Held (15 page)

Now, on the basis of two meaningless dates, he was telling everyone that we were going out. Was he trying to get attention or revenge?

Chad was my only official date. Usually I just hung out with people at parties or wherever. In the past year I’d come across a few guys I liked, but nothing came of it. Mom said I was afraid of forming attachments because of Dad’s sudden death. She also said that when I met the right man I’d get over my fear of being deserted.

Well, the right man had finally come along, through an incredible twist of fate. Unfortunately, he was a criminal who was now wanted internationally.

I spent the day reading a book called
Dreams of Self.
It was about how we’re programmed to act the way we do by millions of years of adaptation. We think our emotions and thoughts make us who we are, but according to the author, it’s all about survival mechanisms.

Nothing could be that simple. If it were, we’d all be exactly the same. Instead, we were so different that it was hard to find anyone who was on your wavelength. We might be programmed in a general sort of way, but the details had to have more complicated reasons.

I wondered whether my hostage-taker felt the way I had felt when Chad tried to kiss me—that I was just trying to prove something. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to me. But he did kiss me back for a second.

I trusted him now. That’s what it came down to. I tried to remember when I’d started trusting him. Maybe it was when he lay down on my bed and fell asleep. Seeing him lying there, vulnerable and unprotected, made me certain that he was telling me the truth. And my certainty made me happy.

Happiness is not only an outcome of love, I realized. It’s a sign of love. It’s the way you know that you love someone—you can tell by the way that person makes you feel. It’s as simple as that.

So it wasn’t only him I trusted—it was my instincts. If I felt that way about him, it meant he was trustworthy.

Everything he had done and said was consistent. He wanted to release a prisoner he felt was innocent. He’d chosen a crazy, illegal way to do it, but he wasn’t violent. He was furious that the other guy had hurt me, and he had probably cut off all contact with him.

Did he work in a hospital? Maybe he was even a doctor—he wasn’t too young to be an intern. But he didn’t act like a doctor, somehow. More likely he’d trained as a paramedic or something like that.

The day crawled by in slow motion. When I finally heard the key in the lock, my heart began to pound with excitement.

“I thought about you all day,” I said as soon as he walked in. “I couldn’t wait for you to come.”

“Shall we sit in the sun for a short while?” he asked.

“Indeed, shall we?” I replied in my fake British accent.

We brought out the chairs and sat in the sun, side by side, as if we were two ordinary people.

“Are you sure it’s safe to sit out here?” I asked. The thought of storm troopers crashing into the warehouse with machine-guns horrified me.

“Yes, it’s safe.”

“What about the … other man? How can you trust him not to do anything stupid?”

He didn’t answer, but he turned his head to look at me. I couldn’t interpret his look.

“If it’s so safe, why am I wearing a hat?”

“In case someone sees us from the woods. It’s unlikely, though.”

“I’m torn,” I said. “I don’t want to take a risk, even a tiny one, but I love it out here. I’m connecting to nature in a new way. My mom would be pleased. She’s into all that stuff about being one with the world. What religion were you brought up with?”

I didn’t expect an answer, but he surprised me. “My parents were secular, but the community was mostly Catholic.”

It was strange, thinking of him as someone with parents, a family, maybe brothers and sisters. He’d seemed almost like an alien from another planet until now. I couldn’t imagine him sitting around with friends at a café, for example. I couldn’t imagine him as a kid. He was too somber, if that was the right word.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why did you choose me?”

“You were alone. You looked healthy. We’d heard you say you were from the United States.”

“Heard me? When?”

“At the bus stop.”

“You were there!?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“I know.”

“Were you specifically looking for a woman?”

“Yes. I thought a woman might arouse more concern, and also wouldn’t force us to be too aggressive. A man would think it his duty to resist continually.”

“That’s so sexist. You think all women are submissive?”

“Not at all. Women are resilient, with many resources men often lack. Women don’t seem as interested in physical violence, however.”

I pulled my floppy black hat down over my eyes and leaned my head back on the wall. “You obviously haven’t met my biology teacher. All she does in her spare time is watch kung fu movies.”

“I suppose we were fortunate to abduct you and not your biology teacher.”

“I guess you had a good laugh when I said I was diabetic.”

“People will say whatever they can to get out of a situation like that. I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t said something along those lines.”

“What if I’d lost it? I mean—I was pretty close to the edge. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be so scared.”

He looked away from me and shifted in his chair. I felt that he was on the verge of saying,
I don’t need to imagine it
.

“Aren’t you afraid that when you release me I’ll describe this place?” I asked.

“You won’t be able to direct anyone to me, or to this place,” he said.

“Were you nervous, when you took me?”

“I have good control.”

I laughed. “Yes, I can see that! You never smile, you never show any feeling at all. It’s weird. Your eyes are expressive, but not the rest of your face. Your eyes and your body.”

I felt antsy; I wanted to move around, take a walk—even if only to the forest and back. I got up from my chair, did a few stretches, touched my toes. Then I did a cartwheel, before he had a chance to stop me. My hat fell off, but I quickly replaced it.

“I’d prefer it if you sat quietly,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said. I didn’t want him to change his mind about letting me go out. “You don’t know how lucky you are that you didn’t end up with Angie! It would serve you right if you’d captured Angie instead of me. You would have had your hands full.”

“I’m sure I would have managed.”

“You don’t know Angie. For one thing, she’s phobic about cockroaches—or any insect, for that matter. She would have been in a state of permanent hysteria—you’d have had to find a whole different location for her. And even if you gave her all the art supplies in the world, she’d never stop crying and moaning. You would have regretted the day you ever came up with this crazy idea.”

I almost managed to get a smile out of him. I realized how triumphant that would have made me—as if I’d won some sort of victory. His detachment gave him power over me.

But he only tilted his head. His eyes were amused, and even his hands seemed amused, but he stopped short of actually smiling.

“I’m thinking of letting my hair grow. Do you think long hair would suit me?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You actually have an opinion about my appearance!” I shrieked. “I’m not just a hostage to you!”

“Please keep your voice down. You were never just a hostage,” he said.

“The minute you take someone hostage, they become just a hostage. You can be in denial about that, if you want.”

My hostage-taker shut his eyes and leaned his head on the wall. He seemed to be half asleep.

I didn’t mind; it was enough to be out in the sun together. “I love you, I love you,” I whispered under my hat, but I couldn’t tell whether he’d heard.

Angie Shaw
’s first day of school was a nightmare. I kept crying all the time, police had to be called in to keep away media, but kids kept taking pics and recording everything, probably to sell to the press. Where is the no-gadget policy when you need it? People were so insensitive, as if it’s all a joke and not real and just some fake story. As if Chloe’s on vacation somewhere instead of God knows where and God knows with what sort of people. Lots of horrible jokes too. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. Don’t want to go back to school tomorrow. And then being there without Chloe for the first time ever, so depressing. Help!!!

15 minutes ago   Comment   Like   Wall-to-wall

Belinda Lyons
yeah I couldn’t believe it either. I think there’s going to be an assembly about it tomorrow, that’s the rumor. Hopefully that’ll help. Hard to believe how nasty some kids are. People have already posted their videos all over the place. Interviews with teachers, everything.

13 minutes ago   Comment   Like   Wall-to-wall

Angie Shaw
Thanks Belinda, but I realized I don’t care about myself. Yeah my day sucked, but I don’t care as long as Chloe comes back. What’s a few comments compared to what she’s going through. I keep thinking of all the hostages who’ve been executed, it’s so horrible. I wonder if Patty Hearst can come and talk to our school. She’s been so supportive. One thing I know about Chloe, she won’t get brainwashed. I just really miss her. I feel her not being there so much more now that school’s started. Don’t know what I’d do without all of you guys. The worst thing is how guilty I feel when I have ice cream or pizza or take a long bath … enjoying stuff while Chloe suffers. I like what Chloe’s mom said—Two people suffering instead of one doesn’t improve the world. And it’s looking good, the legal team is doing a fantastic job!

7 minutes ago   Comment   Like   Wall-to-wall

CHAPTER 17

No plan is foolproof. Not in films, and not in real life. I was sitting on my bed with the Italian textbook when I heard voices outside the warehouse.

I thought at first that I was imagining things. But then the sounds grew louder: laughter, talking, whispering. Though I didn’t know what language was being spoken, I was sure the excited, high-pitched voices came from kids—mostly boys, as far as I could tell, about ten or eleven years old.

I was relieved that they were only kids, but I still had to be careful not to let them know I was there. I read quietly on my bed, enjoying the chatter and laughter, until all at once the sounds stopped. They’d gone.

It was only by luck that I hadn’t had my music on. But even if they’d heard it, they wouldn’t have known who was inside the warehouse.

It was nearly dark when my hostage-taker arrived. He said as soon as he entered, “There was someone here. I found cigarette butts and an empty can outside.”

“Yes, some kids. At least, they sounded like kids. Don’t worry, I was careful. Lucky the music wasn’t on.”

He froze when I said that. He didn’t move at all. He just stood there and stared at me.

“I told you I don’t want you to get caught,” I said. “I don’t want you to be killed, obviously, or even to go to jail.”

He went on staring at me.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” I said. “It’s creeping me out.”

“You didn’t call for help?” he asked finally.

“No, of course not.”

“Why?”

“I love you. And I don’t think you deserve to go to prison. You’ve broken the law, of course, and what you’re doing is wrong, but I don’t want you to be found. Let’s say I wanted to marry you one day,” I heard myself saying. “It wouldn’t be any fun if you were serving a life sentence.”