Scars Of Defiance (15 page)

“What do you mean?”

“The wedding was supposed to take place today at four
o’clock. He would have given an excuse, and I highly doubt he would say I’ve
escaped.”

“Wow, you’d be married right now if you hadn’t crossed the
border.”

“Is it time for us to leave the tunnel?” She changed the
subject. She knew in her heart right now that she’d rather be dead than be
forced to marry Victor.

“Yes, I think so. It’s dark out, so at least we have that
advantage on our side.”

“Do we have to leave? I mean, couldn’t we stay here?”

“Something is not right. I think our house is still being
watched, or else my father would have come down here. He would have noticed the
car is still in the garage and come looking for us in the tunnel. The fact
nothing has happened leads me to believe we are not safe down here and would
not be safe back at my house either. We have to leave.”

“Alright.”

He helped her up. He positioned himself directly under the
trap door to the garage. This door opened upward, not downward. He slowly
pushed it up, peering out through the tiny crack. Not seeing anyone, he pushed
it all the way open. He climbed out and turned around to help Sierra. She
climbed the ladder with her one good foot as he pulled her up.

The only window in the garage faced the owner’s home. The
porch light spilled through the dusty window to give a small bit of light in
the otherwise dark garage. Assorted yard tools hung in an organized fashion on
the walls next to a rudimentary work bench covered with small baby food jars
full of screws, nuts and bolts. An old bicycle hung upside down from the
rafters, just high enough that they didn’t bump their heads on it.

Paul helped her to the passenger side of the four-door
sedan. It was clearly an escape car since it had no license plates, the keys
were in the ignition, and it had been backed into the garage for a quick
escape.

Sierra sat in the car on the cool vinyl seat and fastened
her seatbelt, while Paul quickly opened the garage door and got in the car. He
turned the key, hoping the ignition would take the first time. It did not.

He turned the key again and listened as the engine tried to
cooperate. Still nothing. His heart began racing even faster than it already
was. He tried it one more time, this time giving it a little gas, and the
engine took off. A thick exhaust cloud filled the garage as they pulled forward
out of the garage. Not a good sign.

Paul’s eyes searched for guards and snipers, hoping they
would be able to escape unnoticed. At the end of the alley, he applied the
brakes only to hear the engine sputter and protest and die.

“No!” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel and
turned the key again. The engine responded. The road was clear of cars, so he
was able to turn without completely stopping as he gave the struggling engine
gas to coax it along. If he gunned it too hard, the noise would draw attention.
A noisy, smoking, hauling-butt car would certainly draw the wrong attention.
What had his father been thinking when he chose this car?

“Where is everyone?” Sierra asked as they drove through
town.

“I don’t know. It’s a little eerie.” He looked in his
rear-view mirror and saw nothing behind him. “We have to watch for followers.
If someone is on our tail, we can’t go to the cabin.”

“The cabin?”

“Yes, that’s where we’re going to hide. Keep your eyes
peeled.”

They drove through the streets and turned onto the highway
heading west. If they drove far enough, they would end up in Northtown, which
was forty-five miles away. The turn off to the cabin lay only fifteen miles up
this road, but it was literally “up.” They were about to climb in altitude.

The outlet of Slater Lake cut a rugged canyon through the
hills to the west. The highway followed the small river for a couple of miles,
then turned away and climbed the mountain with sharp switchbacks. The river
continued on into a deep canyon, which was excellent for white-water rafting.

Greg and Paul had rafted the beautiful river many times. The
south wall of the canyon had many waterfalls to view. The best waterfall was
fifteen miles down the canyon on the right, named Moose Creek Falls. It fell
dramatically off of an overhang about thirty feet above. The river at that
point was calm and still and deep, perfect for swimming.

Whenever Paul rafted this river, he always knew where he was
in relation to the highway because when they reached Moose Creek Falls, he was
directly south of the cabin. Last summer, he and Greg had hiked from the bridge
to the top of Moose Creek Falls. The hike was mostly downhill, and the small
creek was in a constant state of falling until it plunged over the edge of the
canyon. In hindsight, it was an idiotic, dangerous venture on their part, one
his mother would have chastised him for.

They drove the precarious switchbacks in silence. The higher
they climbed, the worse the weather became. Paul had to set the windshield
wipers to double time to clear the wet snow flakes from the window. The stiff
wind blew the snow in an unorganized fashion and made visibility limited. Needless
to say, Paul was relieved they didn’t have to be out in this snowstorm.

He could see the small bridge up ahead that crossed over
Moose Creek just east of the road to the cabin. “We’re almost there,” he said.
“Up ahead around this corner is a little road on the right …” The car began to
sputter again even with the accelerator pressed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

The car died about a hundred feet from the turn-off. Paul
pulled over as far as he could to the side before the car came to a complete
stop. His mind reeled with panic. The cabin was over a mile down the road, or
more like up the road. He’d thought too soon about feeling relieved they didn’t
have to be out in the snowstorm. Now, they would have to walk the rest of the
way. But what to do about the car? They couldn’t leave it where it currently
sat. It would be all too obvious. They might as well hang a sign with a giant
arrow pointing down the lane saying, “Escaped crosser that way.” Paul noticed
Sierra was quiet. She hadn’t complained when the engine died, and she hadn’t
worried out loud about what they were going to do now. Paul appreciated the
fact that she didn’t demand answers, the likes of which he didn’t have.

He turned to her. “Some get-away car, huh?”

She smiled at him, but he could tell she was frightened.

“Well, um … we can’t leave this car on the side of the road,
and we can’t stay here. The cabin is about a mile away, but it’s going to be a
climb to get to it. As for the car — ” he turned around, looking back down the
road they had come up. “I’ll help you out, and then I’ll guide the car
backwards as far down the hill as I can. Maybe I can ditch it down a steep
embankment and out of sight.”

She added to his thought, “The further away you can roll the
car from the road to the cabin, the less likely anyone would piece together
that we walked down it.”

“Right. Plus, I’ll walk back up the road, and that will only
show one set of footprints. Perhaps we can give the impression that another car
stopped and gave me a ride.” The plan seemed good except for one setback:  her
hurt leg. He would need to carry her one mile uphill to the cabin.

Well, let the games begin.

He gave her his coat to keep her warm while he moved the
car. She initially protested this action, but he convinced her that his
physical activity would keep him warm, but she would need all the warmth she
could get.

Gravity helped roll the car backward, and Paul hoped no
other cars were coming behind him. He maneuvered over the little bridge and
around the tight corners until he found an adequate place where he could
successfully hide the car. He stopped the car and got out, then pushed the
vehicle down the slope and out of sight. The bitter cold of the wind and snow
caused a shiver to shoot through his body as he began his hike back up to
Sierra.

*****

Sierra sat on the fallen tree Paul had sat her on before he
left, but not before he kissed her forehead. Now, she was sitting in the
freezing wind with enormous wind-driven snowflakes slamming into her face,
waiting for Paul to come back. This was the first time she had been alone since
Paul pulled her from the lake.

Her mind went back to the horror stories she had heard about
crosser homes in Baylend. Her conclusion was that these untrue stories were
propaganda used to deter crossers from leaving Rendier. The Bronson family had
been nothing but kind and gentle, putting themselves in harm’s way to help her
— not to mention taking care of the six others who had escaped her attention in
the basement room. It would have been so horri

ble if they’d been captured or killed because of the heat on
her head.

The bitter wind blasted her in the face, and wet snowflakes
hit her long eyelashes. She shivered even though she had two coats on. She
wondered how Paul was doing with no coat.

What a gentleman. He reminded her of her father. Paul had
worried out loud to her that he feared he couldn’t protect her well enough.
Nothing could be further from the truth. No one else would have done a better
job.

Just a few days ago she had decided that death was better
than staying in Rendier. She had been wrong to consider death as an answer. She
would never have met Paul if she had succeeded in starving herself. She
wouldn’t have been able to fall so completely in love with him if she hadn’t
fought for her life after crashing through the ice. She vowed at that moment
that she would never again consider death as an option. One never knows what
lies just around the corner.

Where was he anyway? How long had he been gone?

Headlights lit the trees up like daylight as a vehicle
approached. She ducked her head down behind the snow-covered bush in front of
her and listened as the vehicle slowed to a stop.

Chapter 9

Paul hiked up the road. He didn’t realize he had rolled so
far down. He quickened his pace to a jog, which made his heart pump rapidly. He
tucked his bare hands into his armpits to try to protect them from the wind. He
thought of Sierra and hoped she was warm enough sitting all by herself on the
fallen tree. He hated leaving her alone even for the few necessary minutes that
were required to relocate the car. He picked up his jogging pace even more. He
needed to get back to Sierra’s side, where he belonged.

What a strange feeling. He knew that’s where he belonged,
truly. He hadn’t known where he fit in or what his true purpose was until he
found Sierra in the ice. And as reluctant as he was to accept this
responsibility at first, he fully embraced it now, even if he was a blundering
idiot about it. He’d do his best. He’d do it for her.

He slowed his pace as he crossed over the icy Moose Creek
Bridge. The bright lights of a vehicle ahead had him ducking off the road to
avoid being seen. The headlights weren’t moving, though. The car had stopped.
Paul moved into a better position to be able to see the car. It was pulled over
near the fallen tree where he had left Sierra. The door was open, and someone
quickly got in the car. The icy road made it impossible for the car to squeal
its tires, but they tried it anyway. Instead, the back end fishtailed sideways
for a second before grabbing the traction it needed to move.

Paul crouched down as the car went by, then he bolted ahead
to the fallen tree.

“Sara!”

No answer.

“Sara, where are you?”

Nothing.

“Sara!” Panic like nothing he had felt before coursed
through him. She had to be here somewhere. It couldn’t be possible that she was
gone. It couldn’t. He should have taken her with him. That’s what she had been
afraid of in the tunnel, being left alone, with the threat of being captured.
“Sara!” His voice cracked as he yelled to the heavens and fell to his knees.

A faint voice sounded somewhere ahead:  “Paul, help.”

He stood up and looked around. What he wouldn’t do for a
flashlight or a lantern. “Sara?”

The harsh wind made it incredibly difficult to hear, but not
entirely. He heard the soft voice again. He moved in its direction and found
himself without ground under his feet. He fell down a steep slope and landed in
the freezing water of Moose Creek. He quickly scrambled back up and out of the
water. Then looking around, he saw her.

“Sara!”

She let go of the small bush she was clinging to and waved
her arm at him.

Paul watched in horror as she began floating downstream. As
he chased her alongside the creek, she frantically reached for anything she
could grab. Paul knew what lay ahead:  certain death. He had to reach her
before she hit the steep descent into the canyon.

He crashed into the water as he caught up with her and
grabbed her arm. Her heavy water-soaked clothes and gravity worked against him.
The stream seemed to have a mind of its own with dark plans to separate them.
He lost his grasp on her, and she floated away.

In his mind’s eye, he could imagine her plunging over the
rim of the canyon. The river would be frozen over except for where the falls
constantly splashed. If she went over, the current would take her downstream
under the ice, and she wouldn’t be able to surface!

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, giving him almost
superhuman strength. He rushed toward her, running as fast as he could until he
caught her by the arm of her coat. He readjusted his grip and pulled her toward
him. The bank of the creek at that spot was too steep to climb. They would have
to go upstream to a better area in order to get out. He pulled and she pushed
with her one good foot till they reached a better part of the bank to exit.
Together they slammed their bodies down on the snowy bank in utter exhaustion.
Their wet clothes immediately turned crispy as the water began to freeze.