Chapter Twenty
Bobby ran and fell. He got up and kept running, which was really hard to do in the mud.
But if he couldn’t run fast, neither could anyone else.
When he dared look back, he didn’t see the crazy-eyed woman anymore, but tripped and fell again, his clothes completely soaked and now muddy.
He scrambled up and kept moving forward, even though he’d lost a boot in mud that now went almost to his knees.
Even though he was so wet he felt heavy and exhausted.
Then he reached Whisper Creek and realized he couldn’t get home.
The creek cut through the valley from the Red River, usually only a trickle when it hit their property. Though years and years of rain and storms had cut a trench through the valley, it was usually easy to cross.
Not today.
The creek was now ten feet wide and he couldn’t tell how deep.
He could swim pretty good, but the water was moving fast, and he knew better than to go into any water that was moving this fast. There could be a flash flood, trees could fall and hit him, he could get trapped in the culvert under Orchard Lane.
He could die.
As he watched, rain falling all around, the creek continued to grow, spreading closer to him.
He couldn’t go back to the Mendozas; though he desperately wanted to help his sister he had no idea what to do.
But there was one place he could go that should be safe.
A shelter that had withstood far worse storms than this one.
He walked parallel to the creek, but far enough from the edge that he wouldn’t accidentally fall in. He kept one eye on the water as he walked as fast as he could to the equipment shed where he had first looked for Cleo.
His bottom lip trembled as he lost his other boot.
He was cold, wet, sore, hungry. Avery was in trouble and he couldn’t help her.
His mom was probably super worried about him, and what if she came out and got stuck in the creek looking for him?
And he hadn’t even found Cleo! What if she ran up a tree and couldn’t get down?
He shook his head. He would not think bad thoughts. Avery was going to be okay, his mom was too smart to get stuck in the creek, and Cleo had found shelter.
It was taking forever, he thought, as he passed his ATV, now buried so deep in the mud he could barely see the seat. But food … he always had snacks in the storage in the back.
He unclipped the cage that he’d brought in case he found Cleo, and under the cage, in the storage box, were a couple apples, a can of cat food, a jug of water, and a bag of popcorn Grandma had given him.
He put everything in the cage to make it easier to carry.
They’d get wet, and wet popcorn was gross, but it was better than not eating anything.
Bobby kept walking, moving slower and slower as the water and his fatigue weighed him down.
The creek was noisy, the water creeping closer and closer to him.
He kept moving, thinking he should be at the shed by now.
He couldn’t have gotten lost, he knew all these fields, but everything looked different in the rain and he could barely see more than ten feet ahead of him.
And then he saw it, practically when he ran into it.
He was overjoyed. The ground was saturated, but he’d climb into the loft.
There was old hay there, he could find something to sit on, maybe something to dry off with, like an old horse blanket.
But even if there was nothing, at least he would be out of the wind, and he could bury himself in hay for warmth and to help get dry.
In his wet socks, he climbed up the ladder to the loft, balancing the cage carefully.
He slipped twice but finally made it up, his heart racing.
The wind shook the old wood outbuilding, but it had withstood worse storms, including the pounding hail over the weekend.
It was mostly dry in the loft, except for one steady drip in the far corner.
He took off his socks and squeezed out the mud and water as he looked around. There really wasn’t much here. Mostly tools and some wood crates. He took off his jacket and hung it on a protruding nail. He squeezed the water from his shirt as best he could, and his radio fell out of his waistband.
Then he had an idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
“Dumb, dumb, dumb!” he said out loud. His voice was scratchy and he drank a little of the water, then coughed to clear it.
He couldn’t communicate on the channel his family used because the bad guys who had Avery and the Mendozas might hear. But he could change channels and find help from someone else.
Avery talked to her boyfriend, Ryan, on Channel 9.
It was the strongest channel, because he lived down in Callisburg.
They talked when Avery was grounded and couldn’t use the phone, usually because she broke curfew.
Bobby wasn’t positive that he would be able to get through because rain and stuff messed with the radio waves, but he had to try.
“Ryan, Ryan Perez, this is Bobby McKenna. Are you there? Please answer me. Over.”
Nothing but static.
Bobby tried again. “Ryan, it’s Bobby. We’re in trouble. Please answer. Over.”
Static.
Tears burned, but Bobby tried again. And again. And again.
Rena ran back to the house in full panic. She’d chased the kid so far in the storm that she thought she wouldn’t be able to find her way back; then the house came into view suddenly and the mix of relief and fear nearly brought her to her knees.
The kid got away. Hell, he could have climbed a tree and she wouldn’t have noticed because the rain was coming down so hard she could barely see two feet in front of her.
She burst into the kitchen, bringing in a blast of wind and rain. She slammed the door shut and picked up her cell phone. Dialed Brock. Willed him to answer.
He didn’t.
“Call me,” she said into his voicemail and then ended the call and went to Sam.
“Hey,” Sam said. “You’re drenched. What happened?”
Sam didn’t look great—pale, with dark circles under his eyes, blond hair matted to his head—but he was sitting up and there didn’t seem to be fresh blood coming through his bandage. That was a relief.
He still needed a doctor.
“The brother, Bobby, who Avery told to go home hours ago, he was peeking in through the windows. He can rat us out. We have to leave. But Brock isn’t answering the phone!”
“Shh,” Sam said. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not okay! You’re hurt, you need a doctor, we have four hostages! We’ve never had hostages before. This is so much worse than anything we’ve ever done. I don’t know what to do.”
Her cell phone rang and she yelped before she grabbed it. “Brock?”
“What happened?”
She told him. Then, “We have to go. I’ll take their truck. Where?”
“There’s an empty house; the people are gone for the weekend. I double-checked, it’s safe. Go there, I’ll meet you. I have one more thing to do.” He gave her the address and directions.
“Meet me now. Please. I don’t care about the money or anything, I just want to go home.”
“I’ll be there, an hour or two. It’ll take fifteen, maybe twenty minutes from where you are, because the road is a mess. In fact, bring the redhead with you, just in case.”
“No.”
“Yes, Rena, you have to. We need the leverage just in case something goes wrong. And if it wasn’t for her and her brother, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?”
Rena didn’t want to take a hostage with her. But what did it matter? Look at what they’d already done!
“Okay. We’ll leave now. Don’t be too late, please.”
“I love you, Rena.”
“I love you, too.”
She ended the call. “We have to go,” she told Sam.
“I heard. It’s going to be okay.”
“Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true.”
She grabbed a blanket from the bed and helped Sam out to the truck.
It was a nice Dodge Ram Crew Cab with four full-size doors and a spacious backseat, a wheelchair lift folded up on one side.
She settled Sam in the back, gave him the blanket, and turned the ignition, setting the heater to low. “I’m going to get the girl.”
“I’ll stay here,” he said with a touch of humor. He gave her a small smile that she couldn’t return.
She went back into the house and to the bedroom. Opened the door and stared at the two girls. She cut the zip ties around Avery’s ankles and said, “Get up.”
“Why?” Avery asked.
“Because I said so.”
“Where’s my brother?”
Rena shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. We’re leaving. Just in case your brother was able to find someone out there.”
Her lip quivered and Rena tried not to care. She tried not to think about what might happen to a ten-year-old boy in the middle of this storm.
“Get. Up,” she repeated and showed the girl her gun.
She complied.
Rena took Avery to the truck and told her to climb into the driver’s seat. Then she climbed into the passenger seat, cut off the zip ties on her wrists. The girl had rubbed her skin raw.
“Put your hands on the steering wheel. Both of them.”
She did.
Rena took out fresh zip ties and tied first one hand to the steering wheel, then the other. “You’re driving.”
“I don’t have my license.”
“I don’t care. I’ve been driving since I was fourteen, my guess is so have you.”
Rena pulled the gear and put it in reverse. “Now, go. Or I swear, I’ll shoot you in the head and toss your body into the ditch.”
Her voice was serious, and as Rena watched Avery, she knew the girl believed her. She could see it in her eyes, the way they darted around, looking for escape. The resignation. The fear-filled hate.
Rena had never killed anyone before in her life.
But there was a first time for everything.