Chapter 6 Nicola #3
A chime dings somewhere on the bus. My head whips up. I expect to find Greer standing in the doorway, but no one’s there.
Hello? I type.
Send.
Another chime.
This time, Connor digs around in his pocket, checks an illuminated screen before returning to his task. Could that be a coincidence? I try one more time, just to be sure.
Connor? I type.
Send.
His hand disappears into his pocket again. As soon as he reads the message, he starts typing a response. My phone buzzes when it arrives:
I’ll explain at the lodge.
Connor has Greer’s cell phone. Did she give it to him? Why, and perhaps more importantly, when? If he’s had her phone this entire time, is that the reason she’s never picked up my calls?
When he arrives at my seat, thrusting out the tote bag, I’m struck with a sudden feeling of unease.
This is a point of no return. But just as quickly as it arrives, I shake it away.
Why would I want to return? This is the most welcome I’ve felt in months; in no time at all, I’ll be able to speak freely with people just like me, without any fear of who might be listening in.
I drop my phone in. It clacks against the others.
Connor retakes his position at the front of the bus. “Hey.” I swivel toward Zach, thinking now would be a good time to ask if anyone else will be joining us. “Do you know if—”
“Zach.”
Connor studies the tablet in his hands.
“Yes?”
“Do you have any other electronics on you?”
“You already took my phone, remember?”
Connor flips the tablet around and shows us the screen. A cluster of dots appears at the top: green circles with cell phone bars inside, yellow circles with Wi-Fi symbols, and blue circles with Bluetooth symbols. One lone blue dot blinks in the bottom corner.
“That’s your seat,” Connor says.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have any other electronic devices.” Connor looks skeptical, so Zach adds the kicker. “You can search me if you want. Strip-search me, even. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
Ros lets out an “Ugh,” and Zach playfully sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth.
Connor stalks down the aisle until he’s right in front of our row.
“These security measures are designed to keep you safe.” His voice stays low so the driver can’t eavesdrop.
“We collect all these devices to ensure no one’s being tracked through GPS.
You think reporters aren’t trying to figure out where your new friend’s escaped to this weekend?
” He inclines his head in my direction. “This is our way of making sure they can’t. ”
Zach makes no move to open his bags. It’s only when the silence between them becomes painfully uncomfortable that Ros clears her throat. “Maybe check your luggage again. I’m always sticking things in the front zipper section and forgetting to take them out.”
He reaches into the sling bag fastened around his chest, pulls out an old MP3 player, and drops it into the tote. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Forgot that was on me.”
Connor returns to the front of the aisle, checks his tablet, then nods. “I’m going to store these in the airport.” When the driver opens the door, stuffy summer heat swamps the bus. “Hold tight, we’ll be underway in no time.”
Zach presses his knees against the seat in front of him, sulking. “That didn’t even have Bluetooth.”
“Well, it must’ve had something,” Ros chides. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t have popped up on his tablet.”
“He gets to keep his tablet.”
“He’s the membership director.” She redirects her attention to me.
“Connor’s entire job is to keep us safe.
He manages all the security up at the lodge, and before anyone new is invited to join, he runs a background check on them.
” To Zach: “You know, I asked to see my file once. I couldn’t believe the junk he was able to find out about me.
He had a police report from the time we were pulled over for speeding, coming home from a girls’ weekend in Siloam Springs—”
My stomach jerks like we’ve just hit a patch of turbulence; the sound of planes speeding down the runway lifts to a deafening crash.
Background check: That means a credit history, employment and education records.
He might know about my family’s debt, how I almost failed out of Cooper Union, but he wouldn’t have dug much deeper than that, right?
Connor reboards, sans tote bag, and the bus shifts into drive, pulling out into the hazy sunshine.
A round of applause. I stare through the windshield as the traffic in front of us thins out and thickets of spruce begin sprouting along the road.
If the press hasn’t discovered what happened back in college, then Connor couldn’t have, either.
Those photos are probably long gone—buried at the bottom of a landfill.
If they did exist, someone would’ve sold them, shared them at least.
I pull my sweatshirt tighter around me.
As the bus roars deeper into the woods, the tops of the pine trees disappearing into the mist, I can’t help wondering if coming here was a horrible mistake.