Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
“Stop!” I can only shout.
Bren slams on the brakes and the RV bounces over the gravel roadside before coming to a stop. “What is it?”
Grey barks, but I only notice it in passing. Without a word, I hold the phone out to Bren so he can see the pictures of the two of us. The photo of me is, once again, Avery’s snapshot of me standing under the apple tree, happy, laughing, and innocent like Linda, the cashier at the gas station. Bren looks sinister in the picture, like a criminal. They must have retrieved it from Jay’s cell phone. It’s the photo I took in the Seattle park at dusk. His eyes glow like lumps of coal in a fire, his mouth a thin solid line.
Frightened, I clutch my stomach, shake my head over and over again, then start reading even though I don’t want to know what it says.
“HERO OF THE WEEK” ABDUCTS 17-YEAR-OLD SCHOOLGIRL
All of the United States is worried about 17-year-old Louisa Scriver. Hailing from Ash Springs, Nevada, Louisa is apparently on the run with 23-year-old Brendan Connor. What is particularly explosive about this case, however, is the fact that Louisa is said to have been in the hands of the 23-year-old last year, too. He is said to have held Louisa captive in the middle of the Yukon for over two months. Police spokesman Gordon Thompson said the young man who was voted Hero of the Week 52 on the popular entertainment show Hero of the Week late last year, poses a serious threat. He is classified as mentally unstable and is believed to be in possession of multiple firearms and narcotics.
“What the hell…” Brendan whispers darkly. I glance at him sideways, still stunned by the report. With a pale face, he inhales deeply through his nose. I scroll down with stiff fingers so we can continue reading.
Louisa Scriver was dropped off by her 19-year-old brother in Sequoia National Park at the Lodgepole Visitor Center on the evening of June 25. She wanted to spend the summer with the young man. She was last seen by her eldest brother, Ethan Scriver, in Seattle on the morning of July 8, off Interstate 5 near Baker’s Motel. There has been no trace of them for two and a half days. Officially, Louisa has been missing since June 26th. According to the investigating authorities, Louisa is probably staying with her kidnapper willingly. “Nevertheless, she’s a victim,” police spokesman Gordon Thompson said at a news conference yesterday. “She does not grasp the full scope of the context and effects of the former crime and is therefore unable to act accordingly.” Clear words also come from Ethan Scriver, who reported the case to the police department two days ago. “Louisa urgently needs our help. She can no longer think straight. This man must have brainwashed her. He’s a criminal, mentally unstable, and capable of anything.” According to Ethan Scriver, Brendan Connor drugged his sister with a dangerous drug cocktail a year ago and took her to the Yukon in a box in his RV. Ethan Scriver has presented substantial evidence according to Chief Howard O. Conmay, and the youngest brother is currently at the police department making a statement.
More than twenty serious tips have been received so far, but these have come almost exclusively from the hotel guests and staff at the Seattle Plaza, where the two had checked in for several days. Police believe Brendan Connor and Louisa Scriver are heading to Canada, the Yukon. They will prefer secluded areas and avoid official campgrounds. A judge has issued an arrest warrant for Brendan Connor for aggravated kidnapping. The agency put Connor on the list of “Nevada Top Ten Most Wanted” and offered an additional $5,000 reward.
Louisa Scriver and Brendan Connor are currently traveling in a white Travel America motorhome. Registration number: “The Klondike, EVT 372 Yukon.” For relevant information, please contact the Nevada Bureau of Investigation. Phone: 775-639-2450; E-Mail—[email protected]
From one second to the next, I feel sick to my stomach. I jump up and run to the bathroom, sink to my knees, and start retching. It takes a few minutes before I’m empty and I can stand up on shaky legs. My throat burns from the stomach acid.
Ethan betrayed me! That thought sticks in my mind like a fly in a spider’s web. Suddenly, I feel his flat, stinging hand on my cheek again, but that’s nothing compared to what he unleashed with his charge. It’s like a kick to the stomach when I’m already down. He portrays Bren as someone who would shoot harmless civilians with a hunting rifle. Scraps of sentences like in possession of multiple firearms and warrant for aggravated kidnapping swirl through my mind. Nevertheless, she’s a victim!
I am not! Reluctantly, I stare into the tiny mirror above the washbasin. Arrest warrant for aggravated kidnapping. With shaking limbs, I rinse out my mouth, wash my hands, and lean on the sink. My blue-green eyes sparkle wildly. I am not a victim. I am not sick. I’m stunned that Ethan would do this to me.
I’ll never forgive you! You hear me? Never. Forever. For eons. You are my brother, you should love and protect me, not portray me as a criminal that needs to be hunted down! I want to hit and break something. Ethan and his stupid life mission: raise Lou, guard Lou! Tears of anger sting my eyes, but I fight them back with all my might. I don’t have time for it now.
I walk to the front again and stop at the table. Bren sits petrified in the driver’s seat, hands clenched into iron fists so that the veins and tendons stand out taut like bowstrings.
“I can’t give you back, Lou, never again,” he whispers harshly and darkly. “Not again. Not after I know how it can be between us.” He says it calmly, not a muscle in his body twitching. “And yet—you must leave me.”
“No.” The word shatters soundlessly on my lips. I’m stumped. I have absolutely no idea why he is saying that.
He turns in his seat and looks at me through narrowed eyes. “A life on the run, do you even know what that means?”
“Of course I do,” I say, jutting out my chin even though I don’t understand anything anymore.
Bren gets up and walks toward me. “A life on the run means not knowing today where you will sleep tomorrow. It means hardship, fear, and sometimes hunger… I don’t want that for you…”
Suddenly, I’m terrified he’s going to leave me here. “We were going to go back into the wild one day anyway,” I whisper hoarsely.
Bren wipes his mouth and nose, then takes a deep breath. “It’s not the same. Escape is like war. Cruel in a different way. There’s never any rest.”
“Now you’re talking about yourself and the slums. About your escape from Everett. You can’t compare that.”
He seems to be considering my words. “Despite all of that, it’s not possible, Lou,” he finally replies and my heart almost stops.
I quickly shake my head. “No, don’t do that. Don’t send me away again!” I won’t survive it.
His unyielding mouth has become that thin line that tells me he believes his own words. “I have no choice.”
My desperation turns to anger, rising inside me like steam from a boiling cauldron. “Yes, you do!” I yell at him. “You have a choice. We have a choice. You can’t simply decide what I do with my life. You have no right!”
“Lou, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Bren looks at me unhappily.
I could give him a good shaking. “Stop dictating! Stop making decisions about my life. You did enough of that last year, that’s over!”
He flinches and I immediately regret the words. “I’m not leaving you,” I say softly but firmly. “I’ll never break up with you.” Even if I’m afraid of him at times and fear his fits, I mean every word.
In the twilight, we fixate on each other in the camper like two animals gauging each other’s strength. I still feel the soft, silky bond between him and me, the bond that seems to have connected us long before we knew each other. It beats like the wings of excited birds and crackles like tracing paper in your hands.
“It’s not right.” Bren doesn’t take his eyes off me.
Neither do I. “Right and wrong are no standards for us. They’ve never been.”
“Lou, they’re looking for me for aggravated kidnapping and you’re a minor. That means a large contingent of police, helicopters with thermal imaging cameras, and the use of firearms.”
“Bren, no!” It brings tears to my eyes to imagine him fleeing the police alone in the wilderness and possibly getting caught in a shootout. And the thought of him being locked in a cell with no windows, lost in the horrors of his childhood days is terrifying. That cannot happen, ever. “It’s my life and my decision.”
“You don’t understand what that ultimately means.”
“I don’t care.” A tear runs down my face.
Bren reaches out and catches it. “Lou, this is crazy…” He looks down the road as if he expects to see flashing lights.
“Don’t leave me behind!” I feel small and helpless, like when I entered his RV and knew something was wrong. Powerless in the face of his unwillingness to compromise when he truly wants to accomplish something.
We eye each other again. Abruptly, he steps toward me and kisses me deeply and so hard that it hurts and my knees threaten to buckle, but he holds me. I fall, sink, or fly as a tremor runs through my body, and even though my heart is crying out for that kiss, I wriggle out of his arms and take a step back.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
He sighs and finally nods, a shock wave of relief washing over me.
“A tentative okay under protest,” he says now, though I don’t know if he’s giving in because he doesn’t have time to argue or because he honestly means it. “Let’s pack the most important things first and continue on foot!”
Something about those words shakes me awake. Police sirens echo in my mind, and I see myself and Bren surrounded by a heavily armed SWAT unit. Oh, God!
“So, Faro is out?” I ask, secretly hoping he disagrees, but he shakes his head.
“We’re headlines across Canada and the United States. A story that the tabloids will greedily pounce on. The best thing we can do is try to get to Europe.”
Europe. The word pulls the rug out from under my feet, sounding strange and terrifying. But at least he says we. I’d follow him to the ends of the earth before ever leaving him.
Bren sits in the driver’s seat. “We’ll look for a lonely forest road and pack everything up there. Then we’ll see.”
Then we’ll see? Whether I can come with him—or how to proceed? I would like to scream but I stay silent. The situation is tense enough. I’m sure Linda called the police right away. By some stupid coincidence, she must have recognized Bren, but she didn’t recognize me at all. Why did I tell her where we were going? Naturally, Faro is out since she definitely heard that.
Bren doesn’t want to go further north because it’s too risky, so he makes a U-turn and heads back toward Vancouver. Always on alert, he glances every ten seconds into the rearview mirror as if expecting blue lights behind us at any moment. Eventually, he stops at a remote pull-off hidden by trees.
“This will have to do. Let’s hurry!”
We hastily stuff our things into two monstrous backpacks. “Only the essentials,” Bren reminds me, unpacking a couple of my blouses and stashing more food for Grey. Yet based on the fact that we’re packing my belongings as well, I assume he is taking me with him. My head is pounding and foggy. Bren hands me painkillers to help me walk on my sprained ankle and stows the bottle in my backpack.
It feels like time has stopped, leaving me in a vacuum. I stand beside myself, watching as Bren stows crackers and pills that can be used to disinfect water. I think he explains everything to me, but hardly anything penetrates the vacuum bubble.
At some point, he nods to me. “Okay, that’s it. Let’s go!”
It’s another shock. This must be how death row inmates feel awaiting their executioners on execution day. You know the time is coming yet you deny it. And when it arrives, everything falls apart. I’m not on death row, of course, but the last time I look at the outside of the RV, the letters T-r-a-v-e-l A-m-e-r-i-c-a blur before my eyes. The dream of a normal life with Bren shattered so quickly it couldn’t even unfold. Ethan trampled on it like a bud on the ground.
Grey comes over and licks my fingers. My dear little wolf, who always knows exactly when I’m feeling bad. I gently stroke his fur and scratch his ears.
“It feels strange,” Bren says next to me.
“Aren’t you afraid of leaving behind evidence?” I ask. “There’s stuff in here that can incriminate you. The metal plates on the walls…what about the narcotics?”
“You don’t seriously think they’re still in here?” Bren raises an eyebrow, smiles, and takes my hand in his. His fingers are warm and strong and I can hold on to them, which I need at the moment. Not being able to leave him doesn’t mean not being afraid. And the thought of being hunted almost drives me crazy. But the idea of him sending me away like in Hudson’s Hope is even worse.
“The evidence in the RV hardly matters,” he says now. “I think Ethan took your letters to the police as evidence and made Jayden report everything you confided in him.” One by one, he turns off our cell phones.
“Jay would never betray me.”
“He can’t lie in his testimony. At least, he shouldn’t. Maybe he was afraid of his own courage.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Funny, I’m not mad at Jay at all. Ethan might have repeatedly intimidated him until he buckled. Or promised that if he betrayed me, he would be welcomed back into the family. That would be Ethan’s style! Right now, however, I’m too horrified by the circumstances to feel the anger I had before.
I mechanically take my switched-off cell phone from Bren and put it back in my shorts pocket. I understand why he turned off the cell phones, otherwise, they could track us. He probably knows a lot more tricks to avoid the police, after all, he had enough time to practice last year.
We stand in front of the RV for a brief moment and then set off. Hand in hand, in silence.
Neither of us voices the other alternative we might have: we could turn ourselves in. That, however, is unthinkable. Bren would probably go to jail for years because of last summer. I don’t even know how many years you get for kidnapping. I only know one thing: locked in a small, dark room—without trees and sky above—would break him forever. I wouldn’t be able to help him if he loses himself in the depths of his cruel memories, I wouldn’t be able to hold him and bring him back with words. He would be trapped in the horrors of his childhood where he was in danger just for misspelling words. No. We cannot give back that invisible power to Everett Harlow Nolan.
After an endless walk through the woods, we find a sheltered spot in a valley next to a fast-moving stream in the early evening. Dense fog has settled over the forest, which is good for us because, according to Bren, it messes up thermal imaging, so we don’t have to worry about helicopters for now. We kept walking toward Vancouver because Bren remembered a freight depot that’ll give us a good chance at escaping.
If he even intends to continue on from there with me!
With my injured ankle, I’m deadweight. Without me, he would certainly have made better time, but as it was, he had to wait repeatedly for me and sometimes he even carried me.
Exhausted, I spread Bren’s raincoat over the bank, fall onto it, and rip off my hiking boots and socks, and, last but not least, the bandage. Bren ties Grey to a tree with a long leash that allows him to trot to the stream and drink while I cool my ankle in the wonderfully cold water.
“Better not make a fire tonight.” Bren looks around warily. “We can eat the noodles straight out of the can.”
“Sure,” I say, still woozy. Events have outpaced my thinking and I can’t keep up. Bren’s credit cards will be monitored or even blocked and withdrawing money from a bank teller is too dangerous. Not only are we homeless, we are destitute.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bren crouch next to me and look me over. “Hey.”
I hang my head. “It’s all my fault. If only I hadn’t written those letters.” I could slap myself. The letters were a vote of confidence in my brothers, but now I’m learning what that confidence is worth to Ethan. Namely nothing.
“If anything, it’s my fault. I kidnapped you. It is a crime and now I’m wanted. That’s the way it is.”
The simplicity with which he says it almost makes me laugh. “No, it’s Ethan’s fault!” I object, feeling strangely empty. “If Ethan hadn’t gone to the police, we could have started a new life in Faro.”
“We can start a new life somewhere else too, Louisa.”
Louisa. Rarely does Bren use my full name, and for that reason, I look at him. “Earlier, you were trying to get rid of me,” I say, unable to hide the bitterness. It hurts me more than I care to admit.
“I simply don’t want to put you in harm’s way. I would never forgive myself for that.” He looks at me. “I couldn’t think straight before. Of course, it’s your life. Of course, you can decide.”
“Is that so?”
He laughs his HA laugh, which awakens infinitely deep longings in me.
I smile shyly at him. “I don’t want to go to Europe,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to be so far away from my brothers. I mean, from Jay, Avy, and Liam. Besides, who knows if we’re safe in Europe?”
Bren gets up, leans against a birch tree, and pulls out his cigarettes. “Anyway, we can’t go back to my leased land and the log cabin. Jay must have passed the property details on to the police…” He inhales the smoke deeply, his gaze resting on me, soft and black as velvet. “If you don’t want to go to Europe, I’ll think of something. I have contacts in Los Angeles. It’s too risky to go there now. But the people and the press will soon be on to something else. In nine months, hardly anyone will remember our faces, besides, we could alter our appearances.” He winks at me. “Ramon could get us fake passports and then we could always start over somewhere else in Canada.”
I take a deep breath. “Sounds good.” I don’t care if it’s Faro or another town. The main thing is that there is at least a bit of civilization around. “Is this Ramon a friend of yours?”
Bren nods. “You could say he’s done a lot for me. Especially after escaping from my stepfather.”
“Like?”
“He broke into Everett’s house. Back then, I was part of his gang, the Bones. Ramon stole my ID from the house on Thorson Ave because…”
“Because?” I can’t help but ask.
“Ramon used to call me Hoover,” he continues without context, looking at me again. “After I managed to run away from Everett…” He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of an emotion deep inside. “I ran mindlessly around Los Angeles. Eventually, Ramon found me starving behind a dumpster on Hoover Avenue. That’s how it can be when you’re on the run.”
I ignore his last statement. “He named you after the street?”
“I had forgotten my name.”
I look at him, perplexed.
“Everett…never called me Brendan. I don’t want to repeat what he called me. I was a worthless creature with no name. Ramon gave me back my name when he broke into Everett’s house and retrieved my ID.”
I remember last year how important it was to him that I chose a name for Grey. Names mean something—he said. If you don’t give him a name, it means he’s worthless.
“I didn’t even remember after reading the name on the ID. I had repressed too much. I know now that my mom called me Brendan. I have some memories of her.” He looks straight at me and smiles briefly. “She’s blonde—like you. Maybe that’s why I like blonde hair so much.”
I bite my lip. He’s talking about his mom in the present tense, he doesn’t even know she’s dead. Tell him! Tell him his mom didn’t leave him! Now!
However, for some reason, I can’t. I’m too agitated to bring up the subject today.
“Why did Everett hate you so much?” I quietly ask instead. I don’t understand how anyone could do such horrible things to a child for no reason.
“I don’t know.” Bren stubs out the cigarette on a rock in the creek and puts it in a plastic bag he’s pulled from his pants pocket. “He despised my mom back then because she cheated on him. And I know he hates my real father’s guts. At times, he acted like he didn’t know who it was, but he contradicted himself too many times. I think he knew exactly who my father was. He must have known him.” He’s still standing by the birch, looking at me. “Now, after India Lee’s sessions, I know my stepfather had one particular problem: humiliation. Not only is he a tormentor, but he is also extremely narcissistic. And narcissists tend to seek maximum revenge, especially when someone humiliates them. Maybe he took his revenge out on me because he was too cowardly toward my father, I don’t know. Or maybe he simply liked tormenting someone; he was like that with my mom…” He is silent for a while. Incoming sunlight breaks against his lashes, winking at me like diamonds.
Again, he told me more about himself, and again, I feel closer to him. I get up to approach him, but as soon as I put weight on my foot, pain shoots through my ankle like a butcher’s knife. I stagger sideways but Bren catches me and pulls me into his arms so my back is pressed against his stomach.
“Careful, Lou!” he says against my neck. His breath tickles. A million air bubbles burst against my skin. He holds me so tight in his arms, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. He gently rests his chin on the top of my head and whispers, “I’d have to be crazy to ever let you go again. You couldn’t seriously have believed that.”
“You wanted to move on alone.” However, the way he’s holding me now says otherwise. It’s reminiscent of the past, which is why it is strangely calming. Like a promise: I won’t let you go. Never again.
“My mind wanted it, not me. You’re the only one who truly knows me. My darkest hours and my finest. I owe everything I am to you. And, of course, I have no right to tell you anything. If it ever happens again, just ignore me, or imagine that I spoke to the sky and the wind.”
Tell that to the wind. I need those words so badly. I need his closeness so much. I turn my head and inhale his scent. Forest, smoke, and salt. For seconds, there is nothing but this feeling of absolute familiarity. And still, he holds me so tight, all I can do is breathe, nothing else. Just breathe and feel him, that’s all I want.