears start for real now.
CHAPTER 80
I cry so hard I choke on my own sobs. When I can finally breathe again, I’m too tired to cry anymore. My throat is dry and raw.
I need water.
The back of the truck is completely devoid of light. For the second time since I left, I can’t see anything. I remember my smart watch, flipping my wrist until light washes over my face. Ten after one in the morning. Just over three hours to go. I run my hand over the mattress to see if they’ve left me any supplies, but there’s nothing except the small backpack I’ve been carrying since I left home.
Four hours without water. I gather as much spit in my mouth as I can and swallow. It doesn’t really help.
I dump everything inside the backpack on the mattress in front of me. There’s a tube of Chapstick, some tissues, a couple leftover granola bars, a handful of panty liners, an emergency pad, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Is that it? I twist my wrist, illuminating the space just long enough to make out the white baseball hat and a small wrapped box. When I pick up the box, the paper is coarse under my fingers. Newspaper.
Sister Laura put it in my hand more than a week ago, closing my fingers around the box. “Take this with you when you go, Stella. But don’t open it until you’re ready to give up, until you have nothing left.”
I wanted to open it at Paul and Ana’s. Then in the train yard. But I told myself to wait. I told myself I’d need it more later. I was right. Right now I need whatever Sister Laura has given me.
The newspaper rips right off. Underneath is a delicate wood box with a white stone top. I pull as hard as I can, but the lid won’t budge. I flip it over and try to knock it loose with the heel of my hand. Nothing works. I turn it over and over in the dark, running my index finger along every side until, finally, something gives, the top sliding away from the bottom.
