Authors: Melody Carlson
I put on a CD, an inspirational group that usually lifts my spirits, and proceed to eat my snack and block out whatever is making me feel so uneasy. I actually consider calling Ebony, but I have no idea what I'd say. That I had a long conversation with a guy whose dad died of a heroin overdose, then saw my brother and his friend in a car, and now I'm spooked? What sense does that make? So again I pray. I ask God to protect me and take these feelings of fear away. I remind myself that God's perfect love gets rid of fear.
Just as I'm starting to relax, I hear someone banging on the door downstairs. My heart begins to pound again, and I think maybe my fears were legit. I grab my cell phone, ready to call 911 as I creep down the stairs.
“Samantha?” yells my brother through the cracked-open front door. He obviously had his key but couldn't get past the chain without doing some damage. “Open up, okay? It's just me, Zach.”
Feeling relieved, I hurry down and undo the chain and open the door. But when I see Tate standing next to him, I feel uneasy again.
“What's up?” I ask, pretending to be cool with this.
“Why are you turning this place into Fort Knox?” asks Zach as he and Tate press through the door and past me.
There've been some break-ins,” I say quickly. “Not far from here.”
“Oh, well, you can't be too safe.” Zach laughs.
“What're you doing here?” I ask.
“Picking up my snowboarding stuff.”
“Your snowboarding stuff?”
“Yeah. We're going up to the mountain,” says Tate. “Zach was bragging about how great he was last week, and I decided to take him on.”
Zach laughs. “Yeah, and we got a sweet deal. Tate's uncle is letting us use his place for the weekend.”
“Two full days of riding,” says Tate. “Great way to start spring break.”
Like these party boys need a break. Do they ever even work? But I just smile and act like that's cool, following Zach up the stairs. Fortunately, Tate remains downstairs. “Need any help?” I ask as Zach goes into his room.
“Huh?”
I go into his room and close the door behind me. “Why are you doing this, Zach?” I begin.
“Doing what?” He turns and stares at me.
“You know what.”
He just shakes his head. “I'm just living my life, Sam. Mom doesn't want me here, and I'm doing the best I can on my own.”
“I know you're doing drugs, Zach.”
He narrows his eyes. “You don't
know
anything.”
“I do too,” I insist. “I have friends who know you and Tate. You both do drugs. Serious drugs.”
He laughs. “Well, you've been misinformed by your so-called friends. Who are they anyway?”
“Like I'm going to tell you.”
“Why don't you just bug off, Sam?”
I stand there fuming at my brother as he digs through his messy closet for his snowboarding gear. I haven't handled this right. “Sorry,” I say quickly. “I'm just so worried
about you, Zach. And Mom said it's okay for you to come back here to live. You just have to stay clean and go to’ meetings and work. That's not too much to ask, is it?”
He mumbles something I can't hear, but I don't think I want to hear it either.
“I don't want you to get hurt, Zach,” I plead with him. “I love you, and I know you're playing with fire. I know you're—”
“Just stay out of it, Sam!” He turns to face me with his snowboard boots in one hand, a jacket in the other. This is my life. I'm doing the best I can. Maybe it's not the way you'd do it, but then I'm not you. I'm not perfect.”
“Nobody's perfect, Zach. I just want you to stay alive. I want you to get well.”
He holds out his arms. “Look at me. I'm alive. I'm well. I'm going to have a great weekend. Be happy for me.” He tosses me his boots. “Can you carry those for me?”
I pick up his boots and sigh. “Zach, you are going down a dead-end street. Can't you see that?”
He finds an old duffel bag and shoves his gloves and stuff into it. “All I can see is that my little sister is a worry-wart. You're going to have gray hair before you turn twenty, Sam.” He tosses me his charmer's smile.
“You may not live to be twenty-one,” I tell him in a somber voice.
“See,” he says, “there you go again, Ms. Dismal. You really need to lighten up, little sister.”
“You really need God, Zachary. You need to surrender your life to Him and let Him help you outta this mess. You can't do it without Him. You need to—”
“I need to get outta this house,” he says as he pushes past me and opens the door, then clatters down the
stairs, yelling to Tate. “Ready to go, man? We're burning daylight!”
I stay on his heels, lugging his boots along with me, following them out to the driveway, where it's beginning to drizzle. “Zach, I just—”
“Is that your car, Samantha?” asks Tate, nodding toward my Bug as Zach takes his boots from me and throws them into Tate's trunk.
“Yeah.”
Tate frowns at me. “I've been seeing this car around town a lot lately. Have you been stalking me or something?”
I suppress my shock and quickly say “Yeah, right!” Then I force a laugh. “The same thing happened to me right after I got this car.” I look directly into his eyes now. -”I kept seeing lime green Volkswagens everywhere I went. Finally my friend Olivia told me that happens to everyone after they get a new car. Anyway, I guess there are quite a few of them around here. Who knew?”
“So you haven't been stalking me then?”
I laugh again. “Why would I do that?”
“We gotta go,” says Zach, tossing me a warning glance.
I look at my watch for a distraction. “You think you'll make it up there in time for a night pass?”
“They're not open at night,” says Tate in an irritated tone.
“Oh, you're not going to Hood?”
Zach frowns at me. “We're going somewhere else. Like it's any of your business.” Then he gets into the car and slams the door like a personal message to me. And as they're driving away, it occurs to me that Zach is wearing the same denim jacket he had on in my dream. I feel'sick.
I run into the house and grab my cell phone and, with shaking hands, hit my speed dial for Ebony's number. I wait as it rings again and again—Ebony,
please pick up!—
but finally it goes to her message service.
“Please call me, Ebony,” I beg. “Something is up. I need your help.” Then I hang up and pray she'll call right back. I decide to try her office as well, but again I get her machine. I leave a similar message. And then, with my phone in my pocket, I start pacing. I'm tempted to get in my car and head up to…where? Where would I go? Not Mount Hood. They never did say exactly where they were going. I run up to my room and turn on my computer to see which ski resorts do
not
have night skiing. It takes awhile, but I finally narrow it down. I eliminate the ones on the other side of the state. I can't imagine those party boys wanting to drive seven hours on a Friday night. This leaves one possibility that's only a couple of hours away.
It's five thirty now, but I suddenly remember that Zach mentioned they're staying at Tate's uncle's place. I wonder if the uncle's store is still open or if I can find out his name. I go to the yellow pages and look up the automotive store. - Unfortunately, it's only called Chuck's Auto Parts. Not terribly helpful. But I punch in the numbers and pretend to be a customer, disguising my voice as a little old lady's, or so I hope. “I was in your shop just a few days ago looking for an alternator for a 1966 Chevy,” I say to the woman who answers. Okay, I have no idea what an alternator is, but Mom had to replace hers a couple of months ago. “And the nice young man, I believe it was the owner of the store, I can't recall his name, Mr….” I pause.
“Chuck Dentón?”
“Yes, that sounds right, dear. Well, as it turns out, my son-in-law found an alternator for me, so you can cancel my order. The name is Eleanor Smith, dear. Thank you very much.” Then, with a pounding heart, I hang up. I write
Chuck Dentón
and the name of the ski resort on a slip of paper and put it in my pocket. Like I'm going to get amnesia and forget. Then I check my phone to make sure Ebony didn't try to call while I was on the phone. No such luck.
I decide to go and check the landline phone. Not that Ebony would try to reach me at that number, but I'm antsy, and it's a way to pass time. To my surprise, the little red light is flashing. Since it wasn't flashing earlier, maybe someone called when I was outside with Zach and Tate. I play the message and find that it's Mom. She won't be home tonight because she and Steven are going into Portland for a concert that he unexpectedly got tickets to. “It'll probably go until midnight,” she says happily, “so don't wait up.” I almost consider calling her to tell her that Zach's been here, that he and Tate are going snow-boarding, and that Zach is wearing the same denim jacket as in my dream. I can't remember if he had on his Adidas or not. But then I realize I could be alarming my mom for no good reason. I could be alarming everyone for no good reason. Just then my cell phone rings. It's Ebony.
“What's going on?” she asks.
“It's a long story,” I quickly say, “and it involves Zach.”
“Oh…” I hear the disappointment in her voice, like she suspects which way this is going. “Just start at the beginning, Samantha, and tell it to me slowly.”
First I tell her that Zach has not been doing his recovery program and that Mom and I suspect he's gotten back into drugs.
“It's not surprising,” she says sadly. “But that doesn't make it any easier. I'm sorry to hear it.”
Then I tell her about the dream I had last week and how we went snowboarding the next day and Zach went missing and I assumed the worst. “But it turned out he was just in the bar with a fake ID.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So then I thought maybe the dream was supposed to be a metaphor for drugs…how they're dangerous. I mean, it's not like we have snow in Brighton.”
“Not usually. And certainly not in late March.”
“Right.” Then I tell her about Tate and Zach going snowboarding for the weekend. “They're on their way up there right now.”
“Do you know which resort?”
I explain what they said about the place not having night skiing and my research. She seems to agree. “And, oh yeah,” I say suddenly, “they're staying at Tate's uncle's place. I don't know where it is, but I found out his name by calling the automotive store that he owns.”
“Chuck Dentón?”
“That's right. Do you know him?”
“I know of him.”
“As in?”
“As in he's on one of my lists.”
“OK” Then I tell her about how Tate supposedly works there but is hardly ever there. “Although I've seen him leaving a couple of times. With Zach.”
“Uh-huh.” I can hear tapping sounds, and I suspect she's doing something on her computer right now.
“So…do you think Zach is in danger?”
“What do you think?”
I consider this now, unsure whether I want to admit what I think. Finally I say, “Yes. I think he's in very serious danger.” Then I fill Ebony in on what I've learned from Felicity. How she's confirmed that both Zach and Tate are into drugs in a fairly big way. “In fact, I'm worried about her too. She wasn't in school again today. Her boyfriend hadn't heard from her either.”
“You think the vision of the overdose is the real thing, Samantha?”
“I don't know… I mean, it seems a real possibility. But the last time I felt certain she was in danger, poof, she showed up and was just fine. Then when I warned her and told her specifically why I was worried, she just blew me off.”
“And that surprised you?”
“No, I guess not.” Then I remember something. “She did mention that Tate has an old red sofa in his apartment.”
“And did she mention doing drugs there?”
“Not specifically, but that was the insinuation.”
“Hmmm…”
“What do we do?”
“For starters I'll do some quick research and see if I can track down Chuck Denton's place up in the mountains. Then I'll have to hand this over to the local authorities up there since it's out of my jurisdiction.”
“What will you tell them?”
“Well, based on all you've told me as well as the
dream you described, I suspect that Zach and Tate are involved in some trafficking.”
“You think they're delivering drugs?”
“Or picking them up…and something is probably going to go wrong. When a transaction like that results in violence, it's usually because one or both parties tries to double-cross the other. Greed can get ugly.”
“Right…” I feel a lump growing in my throat. Like maybe this really is going to be the end of Zach.
Dear God, protect him.
“Can you give me a detailed description of the cabin you saw burning in your dream, Samantha? Like, how big do you think it was? How were the windows and doors arranged? Any distinctions that might help the police to identify it.”
So I get out my notebook where I originally wrote down the dream and relay it all back to her.
“I'm so glad you record these things. Our memory skills aren't completely reliable. But if you write things down, you can count on it.”
“And then, of course, there was the fire,” I say lamely. “If they see smoke coming from a wooded location…”
“It'll be too late?”
“I suppose…”
“Let me check into some of these things and get back to you, okay? Do you plan on being around this evening?”
“Yes. I'm not going anywhere.” I guess it was a good thing I declined Olivia's invitation to watch her and the Oysters at the middle-school dance tonight. My excuse was that I was too old. But suddenly I feel very young, very afraid, and very vulnerable. If Olivia weren't busy,
I'd probably call her up and ask her to come over and hold my hand. I consider calling Conrad, but they're getting ready to fly out early in the morning. And there's the thing with Katie. I can't bug him. No, this is just between God and me right now. And so I really begin to pray. I beg God to protect Zach, to send angels or law enforcers or anything. Just don't let him get hurt.
It's close to seven when Ebony calls back. “I've got a search warrant for Tate's apartment,” she tells me. “Eric and I are going to go check it out. Do you want to come along? I was thinking you might pick up on something we would miss.”