Sovereign Ground (Breaking Bonds) (24 page)

“I’ll take that disk.” The detective who visited me
in the hospital is even more of a rhinoceros standing up. He fills the doorway pointing
a handgun.

Hayden’s voice carries an ethereal calm. “If
you’ve been there long, you know I’ve already emailed the contents.”

“Brody thought telling us about the disk would
keep us from finishing him off,” He flexes a fist with blood crusted on the
knuckles. “We just need to know what the cops know.”

Hayden twists in his seat to reach for the disk.
He starts to toss it.

“No.” The killer leers and runs a hand over his mouth
and chin. “Have the girl bring it. She’s coming with us anyway.”

“Not gonna happen.” Hayden stands up and steps in
front of me.

The rhino detective’s eyes rage with intent. In a
vivid daydream, an image forms of Hayden: he’s on the floor with a pool of
blood as a crown around his head. “I’ll go.”

Hayden grips my wrist and squeezes. He tries to
push me back, but I maneuver around him and reach for my backpack. Now he sits
and I stand.

“Leave it.” The detective points with his gun. My
fingers cramp and the pack stays in my hand. “How do you think we found you?”
He smiles an Elvis Presley, upper lip grin.

“We threw away the GPS unit,” Hayden says.

“This morning maybe. How many towns are there
within two hours of that rest stop? This is only the second place we checked.”

I use my left hand to pull the pack from my right
hand and it releases into Hayden’s lap. I don’t look at him. If he’s killed, I
know I’ll be taken anyway. Then I would have to die twice. I already watched as
a man took someone from me and left me to mourn the loss. “Why was Brita killed?”

He licks his lips slowly, as though savoring. “She
was meeting with an undercover cop.”

“The truck driver?” Hayden glances between us.

“Pretending to give him private lap dances, all
the while informing. Brody didn’t act fast enough. The warning was for him. Now
it’s your turn.” His voice raises an octave and he points with the gun to me. “That’s
what will happen to you if you try to stop us.” He swings to point it to
Hayden. “And what will happen to your little boyfriend if he tries to come
after us.” The Rhino licks his lips again, “You’ll be working by tonight, and
by tomorrow, you’ll be so far gone…”

A gun’s report pulses three times in quick
succession beside my thigh and Hayden’s free hand thrusts me off balance to my
left. I scream and reach back for him, landing on my butt the same time the detective
slumps to the floor.

Hayden rises to his feet, unscathed. A spiral of
smoke leaks from the bottom of my backpack, where his right hand remains burrowed.

I want to weep and rejoice, morn and dissolve.
Hayden’s mouth moves and his voice rumbles, but all I hear is ringing.

“You said there were two.” I can tell he yells it
this time but it takes a minute to understand because of the ringing in my ears

“Yes.” I take his offered hand and he pulls me to
my feet. “Two, there were two yesterday.” The ringing subsides and I hear
people screaming in the convenience store part of the building.

“He’s probably waiting out front.”

“Let’s go out this way.” As I say it, I realize we
will have to step over the body.

I move quick as possible and don’t look at the
dead man. Hayden looks skeptical at my assurance when I first lead him toward
the showers, but he shoves my pack into my arms and steps in front of me. He no
longer hides his gun—the barrel leads the way. We exit the door between
George’s office and the showers. It sets off an alarm and the shrill throbbing
heightens the cacophony of panic outside.

Hayden pushes the door shut. A parking lot jammed
with eighteen-wheelers expands before us.

“Let’s go that way.” I want to hide in one of the
trucks, even underneath one. Hayden shakes his head and walks around the north
side of the building. He arcs wide around the corner, his gun raised eye level.
Once he decides it’s safe and proceeds, I follow. As soon as I peer around the
side of the building I see the white van. Its glinting surface is a herald to
our hopelessness.

“Let’s go hide back there.” I point. I don’t want
to go out front; I still see that picture of a dead Hayden in my mind.

“I don’t want to hide until I know what we’re
hiding from.” Hayden doesn’t look away from the direction of his gun barrel.
Last time we argued, it ended badly. I still feel the bruise on my rib. This
time I’ll do what he says.

He barely steps to the front of the building when
I hear gravel behind me. The eyes of Brita’s killer are still the same:
cavernous pools of void.

I recognize him before he does me. My legs won’t
move, just like the last time I saw him. Hayden starts to drag me back around
the building before the killer jolts forward. I duck before he fires at us. Hayden
shoots over me, and I crawl on my hands and knees away from the returning fire.
The gas station pumps are devoid of people but not cars. An older, Lincoln Town
Car idles twenty-feet in front of us.

“Hurry.” I stumble several times as I make my way
to the driver’s side door, which is on the opposite side. Hayden sprints behind
me, walking backward. I start to climb in.

“Me first. You drive.”

Hayden slides across the bench seat. He points the
gun out the window and yells, “Drive.”

I pull away from the curb. The killer dashes to
the van behind us—my backpack in his hands. Beside me, Hayden’s shirt leaks
blood. We exchange a helpless, resolved look and then I turn the wheel several
times to maneuver the boat I’m driving around the gas pumps.

“Put your seat belt on.” Hayden doesn’t obey until
I repeat it. Once we have both pulled the straps over our chests and I hear his
click, I press the gas pedal all the way down. My arm stretches out to him
seconds before we impact the van.

“No.” He jerks the wheel just enough that we don’t
plow into the van like I’d hoped. We clip the corner instead. The seatbelt
presses into my chest so hard it knocks the wind out of me. Hopefully, that
will prevent him from following.

“Get us out of here.” His voice is weak.

Where do I go? Maybe back to the rest stop but I
won’t be able to outrun a van on a freeway. What if he shoots at us while we’re
driving? Salt Creek is so small there isn’t a police station. How fast and far
will I have to drive to get the attention of a highway patrol?

Our tires spin on gravel before meeting the
pavement with a whine. I can’t go back to the rest stop; I already know what’s in
that direction. Wells is more than an hour away. The wheel turns left, my arms making
the decision without my head. Is it better to go to something you’ve confirmed
is an empty, dead-end—or to flee to the unknown?

“I don’t know if you’re going in the right direction.”
Hayden isn’t looking out the window; he’s staring at his bloody hands.

Panicked breathing threatens, so I fix my eyes on
the brown Shoshone Humboldt Colony sign in front of us. Another left turn, the
road is wide and newly paved. Let’s see what this car can do. We float over a
rise in the road and my stomach completely drops out of me. I look to see how
Hayden fared. He has scooted down in his seat and his normally tan skin is
pale.

“Hayden?” I shake him.

He turns his head so slowly I have time to look
back at the road twice before we make eye contact. “Are we there yet?”

“No, not yet.”

His breaths come quick and shallow. “Don’t speed, okay?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. “Better late than never.”

Ignoring his weird command, I press the pedal
harder until the car shakes. I back off the pedal slightly. We fly down the
road and over another hill, which feels like another freefall. Cresting a
higher knoll, I glance into the rear view mirror. The tiny van reflection
pursues us. We plunge again and the mound eclipses the image.

“He’s following.”

“God be with us.” Hayden’s whisper comes between
pants of breath. Drops of moisture pill across his forehead and upper lip.  

“Jesus…God,” I say as Hayden slouches against his
seatbelt. “Please be bigger than this.”

We pass a sign, but I don’t have time to read it,
but I think the first part said something like “You are now entering…”

Several warning signs display a sharp turn ahead.
I try to slow and ease into it, but we skid onto the wrong side as the turn
becomes a solid ninety-degree rotation. I brake hard, and the car slides to the
side. It stops before we hit a guardrail buffeting a tower of rock.

The engine stalls. It takes two tries to get it
roaring again and I peel out. A newer, doublewide mobile home defends the
entrance to the Humboldt Indian Colony’s main road, less than a hundred feet
away. When we get near it I slam the brakes and the car slides sideways again,
spinning around close to the porch stairs.

The figure of the man from my dream stands in the
center of the porch. Only he does not bid me come with outstretched arm, he
holds a sawed off shotgun against his chest. I tumble out of the driver’s side
and run-trip my way to Hayden’s door. Dogs bark nearby in a frantic chorus. The
man approaches, his long braids draped in front of him and the shotgun in his
hands, the barrel angled above our heads.

“Help.” I shriek in his direction. “Help us.” Hayden
leans against the belt like wilted lettuce. How will I save him?

“Sparrow?” The shotgun drops to the man’s side. “Is
that you?”

The car door stands between us, and I sidestep it.
I know who he is, the man from my dream, the keeper of my curse, my
grandfather.

Tears form in eyes that look just like mine. He
reaches toward me, a shaky hand aloft. “Is it really you?” His hand moves
toward me and I crumple to my knees.

“Oh, God.” I’m undone.

The warm, trembling hand of a man who works rests
on me. His palm covers my forehead. “Spirit of the Living God, I thank you.”

The dogs’ barking reduces to growls and
complaints. Tires squeal. Metal crumbles against other metal or rock. An engine
revs again. My grandfather continues, but now to me. “You were in danger last
night?” He lifts my chin and I look up to him. “I woke up, prayed for you. More
than usual…”

The van parks in the same slip-slide spin as I did,
but a few feet away from the back of our car.

“Okay, Running Beer.” The killer has a cut across
his eyebrow and he leans over the hood of his van with a long gun pointed at
us. I had hoped plowing into him would do more damage. The dogs start slamming
into the window behind my grandfather.

The big man calls over the sound of their barking.
“Send the girl over here and I’ll let you live.”

“Send my child, the one I have longed to see for seventeen
years?” I didn’t notice when my grandfather raised his gun, but they face off,
two vehicles between them, with me on my knees. God, please be bigger than
this.

Even if Brody’s man leaves now, he will come
again. Will I ever run far enough that he won’t come for me? Will I ever escape
who I am? A pawn of evil? Property?

“Much fire-water in it for you.” The prick taunts.

My grandfather holds steady, unaffected. “Son, you
have nothing to offer and only one way to save your own life.”

“I’ll kill you and take her,” Empty-Eyes hollers.

“I do not fear one who can harm only my body. You
should fear the one who can destroy both body and soul.” My grandfather.

“I know where you are, if I leave I’ll just come
back.”

“If you knew where you stood, you’d remove your
shoes.” What is he talking about?

“What the…?”

“You are on sovereign ground.” Vibrations from my
grandfather’s voice shimmy up my arms and neck. “God Most High is here and
there is nothing you can do to harm us.”

“I’m not leaving without her.” The dogs’ barking echoes
him.

“And I’m not letting her go!”

Glass shatters and gray, black and brown leap from
the windows. A hound and a German shepherd race to the side of the van and the Killer
can’t seem to decide who to shoot. He doesn’t get a chance before he’s dragged
down the side of the van. My grandfather walks over with his rifle out. I
follow in time to see my grandfather kick the gun from the Killer’s reach. He
is screaming and thrashing.

My grandfather calls out, “Lay still if you want
to keep those.”

The man’s screams subside. The shepherd looks like
he has skewered him and the hound barks, inches from his weeping face.

“Son, did you know that an Indian colony is a sovereign
nation?”

He whimpers. “No.”

“You’re not on US soil right now. I could kill you
and no one would ever question it.” The Killer flinches, closes his eyes and whimpers
again, probably assuming this is the day he’ll die. The shepherd growls over
his mouthful. My would-be captor looks weak on the ground, a captive himself to
animals and an old man. He is not so huge sprawled out this way; he is just a
man on his back. Not my destined destruction. Just. A. Man.

My grandfather does not turn his head but he
speaks to me. “Pick up the walkie-talkie by the front door, my little bird.
Push the button and say Stephen…” He pauses and winks at me with a fleeting
glance. “I mean, ‘Running Beer’ needs you.’”

My feet cover the sun when I swing forward. I swing
back and the brightness blinds my sight. Even in October, the waning sun’s heat
makes a way into our atmosphere to touch me.

“Are you ready to go?” Hayden never swings as high
as I do. Maybe he will when he gets his cast and sling off next week. The
bullet that shattered his collarbone sits in a bowl now, in the middle of his coffee
table.

“Almost.” I drag my feet to slow the swing. If Cori
wasn’t waiting for us, I would swing until my legs tingled and feel asleep.
Hayden smiles at me with a clean-shaven face. We visit a different park on
every date. Although, can you really call Bible study at a women’s prison a
date?

The first time I told Cori “I forgive you,” it
caused more pain than I expected. Will I ever discover why those words hurt her
so much? She is working on a program for awareness and prevention of domestic
trafficking, for when she’s released. I think her motivation is penance. But at
least she meets us for Bible study; we still have time to show her how free she
can be. How free I am.

It helps her that so many of those rape homes
listed on the disk have been busted. In the days following Malcolm’s obtaining
the CD, fifteen locations were raided. Hayden is thinking about applying for a position
as a federal human trafficking officer. We aren’t engaged yet, but talk is
heading us that way. I think he doesn’t want to ask me to leave Nevada, which
is silly—I would follow him anywhere. Who wouldn’t follow the kind of man who
gives his life for you?

“Stephen will be at Thom and Lorna’s tomorrow,”
Hayden says.

“Oh, good.” My grandfather and Hayden became quick
friends. I guess that’s what happens when someone saves your life. “Lorna will
be more pleasant.” We giggle together.

Things are not easy between Lorna and me, but she
always behaves when my scary grandfather eats with us. She avoids his
“brain-raping” eyes the entire time, which means she doesn’t run the
conversation. I have no such fear. The “curse” Lorna saw was a plea for the
Holy Spirit to shelter me.

One man’s prayer is another man’s curse.

I doubt I would be here if it weren’t for the
tenacious prayers of my grandfather, the kind of prayers that hedge out evil
spirits at three fifteen in the morning.

Grandfather is one of many missing pieces replaced
in my life. Another might come next spring if plans work out to visit his
estranged son. My dad.

A robin scatters seeds, digging for one in
particular. Dozens of little birds flit from branch to ground…more than many of
these. I’m more valuable than many of these.

Me, the woman at the well, the woman who deserved
stones.

I feel how God loves me when the sun penetrates my
shirt like a warm hand caressing my back.

I hear how I’m loved in the whippoorwill call.

I see it in the burnt-red leaves tumbling down,
the breeze controlling their fall. Me.

“Are you going to do your little swirly, praise-dance
thing before we leave?” Hayden grins. I place a quick kiss on his upper lip,
grazing his scar. He’ll wait. This is between Jesus and me.

The scent of autumn tosses my hair and I breathe
deep the bounty of God Most High. My shoes slip easily from my feet, and the
damp grass chills me. Oh, God, I love you.

I lift my face with my arms, and we dance.