Run With Me (16 page)

I understand how that feels. I
wasn't exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth.

“
Well, when this is all done,
you can go where you want,” I say, trying to revive her spirit a
little. Give her something to look forward to, something to hope for.

She doesn't answer, but just
turns her gaze back ahead of us.

Another hour passes before I
tell her we'll be arriving soon. The news clearly isn't welcome to
her and I can see her shuffle nervously in her seat. She asks me a
few questions about what's going to happen and I try to calm her
nerves with the best answers I can give. Unfortunately, whatever way
you spin it, they don't sound too good.

We move inland, away from the
west coast, and towards a small Lake called Shannon. There's a tiny
town – Concrete – just south of the lake where I've planned to
meet with Dale, my contact. It's remote, it's quiet, and it's the
sort of place you can disappear in for a long time. All I need is for
Kitty to stay low for now. I'll do the rest.

The evening is beginning to dawn
when I see the shady figure of Dale Carson standing by the side of
the road. He's cloaked and garbed in black, but I know it's him from
his size. He's a big man – tall, that is – and his slightly
hunched shape is distinctive.

“
That's him,” I say to
Kitty, who follows my eye line up the road. Her expression doesn't
change much. She's still lost in her own thoughts.

I slow to a crawl and stop
beside him, and he immediately steps forward and into the backseat.
“Keep moving,” he says gruffly, keeping his hood covering his
head. I can't help but smile. Dale was always incredibly carefree
until he got caught smuggling in the army. Since then he's become the
most paranoid and closed off person I've ever known.

“
Good to see you too Dale,”
I speak back to him. He merely grunts again as I pull off once more.
“So, where are we going.”

“
Half a mile down the road.
Take a left and climb into the hills.”

Kitty remains unfazed to my
side, which I find surprising. I see her glance back at Dale, but
there's no look of fear or trepidation on her face. She merely looks
at him and then turns her eyes forward again.

When we've moved through the
town and have turned up towards the wooded hills, Dale finally
speaks. “So, this is the girl,” he says to me, as if Kitty's not
even there.

“
Yes,” I say. “Kitty
Munroe.” I haven't actually told Dale who the girl would be yet,
and yet he doesn't react to her name. I find this slightly odd, given
that this girl's been all over the news for the last few days.
Instead, he just nods under his hood and finally acknowledges Kitty's
presence.

“
Miss Munroe,” he says
dryly, “good to meet you.” He snakes a hand out from under his
hooded jacket and reaches forward. Kitty arches her body and shakes
his hand, no doubt feeling even worse about the situation than she
did a little while ago. I did explain to her a little bit about Dale.
How he can be incredibly taciturn and cold sometimes. In any case,
he's not here to be friends with her. He's here to do a job.

I've been driving up a dirt
track into the hills for about 5 minutes when Dale directs me off to
the left. There's a broken down wooden fence and gate, all covered in
vines and undergrowth, with another track beyond. It looks completely
unused and is almost entirely concealed from view. I stop the car and
Dale steps out. He walks towards the gate, rips off a few tangled
tines and bushes, and pulls it open. He ushers me through before
closing the gate once more.

I can see Kitty's eyes growing
more concerned now. This is just about the most remote place I've
ever been to, so I can't even imagine how she must feel. We keep
driving and, after another 5 minutes, come to an old shack. It's
small and has been half taken over by the surrounding woods, branches
and leaves and bushes wrapping around it with their creeping
tendrils.

“
This is it,” says Dale,
opening the door and stepping from the car. I look over at Kitty,
who's staring forward at the shack, and take her hand. This draws her
eyes to me. They're hollow and almost blank. “It'll be OK,” I say
to her. “This is only temporary. I'll be back, I promise.”

My words bring some emotion back
to her face, and I see a tear building in the corner of her eye. She
turns away quickly before it has a chance to fall, and steps from the
car.

Now we both follow Dale into the
shack. It's built from stone, with a heavy wooden door, and small
chimney. Dale knocks on the stone walls as he pushes the door open.
“This will help you stay warm at night. It can get real cold up
here after dark.”

He carries on inside and we
follow. It's dark, and bare. There's a small bed up against the far
wall, some basic cooking facilities, a few cupboards, a table, a
quaint fireplace, and a moth-eaten sofa. I also notice a decent sized
bookcase filled with various novels and other works.

“
Right,” says Dale, turning
towards Kitty. “There are food supplies in the cupboards there for
you. Mainly tinned and dried food. If you want to cook, you can use
that gas stove. Now, there's no electricity here so no light. There's
a big store of candles, though, and that fireplace works fine.
There's plenty of wood outside. Be careful about walking off into the
woods. There are bears and wolves around here, so try to keep the
door shut at all times.” He looks around the room, trying to think
of anything else to say. “Well, that's it. I'll be back up here to
check on you in a couple of days.” He looks at me and nods, and I
return the gesture. Then he walks outside, shuts the door, and leaves
me alone with Kitty for a moment.

I take her by the hand again and
she spontaneously hugs me. I feel her grip me tight, her breathing
slightly abbreviated. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes
out. Instead, I hug her firmly back, until her grip begins to ease
and she lets go.

When she speaks her words are
shaky and teary. “When will you be back?” she asks.
Unfortunately, I have no real answer. It's possible I won't be coming
back at all.

“
Soon,” I say reassuringly.
“But just in case, I've given Dale instructions to help you.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
I've told him if he doesn't
hear from me, he should go ahead and set you up with a new identity,
just like we talked about. Hopefully, it won't come to that.”

Kitty nods, doing her best to
compose herself, to be strong. I reach to my back pocket and pull out
a small device. I hand it to Kitty, who inspects it quickly.

“
It's a tracking device,” I
tell her. “Like the one we found on the car. It's not activated
right now.” I take it back off her and show her the small switch on
the side of the tiny box. “This turns it on.”

She shakes her head, slightly
confused. “Why are you giving it to me? You know where I am.”

“
I want you to use it as a
distress signal, just in case,” I say. “If you feel under threat
in any way, turn it on and I'll know you're in trouble. I'll come
find you straightaway, wherever you are. I promise.”

She nods without speaking and I
give the small box back to her. “Keep it safe and on you at all
times,” I say.

“
But I'll be safe here, won't
I?”

She suddenly has this air of an
innocent child, caught up in something much bigger than her. Her eyes
are wide and hopeful, yearning for me to tell her it's all going to
be fine and things will go back to normal soon. But I can't guarantee
any of that. Some things are not in my control.

“
It's just a precaution Kitty.
Please, just be careful.”

She shakes her head. “No, it's
you who has to be careful. I know what you're planning to do Colt.
I'll be fine here. Please, don't get hurt.”

I give her a confident smile and
set my eyes to stone. “I won't,” I say, with utter assurance.
Then I give her a final look and turn out towards the door.

Her voice catches me before I
leave. “If you don't come back, I want you to know...” she trails
off as I turn back towards her. “I wanted to say....thank you.”

I smile again, but don't answer.
I simply give her a look of 'don't mention it', turn, and walk
through the door. 

Kitty

When Colt drives away with Dale
I can honestly say it's the most lonely I've ever felt. Colt is my
one last link to the world, and now he's gone. I stand, motionless
for a while, in the middle of the shack. It's almost completely
silent, but for the wild animals calls and birdsong in the woods
around me. And now I know there are bears and wolves out there.
Great.

Dale spoke so quickly before
that I can hardly remember what he said. His instructions were brief,
but then again, I'm sure I could have worked them out by myself. I
take another glance around my new home as the light outside begins to
fade. It seems darker here, even though it's still early enough for
the sun to be up. It's probably a combination of the overhanging
trees and the gathering clouds above.

The first thing I do is look for
those candles Dale mentioned. I can see one on the wooden table in
the middle of the room, and one sat on a shelf of the bookcase.
Clever place to put a candle
, I think.
Right in front of a
bunch of books
. Whoever was here last can't have been the
sharpest tool in the box.

I wonder who
was
here
last. Is this somewhere Dale takes people when they need somewhere to
hide? Am I just the latest in a long line of America's most wanted?
The thought isn't comforting in the least. This place is merely a
hiding place for those about to drop off the map, and I'm next in
line.

I open up a cupboard and find
the food Dale left. It's mainly stocked with tinned beans, meats, and
fruits. I also see nuts, some chips, and a small selection of candy.
Nothing fresh and nothing that's going to go rotten in more than a
few days.

I open up the next cupboard
along and see a stack of towels, a few tools, and candles. There are
other bits and pieces in here too, such as matches, which I'll need.
I take out a few candles and position them around the room, away from
anything that looks to be too flammable. The last thing I need is to
fall asleep and the shack to go up in flames.

The thought brings me back to
what Colt told me in the car earlier. His wife, his little girl,
killed in a fire in their house. I remember seeing something like
that on the news years ago, but the press just said it was an
accident. I wonder if that was them?

He seemed convinced that they'd
been murdered, though. I can't even begin to imagine the pain be must
have gone through at that time. It's no wonder he does what he does,
is what he is. Something like that could easily lead you down a
pretty shady path.

By the time I've managed to
position and light the candles I hear the first drops of rain
pattering on the roof. There are a couple of windows in the shack,
mostly covered in shrubbery from outside, but I can see through them
well enough. I look out at the woods around me as the rain starts to
fall harder. It cascades down through the trees like a thousand mini
waterfalls, each drop shouting out as it slaps against a leaf or a
branch or the sodden mud on the ground. It all adds up to a symphony
of noise, much louder than rainfall in LA.

I turn from the window and
decide to keep busy by preparing some food. I dig through what
supplies there are and take some time working out how to use the gas
stove. Eventually I manage to prepare something resembling a
nutritious meal and set it on the table. As I eat I almost feel
thankful for the storm raging outside. It at least helps fill my ears
with something. I have no television here, no radio. I don't even
have my phone anymore. But for the natural sounds of the wild,
there's nothing, and I pray for the storm to continue through the
night.

But it doesn't. There's a
awkwardly hung clock on the wall that tells me the time. It's one of
the only links to the outside world that I have. By the time it gets
to 10 PM, the storm has all but ceased, leaving only the light
pattering of residual rain as it drips down through the trees. Not
long later, even that has gone quiet.

Now it's silent, and dark. I
blow out all the candles except one that I keep with me by the bed. I
lay it on the floor beside me and just lie there, staring at it as it
flickers in silence. I hear the call of an own, the chirping of an
unknown bird and, terrifyingly, the distant howl of a wolf.

It takes a while for my nerves
to settle, but soon exhaustion overcomes any emotion I might be
feeling and washes me away into a deep sleep. I dream of wolves and
bears and other beasts lurking in the woods around me. For some
reason, Dale is there with them, marshaling them as if he's their
keeper. I see flashing images of Tara, of my aunt and uncle, of the
man outside the bar, all standing like ghosts in the woods. But most
of all, I see Colt, fighting off the threats that close in on me. And
all I can do is feebly stand by, praying for him to save me.

When I wake the shack is lit
brightly. Light spills in from a low angle, cutting through the woods
and window, as the sun continues its steady climb. I stand up, aching
slightly, and stretch, before moving for the window. The wood is a
glorious green, shining under the previous night's rain and the sweet
morning dew. I look to the sky, which is a deep blue and entirely
cloudless. In a strange way, I feel suddenly at peace.