TAG (29 page)

“Carolina,” she says. Could I hear her if she wasn’t real? My
mind is twisting in every direction, contemplating if I’m dead, delusional, or maybe lost.

“Mom?” the word croaks from my throat.

“Hey, baby girl.” Her arms wrap around my body firmly and she pulls me into her. I breathe her in, all of her scents resonating with my memories. I don’t understand. I was there when she died. I
watched
them take her away. I was at the funeral. This isn’t right. But then why am I not questioning it? The tears start and I don’t know if they’ll ever stop. The feeling of Mom’s arms around me is more than
I ever could have asked for in the past three years. But when reality sets in, I’m immediately questioning why she left me suffering in pain, missing
her and Krissy. Is Krissy even dead? Oh God, what I would do to
prove that wrong, too.

“How are you here?” I run my sleeve under my nose, wiping
away the tears. “I watched you die, Mom.”

“Honey,” her hand drops into mine and she brings it to her
chest. “I didn’t die.“

“But I watched you die?”

A small laugh sings from her throat. “It was definitely a close
call, sweetheart.”

“How, Mom? How? I was at your funeral. How?” The hardness that has encompassed my persona for the past few years is wilting
with each second I stand in her presence.

“Your dad saved me,” she says in a soft hush.

“How?” I know I keep asking the same question, but I feel like I’m mentally breaking down. But maybe that’s exactly what this is. A breakdown. “How did he save you, Mom? Why haven’t you told me
you were alive?” I’ve felt the pain of someone dying—of losing
someone. But I haven’t felt the unfolding acceptance of realizing that when she told me not to trust anyone, she meant her, as well.

She takes my hand and leads me over to a nearby rock where she
pulls me to sit down. She drops down next to me and curls her legs up
into her chest. She seems so youthful, much younger than I ever
remember seeing her.

 “Are you really here? Or am I losing it?” I ask with much seriousness.

“Sweetheart, you know your father was part of the CIA for
many years.” She reaches out and cups her hand around my chin. Her scent floods my eyes, making the tears form again. “He was in China the year I was dying. He was in charge of protecting a drug patent—an unregulated treatment that hadn’t been released to the public yet or even used in trials. The part of the CIA he was working with was responsible for protecting this privately owned company who was responsible for developing this drug.”

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” I pull my legs in against my chest too, for comfort. I wonder if Tango’s looking for me. I’m not too far away, and he’ll catch up. I don’t know how
this will go over or if he would understand—because I sure as hell don’t. “Mom, they’re going to find us out here.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Let me finish explaining.” Her eyes look past
me, and I can tell she’s trying to collect her thoughts. “He was protecting a treatment for cancer. He took the substance, Carolina.”
Her eyes are now
set on mine. “He brought it to me. I would have died in moments if the drug hadn’t worked so quickly, which doesn’t usually happen. You know how many drugs those doctors pumped through me?
Nothing
worked. But this treatment, whatever it was, it worked. It could be huge,
But it didn’t belong do your dad. It belonged to a private company, which he stole from. They want to keep it a secret and they don’t want
anyone to have it, especially since they only have a couple of
treatments.
I guess it takes months to grow whatever plant extract was
formulated into the drug. Whatever the case is, they’re after him, honey. And if they find him, it won’t end well.”

I know I’m in shock. I know I should have something to say, but this is unreal. “So, you didn’t die?”

“I didn’t expect to wake up , but I did. The doctors didn’t have
an
explanation for my recovery. It took me a few days to be well
enough for the doctors to release me, but then they did, miraculously cancer free and tumor free.”

“Mom, that’s amazing. But, why . . .?”
Why the hell have you been
hiding from me for the past three years?

“I’m protecting your dad. He saved me, so the least I could do
was stay by his side. It meant I had to disappear, Carolina.”

“You left me alone when you must have known Krissy had been murdered? You knew, right?”

She looks down, ashamed. “Yes, I know.” She looks up at me and
places her hand down over my knee. “But I knew you were strong enough to carry on. You were always my strong one—a force to be reckoned with. If I had come back for you then, you would have
been in
even more danger than you were already in. I did what I thought
was safest for you.”

“Leaving me alone and on the run at nineteen was what was
safest for me?”

“Carolina, I struggled with this decision for years and there isn’t a day when I wake up and don’t question what the hell I’ve done.
Part of me wishes I died that day. It might have been better than
living on the run. You have no idea where we’ve had to hide. People are always after us. They’ve been onto us since your dad paid people off
at the hospital to create a death certificate for me. Obviously no one can be trusted, like I’ve told you.” None of this is understandable to
me.
I’ve been on the run and I’ve been chased. I was never safe. “How
did you know your dad was out here?”

“I don’t think that’s important right now,” I say. “A better
question
might be: how long have you two been out here?” I look at her with purpose, almost anger-like, a look I wouldn’t have given her before today.

“Only a couple of weeks. We’re always on the move.” Her face is full of shame and remorse and she’s having trouble holding her focus on my eyes. “Your dad and I aren’t running from you, but if
you are
planning to bring that man you’re with to your dad, please
remember what I always told you.”

I’m guessing she knows how I found dad if she knows about Tango. “He’s the exception to your rule, Mom,” I snap back without thinking.

She places her hand on my cheek and smoothes her thumb over my ear. “He’s a good looking guy. Is he good to you?”

“Uh—you saw him?” I ask.

“I’m pretty good at being aware of my surroundings. Your dad knows you’re here too,” she confirms with a straight-lined smile stretching across her face.

Oh God. I hope she doesn’t see everything. Embarrassment
washes
through me with the thought of Mom bearing witness to my
waterfall
sexcapades. “He is a good guy,” I say, trying to remove the
humiliating thoughts from the front of my mind.

“Where is Dad?”

“Does that boy you’re with have the coordinates your dad gave him?”

“Yes, but he said we would be within two miles of that location.”

“Once you’re there, you’ll know where he is,” she smiles.

I nod my head, knowing I have so many questions I want to ask her, but none of them seem like they’d result in a good answer.
“Won’t you help me, us?”

“I don’t trust those other men you are with. I’m sure you can understand.” I don’t understand a fucking thing. All I understand is
that
I’m living in a world full of lies and deceit, and I hate questioning who I can believe. Will anyone ever be completely honest with me? I can’t even trust my parents. What does that leave me with? “I have
to go
sweetie. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” I don’t give her a hug. I don’t
say
goodbye. I don’t wish for a longer encounter. And yet, twenty
minutes
ago, I would have paid money; I would have gotten down on my hands and knees and begged to see Mom one more time. But now, I
feel even more alone and more betrayed than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

I turn around to wipe the tears streaming from my eyes, and
when I turn back to face her, she’s gone.

 “You okay, babe?” Tango rounds the corner and I realize what I must look like right now—frazzled and pale. Did he not see her pull me away? “What are you doing over here? I’ve been looking for you. I thought you were in the tent at first, but then I heard you talking out here. You talking to yourself?” he laughs.

“I, ah. I just saw my mom.” I point to the empty space beside me. “She was—she was right here.”

“Your mom is dead, Cali.” He sits down next to me, wraps his
large hand around my cheek, and pulls my head into his lips. “You’ve been through a lot today. You need some rest.”

 “She told me the treatment my dad had stole, saved her. She is hiding with him. “Maybe she went to her funeral like you went to your funeral.”

He doesn’t say anything, which tells me he believes me. His arm stiffens around my shoulders and he holds me tightly against him. “Do you want us to turn back and leave?” he asks softly. “I’ll do that for you.” He looks worried for my response.

If I leave, Tango will die. If I leave, I won’t see Dad or Mom again. If I leave, I will continue to be on the run for as long as they survive here.

If I stay, I can possibly save Tango.

“I’ll stay.”

“Do you know which direction your mom went? We can try to look for her. It’s likely she knows where your dad is. What’s her name?”

“Alice,” I say.

TANGO

If she’s not hallucinating, it worked. This might not be all for
nothing. Her mother could be fucking alive. I could make it through this shit. So many things are firing through my mind right now, but mostly the hope of living past this week. Cali’s parents must be a little too old to be living lives of drifters. It’s hard to imagine either of them
surviving out here or wherever they’ve spent most of the past three years hiding. We need to find them. We need more answers. I need
answers.

“You really didn’t see where she went?” I ask again, hoping for an answer this time.

“I literarily blinked and she was gone, Tango. If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“We should definitely try to look.” I lift her hand from her side and pull her along. It takes minutes of looking in each direction before I begin to question again whether this woman was actually sitting here talking to Cali. Maybe it was only in her head. Maybe
her concussion is causing some kind of mirage. I know that can happen. There isn’t a trace of this woman or anyone besides us in any direction. The dirt is particularly dry here and I have to believe I’d see at least a hint of a footprint somewhere along one of these paths, but I don’t.

“Did she say anything else?” I ask carefully, trying my hardest not to push her or make it sound like I’m desperate for information.

“Not really. I told you almost everything that happened in that short three-minute span. Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe I’m just seeing things. I think we should go back to the campsite. Sorry for
worrying you,” she says.

CALI

Kacen is sitting where I left him up against the tree. One leg is pulled into his chest, the other flat out in front of him. He’s peeling a blade of grass apart with an evident scowl, hopefully from the swelling pain in his balls.

Seaver is seated on a log next to the fire and feeding branches and twigs slowly into the burning mouth, watching as the flames devour each fragment. I take a seat on one of the logs opposite Seaver. No one is speaking, which only accents the slight howl of the wind, blending with the cry of a coyote and the soothing crackling
snaps of the fire. We
haven’t come across any wildlife here, but the clarity of the howls
I’m
now hearing remind me we are not alone. None of the guys seem
concerned though, so I block out the unsettling noises.

Tango drops a packaged meal down on my lap and instructs me
to eat the entire portion. I haven’t complained about the food, but I haven’t been finishing it either. Flavorless food really takes an acquired taste. Although with as much activity as we’ve had today,
my stomach isn’t arguing with him on this matter.

“Tomorrow is the capture,” Seaver states. Tango’s eye glints at me subtly, making me aware that Seaver doesn’t know the real reason we’re after Dad. It’s clear he thinks it’s for a different reason than curing Tango. Part of me is wondering if we should try to lose these two before we get close to Dad tomorrow. I don’t know either of them
well enough
to trust them, and even if I did know them both better, I still
wouldn’t trust them. I still have a few doubts that Tango is who he says he is.

Tango clears his throat and responds with a short, “Yeah.” He
takes
a bite of what looks to be some kind of beef stew and chews it for a moment before saying anything more. “He’s supposedly about ten
clicks from this location. We should be able to reach him within a couple hours tomorrow.”

The end is in sight, and yet I have no idea what that will actually mean. We’ve come all this way in hopes of convincing Dad to forfeit
this treatment and give it to Tango with a little hope of it working. He may not be so willing to share it. Although, I think with
everything he’s put me through, he owes me at least this favor.