False Regret: Pikorua - Book 1 (8 page)

“Please
help me!” I pleaded. “Someone is after me. May I come in and call the police?”
I asked, tears falling down my face, thinking of Matt. The sight of his brain
matter hitting the linen colored walls was sure to drive me mad.

“Well,
Miss, I don’t think so. I don’t know if you can be trusted. Senior citizens
can’t be too careful these days,” the woman said as I saw the masked man heading
up the street, straight for me. I pulled the old woman’s door shut, hoping to
protect her, and took off running again.

I
was tired and weak, knowing he would easily overtake me in a matter of moments,
but I kept going, praying a plan would present itself. When I rounded the
corner of the next house, deciding to try hiding, two hands grabbed me, just
like before, covering my mouth. I didn’t have the strength to fight him. I
didn’t even care anymore. Matt was dead, and Cade was dead, or at least the
Cade I knew. I didn’t want to go on living, either. The man pulled me down
underneath a porch and closed the lattice work that adorned it. I was confused
as to why this person was concealing me from the guy with the gun. His hand remained
over my face even though I had no plan to scream and reveal my whereabouts. Instead,
I rested my head in the wet moldy leaves that had blown under the deck, finding
no desire to resist. The gunman ran past and began to search through the back
yard, under the bushes, and in the shed. He was thorough and took his time. I
lay in the dirt with a stranger on top of me, shivering and wishing the nightmare
would end. I worried my erratic heart beat would give us away. Finally, the assassin
left, seeming satisfied that I’d somehow escaped him. I kept still, though,
waiting to see what the captor holding me down intended to do. He waited an unbearable
amount of minutes and then pushed the trellis aside and crawled out, hauling me
up and out after him.

“Are
you okay?” whispered Cade. Relief and fear all rolled up into a messy ball
flooded through me. I was glad Gordon hadn’t killed him, but I was scared he
would take me back to that cabin. An emotional fire storm brewed inside me.

“Please
don’t make me go back there,” I cried in a hushed tone, backing away from him.
He took the two steps to fill the gap between us and put his hands on my
shoulders. I tried to shrug him off, but he held a firm grip.

“I
won’t, Ellia, not ever. Gordon’s dead. I had no choice, but, obviously, you aren’t
safe. Dacks wants you and will do whatever it takes. You are his leverage with
your dad.”

“Matt
…” I choked out as quietly as I could, though I wanted to scream until there
was no pain left inside me.

“I
know… I am so sorry,” he said, and I believed he meant it. “We need to go. Dack’s
men are still out here searching for you. He wouldn’t give up that easily.”
Cade put his coat on me and took my hand, but he kept me behind him as we crept
to the corner of the house. We made a stealthy move down the street, using
trees and fencing as cover. Finally, we came to a motorcycle parked in the
bushes near the motel. I came to the conclusion that Cade had been watching the
place the whole time. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, considering I didn’t
trust his motives. He could be taking me to Dacks himself. Defeat was all that
broke the crust of numbness inside me. I didn’t have the strength to run
anymore.  

He
took the motorcycle helmet and placed it on my head, doing the strap under my
chin, like he had done a hundred times before when we were kids, and I had ridden
on the back of his bike. He removed my bag off of my shoulder and put it
quickly over his own. I was amazed to see I still had it with me. My pajamas
were filthy, and dirt crusted on my bare feet, but I got on the bike behind
him.

“Hang
on tight,” he said, starting the motor.

“Just
like old times,” I said, before I realized I’d even said it out loud.

“I
wish,” he replied and kicked the stand up as he revved the engine. As soon as
the wheels hit pavement, a Mustang flew around the corner. I clutched Cade so
tightly, his breathing was probably impaired. The car caught up to us, but Cade
took a swift corner and gained some ground.  The chase continued for miles, and
I lost feeling in my bare feet from the cold. Cade managed to lead the vehicle
out of town, where we were able to veer off onto the dirt trails of state land,
where he hoped the fancy sports car couldn’t follow. His plan worked, and the
mustang bogged down in the sand at the first hill. Cade drove deeper into the
woods, and when he felt the space was sufficient, he stopped the bike. We were
still in the middle of nowhere, and I began to fear he might be planning to
kill me himself.  He got off the motorcycle, flipped on the flashlight he
pulled from his back pocket, and looked at me. “Do you have any shoes or warm
clothes in your bag?” he asked, taking it off his shoulder.

Through
my chattering teeth I nodded, deciding he must not be plotting to off me if he
wanted to dress me. My spare set of running shoes were in the bag. He quickly
opened it and helped me into a pair of socks and then my shoes. I felt like a
child, as he slipped my cut and dirty feet into the sneakers.  He retrieved a
sweater and helped me put it on under his coat.

“I’ll
get you out of the cold as soon as I can. Are you okay for now?” he asked,
touching my cheek. “Jesus, you are burning up, Ellia. Are you sick?”

“I
don’t know …” I said, needing to vomit. It was hard to tell what normal felt like
anymore.

“Just
keep holding on tight. It’s bumpy as hell, and I don’t want you to fall. I will
get you out of here as fast as I can, okay?” he asked, searching my eyes,
wanting to make sure I believed him. My head nodded in affirmation, and he got
back on the bike. The air was frigid, and I knew he must be cold. Hoping my
fever ravaged body, would lend him heat, I pressed against his back.  

It
seemed like forever before we hit pavement again, and every bone in my body
ached from the jarring terrain. Not a mile down the black-topped road, I
motioned for him to pull over to the shoulder. I threw myself off the bike and hastily
ripped off the helmet, letting it roll onto the dark pavement. I vomited into
the ditch, wanting to just curl up and die right there. Never could I remember being
so sick. Cade stayed by my side and helped me to my feet when I finished. He tenderly
brushed the hair from my burning forehead. “It’s just a little farther. Can you
make it? Can you keep riding?” he asked.

I
sighed, just wishing he would leave me to perish on the roadside. It didn’t
matter if Dacks men found me. A bullet would bring the relief I desired. “I can
do it,” I answered instead. He put the helmet back on my head and helped me
back on the bike.

As
the dark miles stretched on, I let my mind wander back to the old days,
anything to keep from obsessing on Matt’s death.

***

I
remembered the night of the talent show when the school finally got to see how gifted
Cade Cantrell really was. He’d played guitar for me a few times, so I was
already privy to his immense musical ability. He had never sung for me, though,
at least not in person, saying he was waiting for the right time. His recorded
demo played through my ear buds daily, though, and I knew he sang as beautifully
as he played. We had only been on a few dates at the time of the talent show,
but it seemed like we’d known each other forever. We talked every single day at
school, after school, and sometimes well into the night, without my mother
knowing. He’d kissed me, the kind that surpassed an innocent peck, for the
first time, just that night before, and I was still riding that high. I had
never been kissed that way before, and it was all I could focus on its
aftermath.  Necking with Will was like being slobbered on by a drooling dog as
compared to Cade’s purposeful osculating that didn’t require cleaning my mouth
out with his tongue.  He had more experience with girls than Will did, but I
doubted Will would ever master the art of kissing. He wasn’t in tune with what
a girl wanted, even though I’d told him more than once. 

The
Friday before the show, at school, Maria and Ashley pestered Cade relentlessly
about what he planned to sing that night. He wouldn’t give them, or me, a
single hint, though. I couldn’t wait to see him get on that stage, sharing his
mesmerizing talent with our peers.

Cade
didn’t make any other friends at school, and that was solely my fault. I consumed
every ounce of his time and often felt guilty for it. He never complained,
though. Cade’s cousin, Jimmy, along with his jerk friends, teased Cade all the
time about his tattoos and piercings. They made relentless jokes about him
being gay, but it bothered me more than it did Cade. It broke my heart that his
family treated him at home the same way Jimmy did at school. They didn’t
understand him and never tried. When he was home, he stayed in his room most of
the time studying, or writing, or playing his music.  He let it all slide off
of him like it meant nothing and in no way touched him. He’d always say, “It’s
just one year of my life, Ellia, no worries.”

The
auditorium filled every seat with students and parents that night. The emcees
were two popular guys who entertained the audience and were more interesting
than most of the acts. Near the end, they introduced Cade, stating that he
would be singing a piece he had written himself. The two emcee made snide comments
about him and the song, and the crowd laughed at Cade’s expense. I would’ve
walked off and never performed had I been in his shoes. He remained collected,
though, always in control. He never backed down when he had something to prove.

The
curtain opened, and he sat on a stool, his acoustic guitar in hand, microphone
perched in front of his perfect visage, and a spot light shining on him,
creating a shadowy silhouette of him on the white backdrop behind him. He was
looking down at his instrument, hiding his beauty from the spectators.  He appeared
almost angelic even though dressed entirely in black. The silence stretched
into an awkward moment as Cade took his time, letting the audience wonder what
would happen next, Murmurs of laughter flowed through the crowd, and at first,
I worried he’d gotten stage fright and couldn’t perform. He had played with his
band at some pretty big venues in the past, though, so it seemed unlikely.

 I
finally exhaled when he strummed the guitar. He lifted his exquisite face to the
room of people and then locked eyes with me. That simple act alone gave me
chills. The quiet prelude had not been stage fright, it was for dramatic
effect.  He then began to sing, and a hush fell upon the auditorium.  The music
was like a gentle hand stroking every generation in the audience. Tears fell
from my eyes as I listened. He sang a hauntingly beautiful lullaby about love,
loss, and redemption. It was the most mournful song I’d ever heard, even though
it ended on an uplifting note of hope. Looking around, I wasn’t the only one in
tears, and after a few silent moments, he received a standing ovation that went
on for minutes. I was so proud of him.

 “You
are so lucky,” said the freshman girl next to me. I smiled because it was true.
I was falling hard for this boy who expressed his sadness through poignant music.
His talent was undeniable to anyone in that room.  Cade stepped off the stage,
and I pushed my way through the crowd to get to him. I threw myself into his
arms, and he kissed me, right there in front of the entire student body and all
the parents. Our lips didn’t just peck, we locked in a passionate PDA, worthy
of several Saturday detentions.  A teacher put his hands on our shoulders,
though, and warned us to stop at once. We were both embarrassed by getting
caught up in a moment, and we walked to the side of the auditorium to watch the
last couple of acts. He held my hand tightly inside of his, a small smile on
his face, knowing he had reached his audience in a way only a musician could
understand. When the emcees announced the winner, Cade made his way back up on the
platform to accept his first place prize of fifty dollars.

The
principal handed him the check and shook his hand, but Cade pulled him in and
whispered something in his ear. “Well,” said the principal into the microphone,
facing the audience. “Mr. Cantrell wants to donate the money back to the cause,
so student council; you have fifty more dollars to add to your fund. Let’s give
Cade another round of applause.” The room erupted again. He was such a good guy;
at least I thought so when I was young and in love.

***

When
the bike stopped, we were in front of a tiny motel, miles from where Matt’s
cortex lay splattered on a blank canvas. I realized I’d been almost dozing, amazed
I’d remained on the back of the motorcycle. Cade helped me off the machine, and
we walked inside the office. I still had his helmet on and didn’t care how
ridiculous I must look in fleece pajama pants, running shoes, and the oversized
jacket. Snot leaked from my nose in a steady stream, and my chest felt tight.  I
had to resist the urge to giggle at the thought of how I must’ve appeared to
the man behind the counter. Cade checked us in under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Jones.
He produced an I.D. with the name Joseph Jones on it and a credit card that matched.
I didn’t say a word. With the keys in hand, we left the office and moved the
bike around to the back side of the ancient, blue motel, with peeling paint and
a saggy roof. Cade parked the shiny black beast behind a dumpster that smelled like
dead animals, making me want to vomit again. We entered room number twelve
which had only one bed. I looked at him as if he were insane.