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“Jacket. I need a jacket.” I have one that’s been sitting in a bag under the bed, unused since I got here. It’s too hot for winter clothes. Most days, I don’t even wear a shirt. Fine. Or underwear. What’s the point? I live in my swim trunks since I have to jump in the lake to cool off. No AC here, and it’s fucking hot.
I rush to the bathroom and grab my razor, toothbrush, and deodorant.Done. Ready.
Panting and sweaty, I finish zipping up my bag and look at my watch. I have a few minutes to spare. Then I look down at my bare chest.Dammit. I need a shirt. Probably makes sense to put on pants, too. I’ll skip the underwear.
Why start now?
I unzip my bag, dig out my favorite red tee and slide on a pair of jeans. I push my feet into my black Converse and let out a sigh.
There. Better.
“I should eat something.” No, wait. I’m full. And maybe aliiittledrunk. I metabolize alcohol quickly, so I should be fine by the time they get here.Hold on. How will I know this is a legit extraction?
Swaying from the beer, I grab my phone.
Me:What’s the code word?
Kyle:Ultra Mega Chicken
“Funny, asshole.” Ultra Mega Chicken is a character from an animated series I used to watch. Kyle always teased me about my TV shows.
Me:Wrong
Kyle:Mama likes mambo.
Correct. For the record, I don’t know if Mom ever listened to mambo, but I picked the phrase because it’s easy to remember. The counter code, the one I’m supposed to reply with, is even dumber, so I reply with a thumbs-up emoji instead. Kyle already knows it’s me.
I immediately want to ask what the situation is—how I was found out, who’s after me, and where I’m going—but I know better than to ask over text. Not safe. Kyle and I communicate using an encryption program that self-deletes in an hour, but Kyle warned it can be compromised. When we speak on the phone via a secure app, we’re always careful never to discuss my location.
I zip up my bag once again and drop it over by the front door. I go out back, turn off the water main, shut off the propane tank, and lock up. There are bars on all the windows and doors, so the place should be fine while I’m away, though I’m not sure I’m ever coming back.
I wait with my ear to the front door until I hear the unmistakable chopping sound of a helicopter off in the distance. Probably five miles out.My mom-hearing is the best.
I step outside, lock the door behind me, and head to an empty lot off the main road. It’s our agreed-upon rendezvous location.
Minutes later, I spot the bird and stand back under a large mango tree as the blades whip the air around me, kicking up leaves and dirt. And a mango.Ouch!I rub the top of my head as my heart goes into overdrive, pounding louder than the helicopter’s engine.Thump! Thump! Thump!
Stay calm,I tell myself.Remember your breathing. I can’t get riled up. It’s key to not becoming a raging murderer. Morris’s drug might’ve left my body, but it changed me forever.
The black helicopter sets down in the tall grass, and two men in camo, holding automatic rifles, hop out, pointing their weapons at the surrounding area. A third man, the size of a tank with muscles almost as big as mine, jumps out and runs toward me.
I swallow hard. This looks serious, like there’s a threat nearby.
Muscle Man wastes no time and sprints across the field in my direction, waving for me to start coming toward him.
“Mama likes mambo!” he yells, so I know he’s been sent by Kyle.
Now I’m really about to feel stupid for choosing these security phrases. “Daddy loves disco!” I yell back with as much manliness as I can muster. Still comes out sad.
To my surprise, Muscle Man doesn’t laugh in my face. Instead, he unclips a radio from his belt. “Chicken is in the basket,” he says loudly. “I repeat, chicken is in the basket.”
I’m the chicken?Kyle’s such an asshole.I know he chose my code name.
“Sir, let’s get you out of here!” Muscle Man says, speaking directly to me.
I follow him to the back of the copter and get in. I’ve never flown in one of these before, but there are bulky black harnesses on every seat and tons of knobs and buttons all over the dashboard. Looks high tech. Aside from the pilot, there’s another armed man seated up front with a rifle crossed over his chest.
Kyle sent five soldiers?Seems excessive considering I can take care of myself.
