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“I want you to take this, walk down that path to the fence, walk east along the fence for eight minutes. When you see a red ribbon tied, stop. You’ll be able to push the fence apart and squeeze through,” she says without looking at me. Her hands are busy pulling clothes from the floor onto my bed.
“What about you?” I ask her—my voice a whisper even quieter than hers.
She looks over at me. Her eyes are intense.
“You have to listen,” she hisses at me.
I nod, not daring to even open my mouth to respond.
She turns back to her task.
“You’re going to walk until you reach the road, and when you get there, turn east again and walk three miles to the gas station. I don’t want you to turn around until you get to the road.”
“But—”
“I will be right behind you,” she says firmly. “When we get there, we’re going to call the police, tell them where we are and help them get here to stop him. Do you understand?” she asks and I grab her hands and squeeze them until she looks at me.
She looks alert and excited. For the first time since Ellie died, she doesn’t look like she’s on the verge of tears.
“Okay,” I say, even though I have so many questions.
“I will be right behind you. I promise,” she says and squeezes my hand.
“My baby, you’re a man now. I wish …” Her voice breaks and her face crumbles. The line of her lips are pressed together so tightly, the skin around her mouth is white.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me. It’s the first time I’ve hugged her in nearly three years. I’m taller than her now. I miss being able to nestle my head into her shoulder.
Now, her head nestles into mine.
She pulls away and tugs her hands out of my grasp.
“Put on those clothes as quick as you can and let’s go. I have no idea how long he’ll stay asleep.”
I pull the T-shirt and jeans on over my underwear and slip on the shoes. They’re all new. I haven’t had a pair of shoes on my feet in a year.
My toes protest at being contained, but the soles of my feet rejoice at having something between them and the cold, hard floor.
“There’s money, more clothes and a few other things in here.” She walks around to stand behind me and puts the backpack on my shoulders.
She rests her cheek between my shoulder blades and slips her arms around my waist.
My hands slip down to cover hers.
I can’t believe we’re leaving.
“I wish I could have sent you into the world with more than this. But you’re a beautiful, smart boy and I know you’ll be okay because of that, my love. I’ll do whatever I have to so you can have the life you deserve.” She speaks softly, but the words resonate through my entire body.
“We can talk once we get where we’re going. Come on.” She slips outside my bedroom door and into the pitch-black house. I follow her, and when we step out into the moonlit night, she hugs me tightly for just a second and then whispers, “Follow my directions. It’s dark in those woods. And be quiet.”
I step into the woods and start walking. I don’t turn around. I don’t stop. Even when I’m afraid she’s not behind me. I do exactly as she says and pray that when we get to the road, she’ll be there.
She is.
We make the three-mile walk to the gas station in complete silence. I can feel her nerves as keenly as I feel my own. Every step brings up closer to being free, but we’re both afraid to believe it’s true. I keep listening for the sound of an engine behind us.
Mama calls 911, and in a voice that is calm and collected, she tells them about Cain’s Weeping and then tells them where we are.
In a matter of minutes, police cruisers are pulling up.
