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Bailey got up and started helping people pack, not wanting to waste any time. She knew that every second counted, that they had to get as many people out as possible before James and his men arrived. She tried to ignore the fear that was gnawing at the pit of her stomach, the fear that they might not make it out in time. She had to stay focused, had to keep moving.
As they finally loaded the buses, Bailey could see the relief on people's faces, the sense of safety that came with knowing they were getting out. She could see the determination in King's eyes, the way he was organizing everything, making sure everyone had a seat, making sure no one was left behind. It was hard to stay mad at him. It was more her embarrassment that kept her from smiling in his direction when they locked eyes. It felt terrible to know everyone was in on something she was left in the dark about. Even if their motives were good, she still felt foolish.
“The buses are loaded,” King reported, tossing the last of the bugs into the cargo area under the bus. “Last call.”
There were ten people standing by the busses. Some were waving their goodbyes. A couple looked as if they were considering leaving too. They were trying to decide if they’d made the right choice.
“You’re not giving up if you decide to leave.” Bailey encouraged them. “There really isn’t much we can do to fend off James and the others. I don’t want you to think we have some kind of master plan. I want to be transparent.”
Arnoldo chuckled. “Way to rally the troops.”
“It’s more like I’m sanctioning a retreat.” Bailey took a step back and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I’ve got one last thing to try. Arnoldo, I know you don’t feel like you have many favors to call in, but do you know anyone at the prison who could help me out. It won’t solve all our problems, but it’s something.”
“I’ve got someone there,” Arnoldo said, snapping his fingers.
“Can I borrow your phone?” Bailey asked, turning to King, as close to him as she’d been all morning.
King fished it out of his pocket anxiously, looking happy to be able to do anything that might make Bailey happy.
“What else can I do?” King asked.
“You can hope this works.”
She stepped away from the busses, looking over her shoulder as they began to pull away. It made this last ditch effort seem even more important. She had to see her mother. This was all she had left.
Her mother was shifting uncomfortably as Mrs. Tully helped her sit up at bit. “How is she?” Bailey asked, already knowing the answer. It wasn’t going to be good news.
“The pain seems worse,” Mrs. Tully reported somberly. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Bailey had the cell phone in her hand and the plan in her head. “Mama, I need you to listen to me for a few minutes.”
“We’ve said it all,” she mumbled.
“There is one person you haven’t heard from. I’m calling him.”
“He can’t have calls,” her mother said, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t call him.”
The line was ringing before she could ask any more questions. The glazed look in her mother’s eyes was replaced by a laser focus.
“Don’t say anything,” Bailey said firmly. She had no idea if her mother would comply but it would be crucial if this was going to happen.
“Hello? I’ve almost forgotten how to use the phone.” Her father’s voice as mostly unchanged. Still a mix of smooth and commanding.
She’d struggled to think of how to address him. It seemed impossible to call him Dad now. “I had to call in favors to arrange this call. You’re not supposed to have contact with the outside world. Yet you must have bribed someone there to get your letters out.”
“I don’t know anything about letters.” He cleared his throat.
“Sure,” Bailey sighed. “No one can deny reality like you.”
“You pulled strings just so you could call and insult me?” There was a bite to his voice that always came before his lashing out. But this time he couldn’t reach her. He couldn’t affect her at all.
“The truth shouldn’t be insulting if you’re living your life right. But this call has a purpose. I wanted to tell you that Mama died. You got what you wanted. She succumbed to the infection that could have been cured with medicine at the hospital.” Bailey raised her hand to silence her mother and shockingly she stays quiet. Maybe she’s curious what Dale will say once she really is dead. She wants a preview of a future she won’t be alive to see.
“If it is the will of the world, then it must happen.” His voice is unemotional and stoic. “She is a martyr.”
“She was a victim,” Bailey corrected. Her father was aware that she had been the one to put him in prison. What he hadn’t ever heard was her openly and deliberately defy him. To call him out and demean him. “What kind of man lets his wife die just so he can get what he wants. Is there anything weaker than a man who sacrifices his wife for his own gain? Pathetic.”
The silence was a good sign. It wasn’t often her father was rendered speechless. That usually meant he was trying to gather a good argument, which meant he saw her as a fair opponent.
