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“I’ve only been to Scarecrow’s place once. It’s far up in the hills. There was once another mining town that barely stands that he calls home. He lives in an old church that he’s made his home. It’s one of the few buildings that are left standing. The other structures have really been abused by the elements and aren’t inhabitable. Not that Scarecrow would want to have neighbors. He likes to live out there by himself. Although he is on the hunt for a wife.”
“Jesus, how many mining towns are there?”
I chuckle. “A lot actually. They are splattered through the Nevada hills and desert and go into California. Some are preserved by the states and some aren’t.”
“How long is he usually gone when he goes and visits Scarecrow? Are we talking hours? Days?” Christopher pushes.
“He’ll be gone all day for sure. Papa Rich rarely spends the night there. If weather comes in, maybe…”
Christopher spins me around so I have to look at him. “Ember, did you mean it when you said you want to leave?”
My heart skips and nausea rolls through my stomach. I nod slowly. “Yes, but… I can’t bear another consequence if we do something foolish and get caught.”
“We have to try to get out of here. This may be our only chance,” he says as he glances out the window again. “Can you show me his room?”
That request seems simple and harmless enough. What Papa Rich doesn’t know…
I lead us down the narrow hallway and stop before his door. There is a split second I consider turning us around. I’m so programmed to obey and do nothing against my father, and yet, with Christopher by my side, I feel I can break the rule of never entering his room.
I turn the door handle with shaky hands and the door opens. It’s the first time I’ve seen his room in all my life. This is his special place. His sanctuary. I’m invading his space, and I begin to panic.
“What if he knows? He always knows,” I say with a weak voice as my knees begin to tremble. I yank on Christopher’s arm. “There’s nothing in here we need. Let’s go.”
“I only need a couple of minutes to look around.”
I see his single bed which is nicely made. The rest of the furnishings are basic. There is a dresser, a nightstand and a chair. No paintings, no decorations, nothing that makes the room special. But Papa Rich never believed in materialistic things.
Riches are the root to evil.
“We’re going to be gone before he returns,” Christopher announces as he leads the charge into the room. “He won’t ever know we were in here.”
Christopher goes straight to the closet door and opens it. The first thing we see is Papa’s ranger uniforms hanging nicely in a row. No other clothes are hanging with them. Christopher smiles when he looks to the ground and sees a pair of hiking boots, and my goloshes that I got to wear when Papa and I went snowshoeing together before… well… before he stole Christopher. He picks them up, hands me my shoes, and leads us back to the chair and sits down and starts putting the hiking boots on.
“They’re tight, but better than nothing.” Christopher’s smile grows. “He fucked up. He really didn’t think before he left. Did he really think we’d do nothing?”
I can now see what Christopher is thinking. He plans to have us try to hike out of here again, but at least this time we won’t be barefoot.
“It’s far,” I say. “Even with shoes, we may not get out of here and into town before he returns and hunts us down with the ranger truck.” I’m not just telling this to Christopher out of fear, but out of reason. Christopher has underestimated my father before, and I refuse to let that happen again.
Christopher moves on as if I didn’t say a single word. He helps me put on my boots and then turns his attention to the dresser. He begins pulling out clothing in search for something warm. Satisfied when he finds some sweaters, he quickly pulls one over his head and then dresses me in one as well which dwarfs my body in wool.
“Do you think he has coats anywhere?”
“There’s a hall closet with his ranger coats. I’m sure he has his thick one on now for his hike.” I know he has a rain coat and a lighter jacket as well.
Christopher reaches for the quilt on the bed and pulls it off. He bundles it in his arms and leads us out of the room.
“Even if we are warm enough,” I begin. “It’s about how much time we have. It will take us hours to get down the hill. We will be racing against the time it takes for him to return and him jumping in the truck. You know he’ll come after us.”
