Chapter 11
Except. The root cellar, if the entrance isn’t buried under feet of snow.
“This way,” I tell him, pulling him east. The voices grow louder; flashlight beams bounce in the trees.
We run through the forest detritus, moving fast and sloppy, slipping, getting up again, scrambling. We’re the prey tonight, fighting for our lives.
Finally, we reach the door of the root cellar. I sweep away icy fallen leaves and key in the code, and it opens with a click.
He hesitates, looking behind us. “Is there another way out?”
“There’s a tunnel,” I tell him. “It lets out down by the road.”
The beams of flashlights dance in the trees. We can’t outrun them. There’s no other option.
We climb in, shut the door above us, and lock it.
They’ll have to blast their way in, unless they hack the lock.
We climb down and down. It’s a single room with shelves of supplies, a cot, a television attached to a VCR, a collection of tapes and books.
A battery-operated generator, a hot plate.
We could stay down here for a month. But they’re already at the door.
There’s a heavy thud, thud as we make way down a narrow passageway toward the door to the tunnel.
I’ve grabbed a flashlight from the supplies. The tunnel is endless, winding, or seems so. We keep moving, silent. Finally, we reach the end. I key in another code, and the door pops open. We push out into the night and run.
The car is where we left it, hidden. Inside, the go bag, a cache of guns under the back seat. In the distance, the house is burning, great flames licking into the sky.
We climb inside, both of us silent. When he turns the ignition, the engine won’t start. It’s dead. Julian, pale in the moonlight, looks at me.
Wraiths move from the trees. Men in black with guns in their arms, lights on their vests. We’re surrounded. I’m all out of tricks and escape routes; my heart thuds, a timpani drum in my chest.
Then an odd calm comes over me. There’s a peace, or can be, when you’re about to die. I saw it in the eye of the doe, the sight of something beyond. Felt it when Drake’s hands were on my throat.
Nora steps into the beams of the headlights.
“That’s the end, kids,” she says solemnly. “Let’s get this over with.”
Julian turns to me. “I’m sorry. I wish we’d tried harder when we still had the chance.”
I put a hand to his face, then kiss him deeply—and long. For all his flaws, he’s the only person other than my mother whom I ever really loved, the way you love someone because of all their flaws and broken places, not in spite of them.
A light snow starts to fall as we step outside and walk around the car to stand in front of Nora. In the high beams we face her. She’s a stranger now, somehow not the woman I’ve known. My enemy instead of my savior; maybe she’s always been that, and I was just too damaged and naive to know it.
Julian and I lock hands. We’ll meet death together, even though we couldn’t manage to meet life that way.
I close my eyes and see my mother dying on the floor. I see Apple staring at me from the dark of the closet. I see the glassy eye of the doe on the forest floor, my bullet in her head.
There’s a single shot, and my whole body jolts as if from an electric shock. I wait for darkness.
Then I open my eyes. Julian is beside me, and Nora is in a pile of herself on the ground, a bag of bones, oozing blood from a head wound.
Buz is standing a few paces behind where Nora had stood, gun in hand.
Julian and I exchange a look, stay frozen.
“The Company,” says Buz, approaching, “is under new management.”
He’s a muscle-bound monster, standing over six feet tall with a wave of graying blond hair and a jaw that belongs on the side of a mountain.
“We operate moving forward with a different set of values,” he continues. “Though we appreciate the services you have provided, they will no longer be required by the firm.”
Julian and I are frozen in place. What is happening? Buz waves a hand at the men surrounding us, and they disappear like shadows into the trees, just as they came. But for the rustling of leaves, their retreat is silent.
“I don’t need to remind you that you have both signed nondisclosure agreements. Should you violate this contract, you will forfeit your generous exit package, and the Company will have no choice but to enact the kill clause, the terms of which are well known to you.”
I draw in a shuddering breath.
“Up the road about two clicks east, there is a vehicle waiting for you. Please consider it our parting gift.”
“Why?” I whisper.
But Buz just shakes his head, gives me that look he always did when Nora was being rough on me or when he pinned me to the ground during training. What are you going to do now? he used to ask. How are you getting out of this?
“Thank you for your service,” he says softly, looking me straight in the eye. Then he nods in the direction we need to go. I don’t ask any more questions.
We run, find a big SUV that has seen better days, just where Buz said it would be, with a full tank and a powerful engine that roars to life right away. In the back, a go bag filled with cash. No weapons. Maybe we won’t need them anymore. A novel thought.
We sit a minute, breathless. Then Julian leans over and kisses me. Somehow it feels different, now that we’re free. Like it’s a choice we’re making, not a thing we’re stealing.
“What now?” I ask, putting my hands to the heat vents, keeping my eyes on the side-view mirror in case this is some kind of bullshit.
Julian looks ahead at the windshield, which is covered with snow. A white Christmas. He turns on the wipers.
“How about a vacation? Someplace warm.”
The snow is falling more heavily now. On the staticky radio, David Bowie and Bing Crosby are singing that strange, ghostly mash-up of “Peace on Earth” and “The Little Drummer Boy.”
Behind us the flames from the burning cabin reach into the sky.
Ahead of us, the road is a black ribbon unfurling into the future.
We drive.