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The stranger, the killer, is still smiling as he turns toward me, his hand reaching for the door. Everything rushes back to me in an instant and I don't hesitate another second. Still reeling from the shock of what I just witnessed, I run to the small back door and let myself out into the night.
I run through the darkness, my sneakers quiet on the soft leaves that litter the footpath I use to get to school. It feels like I’ve been running forever, but I know it's only a ten-minute walk. We don't live that far out of town. Before going out onto the open sidewalk, I stop and listen carefully for any sound of pursuit. I don't hear any, so I’m pretty sure I can slow down now and attempt to look casual as I approach the Greyhound station.
The lady at the ticket counter doesn't even look at me twice as I ask for a ticket to Spokane, Washington. It's the closest city to Travis’ cabin, which is my destination. Exactly like we have planned, just a little early. I can stay there until I figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
Oh God, I wish he was here. He would know what to do. Mom and Brad weren’t much, but at least I wasn’t alone.
Boarding the bus, I take a seat in the back and burrow deeper into my too-big jacket. I pull the stocking cap in my pocket onto my head, covering my bright red hair.
I just need to lay low until the bus leaves, then I should be safe. I hope.
The bus departs just fifteen minutes later, heading west. It’s a freaking miracle as far as I’m concerned. There wouldn’t have been another one until tomorrow if I had missed this one. I have never been further from upstate New York than the time my mom and dad took me to visit the Amish Country in Pennsylvania when I was eight.
Dad died in a car accident just a few months after that.
I know this is another one of those moments. A moment there is no coming back from. Dad is gone. Now mom is too, and Travis is somewhere in Afghanistan and he has no idea that I’m in trouble. I will send him a letter the first time the bus stops, but it will still be days, maybe weeks, before he gets it. And it’s not like he can just come home because I want him to. I know that isn’t how war works, even though I really wish it did.
I’m scared.
Keeping my head down, I clutch my backpack to my chest as the bus pulls away from the station. I don't want anyone to see my tears. I don't want anyone to ask any questions.
A little over four days, one hurried letter to Travis at a stop in Ohio, and more tears than I could ever count, and I step off the bus in Spokane. The cabin is near the town of Clark Falls in Idaho, so I only need to backtrack about twenty miles. I just have to figure out how to get there. Twenty miles on foot is a lot, and I’m going to need supplies.
I picked up a discarded New York Times at a bus stop the day before, so I am aware that I've been declared missing. They are calling the execution I witnessed a home invasion gone wrong. The police aren't sure if I am a victim or a suspect.
I'm pretty freaked out.
If the police are looking for me then I have to think whoever killed mom and Brad must be looking for me too. I have watched enough movies to know that much. So now I have to hide from the police and the bad guys.
I'm in so much trouble. Once again, I wish Travis could be with me, but the reality is that I’m going to have to figure this out on my own.
2 years later
Travis
I'm finally out.
I never thought I would regret signing on for another four years with the Corps. I had planned to make it my career, but then I got that letter from Faye two years ago, covered in tear marks and smeared ink, telling me what had happened and that she was on a bus headed to Idaho and my grandpa's cabin. I knew then that I had to leave. But at the time I was in Afghanistan in the middle of some pretty serious shit, and there was no requesting time off to run to the rescue of my dead uncle's step-daughter.
I called and spoke to the detective on the case, but Faye was still missing and the police had no leads. They told me she was either part of the plan to kill her parents or a victim of foul play herself, but I knew better. If she ran to Idaho alone it was because she was afraid, so I waited for another letter.
And waited.
No letter ever came.
Now I’m in Idaho, finally heading back to the cabin.
I make a stop at a sporting goods store to get some gear. I have no idea what I'm going to find there. It doesn't have running water or electricity. It's just an off-grid hunting cabin. Faye wasn't there the last time I checked, and I doubt she would have made it this far by herself. She's just a kid.
But I have to check. Have to be sure. Just in case.
The cabin is just how I remember it—in the middle of freaking nowhere. The road is completely overgrown with blackberry brambles. I drive in as far as I can before I leave my pickup and walk in the last half mile.
It has been abandoned for a long time. There is nothing on the outside that would indicate anyone has been here in years.
My heart is thumping like crazy and I feel nauseated as I climb the rickety steps and push open the door.
It’s a feeling I grew familiar with in the desert. It’s anticipation. Nerves.
