Out (19 page)

When I wake up,
it’s deep night. She’s lying asleep in my arms. I check my watch—2 a.m.
Gotta
get back to the house. What if someone found out I was
gone? I duck out of the blanket for a second, see the silhouette of the dark
house in the distance. All quiet.

“Carmen,” I
whisper in her ear. She moves, a smile on her face, starts to wake; her eyes
open and for a second, she is happy. I save that face, that moment; that’s what
it will be like. After, and for the rest of our lives…that’s what it will be.

Then she
remembers, and fear erases the joy. “We have to go.”

She grabs her
clothes, and I grab mine. We put them on in the dark, under the cover of the
blanket. I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to go back. I’d almost wait
here until dawn and be caught, and stop lying. But I know that’s not an option.

When we’re both
ready, she sighs heavily, twines her arms around my neck, and we kiss again as if
we’ll never stop.

“You’re the
bravest person I know,” she whispers.
 

Her words give
me strength; I’ve never felt brave before, never felt strong, needed. Carmen
gives me that. How could I ever live without it?

I leave the
blanket with her, slip out, run toward home.

After checking
for signs of life (none), I shimmy back up the old familiar tree, tiptoe
through Jana’s room, get to mine, undress in the dark. I press my shirt to my
face; her scent is embedded in the fabric. Curling up with it, I snuggle under
my blankets wishing it were her.

If life were
normal, school would be starting in another week. October break would be over,
and we’d be going into the end of the semester. Weird to think about never
going back to school, maybe never going to college. What will I do in Canada?
What do people do in Canada anyway? I envision myself living in a log cabin
near a stream, trying in vain to catch salmon.

If Carmen’s
there, I wouldn’t care what I had to do.

I dream of
fish, and wood smoke. And Carmen. Always Carmen.

Jana nudges me
awake. The sun’s up; I’ve slept most of the morning. “Hey Romeo.”

“Hmm?” I play
dumb.

“I know where
you were last night,” she says, sing-song.

I sit up, try
to adjust my eyes to the light. My Carmen-scented shirt is still curled up next
to the pillow, and seeing it makes me grin. “You think you know.”

“Oh, I know.”
She goes to the balcony, and throws open the French doors, letting what feels
like an Arctic breeze flood my room. “Ah. Bracing.”

“Shut the door.”
She stands there, arms crossed, and gestures to the balcony. I get up, stumble
over in my boxers and shirt, and check outside. An unfamiliar car is parked in
the driveway behind Warren’s SUV. “Who’s that?”

“McFarland.”

“What?” My
chest constricts, breath is trapped, like an elephant got loose and is stomping
on my lungs. “Why is he here?” Adrenaline rush, lightheaded…I look for pants.
Pants are necessary.

“Chill.” Jana
wraps an arm around my shoulders. “He’s here to talk to David about some
political
b.s
. I don’t think he has love on his mind
at the moment.”

I shrug her arm
off and pull on a pair of somewhat-clean jeans. “I don’t want to see him.”

“That’s going
to be kind of tough since you live here.” She glances out the window and says, “Anyway,
I think they’re going for a spin in the
Spyder
, so
maybe you can at least sneak breakfast.”

David’s sleek
car pulls out of the garage, rolls slowly down the driveway, and edges out onto
the road. Relief floods my chest and my head; I flop down, face-first, on the
bed. I sneak my Carmen-smelling shirt and clutch it to me.

“Let’s go.”
Jana pulls at my pant leg, halfway dragging me off the bed. “C’mon. We’ve got
stuff to do.”

“What stuff?” I
mutter into the shirt.

“Magnus stuff.
Come on.”

I drag myself
off the bed, pull on socks, pull on a wrinkled shirt. The kitchen’s empty,
except for a pot of recently made coffee and a cookie sheet of cinnamon rolls,
which I inhale after discovering I am ravenously hungry.

“Sex will do
that to you,” Jana whispers close to my ear as she grabs a roll. I nearly
choke. She parks on one chair, props her legs up on a second, and proceeds to
eviscerate a second cinnamon bun.

“Warren’s gone
too?”

“Grocery store.”
Swig of coffee. She wipes her lips on a French linen napkin imprinted with
Marie Antoinette’s silhouette.

“So, how are we
going to get where we’re going?”

“They’re
meeting us. We don’t like to repeat patterns too often.” In a fluid move, she
puts down the napkin and cup, jumps up, grabs her Eskimo boots, and pulls them
on over her socks. “Let’s go. Before anybody gets back.”

 
She leads me down the driveway, out to the
road, and we start walking toward town. “What if somebody passes us on this
road?” Visions of the
Spyder
flying by, and McFarland
grabbing me as he passes, make me feel like hiding in a bush.

“We’re turning
off here.” She trudges down a partially covered gravel path between two bare
maples. Hiking past a frozen stream, breath steaming, we smash through frosted
batches of twigs and dead leaves, listen for the skitter of animals, or the
more clumsy movement of people. After about fifteen minutes, Jana stops in
front of a clump of evergreen trees. The middle tree has a frayed green ribbon
tied around its lowest branch.

“Now we just
wait.” Jana pulls out her cell phone, and then sits on the pile of pine needles
at the base of the tree. She sends a text, and within seconds the phone chirps.
“They’re almost here. Come sit down.”

I huddle up
next to her for warmth; even with a down ski jacket, the day is cold.

Soundlessly,
Magnus and Ben appear. Seriously, it’s like they don’t occupy space or
something. Jana pops up, wraps her arms around Ben; Magnus grimaces at them as
I clumsily rise, shedding pine needles. “We can’t stay long,” he says to Jana,
who is now in a full-on lip lock with Ben.

Magnus ignores
them and hands me a small, red wallet. “Inside this is a map, a phone number,
and fifty dollars…at midnight, someone, probably me, will knock on the door.”

“What’s the map
for?” I try to take it out of the wallet, but he slaps at my hands.

“Leave it.
That’s only if you are totally stranded, which means we’ve been compromised,
and if by some miracle you escape. You won’t likely need it. The phone number
is to a pizza delivery place.”

“Why would I
want to order pizza?”

“You wouldn’t,”
Magnus says impatiently as he folds up the wallet and tucks it into my back
pocket. “It’s only to call if you are compromised and have no other options. An
answering machine will pick it up. That’s how we’ll know if you need help.”
 

“What about
Carmen?” I ask. Ben and Jana have stopped smooching, and now stand, dazed and
happy, staring at me as if they’re drunk.

“Someone else
will pick her up. There’s a contact giving her instructions today.” That’s all
he says.

“But what are
her instructions? Where is she going to be?” I run a thumb absently over the
smooth nylon of the wallet.

“I don’t want
to give you details about that,” Magnus says. “The less you know, the better
for all of us.”

“What if things
don’t go as planned? I want to know where I can find her.”

Magnus stares
at me with cold, steely eyes. “If something goes wrong, there won’t be any need
to find her. Just make sure nothing goes wrong.” Magnus checks his watch, then
nods to Ben. “Time to go. We got a lot to do.” To me, he says, “Lie low today.
Be available, but try to minimize your contact. You’re leaving at 3 tomorrow
afternoon.”

“How do you
know that?” I didn’t even know when we were leaving.

“Our contact at
the location has been in contact with the subject, and told him that he needs
to check in by 6 p.m. in order to have firewood service and dinner served in
the cabin. At exactly 7:30 p.m., you must instruct the subject to go to the car
to retrieve the bag you left. Then you wait. Clear?”

“Seven thirty.”
I repeat it, more for myself than for him. “Exactly.”

Jana kisses
Ben’s cheek one last time. “Make sure nothing goes wrong,” she says to him.

“I’ll do my
best.” He kisses her, then nods at me. “You just be sure to do your part.”

As we trudge
back, I nudge Jana. “Why do they keep calling McFarland ‘the subject’? They
don’t say his name. Have you noticed that?”

She doesn’t
look at me or stop. She just answers, “It’s
there
way
of dehumanizing him. So they can do what they have to do.”

I grab her
shoulder to stop her. She sighs, turns to face me, and crosses her arms as if
I’m being difficult. “What?”

“What do you
mean ‘do what they have to do’? ‘Dehumanizing him’?
 
Doesn’t that sound as bad as what they’re
doing to us?”

Her blue eyes
blaze as she steps forward, close enough that I can feel her breath. “They
started this,” she hisses. “No one wants to treat them this way. But there
isn’t a choice. You can’t just be nice and hope they’ll see things your way.
You have to fight fire with fire. If he got hold of Carmen, or you, or me, we’d
be nothing but bloody corpses dumped into a pit. Think about that the next time
you get an attack of compassion.”

She turns and
trudges through the underbrush.

When we get
back to the house, the
Spyder
is home again, which
means McFarland is hanging around. I’ve got so much to do before tomorrow. I
want to see
Andi
, but of course I can’t tell her
what’s going on. I may never see her again. I may never see anyone again.

 
I can’t
think about that. I have to call her. “Jana, I need to call
Andi
.
Give me a couple of minutes.”

She nods. “I’ll tell them you’re in the
bathroom. Again.” She slams the backdoor as I punch
Andi’s
number into my cell phone.

“Chris.”
Andi’s
voice is strained when she answers. Like she isn’t actually glad I called. “What
are you doing?” It doesn’t sound like a casual question.

“Just hanging out,” I say, ignoring her tone. “Listen,
I’d like to drop over. For a visit.”

Silence. “Uh…when?”

What? What is wrong with her? “This afternoon?”

She clears her throat. Something is wrong.
What happened? What isn’t she telling me?

“Are you okay,
Andi
?”

“Just feeling a
 
little sick,” she answers quickly. There’s
more in her answer than the words she says. I know her well enough. She should
know that.

“Well, maybe a
visit will help,” I say cheerily. I have to pretend that nothing is wrong. I
have to see her now for sure. Something is definitely wrong, something she
can’t tell me on the phone. What does that mean?

She doesn’t’
answer. “Okay. See you soon,” she says quickly. The phone goes dead.

 
Did someone get to her? Is that what’s
happening? I still have to say goodbye. I have to see Carmen too, before I
leave, just in case. Just in case something goes wrong, or we both don’t get
out, or…well, I don’t even know what the worst-case scenario might be. Can’t
think about that either.

“Jana,” I
whisper to her when I come inside. She’s waiting, peering into the
refrigerator. “How can I get out of here for a couple of hours? I need to see
Andi
. And Carmen.”

She pulls off
her boots, and sets them by the back door. “Not sure. I guess you could hang
out with them for an hour or so, then claim to have made plans or something.
Maybe you’re meeting a couple of friends at a coffee shop.”

“I need you go
to with me.” I never ask her for much, but this whole Perpendicular thing has
thrown us together, so maybe she’ll help. “I need an alibi, somebody who can
cover for what I really need to do. Can you help me?”

She grins a
lopsided grin and frowns at me. “Should I tell Dad that you and I are going
shopping together for wedding dresses?”

“Be serious.”

“Hmm.” She
brushes hair from her eyes and peers into the kitchen through the door’s tiny
window. “Let’s say we need to meet my friend Danny because Danny needs help
moving stuff into a new room…his parents got a bigger house and he wants some
friends to help him haul stuff upstairs. You’re coming as the muscle.” She
pokes at my bicep. “
Far fetched
, but it might work.”

“You’re an
amazing liar.” I shake my head in wonderment. Glad she’s on my side.

McFarland and
David are at the kitchen table surrounding a scattering of travel brochures and
a laptop.
 
“Hey, Chris,” McFarland says
breezily. Guess he’s forgotten the kitchen incident.

I’m not going
to forget it.

David gets up
to refill his coffee, holding up the mug and arching his eyebrows toward his
guest. “Jim?”

“No, thanks. It
was great, but if I drink anymore, I won’t sleep tonight.” He grins at me, as
if it’s some inside joke. I want to punch him.

“What are you
doing?” Jana asks sweetly, picking at the brochures. “Oh, Tahiti. Are we going?”

David sets his
cup down on the table, covering the Tahiti brochure. “These are possible
conference destinations. For this year’s convocation.”

“Isn’t there a
youth group or something?” Jana pouts. “I could pretend to be interested.” I
wish she hadn’t said that. David’s face clouds over; he’s been insulted in
front of a superior cleric, and he doesn’t like it.

McFarland
changes the subject; at least he’s good for something. “Jana, maybe you’re just
having a crisis of faith,” he offers, thumbing through a brightly colored
tri-fold about the Mexican Riviera. “Lots of young people question things. It’s
good. It means you care enough to ask questions.”