Untraceable (40 page)

I interject to cover up Mo’s involvement. For now. “Mo was watching the camp before we were caught.”

Tommy searches my eyes for the truth. I simply smile, acting as normal as I can. He pushes the swinging rope toward me. “Let’s get you out first, Elu.”

Mo catches the rope. “Sir, if you don’t mind. I’ll go first. Then, Grace. And, then you. That way, I can keep an eye on things while you two climb out.”

Tommy pats Mo’s shoulder as if he’s an old friend. “Makes sense to me, son.”

I place my hands on my hips. “Does anyone want my opinion?”

Mo and Tommy answer in unison. “No.”

Tommy smirks and points at Mo. “I think I’m gonna like this guy.”

I smile. Tommy’s always had a good sense about people and can peg a bad seed in a field of clover. Maybe there’s hope for Mo yet.

As planned, Mo curls the rope around his legs and shimmies up through the hole. When he reaches the top, he motions for me to go next.

My shoulders throb and my arms shake with each grip, but giving up is not in my vocabulary today. I pour every ounce of strength and wrap my legs around the rope. As I climb the rope, sharp stabs of pain shoot off in all directions. I’m pretty sure I’ve broken some ribs and who knows what else. I block it all out, focusing on moving one hand over the other. I’m getting out of this dismal place.

Alive.

At the top, Mo clasps the back of my shirt and hauls me over the side.

I crouch next to him and wait for Tommy to appear from the darkness. Even though he’s in his sixties, Tommy reaches the top much faster than me.

The three of us squat, and no one says a word. We have darkness on our side as long as we stay out of the light given off by the hanging lanterns.

Mo points ahead and Tommy nods in approval. As they communicate with hand signals, Mo squeezes my hand and smiles.

In this one moment, I’m only sure of one thing. Mo really does care about me. My pulse quickens, and I feel a twinge of guilt for ever doubting him. No matter what he’s done, he’s obviously had one important reason. His dad. I know how love and fear can drive someone to do crazy things.

At Mo’s signal, the three of us hunch over and creep along the ring of tents. Several times, he holds up his hand, warning us to stop. As we slink through the camp, men’s voices float around us, coming from different directions.
 

A gunshot slices though the silence. The three of us flop onto the ground. Pebbles digs into my skin, but I don’t dare move. We wait, expecting to be attacked, but no one comes.

A few minutes later, a few more cracking sounds are followed by a thunder of drunken laughter. Just what we need. Crazy drunk guys with guns. Mo motions us to continue, and the three of us crawl toward the border of the camp in single file line.

Mo stops at the corner of the last tent and sits back on his heels. He points to a man’s head bobbing above the bushes. He’s the only thing standing between us and freedom. If we get past him, we might have a chance at getting help before anyone realizes we’re gone.

Mo gives us a signal to stay in place and points, informing us he’s going after the lone gunman.

I shake my head violently, begging him not to leave, and point in a different direction, suggesting we leave another way.

He winks at me and eyes Tommy who grips both of my shoulders, holding me back. Mo crawls into the thick shrubs on his belly.

I shift back and forth from leg to leg as anxiety pumps through me.

Tommy clutches on to me tighter, knowing how impulsive I can be.

Time slows down. I scan the area, wringing my hands. Where is he?

A few seconds later, Mo pounces out of the bush like a wild cat and lands on top of the hunter, knocking him to the ground. The man fights back. Mo cups his hand over the guy’s mouth and tries to drag him into the leafy cover. Unfortunately, a gun discharges and sprays the treetops with bullets.

Tommy and I stop breathing. Praying no one heard the disturbance.

Suddenly, voices ring out all around us.

The next few minutes of my world seem to play out over an entire lifetime. In an instant, everything reverts to a snail’s speed, as if someone’s pressed the slow motion button on my life. A fog rolls over me, leaving everything sounding muffled. Eventually, the sound shuts off too, like an old silent film.

Mo tosses the man’s gun to Tommy. He catches it and presses the middle of my back, pushing me.

I slug forward a few steps, but don’t move far because my legs seem to be lodged in a vat of jello.

Mo clutches my hand and drags me behind him. My legs seem to be circling underneath me, but I can’t tell if they’re actually touching the ground.

I glance over my shoulder to find Tommy, but a guy tackles me. My hand rips out of Mo’s. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Before I can think, the heel of my hand shoots out and clips the guy’s nose. Blood splatters on my arm as he falls to his knees, clutching an injured face. I quickly kick him hard in the chest, and he flies backwards into a tent, which collapses on top of him.

Tommy shoots me a thumb’s up, and Mo tugs on my sleeve to remind me to keep moving. A man clambers out of the trees. I must have screamed because Tommy spins around just in time to duck a punch.

I notice how fast he moves for his age, how confident and strong he seems all of a sudden. I run backwards after Mo and hold out my hand to Tommy as he runs to catch up.

The man scrambles to his feet and jumps on Tommy’s back, dragging him down to the ground.

Tommy rolls around with the guy on top, trying to scoot out from under his weight.

Horrified, I yank against Mo’s hand, trying to break free from his vice grip, to go back and help. Mo locks his hand on harder and jerks my arm in the opposite direction. He’s stronger than me so I stumble behind him watching Tommy fight off a guy half his age and twice his size.

I trip over something and lay in the dust, paralyzed in fear. Mo yanks me to my feet by my t-shirt.

Out of nowhere, a man grabs my leg.

Mo slams the butt of his gun into the guys’s temple.

Still on the ground, I look back, searching for Tommy amidst smoke and gunfire. He’s still wrestling the same man. And this time, it doesn’t look like Tommy’s winning because he’s moving slower.

In that second, Tommy glances up and our eyes meet. The light from the lanterns highlights the strong angles of his face. Something passes between us. I’m not sure what. Acknowledgment. Regret. Fear. Maybe all three. His face softens and he mouths one word, “Go.”

Just as I get to my feet, faint popping noises break through my bubble of silence.

Tommy jerks around as if he’s doing some strange dance before tumbling forward in slow motion. He slams against the ground, and his body jolts for a few seconds until all movement stops.

I push through the terror muting me until total sound reenters my world.

This time, I hear myself scream his name. A sound so primal and comes from somewhere deep.

“Tommy!”

Mo’s arms clutch onto my waist as he tugs my stiff body forward. But I can’t seem to move. As if someone’s has nailed my feet to the ground. I stand there, gawking at Tommy’s body, speckled in red. Mo blocks my view and yells in my face. “Grace! Grace! We’ve got to go! Now!”

“Tommy!” My voice sounds raw and broken, as if I’ve been yelling for days. I jerk my arm away from Mo’s grip and sprint back to Tommy who’s not moving. I drop onto my knees next to his body. A couple of red holes dot his chest, and blood drips out of his nose and mouth.

I shake him. “Oh, God! Tommy, Tommy. Please! Please don’t leave me. Oh, God. Please!”

Tommy doesn’t answer me.

Panic roars through my chest, making me frantic. Unleashed. Wild. I sob and try to drag his limp body behind me. My feet slip and slide in the loose dirt. Tommy’s body is pure dead weight, and it pulls me down.

Mo slides in next to me, spraying dust into the air, and hollers in my face again. “Grace! He’s gone. We have to go!”

All I hear is that he’s gone … because of me.

I notice the tear stains on Tommy’s face. “I’m so sorry.” I kiss his cheek. “
Gv-ge-yu-hi.”

I don’t want to leave, wishing I could stay with him, but Mo grabs my hand and pulls. “Come on!”

Gunfire echoes around me. I jolt to life as full sensation returns to my body. The world around me springs back to life, and my survival instinct kicks in. I peel myself away from Tommy and sprint alongside Mo down the dusty path. He clutches my sleeve and yanks me left and right, practically jerking my arm out of its socket. As I run, Tommy’s sweet face clouds my vision. For a split second, I want to go back.

I need to go back.

I can’t just leave him behind. But I don’t want to die either.

Mo pushes me up the hill. Behind us, a couple of men from town stomp along the path. We both duck down beind a bush and press our bodies into the murky leaves to hide. I fight to suck in air while still remaining quiet. It’s as if a huge boulder has rolled onto my chest. Pools of tears threaten to wash away the vivid image of Tommy’s last few moments replaying in my head. A quiet moan slips from my lips as I try so hard to hold everything inside because I have to be quiet.

I shake my head over and over. This isn’t happening. It’s all a bad dream. Tommy isn’t dead. Dad is still alive. I just need to wake up. From where we hide, I can still see his body still lying in the clearing and I will him to stand.

Get up. Get up.

Mo drapes his arm over me and pulls me close. I bury my head into his shoulder, smelling the familiar and once-comforting vanilla scent. He strokes my hair a few minutes before whispering in my ear. “Listen to me. You hide here. I need to go back down there for something.”

I cling to his arm. “Wait, why? What for?”

He runs his thumbs down my jawline. “It’s a hunch I have. It’s important. Trust me. I want you to stay here.”

My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. “Please. Don’t.”

He brushes his lips along my forehead. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Even though I don’t want him to leave, grovelling for him is worse. I take in a deep breath. “You promise?”

He kisses my knuckles. “Abso-bloody-lutely.” Then he places his gun in my hand. “You know how to use this?” I study the pistol and give him a ‘what do you think?’ look. He pats my shoulders. “Okay, I was just checking.”

Before I can answer or argue one last time, he charges back down the hill. I watch as he sneaks across the campsite. My body shudders in fear.
Where’s he going?

I scan the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The swinging lanterns give off a faint light, barely enough to see.

Off to one side, I spot a shadow creeping out of a tent with a rope in one hand and a bag draped over his shoulder. I sigh in relief as Mo steps into the dim light, checking both ways before crossing the path. Squatting, he pulls back a tarp blanketing the ground to reveal another large hole similar to the one we were in earlier. His mouth is moving as if he’s arguing with someone.
Who’s he talking to?
He drops the rope down the hole and leans in.

Off to my right, a few men make their way through the trees, heading straight for Mo. They move methodically in a V-formation, randomly poking bushes and kicking leaves.

I whisper to myself. “Come on. Hurry up. Get out of there.”

The men inch closer.

How can I warn Mo they’re coming?

I replicate Tommy’s owl call, hoping to jog his memory. He doesn’t seem to notice. Before I can get out another warning, a man charges out of the woods and tackles him from behind. Mo tosses the man onto the ground. All in one smooth movement. Not missing a beat.

Mo falls on his belly and stretches his arm down the hole.

Al pops out of a tent and charges Mo with his gun drawn.