I cried for my future, a future I knew I'd spend alone.
I cried for Allison, the woman I still loved.
Tears streaming down my face, I watched the sunset, then crawled into my tent and curled up into a ball, crying quietly and wondering what I was going to do.
* * *
I fell asleep eventually. I woke in the morning, and Competent Sarah was still in control.
I got out my small first aid kit and applied anti-bacterial ointment to my arms. Then I went through all my supplies. I had food and cooking fuel for another two or three weeks. Water was low, but that wouldn't cost anything. I didn't have any jobs I'd completed but hadn't been paid for, and I was out of money.
"Right," I said. "Water, then find an internet connection and see if anyone needs a cover or two." I dressed with a long sleeve shirt to hide the cuts.
I packed everything up and stowed it all in the car. I started it and swore: a quarter tank of gas. I drove to the nearest town and found the local library. I got lucky. The town had a library and they had an open internet connection. I wouldn't have to go inside. I was sure I looked a total fright.
I checked my email, hoping someone would be asking for a book cover. Someone had. Six someone's, actually. I read each of the emails. Four of them I could do right there immediately, and they were for past clients who I knew would pay me immediately. Thank god!
The other two hadn't provided enough information. I emailed the first four and told them I was sorry for not getting back sooner but promising their covers within the next day. I wrote the other two, also apologizing, and asking for more information.
There were nine emails from Allison. I deleted them unread, one by one, but the last several all had the same subject. "Please at least tell me you're alive."
I carried on a silent debate with myself between completely forgiving her and making her suffer without knowing. I found myself reaching for her phone. I dialed star-sixty-seven then her number.
She answered on the second ring. "Allison Crawford."
I didn't say anything right away.
"This is Allison," she said.
I still didn't say anything.
"Sarah? Oh god, Sarah, is this you?"
"I'm alive. Leave me alone." I hung up.
I cried. I missed her. Why did she have to ruin it?
The tears ran their course. I cleaned myself up then read through the book covers I'd been asked for.
Three of them wanted something sexy and were happy to use me as the model. The fourth was a fantasy novel. I could still use my image, but would need to spend more time on it, giving it an otherworldly, fairies and elves appearance.
I spent an hour going through my supply of photos, finding just the right base images. I was going to start editing them, but my computer's laptop started complaining about power.
I closed the laptop, slipped it in its bag, then looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't too bad. I dug a brush out of the glove compartment and spent ten minutes attempting to tame my hair. Maybe it was time to cut it. But not a decision to make right then and there.
I achieved some semblance of an appearance that wouldn't completely frighten someone, the climbed out of the car, lugging my computer and camera after me. I slipped into the library and found a quiet corner with a wall outlet. No one bothered me.
It took me several hours but I managed to do all four book covers, the most time being spent on the fantasy novel. I mailed off watermarked copies to the respective authors, asking for approval.
Of the two others, one of the authors had written back, answering my questions. This would be an easy one, so I did it and mailed off a proof after only a half hour. The last hadn't responded.
There was an email from Allison. The subject said, "I'm sorry."
So was I. I deleted it.
After that I thought about the sorry state of my gas tank. I logged into my online banking and checked the balance. I was down to sixty-three dollars and twenty-two cents.
A pair of black slacks and boots appeared in front of me. I looked up and saw they were attached to a local police officer. I managed to avoid swearing.
"Miss," he said. "Are you lost?"
"No, officer," I said. "I haven't bothered anyone, but I'm going."
He crouched down in front of me. "I'm not rousting you," he said kindly. "Mrs. Simmons told me you've been here most of the day, and no one knows who you are."
"I'm sorry. If I was in the way, I'd have gone quietly if she'd just said something." I started packing everything up.
He reached out a hand and touched my arm. I flinched away and backup up against the wall.
"Oh hey!" he said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I'm going. Is there a truck stop somewhere?"
"The kind with a shower?"
I looked away. I must have needed a shower badly. I nodded.
He gave me directions. "Ma'am, you're not in any trouble as far as I'm concerned. The library is open to everyone who needs it."
We stood up together. "Thank you," I told him. "You've been very kind." I edged past him, not turning my back on him. He followed me out to my truck, making me even more nervous. But he didn't bother me as I drove off.
I found the truck stop. I filled the car with gas and paid for a shower. I had fifteen dollars left when I was done. I filled my water jugs and drove back to my camp site.
* * *
Allison tightened the last knot binding my arms to my sides. She looked at me, smiling. "All mine now, Love," she said. I was lying on my back, staring up at her, rocking back and forth in the bed, my legs spread slightly. I tried to say something, but she had gagged me.
Then her fingers slid down my side and went exploring my crotch. My legs parted further for her fingers. She wriggled, parting my lower lips, and her fingers found my clit. I was already wet for her.
I gasped and struggled with my bonds. I tried to tell her to let me go.
"You know this is what you want, Love," she said. "Struggling won't help you."
My body betrayed me. I felt my juices flowing. She slipped two fingers deep into my ready vagina and I gasped into the gag. She used the ball of her hand to rub against my clit while her fingers slid in and out of me.
It was then I realized we weren't alone. My mother was sitting in a chair, watching us and looking bored.
I started to come, screaming "Allison" into the gag.
That's when I woke up, still screaming her name.
I was wrapped tightly in my sleeping bag, and it was my own hand between my legs.
"Fucking dream," I said as the shudders subsided. I began to cry lightly for a few minutes then laughed. How literal. A dream about fucking. A fucking dream. I untangled myself from the sleeping bag, then rolled over and went back to sleep, thinking about Allison.
* * *
I drove back into town the next day. I went into the library and made a point of introducing myself to the librarian, Mrs. Simmons. She was a matronly woman who looked like she may have been around when the library was first built.
She offered me a library card and told me I was always welcome.
I checked my email. One client had renamed her book but said the artwork was otherwise perfect. The other clients were all happy. I still hadn't heard from the last one, the one I hadn't done work for yet. I made the title change and sent final copies to the five people who were satisfied.
* * *
I established new patterns. I moved around the national park every couple of days, picking out of the way spots and being sensitive to the undergrowth. And I visited the library two or three times a week.
Allison sent emails periodically. The subjects were things like "I'm sorry," and "Please call me." Or simply, "I love you."
I deleted them without reading them.
Ten days after my first library visit, the same police officer sat down at the table across from me. I looked up and my heart rate immediately jumped.
"Good morning, Sarah."
"I haven't done anything wrong."
"Yes you have," he said.
I stared around wildly, wondering if I could escape before he could catch me. He slid something across the table to me. It was a national parks sticker. "The sticker on your car is expired. I got you a new one."
I looked at him, then at the sticker, then back at him. "Why would you do that?" The passes were expensive.
"I ran your plates," he said.
"I'm not wanted for anything. I don't even have a traffic ticket."
"Sarah," he said gently. "I'm not harassing you. I'm trying to help you. Put that on your car."
I narrowed my eyes. "How did you know I needed one?"
"You're not the only one who uses the park," he said. "I saw your car out there over the weekend. I know you're camping out there."
I started to look around wildly. Scared Sarah was firmly taking control. I tried to shove her back down. My past experiences with anyone in a position of authority had never been good. Now this cop knew where I slept.
"Sarah," he said. "I'm one of the good guys. Take the sticker. It's good at all the national parks. Is there anything else you need?"
I shook my head. He slid a business card over to join the sticker. "That's my cell phone number. You can call it if you need anything." Then he stood up and backed away from my table slowly. Like you might from a scared animal.
As soon as he was gone, I packed everything up and ran to my car. I took the sticker. Later, I looked at his business card. His name was Kevin James. Officer Kevin James. I vowed to keep my distances from Officer James.
* * *
I couldn't move. My arms and legs were tied, and I couldn't move.
"Don't struggle," Allison said. "You can't escape. You don't want to escape."
"Let me go," I whimpered.
"You don't want me to let you go, Sarah," she whispered in my ear.
I woke up.
* * *
I had been in Arizona for a month. It was eight on a Tuesday evening in February. I stared at my cell phone, then punched some numbers.
The number rang three times before she answered.
"Hello?"
"Mom."
"Sarah." Her voice didn't hold any emotion.
"Hi."
Neither of us said anything for a moment before she asked me, "Where are you?"
"Arizona."
"Are you in trouble?" she asked.
"No. I'm fine."
"Do you need money? Why are you calling?" Her voice still held no emotion. No pleasure at hearing my voice. No pleasure at knowing I was alive. I hadn't talked to her in four years.
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. Why was I calling my mother? I lifted the phone to my head again.
"I guess I don't know," I said. "I guess I was wondering how you were doing and thought you might care to know I was still alive. My mistake. I'm sorry for bothering you."
I hung up before she could respond.
Stupid. Why would she care now if she hadn't cared when it mattered?
* * *
I rebuilt my fragile finances. I'd found in the past that I could post on a variety of forums devoted to self-publishing authors, and I always got a little work out of it. Over the course of February and March, I did sixteen book covers. Normally it took me six months or longer to do that many. I turned down eight more for books that were sluttier than I cared for.
Every week or two, Officer James wandered through the library and would say "hello" to me. I think Mrs. Simmons was ratting me out. During one of his visits in late February, I slid an envelope to him.
"Thank you for the park sticker," I said.
He looked into the envelope. "You didn't have to pay me back. It was a gift."
"I don't like taking charity," I told him. "I appreciate you buying it for me. Thank you."
He frowned but slipped the envelope in his pocket.
* * *
On a Thursday afternoon late in March, Officer James sat down across the table from me at the library. I looked up at him.
"Hello, Sarah," he said.
"Officer James," I replied.
"Kevin," he said.
I looked at him for a moment. "Officer James," I said. "I don't date cops."
"I wasn't asking. But I did want to remind you your car tabs expire in June. If you are staying in Arizona after that, you may want to pick up Arizona plates. Let me know if you need help with that. Normally you either have them mailed to you or do them in person, but the nearest place in person is Flagstaff. I could have them mailed to the station for you."
I thought about it. I didn't know what I was doing next week, much less in June. "That's very kind of you," I told him. "If I need your help, I'll let you know."
He nodded and got up, but I stopped him. "Officer James, I was wondering. Is there a good camping supply store nearby?"
He sat back down. "The Walmart has some equipment."
"I didn't care for what I found. Is there somewhere better?"
"Flagstaff. It's a two hour drive."
I thought about it. I wanted a new stove, but I didn't want one badly enough to pay for four hours of gasoline for the car.
"Thank you. I guess it can wait."
He stared at me for a moment. "I was thinking about running down to Flagstaff on Saturday. You could ride along."
"You just made that up," I accused.
"Not the trip. Maybe the timing. I need new hiking shoes and want to visit a furniture store."
I looked at him. "Officer James, I have trust issues. Please don't take this personally, but I'm not getting into a car with you or anyone else."
He nodded. "I understand. Look, I'll swing by the library at nine on Saturday morning. If you change your mind, be here." He paused. "What were you hoping to buy?"
I told him about the camp stove.
"If you don't want to ride with me, I could pick one up for you. Call me at noon and we can discuss over the phone the models I find."
* * *
Saturday, precisely at noon, I was sitting in the library and called his cell.
"It's Sarah," I said when he answered.
"Hello, Sarah. Your timing is perfect. I'm walking around the store in the shoes I'm going to buy and looking at camp stoves."