Wanted (10 page)

He had been drawing me while I lay in the Nothingness. Was it boredom while waiting for me to die that inspired him? The moment I thought it, I knew it couldn’t be true—this drawing of me was something beautiful, something so unlike my true self image, that it seemed obscene to compare the two. These criminals were practical. Beauty and practicality don’t mix.

It made me think that the media had exaggerated the things he’d done, as I was so quick to do. Yet Charlie admitted himself that he intentionally had caused physical harm, ending lives when properly provoked. And above all, I couldn’t forget that anger, the flash of rage when he was crossed the wrong way. I couldn’t deny that the temper within him frightened me.

It was some time later when I heard the knock at the door. At first it was so soft that I wasn’t quite sure I had heard it. I put my head back on the pillow and continued to look through the sketchbook. It was the fourth time I had looked at this one, but it was quickly becoming my favorite. It was mostly filled with scenic landscapes, and thanks to the talent of the artist and my own imagination, I could shut my eyes and easily transport myself there. I was about to go back to an unidentified winter wonderland when the knock came again, this time louder and more desperate.

I bolted upright and accidently dropped the sketchbook on the floor. The moment it landed, the knocking stopped and I heard large, heavy steps outside the door. They sounded impatient, eager. The options were flight or fight and I didn’t exactly have anywhere to run. So I tried to be resourceful and look for a weapon. Where there were drawings there would be drawing utensils, right? Sharp things.

My heart was throbbing inside me before I even understood I was terrified. Who would come for me now? Would they each take turns trying to kill me?

I approached the door slowly. My pulse raged in my ears again and I shook my head, trying to ignore it as best I could, though it was exceedingly difficult. It seemed as soon as my hand was within reach of the door I saw a shadow from the other side collapse slightly. I inhaled sharply and tried to steady myself.

Someone was waiting for me to come out.

I carefully put my ear to the door and tried to determine how many of them were out there. I already knew Wallace was good at sneaking around, so it was possible he was out there, but it was difficult to figure out who else.

A heavy step came closer to the door, revealing the shadow of two large feet. As far as I could see there was only one person, not that the numbers made any difference. I had already proven I wasn’t very capable of defending myself. I stifled back another sob and covered my mouth to mask the sound. If nothing else, I wouldn’t give whoever was there the pleasure of knowing how terrified I was. As I did so, I could smell clove and aftershave from the other side of the door.

I nearly cried from relief. If Charlie was there, then I was safe.

I played back the thought in my head, Charlie would keep me safe. I smiled and slid down against the door. Six days, I thought. Okay, I can handle this.

With a great deal of amusement I watched the shadows of his feet as they paced back and forth past the door. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing, but every so often I would hear his boot smash up against the floor, followed almost immediately by the smell of a freshly lit cigarette. He continued to do this for quite some time. So much so, that I settled myself on my stomach on the bed and watched the feet shadows move, counting the number of paces I could hear before they stopped and started again. The steps were almost the same on each side, rhythmic in a way. It made me want to know if he was counting, too.

I don’t know how much time passed before the pacing stopped and the knocking started again. Although I felt considerably better about him, I still knew better than to let him in. And yes, I was aware he could have easily broken down the door or used a key if he wanted—but I hoped he wouldn’t. I had a very strong feeling he would stay away as long as I asked him to.

It was strange that he was being kind to me, or at least as kind as a murderer and a kidnapper could be. There were some reasons I could gather as to why my abductors had allowed me to live so far. But this odd sort of protectiveness that Charlie watched over me with seemed to be something different. And while I wanted to continue questioning it, I also didn’t want to push any remaining luck I had.

I opened the door slowly with an underlined caution that I knew I’d have to keep with me for the next several days. A small slant of fluorescent light pierced the room and ruined any effect the shadows may have had. I took a deep breath and opened the door all the way.

Charlie wasn’t there. In his place was a small offering of a pre-packaged meal, a water bottle, and a snack cake.

I smiled but quickly scolded myself in case someone may have been watching. Even though my stomach protested, I decided to leave the food there. Though I was over the suspicion of being drugged, I did this mostly because I didn’t want to acknowledge that I needed his or anyone else’s help. It was one thing to be a prisoner, a hostage, but I wasn’t going to be compliant. I wouldn’t let them know how much I was truly indebted to their care. The other reason was more practical, though related to the first. I had no idea where any sort of facility was if I needed one, and while I would have to find a bathroom and even a shower eventually, I couldn’t find it in my pride to do it just yet.

So I shut the door behind me and locked it quickly, enjoying the sound of the click that left me to the pale light and sketchbooks. I felt secure with them. In our few hours together we had formed a sort of bond with each other, seen the same places and traveled the same roads. I sat with one of them and flipped through its tapered corners. The illustrations I saw there made me think of Charlie Hays and the first words he had spoken to me about Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

Man’s perfect balance.

The food and water were gone, but in its place, Charlie sat to the right of the doorway. His legs were folded under himself, his neck tilted off to the side. Although I wasn’t surprised to see him, I startled anyway. It was strange to see him like that, smaller than himself, so still and settled.

It took me a moment to realize he was asleep. At first I thought he might have been faking it; trying to catch me off guard. But as I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, I understood that the sort of concentration he would need to display would probably be too elaborate to fake sleeping.

I knelt down beside him but kept my hand on the door knob just in case I had to run back in the room. There wasn’t anyone else around that I could tell, but I wasn’t going to be stupid about things either and throw all caution away.

I looked him over from the edge of his brow to the end of his worn steel toe boots. He was wearing the same clothes from the day before (at least I thought it was the day before). He also hadn’t shaved yet and had the brim of a 5 o’clock shadow starting to show. His hair was unbrushed, though not nearly as messy as mine. I shook my head and ignored the urge to straighten it—attempting instead, to admire my handiwork with the slight bruise at the bridge of his nose.

I bit my lip. I couldn’t make myself be proud that I had damaged such a perfect nose.

Sighing, I looked behind me and then back to Charlie. As far as prison guards go, I truly couldn’t complain. He had been unmistakably gentle with me when the occasion called for it, not to mention respecting my requests. I only hoped that when we docked, he and the others would keep their word and let me go home. If they wanted my silence, I was more than happy to let them have it. All I wanted was to get out of there.

“Hey.”

His eyes fluttered open. I gasped, taken aback by the specks of green I saw in them.

“Hey.” My voice was still a croak.

“Did you know Twinkies don’t really last forever?”

Twinkies? What in the hell was he talking about?

“Can’t say that I did.” I spoke slowly and carefully—best not to make any sudden movements around the crazy man.

“Yep. The forever thing is urban legend. They only got a shelf life of a month or so.”

He frowned, and while he rose from the floor, I jumped back. He paused; his face blank. We stood facing each other and I could smell the musk of him so clearly it made me dizzy.

“I was starting to think you had kicked it in there.”

I scoffed. “Well, I didn’t.”

“I’m glad.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wouldn’t that make your life easier?”

His eyes narrowed at me. “What do you mean?”

“No more overnight prison guard duty.”

Charlie’s face went tense. The veins in his neck bulged slightly with that not so far off fury and his eyes shot fire. I backed slightly into the door, caught by how quickly his temper had taken him.

“I—” I got the impression that he toiled with himself and the words, a testament to the anger he tried to control. He dropped his eyes and looked uncomfortable then, like I had caught him with something he wasn’t supposed to have. He reached for the back of his neck and rubbed the soreness there. It was easy to imagine how sore he probably was from spending the night sleeping in the hallway.

“I didn’t want nothing bad to happen to you.”

I released the doorknob as a new sort of shame flooded me. It had never occurred to me that Charlie hadn’t just been keeping me in. He had also been keeping intruders out. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to smile.

“Oh.”

It was all I could think to say, but it seemed to be enough. Charlie relaxed considerably and smiled just enough to show a flash of teeth. My heart skipped completely.

“’Sides, seeing as how you’re nothing but trouble and you’re probably gonna do something stupid, I figure I’m gonna have to chase after you anyway. This just makes it a lot easier for me.”

He had a point. I had caused a considerable amount of trouble for the both of us. What could I do now but stay out of the way as best I could until our time was over? At the least, I knew I had Charlie on my side, and I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.

“You don’t have to chase me.” I tried to sound resolved but my words came out as a whisper.

“Planning on starving yourself to death then?”

I broke his gaze, the stare becoming too much for me. Those eyes of his were more than just kaleidoscopes, they were mind teasers, trying to seduce me with some corrupt pattern.

“I wasn’t hungry.” I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping somehow that they would help conceal the noise erupting from my stomach every so often.

And yet he moved closer to me then, his face erupting into an openly crooked smile. “Do yourself a favor, Vicious. Save the lying for the liars.”

I smiled. I simply couldn’t help myself.

“Fine, I am hungry.” I confessed. “But food isn’t my priority right now.”

He pulled a phone from his pocket and glanced at it. “We missed breakfast—”

“What time is it?”

“After 11.”

“Yikes.”

He smiled again and I felt myself quiver. I told myself it was from hunger. He put the phone back in his pocket and looked up at me.

“Food won’t be ‘round for ’while yet. What’ll you want ’til then?”

I put a hand in my hair and felt the scrunch of dried blood there. Though I hated to mention it, I knew the obvious couldn’t be avoided forever.