Children of Paranoia (40 page)

“That's it,” the doctor answered. “Do those things—and hope for the best.” He looked at us again from over his clipboard and smiled. “The good news is that the heartbeat is strong. The baby is strong.” He paused. “Did they tell you the baby's gender after they did the ultrasound downstairs?”

“No,” I answered, finally getting the words out before you.

“We can't always tell this early but we got a pretty clear picture this time. Would you like to know the baby's gender?” he asked you.

We looked at each other. I let you answer. “Do you think the baby's going to be okay, Doctor?”

“I can't make any promises,” the doctor said. “Pregnancy is always touch and go. The odds of you making it full term aren't very high. But your baby looks strong. It's trying. It only needs to make it another couple months to be viable.”

“Then I want to know,” you answered him.

“Your baby is a boy,” the doctor said. It's a boy, Maria. We're having a baby boy. I wanted to be excited but the risks suddenly seemed almost unbearable.
Placental abruption.
I had another name for my growing list of enemies. I couldn't forget our other enemies, though. They were still out there. They were still looking for us. So tell me how I'm supposed to relieve your stress and keep you from doing anything strenuous. How am I supposed to figure out how to do the impossible?

We should have left Charleston as soon as we got home from the hospital. We should have come back to the motel, gathered up our things, and left town forever. That would have been the smart thing to do. You gave them your real name. I should have made us run right away but I was afraid. I was afraid of what might happen if I made you run again. Fear had been my ally for so long, I didn't know how to act once it became our enemy. Fear equalled stress. No one knew that better than me. I lost focus. I was afraid of what fear might do to our son. I just wanted you to be able to relax. I wanted everything to be calm. I wanted our son to be safe. So I tried to act like everything was fine. Everything wasn't fine. You had given the hospital your real name. I knew deep down that now it was only a matter of time.

It's only been five days since we left the hospital. So much has changed already. We made it almost four months in Charleston before we had to run. Maybe we'll make it even longer this time. I try to stay positive for you. I keep writing in this journal because I can tell it things that I'm afraid to tell you. I can tell it how scared I am right now. One day I'll give you this journal but I want our son to be born first. I want to know that he's safe first. Until then, all I want to do is protect the two of you. There are things you should know about Charleston, about how we left Charleston. There are details that I kept from you because I didn't understand them. I still don't.

After we got home from the hospital, I knew something was going to happen. I just didn't know what and I didn't know when, so I waited like a fool. It could have been worse. If we hadn't gotten that phone call, we might not have even made it out of our motel room.

I woke up that night before the phone even rang. I can't explain why. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I might have started ignoring some of my instincts but they weren't dead yet. My body was drenched in sweat. My heart was racing. I tried to catch my breath. I could feel you move beneath the covers next to me. You moved a lot in your sleep now, trying to find a comfortable way to lie despite your ever-growing stomach. I took a few long breaths. You didn't wake up. Not yet. I glanced over at the window, trying to remember what woke me up. Our blinds were drawn. A pair of ugly yellow drapes covered the window overlooking the motel parking lot. I began to think that someone must be out there. Someone must be waiting just outside our window. I must have heard them and that had to have been what woke me up. I thought about walking over to the window to look but I didn't want to wake you. I couldn't afford to frighten you unless I was certain we were in danger. Besides, if they were outside, it was already too late.

So I just lay there, paralyzed by some sort of irrational fear that turned out to be all too rational. I could feel a large weight pushing me down onto the bed. I lay there and waited for something to happen. I glanced over at the clock beside the bed. It was two-thirty in the morning. The room was dark. All I could see was the light creeping in from the crack just below the curtains. My eyes scanned the ceiling and the walls. I watched a cockroach run from one end of the ceiling to the other. I couldn't see any signs that something was wrong. It was just my instincts running amok.

I heard a clicking sound come from the phone before it started ringing. It was just the slightest noise but I heard it. Then the phone rang. I leapt across the bed and reached for the receiver. I picked up the phone before the second ring. I had no idea what to expect. All I wanted was answers. I held the receiver to my ear and sat straight up in bed. You barely budged.

“Hello?” I whispered.

The voice on the other end was muffled but it spoke with urgency. “You've got to get out.” There was something that I remembered about the voice, something that I recognized. It was a voice that I'd heard on the phone before.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Joe,” he replied, “you've got to get out of there.” It clicked when he said my name.

“Brian?”

“Don't say my name, Joe. Don't worry about who I am or why I'm calling. Just go. Go now.” I could hear the fear in his voice. It was real.

“What's going on?” I asked, confused. I was sure it was Brian. I just didn't understand why he was calling me. I'd been cut loose.

“They know,” Brian replied. “They know where you are, Joe. They know everything. You don't have any time. You've got to get out of there.” His voice quivered. It finally sank in that he was trying to help me.

“Where can I go?” I asked, hoping that Brian would have more answers, that he would have some sort of plan. I was hoping Brian would tell me what to do and where to go just like he used to back when things were simpler.

“I can't help you, Joe. If they even find out I called you, I'm a dead man. Just go. Please go. I can't talk anymore. Just go and don't look back.”

“What do they know?” I asked, trying to get as much useful information as I could before he hung up.

“Everything, Joe. They know where you work. They know what car you drive. They know everything and they're coming. You're not safe. They're coming for you right now.” I wanted to ask more. I opened my mouth but before I could say anything else I heard a clicking sound and then a dial tone. Brian had hung up. Either that or somebody had disconnected us.

I held the phone to my ear for a few more seconds, listening to the drone. It was time to run again, only this time the stakes were raised. This time, our son's life was on the line too. I looked down at your body as you slept. I didn't want to wake you up. I didn't want to make you run again. But I knew that the only thing riskier than running was standing still.

I stood up quickly. I grabbed a duffel bag and began throwing everything I thought we might need inside of it. I went into the bathroom and reached under the sink and grabbed the cash that we had stashed there. We had been able to save up some money over the past few months. We spent a lot of our savings on your blood pressure medication. There wasn't a whole lot of money left but I had to hope that it was enough to help us get away. I opened a drawer, pulling out clothes and throwing them in the duffel bag too. Then I grabbed the gun. I held it in my hand for a second. I hadn't held it since I shot that kid in Ohio. The gun felt good in my hand. Whatever the reason, the weight of it in my hand calmed me down.

I didn't turn the lights on in case we were being watched. They could have been waiting outside. For all I knew, the flicker of the lights was the trigger that would set their whole plan into action. I wanted to be ready first. I wasn't trying to be quiet. You were going to have to wake up anyway—better to do it with noise than by me shaking you awake. When your eyes finally blinked open you were staring at me holding the gun.

“What's going on?” you asked, squinting at me through the darkness.

“We're leaving,” I replied.

“What?” you asked.

“We're leaving. Now,” I replied.

“We can't, Joe. It's too dangerous.” You looked down at your stomach.

I grabbed a handful of your clothes from the dresser and threw them on the bed next to you. “Get dressed,” I pleaded. “Please.”

“We can't do this, Joe. It's too dangerous.” You placed a whole hand over your belly as if trying to protect it. “We have to be careful.”

I walked over to the window. I lifted the curtains slightly and peered outside. I couldn't see anything. The parking lot was still. Nothing was moving. Everything was where it should be. I tried to glance at the outside of our motel room door. The angle was difficult, but it didn't appear that anyone was out there waiting for us. Maybe Brian was wrong or maybe it was a trap.

“I got a phone call,” I said to you. “It was a warning.”

“From who?” you asked.

“A friend,” I replied. I had to believe that Brian was a friend. I had to trust someone. “Please put on your sneakers.”

“I thought that you were cut loose. I thought that you didn't have any friends anymore.”

“Me too” was the only answer I could give you. You sat on the edge of the bed and started to slip your sneakers onto your feet.

“I can't run, Joe. You know that.” I knew. No strenuous activity. We'd have to get out without making you run.

“We're escaping, Maria. I'm not asking you to run.”

“Do we even know who we're escaping from?” you asked.

I didn't. Brian could have had inside information or he could have heard rumors coming from the other side. We didn't have time to try to figure it out. “Yeah,” I answered, “whoever is chasing us.”

I looked around the room for anything else we might need. I packed our money and about half of your clothes. I went to the closet and grabbed my tool belt and my tools. I threw them in the duffel bag with our clothes and zipped it up. I felt the weight of the duffel bag. It would have been easier if you could carry it, but it was too heavy. I couldn't ask you to do that. I slung the bag over my shoulder. Then I checked to make sure the gun was loaded. “We need to get to the car,” I said to you. You nodded. “I'm not sure it's safe out there.” The doctor had told me to try to limit your stress. Some things are easier said than done.

I held the gun in my right hand and guided you behind me with my left. I opened our motel room door, half expecting all hell to break loose when I did. Nothing happened. The door creaked open. Once the door stopped moving and the creaking sound stopped, it was replaced only by the hollow sounds of night. The moon was about a quarter full but the parking lot outside of the motel was lit brightly from a streetlight. Beyond that, the night was full of shadows.

“It looks safe,” I whispered over my shoulder without looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“I'm trying,” you answered as honestly as you could.

“Here are the car keys,” I said to you, handing the keys behind me. I felt your hand reach out to take them. Your hand was warm. “Stay behind me until we get to the bottom of the stairs. Once we get to the bottom of the stairs, duck down and head for the car. I'll follow you. I'll protect you.” We walked slowly together. Once we got to the bottom of the stairs, you dropped your head beneath your shoulders and made a dash for the car. All I could think was,
not too fast, Maria
. You squatted down by the passenger side door of the car and unlocked it. I walked quickly after you, trying to look everywhere all at once as I ran. All I saw was more of the same, more of nothing. By that point, the nothingness was what began scaring me the most. I threw the duffel bag in the backseat and climbed into the car.

You handed me the car keys. I slid them into the ignition and turned the key. The engine revved up.

I pulled the car out of the parking lot. My mind raced, trying to make some sense of things. I knew that getting away wasn't going to be this easy. I knew it.

“Now what?” you asked me. “Do we just try to drive away?” I could see in your eyes that you were beginning to question whether or not we even really needed to run away.

I weighed our options in my mind. Brian's words echoed in my head.
They know what car you drive
. Eventually we'd have to get rid of the car, but not yet. Our first goal was to get out of town. “That's one option,” I answered you. “But they know what car we're driving.”

“Well, do we have any other options?” you asked

“I don't know.” I didn't even know where I was driving. I just kept moving forward, turning deeper and deeper into nowhere. The night was still and peaceful. Nothing was moving but us. I drove along the empty, tree-lined street, making turn after turn, and we saw nothing.

“Let's just drive,” you said. “Let's just get on the highway and go. So they know our car. So what? There's nobody here, Joe.” I could see the shadow of each passing tree float over your face as we moved forward, casting your face in alternate strips of dark and light. “How are they going to find us when they're not even here?”

“Maybe you're right,” I said. It was a relief to even think. Just drive away. “We can abandon the car later. We can get lost again.” I turned the car around another corner, heading us back toward the long two-lane highway running away from Charleston, away from our new life. All I had to do was get on that highway and step on the gas. For one sweet moment it all seemed so simple.