The Journey Back (14 page)

Gently, I pushed a loose strand of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. When she looked up, I saw tears in her eyes.

“Come with us!” she blurted. “Mom said you could. She said if you got a job and helped out with food you could come.”

We glanced at Luke but he was into his TV show. Nora whispered, “If it doesn't work out with Mom, then you and I could run away together. We could go live with my grandmother! She once said if I got desperate she'd send me bus money.”

“What?”

“We could just take off. Sometimes, that's what I want to do. Just take off.”

When she started crying I pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, wrapped my arms around her, and held her tight. Luke was faced the other way, but I hoped he didn't turn around and see.

“But why would your mother want me along?” I said softly in her ear. “And what if the cops realize I'm not dead? They'll come after all of us and you'll get in trouble, too. Really, Nora, did you think about that? Like what if they don't find a body? What did you tell me about people who drown? Their bodies always float?”

Nora pulled back and wiped the tears off her cheek. “It depends on the water temperature,” she said softly, stopping to sniff. “If that river water is really cold—like you said it was—it could take a long time.

“See, Dig, what happens is that the body sinks to the bottom, right?” She had stopped whispering to explain. She couldn't help herself. She loved showing off all the stuff she knew. “It stays there until it starts to decay, then the gases from the decomposition make the body float again. But if the water is cold, if it's fresh water, then it could take longer because—”

“Okay, okay!” I put a hand up 'cause sometimes I had to stop her.

“The point is that while most bodies float in about three days, it could actually take weeks. And it's possible a body might get stuck in the rocks or something and would never surface.”

“So I could stay dead for a long time?”

She nodded, then cracked a smile. “Your body might never come up!”

Perfect. I just wished that while I was dead, all the other things didn't have to change so fast. Sitting there, holding Nora's hands, I felt like for the first time in my whole entire life I didn't want things to change.

Why? Why do you suppose I felt this way? Was it because for the first time in my life I was a little bit happy? Again, I thought of how Woody had once said you're either running
from
something, or
to
something. Maybe this is what I was running
to
.

Nora opened her arms and I pulled her close again. “Okay,” I murmured into her ear. She hugged me back tight.

“Okay,” I repeated, “I'll go with you.”

W
hy not? Why not take off and go to Las Vegas with Nora? Just start over. A new life. A clean slate with somebody I loved and actually
trusted.

I wasn't giving up on my mission. I'd just go out to Las Vegas for a few months and then make my way back. By then I'd have a better idea of what I could actually do to protect my mom and the kids.

After Nora left that night, I felt good about the decision to go with her. We'd be driving out to Nevada in her mom's car so I'd get to see the country for the first time in my life. And the great thing is that I had a nice chunk of cash to get me started. When I crawled into my pup tent that night, I started to slide my hand inside the pillowcase to count my money again only to discover that on top of the pillow was a flat sock alongside my Cliffside white card. Unfolded and spread out beneath both was the article about me being dead.

It felt like all the blood just drained out of my body I was so shocked. I knew right off who took my money: Woody. He must have come home earlier that afternoon and stole it so he could gamble. Leaving the article unfolded was his way of telling me he knew the truth about my escape.

A few seconds later, my blood was back and boiling up I was so angry. I smashed my fist into the pillow. What a lowlife scumbag, I thought. And there I was feeling
sorry
for him! Even
trusting
him! So what did that say about me? That I was a sucker? I shoved the white card and the article back in my pocket, then I balled up the sock and tossed it as hard as I could into a corner of the tent. When I saw Woody again, I'd send him flying with my fist. I'd punch him out good!

Another thing I was going to do, I was going to write a letter to Luke's teacher and tell her to have police check out the name Glen David Hardesty. I pictured Woody's foxy eyes and remembered this fact about foxes: they didn't
chew
their food, they
shredded
it with their sharp teeth and swallowed it.

I shook my head. If there was one huge lesson for me it was this:
you have to trust your own instincts first.
I should have stuck with my gut feeling about Woody 'cause I was sure now that besides his gambling problem he was in some kind of trouble. He was probably one of those parents who stole his own kid. I'd tell Nora about him and we'd go online to check out those missing children sites.

I sat, cross-legged in the opening of my tent, making a fist and slamming it into the palm of my other hand. Over and over I did this as I stared out into the rain, waiting to see the headlights of his truck.

The slightest trace of dawn was seeping in under the clouds when I finally heard his pickup rumble into the campsite. The rain had stopped, but it was damp and cold. I pushed myself up from where I'd sort of keeled over asleep and saw that Buddy was curled up beside me. Then I rubbed my arms to get warm while I kept my eyes glued to that pickup.

What a coward. What a
sneak,
I thought, watching Woody close the door to his cab softly before tiptoeing toward his tent.

“Stop right there!” I ordered, rushing to head him off.

Woody raised his hands like I'd drawn a gun on him. “Hey, I know what you're gonna say and you don't need to say it.”

“Yeah? What is it you think I'm gonna say?”

“That I stole your money,” Woody offered right away.

For a second, I was speechless. I never thought he'd admit to it.

“I
did
take it. I don't deny it,” Woody went on quickly. “I took it so I could double what you had. Honest I did. We're all leaving soon—I wanted to make it easier for you.”

What? Was this possible? . . . Nah, I doubted it.

“So how much did you make for me?” I asked. “I had seven hundred and thirty-five dollars in that sock.”

He brought his arms down. “Well, that's the thing.”

“What's the
thing?
” I demanded.

Woody motioned to the picnic table. “Look, can we sit? Let me explain.”

Undecided, but skeptical, I stood, clenching my hands while Woody sat at the table.

“Look,” he said, “I got nine hundred dollars tied up in a private poker game back there in Charles Town. All of us in the game, we took a break to get some rest. We're goin' back this afternoon to finish. I'll get your money back and I'll double it, I promise.”

“You're a liar!” I accused him. “People don't stop poker games halfway to catch a nap. You frickin' stole my money and lost it, didn't you?”

“I told you, I've got it tied up in a game!”

I took another step forward and pulled my right arm back but as I did, Woody jumped up from the table and hammered me first. A fast, right-handed jab into my jaw sent me spinning to the ground. In no time flat, Woody was on my back, yanking my arms behind me so hard it made me wince.

“Don't do you no good to come after me!” he growled into my ear. “I can take you down nothin' flat, see? Make one wrong move and you're mincemeat.”

His breath was hot and smelled like alcohol.

“Ain't nothin' you can do about that money,” Woody said. “I told you. I'm goin' back this afternoon to get that money back. What choice do you have anyway? Huh? You
don't
. Because if you say a word to anybody, I'll have the cops in here so fast,
Michael Griswald
, you won't know what hit you.”

I didn't say a thing. It felt like he broke my jaw, and I could barely breathe he was so heavy on my back. My lip was bleeding, too. I could taste the blood.

When he finally let go and stood up, he stunned the heck out of me by actually reaching a hand down to help me up. “I'm warning you,” he said, “don't make a single move against me or you won't see a nickel of that money.” His voice softened up. “Sorry this happened. You know I can't help myself. I told you. I'm gonna get your money back.”

I swallowed hard and held my sore jaw.

Woody disappeared into his tent, leaving me to feel like a stupid, no-good sucker. I had no idea he was so strong—or so fast! I thought about sneaking into the tent while he was asleep and smashing a log over his head. But then I thought: what if Woody gambled again and won big? Would he bring some money back? I didn't care if he doubled it, I just wanted my $735 back—or part of it. I'd be happy with half. Heck, I'd settle for a hundred bucks!

That day was one of the worst I'd had in a while. While Woody slept, I got some ice out of the cooler and pressed it to my jaw. I was tired from not sleeping much and depressed as all get-out about my money.

When Luke got up, I helped him get breakfast. When he asked what happened to my face, I told him I fell. I tried again to sleep, but couldn't. When Woody stomped off early afternoon—without saying a word to anybody—I knew where he was going and could only hope his luck was better.

I would have told Nora, but it was Saturday and neither of us was working at the horse farm that day. She'd gone into town to use the café's computer to finish an English paper, and I was taking the day off in exchange for working the next day with her.

If I didn't get my money back, no way could I go with Nora and her mom to Las Vegas. I didn't want to depend on them for everything.

I have no memory of what else happened that afternoon, maybe on account of I was so tired and miserable. But after Luke and I had dinner—some tomato soup with cheese and crackers—we were sitting at the picnic table playing cards, kind of waiting for Woody to show up again. I do remember smelling smoke and looked to see if I put out the fire we'd made. Then a car come barreling down the camp road splashing through the puddles. Nora's mom screeched her car to a halt and Nora screamed out the window, “The horse barn's on fire!”

“Stay here with Buddy!” I ordered Luke. “Don't go anywhere!”

Running full speed, I threw myself into the backseat of Nora's mom's car. That woman sped over to the farm like a race car driver. If she ever got tired of training horses, I thought, she could get a job with NASCAR.

She turned the corner at the farm driveway and right off we got stopped by a big fire truck, a pumper, dropping hoses along the driveway and feeding them from the old cow pond on up to the barn. Nora and I jumped out of the car.

“You kids stay back!” a firefighter hollered at us.

We did like he said. We backed away, then we ducked behind the truck and sprinted up the lane toward the barn. We couldn't run fast enough 'cause we knew there were at least eight horses in the barn.

The fire was raging with orange flames and white smoke pouring into the night sky. It was daytime bright and so hot that from twenty feet back you could hardly stand it. We had to hold our arms up to shield the heat from our faces.

“Get that second pumper up here!” Firefighters had to yell to one another in order to be heard above all the popping and crackling that fire made.

Frantic, high-pitched neighing sounds—like screams—came from the horses trapped inside the barn. You couldn't help but feel their terror. When we spotted Mrs. Crawford, an apron on, her hands on her face, we ran over to her.

“I don't know what happened!” she cried. “I was putting one of the grandkids to bed when I looked out the window and saw the flames!”

I had an idea of what happened though. “Did Miguel work today?”

She looked at me. “What?”

I yelled louder. “Did Miguel work today?”

“Yes!”

I knew it. Miguel's smoking started the fire.

“Why?” Mrs. Crawford grabbed my wrist. “What about Miguel?”

But just then, a firefighter came from the barn with the two little donkeys, Winston and Earl, trotting fast on either side of him. Mrs. Crawford rushed to grab the donkeys' halters and lead them to a side pasture. Another firefighter came through the smoke with this horse named Princess, and I ran to take her halter.

When I got back to Nora's side, another pumper was rumbling into place near the barn. It was followed by a second big tanker. Several firefighters pulled the end of a hose and rushed toward the barn. When a stream of water gushed out they directed it upwards, toward the hayloft.

“Do you have an adequate water supply from the pond?” the fire chief shouted into his radio. He stood in the whirring red light of his truck. “Is this thing going to jump to the house?”

“Why aren't they going in for more horses?” Nora hollered at me.

“I don't know!” I hollered back.

Just then an explosion blew off part of the barn roof and a fresh burst of flames jumped into the sky. Everyone scurried back as cinders flew like fireworks, some landing just a feet away from us. Seconds later, Dakota and three other horses tore out of the barn, wide-eyed and scared, their tails held high, their hooves pounding the ground. I sprang forward, arms outstretched to stop them from running down the driveway. At the same time, Nora's mom rushed up from the other direction and used her arms to herd the horses toward that side pasture.

Then Nora started to lose it. “Fuego's in there!” she cried.

“I know!” I was counting in my head: five horses out, the two donkeys. She was right; Fuego was still in the back with two others.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” I muttered out loud.

“Flames on the roof!” the fire chief shouted into his radio. “Flames on the roof! Everybody out!
Now!
”

“No!” Nora screamed. “No! Fuego's still in there!”

The firefighters with the hose rushed back out of the barn just as an entire wall collapsed. Turning around, the crew took aim again and shot water toward the hayloft from outside the barn. Another firefighter limped out of the smoky barn coughing, and two rescue workers rushed forward to help him.

I approached the fire chief. “What about the rest of the horses?” I yelled. “There's at least three of them still inside! They're in the back!”

“No one's going in there now!” he shouted. “No building integrity! The roof's going to cave in any second!”

“Nooooo!” Nora cried from behind me. Her hands were two fists at her mouth. Tears pooled in her eyes.

My heart pounded in my chest. I had a soft spot for that ole stallion myself. I didn't want him to die a miserable death. Quickly, I walked Nora back a ways where she could hear without me yelling. “Stay here, okay?”

“Why? What are you doing?”

“Just stay here!” I repeated firmly. I put an arm up to protect my face and ran toward the barn, but in no time, the heat was so intense it stopped me like a wall. I felt someone grab me by the arm and yank me backward.

I got dropped on the ground and a firefighter pointed his gloved finger at me. “Where do you think you're going?” he hollered at me. “You stay out of there!”

“Okay!” I told him, holding up a hand. “Okay.”

But as soon as he turned, I got up, brushed myself off, and sauntered away—and around, into the shadows. I checked to be sure Nora wasn't following me, then I dashed behind the barn. The doors were locked from the inside, but I knew the tack room had a window. I picked up a brick and threw it at the window, shattering it. Then I grabbed an old bench, pulled it over, and used it to stand on so I could kick out the rest of the glass and get inside.

It was dark and smoke was beginning to roll in. Rushing over to the sink in the tack room, I turned on the water. Then I yanked off my sweatshirt and my long-sleeved T-shirt, which I soaked under the faucet. I put the sweatshirt back on and, holding the wet shirt over my face, felt my way past the shelves I'd made into the central hallway.

My heart beat double time high in my chest. Already I had trouble breathing. The swirling smoke was rapidly filling the barn. But what happens is that smoke and fire gases rise until they get stopped by a ceiling or a roof. They kind of hover there and go horizontal before they fall back down. We'd just learned this—in this very barn! If you got low you could still find air. So I squatted and, walking like a duck, made my way down the hallway, one hand against the wall, the other pressing the wet T-shirt to my face. I heard Fuego shriek and kick the wall. The other horses were frantic, too. They made a desperate noise I'll never forget and the floor shook from their crazed, heavy hooves.