The Undesirable, page 16
“Holy shit,” I say before I cover my mouth. I almost never cuss— or at least, I didn’t just a few weeks ago. It’s not lost on me it’s the second time I’ve said “shit” in a half hour. I shake my head. “How recent is this?”
“They gave us this about three days before they killed my Dad.”
“I’m so sorry.” I wince.
He holds up his hand. “Stop this. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t shoot them.”
“Okay.” I bite my lip a little because I’m still not convinced it’s not my fault. I change the subject anyway. “This will help us a lot.” I read the map. I’m still amazed he has this kind of information, even though I know I should expect it. Fostino and I study the map for a few minutes in silence.
“The most trouble we might have is on 295, before we get to the checkpoint on the outskirts of town.” He points to a section of the map. “See these two Xs? We put up two new posts so people can survey the town like you would in a hunter’s nest.” He shudders. “Someone mans them 24/7.”
He thinks for a minute longer, than says, “We’re on the far side of 295. We’ll go a block down the street here and cross on the south side of the old grain co-op. We can use the abandoned trucks as cover. The Party doesn’t do a sweep there until after the factory’s shut.”
“But they’re searching for me,” I remind him. “Didn’t they beef up patrols everywhere?”
“It’s a risk we have to take. If we cross through the lot of the co-op, there’s enough stuff there to distract the people in the birdcage. It also puts us on the right side of 295.” Fostino shrugs.
“I do have a gun, you know.”
“How many bullets?”
“Enough.” I think for a second. I didn’t count before I left Canada. “Six. No, eight.” I point down to the cot. “They’re in that box, and the gun’s loaded too.” I cringe at the memory of how I didn’t use the gun to save Glenn.
“I’ll take these,” he tells me. “Just in case.” Fostino fishes the ammunition box out of the pile and puts two of the bullets aside.
“I’ll put what we need in the backpack and then we can take turns carrying it,” I tell him, and then throw the heaviest stuff in the bottom. It doesn’t take long to load the water, bullets, granola bars, and more into the pack. When I’m done, I shake out The Party uniform. The fabric is coarse, cold, and stiff. I hate it, but I start put it on anyway. Fostino stands a half-foot or so away from me. When he sees me pull on the jacket, he put his arm out to stop me.
“It’s only 2:15,” he reminds me. “We won’t set out until seven.”
“Oh, really?” I jump back a little, surprised. Fostino’s eyes fix on me.
“We’ve got time to kill,” he remarks, and purses his lips a little. “You don’t need to be in such a hurry.” He reaches out and tucks a piece of escaped hair behind my ear. His hands soften behind my ear.
“What do you suggest we do until then?” I breathe.
“I can think of a few things.” He smiles. He raises a thick eyebrow and pulls me to him. His lips brush mine and within seconds, my back is up against the wall.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I wake up over four hours later in a sweat. Fostino has draped himself over me, passed out too. I can’t tell where his legs begin and mine end; I shake him hard to wake him up. He wipes the sleep from his eyes but they stay red with stress.
“It’s 6:45,” I tell him. “Almost time to leave.”
He runs his hand through my hair and doesn’t reply.
“Listen,” I say as we lie there in the silence. “I never should have left. I never want to leave you again.” I click my jaw and take a deep breath.
“I know.”
“Whatever happens, please know I love you more than I ever thought I would love anyone,” I continue, even as I’m about to cry. I tighten my grip on his arm and will myself to stay in control. “I came back to get you, but I also came back because I wanted to know you know this. I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
“Do you know what I am thinking about right now? That time when you brought me that orange.” I manage a weak smile at him. “Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.”
“I would do it all over again.” He puts his forehead on mine. “One thing I love about you, Charlotte, is that you saw the truth before I did. You saw through everything.”
I laugh a little and pull him as close to me as I can, until every part of my body touches his. We stay frozen until his Hologram Watch sounds the alarm.
7:00.
“It’s time.” He swallows.
“Yes.” I untangle myself and find my clothes. No thread can be out of line. For the next few hours, I must mask who I am and fade into the background. I watch Fostino do the same. Our eyes don’t meet.
“Don’t we make a pair?” he says, and I detect a hint of sarcasm. He picks up the backpack and pulls the straps over his broad shoulders.
“This is it,” I say. I take one final look at the shelter before I unscrew the door. Conflicted about it, I press on anyway. I see a small knife we left on the bed and throw it in my right side pants pocket for good measure.
“It is,” he replies. “I never thought I would leave here alive, but I am glad I get to leave here with you.” He smiles at me as I push the shelter door open, and the last bits of daylight fall on our faces.
We have one task: get to Canada alive.
*
A half hour later, we cross into the back parking lot of the feed co-op. The long row of abandoned and rotted aerodynamic trucks acts as our cover. We’re close enough to the street to hear the shuffles, pops and clicks of The Party at the checkpoints. We can’t see them.
“Shh,” Fostino cautions in a low voice as we slide around the trucks. He motions for me to crouch down halfway as we both slither past. I watch the ground and my feet, scared I’ll step on something that makes a loud noise. My breath comes out hot and fast; I am ready for anything.
“We’ll cross the road one at a time,” he whispers as his lips press against my ear. “I’ll go first, and then signal you when it’s clear enough to cross.” Fostino pulls me flat against him once we reach the end of the row. The corner of a truck stands between 295 and us.
“You sure about this?” I breathe back into his ear. My eyes search his face. My nose slides against his cheek as I do it, and I’m desperate to keep it there even though I know I can’t. Fostino runs a hand down my arm and over The Party insignia. He nods and his eyes tell me he won’t change his mind. Just as Glenn did, I hold up my left hand for a countdown.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Once the last finger falls, I give him a nod. Fostino runs across the road. It’s about a 50 meter dash across the lot, over the road, and through overgrown grass into the trees. I whip my body around and flatten it against the truck. I can just make him out as I watch his lithe, athletic body get smaller and smaller. Watching him cross the road and into the small cluster of trees is pure agony. I only exhale once he makes it.
Fostino’s body fades in the trees a little bit before he turns around in the light of the summer sun. He watches me from his safe spot for a few seconds before he looks up and down 295. Then he holds up his own left hand for a countdown.
Five, four, three, two, one.
I glance to my left and then my right. Then I sprint across the road.
CHAPTER FIFTY
I make it across, but it is all a blur until I reach Fostino’s hiding place in the trees. Once I get there, Fostino pulls me deeper into the cluster. I pant from the run; I’m out of breath and my heart threatens to explode in my chest. Once we’re covered, Fostino puts both of his hands on my shoulder to steady me.
Fostino whispers. “You’re okay. You made it.”
I can’t form a reply right away. I suck in air. When I speak, the words croak out of my lungs. “Yep. Not as hard as I thought.” I keep my voice as quiet as possible.
“No,” murmurs Fostino. “Almost too easy.”
I still breathe hard and have the same thought.
Where is The Party? Why has no one seen us? Is this all a trap?
“Do you need some water?” he asks in my ear. Before I answer, he unzips the pack and fishes out one of the bottles. “Drink this,” he whispers. “You need it.”
I take two sips and steel my nerves.
Fostino takes a few ginger steps to the tree line on the north side of the grove. A second passes before he rejoins me. He still whispers his words.
“From here, we’ve got about six houses to go until we hit the next group of trees and the far side of the fence.” He pauses. “We can’t use the garages for cover though; they back up to the baseball field. We’ll use the alleyway and the back of the houses.”
“Does anyone live in them?”
“In some, yes. I don’t know if The Party has taken over the vacant ones. There could be people in each one. We can’t take chances.”
“What do we do?”
“Sun sets in a few minutes. We wait.”
“Okay.” He pulls me to him. “In the meantime, can you kiss me and be quiet?” he mutters in my ear. I smile and plant the first of many on his lips. At that second, I decide I like the plumpness of his bottom lip the best. His embrace is a beautiful escape in the middle of the horror of hell.
*
After 9:00, we reach the far side of the new fence. We slide up to it from the tree line, careful not to snap any twigs or crunch any leaves. I hear the voices of The Party guards a hundred yards or so away; they are so close I can smell their sweat. This is perhaps our most dangerous, most exposed moment yet.
“Glenn said there’s a hidden door around here somewhere,” I whisper in Fostino’s ear as my hands search for the chink in concrete to reveal it. It’s no easy task when I worry so much about not making any noise. Fostino stands guard, the gun cocked, his eyes fixed on the men I can’t see.
He’s ready.
I move down the wall as I search for it. My fingers scrape and pull at the chink until I free the grate. I peer down at the hole. It’s big enough for one person and their supplies to make it through at a time.
“Is there another one of these on the other side?” Fostino murmurs in my left ear.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “I’ll go through first.”
He kisses me once for good measure and as he does my ears hone in on the men at the checkpoint.
“We’d better do this,” I mutter into his right ear. “Goodbye, Harrison Corners. Goodbye, home.”
Fostino regards me. Then he speaks in the softest voice he has. “My home isn’t here anymore. It’s with you.”
A few seconds pass. Then, with my back to him, I grit my teeth as I pull myself through the wall and leave my hometown forever.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
As soon as I get through the concrete, I search for the Humvee Glenn told me would wait for us. Trees line the other side of the wall, and the branches press up against a brown and fallow crop field that stretches several acres. I run for almost a quarter mile before I find our getaway chariot under another large camouflage tarp. Fostino follows me.
“Think the keys are in the ignition?” he asks once he catches up to me. Our chests heave from the run.
“I don’t know.” We don’t whisper anymore. While I can’t make out his face in the darkness, his body touches mine. It’s electric. His fingers snake around my hand and squeeze tight.
“Here goes nothing.” Fostino pulls open the door and slides inside. Seconds later, the engine revs and he nods for me to get in on the passenger side.
“Sounds a lot quieter than I expected,” he remarks once I pull the door shut behind me.
“All the SSR’s cars sound like this one. Easier to stay out of sight if you can’t be heard so well. These Humvees only look like the one from The Party.”
“Where to?” His hand rests on the gearshift.
“North.” I point to the field in front of us. “I guess head through the field. If I remember, state line road is right up this way, and from there we can head east and hit the state highway from there.”
Fostino doesn’t speak. He takes his foot off he breaks and starts to drive. Every few minutes, I peer over my shoulder to see if anyone follows us. I don’t notice anyone. We turn onto the state highway in about 15 minutes.
“We should stop a little ways north of here at Nelson Nugent’s store,” I tell Fostino. “He’s in the SSR, and he knows a lot. He’ll help us. Glenn and I met up with him on the way down here.”
“How do you know we can trust him?” He gives me a sideways frown. Even in the moonlight, I can see it.
“We can,” I insist. “He gave us new IDs and supplies the last time we stopped there. I know it’s late, but I bet he’ll help us if we show up.” I watch the shadows of the Ohio farmland fade as we pass into rural Michigan. It all looks the same in the moonlight, but with each mile, I breathe easier. Fostino turns the headlights on low once we get about three miles out of town.
“You know,” he says. “Even with all this, I don’t hate The Party.”
“You don’t?” I don’t bother to hide the surprise in my voice.
“No. Many good people make up The Party. People who just do their job. They don’t make decisions. They’ve to follow orders. They’re not all bad people. I had friends. Real friends, I think.”
“But doesn’t that make them as bad?” I argue, “I mean, they stand by and allow awful stuff to happen! How do you call someone like that a friend?” I think of Fostino’s dad and of my own mother. They didn’t deserve to die.
“A lot of people don’t have any choice, Char.” He sighs. “They’re scared themselves. They can’t control or change stuff. How can I make you understand? People get forced.”
“You sound like a robot.”
“Some people have power in this world. We never did. It’s the one way I can make things make sense to me.” He shrugs.
Frustrated, I shake my head and roll my eyes a little. I’ve seen too much in the last few weeks to go along with anything anymore. There’s no way he’ll change my mind about it tonight. Another thought clouds my mind instead.
“We’ve been through so much messed up stuff,” I point out.
“Yep,” he says and his eyebrows knit together. “This has been the worst and the best few months of my life.” He reaches over, takes my hand, and folds it through his. After a few minutes, his thumb rubs the skin between my left thumb and index finger.
We hold hands in silence until we reach Nelson’s Grocery. A neon yellow “Closed” sign propped up in the windowsill tells us we’re at the right place. Fostino turns off the headlights of the Humvee and we slide into the abandoned parking lot of the store. Neither of us speaks. I open the backpack and pull out the blue flashlight. I tap it on my hand.
“You sure this guy’s here?” Fostino bucks his chin towards the door of the shop. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” I push my next words out as strongly as I can. “He helped me before. He’ll help us again.” Not willing to listen to any protest, I pull the handle of the Humvee and jump out of the car onto the gravel.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Fostino follows me and we’re at the screen door of the grocery in a few seconds. I pull the handle and find it unlocked. I can make out Fostino’s face from the neon sign, and he looks a little panicked. He peeks behind us to see if anyone comes down the road. We don’t see anyone.
1:00 AM.
Have we really moved so slowly?
“Should we go in?” Fostino asks in my ear. A click comes from his hand and I see he’s brought the gun with him. He slides it into one of the pockets of his pants. “Just never know,” he mumbles.
“I think Nelson’s in the back,” I whisper as I pull the door open and step inside the doorframe. I shuffle down one of the dark aisles. Something tells me to be quiet. I make it to the back in a few minutes and fumble around for the door I know hides Nelson’s secret room. Fostino’s warm breath snakes across the back of my neck.
“I’ll go first,” I say, once I grasp the door handle. I click it open. “He knows me,” I explain.
I open the door and sweep my eyes around the small room. My eyes adjust to the light as I make out the button on the back wall of the room. If Nelson’s in the building, I know he’s down in the secret basement. I cross the room, punch the button, and the floor falls away.
“Stay here,” I look back over my shoulder at Fostino. “Keep watch. I’ll see if I can find Nelson in the basement, and when I do, I’ll call you down.”
“Okay,” Fostino replies, but I can’t mistake the uncertainty in his throaty voice. He braces one arm on the frame of the door to the room.
I use the flashlight to show the way down the steps of the basement. Nelson’s secret lair is creepy in the night light and unsettling with just me inside. I shine the light on the video wall, across the supplies and over the rest of the first room.
“Anyone there?” I call out as loud as I dare.
Where is he?
I take a few tentative steps towards a second, more hidden room we didn’t explore on my first visit here with Glenn. The door to this room hangs open like a tattered book. The flashlight falls on more supplies, a generator, and a cache of weapons hang on the wall. I make out Fostino’s voice upstairs.
“Charlotte, what’s going on down there?”
I whirl around. “I’m okay,” I call back. “Give me a few minutes.” I pause before I take one more step into the second room. Moments later, a hand whips around my back and pins both of my arms. I drop the flashlight in surprise. Another hand claps my mouth shut. I try to bite down on the hand but the fingers hold my jaw open.
