Flee

By Keely James

Published by Astraea Press

www.astraeapress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

My father was furious. Eye-bulging, vein-popping furious. And for the first time ever, that fury was directed at me. I should have reacted in fear and intimidation. That was what he wanted. Or at least what he was trying to convey he wanted. But there was something else in his demeanor as well, and it looked suspiciously like relief. Despite his ranting, he wanted us to go. That tiny glimpse gave me courage at the same time it broke my heart. Why would he want us to go? Hurt but determined, I took a protective step in front of my crying mother. My two brothers stood behind her. Juan Carlos' fury echoed Dad's. Anger in his narrowed eyes, fists clenched at his sides. And Thomas, my best friend, my brother —
how could I leave him
— seemed confused and horrified. He moved to place himself between Dad and me, turning his head to look at each of us. Trying to figure out what to do. Shoot, I wasn't sure myself. This had been so much easier in my head.

“Family is everything!” My father shouted. “Especially now! You would abandon us when we need you the most?” His voice caught slightly at the end, a small, almost unnoticeable sound that told me behind his anger, his heart was breaking as well.

“Johnny.” My mother struggled to speak, her voice raw with pain and tears. “We're not abandoning you. Please come with us. It's no longer safe here.” She took a shuddery breath and held it. She was barely holding it together.

Stay strong, Mom
.
We knew this would be hard
.

Gunshots sounded outside, emphasizing her point. They were farther away from the house now. The immediate danger of the assault was past. The real danger stood just five feet away.
Dad.
My hero, the man I had practically worshipped since birth. Staring at me. Full of rage. I fought back fear and tried to choose my words carefully.

“Dad, this is wrong. We all know it is. And it's going to kill us. I have to keep her safe!” This last I spoke with a fury and volume to match his.

“You accuse me of not being able to protect my family?” His roar was so loud the French doors shook. “What's wrong is turning your back on your family!”

“We're just turning our backs on this lifestyle, never on you.” I spoke quietly now, my anger spent, resolve guiding my words. “You know where to find us. We hope you'll join us. I
will
take care of her, I promise.” And I would, come what may. All my life Mom had been strong for her family. For me. Now the tables were turned. No, they were completely upended. Splintered. The sight of her huddled on the floor crying uncontrollably broke my heart. Thomas crouched by her side, his arms wrapped around her, her tears mirrored on his face.

“Let them go, Dad.” Juan Carlos finally spoke, and his voice was dead and hollow. Scary. “You know Mateo won't change his mind. He never does when he's convinced he's right. It's futile to argue.” He addressed our father, but his eyes were focused on mine.
He also wants us to leave
.

Before I could process why, Juan Carlos chuckled, a hard, cruel sound, and then turned toward our mother. “I love you,
Mamá.
I'll miss you.” He left the room without glancing at me again, caressing mom on the cheek as he passed her. Her sobs turned to wails, making it hard to hear Dad's next words.

“I know this life is not what you thought it was, Mateo, but I never thought a son of mine would…” He stopped abruptly, his shoulders slumped with his stress and fatigue. His fury was gone. He was resigned to our decision.

“Meg.” Kneeling before her, he pulled her gently away from Thomas and into his embrace. She collapsed in his lap, still sobbing as he held her tight. “I'm so sorry it's come to this.” He stroked her hair for a minute, contrasting emotions rapidly playing across his face, and then slowly stood. Disentangling himself from her reaching arms, he spoke in a tight clipped voice. “The money in the Texas account is at your disposal. I'll continue to make deposits in it. I'll provide for you financially, as I always have.”

Blood money
, I wanted to yell, but I remained quiet for Mom's sake.

“But that's all I will do. From the moment you leave until you decide to return, you're dead to us.” He walked to the door, pausing only long enough to grunt. “Thomas, come with me.”

Thomas rose, embraced Mom and then me, his grip so tight it forced the breath out of me. “I understand,” he whispered in my ear, before turning to join Dad.

Dad stopped at the door.

“Mateo!” He barked my name like a command, the way he addressed the paramilitary soldiers currently protecting us outside. “Be a man of your word. Do
not
let anything happen to your mother. I can maybe one day forget this dark time, but that I would never forgive.”

Then he and Thomas were gone, and whatever inner strength I had managed to grasp left me. I collapsed on the floor beside my mom, my sobs quickly echoing her own.

Mateo

I am a runaway.
No matter how many steps I jogged, I could not run past that fact. But I ran anyway. It was my release. In the past, every problem, every unpleasant circumstance, every horrifying family revelation I met with laced-on tennis shoes and a good long sprint down the lane, past the security guard and through the gate. Ignoring my bodyguard Hector as he cursed and struggled to keep up with me. I could have run to China and back by now, this eighteenth year of my life. Too many problems. Too many miles. Back home I could never really breathe clearly until the family estate was behind me and the ocean breeze was blowing in my face like a much needed oxygen mask. But today I was alone, the scenery was different, and the air was as heavy and oppressive as my thoughts.

It's so hot here.
I stripped off the shirt I could almost wring sweat from, trying to concentrate on each stride. No wonder we avoided being here in the summer, at the “escape house.” What new meaning that had taken on now. It wasn't home like Baja California, but it was safe, uncomplicated, and the birthplace of my mother. And now Mom and I were here to stay. Austin our new home. Mexico still too close. True to his word, we had not heard from my father. His silence was as frightening as it was welcome. Neither of us was ready to hear any more of what he would have to say.

A triple digit temperature and ninety-five percent humidity were definitely going to shorten the normal length of my run. No time to run out my fear, frustration, and anger. Of course, I could run a million miles and still be mad. I'd have to work on that. For now, I focused my energy on not letting the weather win. If I could remember all of the turns through this exclusive, rolling hill-country neighborhood, I would wind up at the edge of Lake Austin, into which I planned to jump, heavy heart, shoes and all, hoping the cool water would soothe as nothing else had.

A car approached from behind me, so I jogged to the edge of the road and under the cover of the live oaks, thankful for their shade. The car slowed, so I turned in time to see the passenger window being lowered on my mom's SUV.

“Mateo.” My mother's soft voice, heartbreakingly subdued and sad.

Fresh anger coursed through me, and for a moment I hated my father. But just for a moment. No matter his crimes, he was still my dad. I struggled to separate who he was from what he now did. Was that even possible? How intertwined were they?

“Mateo, you're going to have a heatstroke. Can't you wait until evening?”

I stopped running and peered into her Land Rover's window and willed my voice to sound light, soothing. “Mom, it was still ninety-eight degrees at ten o'clock last night. I'm sticking to the shade and heading for the lake. I'll be fine. I thought you were going shopping.” Could I distract her from her pain? “I still need uniform pieces, and school starts tomorrow.” She didn't need to worry about me. She had enough weight on her shoulders to sink a ship. But I could see it in her eyes. She hated to have me out of her sight.

“Yes, I'm on my way.” She sighed and pulled her sunglasses up onto her head to hold back her dark hair, her blue eyes piercing into mine. “Are you sure about this school?”

“Isn't it a little late for that?” Grinning at her, I hoped my inherited baby blues and the dimples I hated and she loved would cause her to relax, even just a little. With effort, I pushed away the guilt that gnawed at me day and night. Every decision I made lately rocked her world. Fleeing. Hiding. Schooling. I was trying to be the man of the house, something as third son I had never imagined myself being. I was the clown, the peacemaker, the athlete, and the baby of the family.
Head
was foreign to me, but Mom's fragile emotional state made it necessary. And despite the guilt, I stood by my idea to leave, to come to Austin and try to flee the chaos and survive.

“Mom, I don't want a private tutor any more. Aren't we trying to be normal? To gain what we could never have there? I want to go to school. I want to have classmates and play sports and get detention…”

She smiled softly at that. “You wouldn't dare.”

The words had been spoken lightly, but I instantly regretted them. Trouble was something we needed no more of. I reached through the car window and laid my hand gently on her shoulder.

“Mom, I'm excited about this. A real school. Friends I'm not related to in some way. We've been over this. It's a small, safe, private school with good security. It'll be fun. For both of us. You can get involved with the parents' organization. Meet some people, make some friends of your own. Shoot, by the end of the year you'll probably have the whole place redecorated. We need some fun. We deserve it.” There was an edge to my voice now. I took a deep, calming breath and started over.

“Now stop worrying and go shop. Size eleven, brown leather. I don't care what style. I trust you.” Mom had better style than most designers. I knew she wouldn't pick out anything ugly or conspicuous and get me too noticed in a
What is that guy trying to pull?
kind of way. And she needed a task. This was the first time I had gotten her out of the house in days. I stepped away from the car as she sighed and blew me a kiss, a deer-in-headlights look on her face. If nothing else, I was going to make that look go away.

My run interrupted, I started off again at a much slower pace, deep in thought.
I am doing the right thing
seemed to be my mantra now. I repeated it over and over in my head, day after day. Despite that, I had my doubts. Huge, overwhelming, strangle-hold kinds of doubts that haunted my sleepless nights. Was my attempt to be safe, to keep her safe, just inviting more danger into our lives? Was it just a selfish act of teenage rebellion? Crap, when I stopped to really think, I realized I could even be endangering my new classmates. I thought of the face of the compassionate headmaster and wondered what it would look like if he guessed even a tenth of the truth about my family, a truth that if known would never have allowed me to be admitted to that school. To any school, for that matter. Too late now. Picking up my pace, I headed for the lake.

****

Nervous. That's what it was, that sensation that had awakened me so early. It was stupid, being nervous about school, and I wanted to be above that, but there it was. After all, it wasn't just the first day of my senior year; it was my first day of school ever. Private tutors, sibling classmates, and our large, warm home had not prepared me for this. Homeschool had been the only option my father had ever given my brothers and me, even before the real trouble had started. Aside from my
fútbol
team, I hadn't been allowed to socialize much with people who hadn't passed through my father's security detail and been approved. It felt strange, getting ready to step onto a high school campus of four hundred students I didn't know and have them judge me for me, and not for what my family represented. A fresh start, just as planned. As much as I looked forward to it, I felt vulnerable. I wasn't used to feeling vulnerable. I didn't like it. Despite the crested, navy blue blazer, button-down shirt, red tie and khakis, I felt naked. I halfway wished I were. It would have been more appropriate in the summer heat.

My mom was banging around in the kitchen, so I pasted a calm expression on my face before I headed down the hallway. I saw her before she saw me, staring out the back window, scrutinizing the landscaping. Searching for danger.

“Relax, Mom. The most dangerous thing out there is Doodles. We're safe here.”

She smiled. It was thin and unconvincing.

Doodles was the Labradoodle puppy my brother Thomas had gotten her for Christmas, the last almost-carefree time our whole family was together. He had been left here in the temporary care of a neighbor and not retrieved as planned after Thomas' accident. He was bewildered by our presence now, darting close and then taking off again before we could touch him.

“Thomas wouldn't believe how much he's grown. I sent him a picture from my phone yesterday.”

“Did he respond?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. We hadn't heard from anyone since we left.

“No.” She sighed, a sound far too frequently on her lips now, her forehead pressed against the glass of the French door. “Mateo, this has all been so fast I'm not sure what to think. Maybe I've become institutionalized, staying so long on that protected compound and leaving only with security in tow. It panics me to think of you going to school all alone with no protection.” She laughed, a sad and hollow sounding thing.

Would she ever feel safe again? Could I make her happy?

“I guess I don't know how to be normal anymore. But I want that for you, and so I won't stand in your way, but please be careful. You know you can't get too close to anyone. For their sake and yours. Make friends, have fun, but maintain a healthy distance. I know it's a horribly unfair thing to ask…”

“It's okay, Mom. It will be great just to have someone to talk to other than Reuben and Tico. Not that the gardeners aren't great conversationalists.” My attempt to lighten the mood was met with a small smile, but anxiety still reigned in her eyes.

“Be careful,
mi corazon
. You're all I have right now.” A trembling whisper. I opened my mouth to reassure her and shut it again. Anything I had to say would sound false. We both knew there were no guarantees in life, especially ours.

“I'll call you at lunch and come right home after school. Are you going anywhere today while I'm gone?”
Please say yes. Don't worry. Live life. Do something to replace what we used to
have.

She sat on a barstool and looked down into her coffee. “I have a hair appointment, but I'm not sure I'm going.”

“Go,” I said too forcefully. And then, to lighten it, “Not that you aren't beautiful already.”

Smiling wryly, she reached up to touch my face, whispering “Vaya con Dios.”

“I will,” I whispered back and quickly kissed her forehead before grabbing my keys from a hook and heading for the door. “And hey, while you're at the salon, you might as well be preemptive and have them color that gray you're adding to your hair with all of this unnecessary worrying. I got us here safely, didn't I? I think I can get to school and back without any major incidents.”
Please let it
be true.

I stepped outside quickly before that deer-in-headlights look came back to her face. I knew if I saw it now, it would haunt me all day.