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I nod, holding him tighter. This man might be a convict, a murderer, and psychotic, but for the first time in a long time, I feel genuinely understood and genuinely cared for. It’s not a sufficient balm for the wounds of the past, but it’s a start and a step toward healing.
19
ASH
Iwake to the murmur of low voices coming from the living room of the cabin and an empty bed. My gut churns with protectiveness. I push the sheet aside and stand, getting dressed. Then I head out of the bedroom.
Lila is chatting to my dad. I don’t like seeing anyone close to her, even if it’s my father, my presence immediately halting their conversation. “Morning,” I grumble, looking from Lila to my dad.
“Your dad was explaining how beautiful it is where he’s built his home,” Lila says, her eyes flicking between us.
“Yeah, but you guys better have something to eat.” He nods at a pan of cooked bacon and pancakes plated on the side.” My dad clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. “As we’ve got a very long journey ahead of us.”
He isn’t kidding. Alaska is at least a thirty-five-hour drive, and I don’t believe his place is just over the border. “Yeah, how’s that going to work exactly?”
His jaw clenches. “We’ll take my truck and yours. They both should have good fuel tanks that’ll get us from gas station to gas station when we get more rural. We’ll keep a few cans of gas in the back.”
Good. I’m glad we won’t be riding in the same vehicle as him.
“We’ll have to take quite a few pit stops. I assume you’ve done the journey before and know the best places?” I confirm.
Dad nods. “Yeah, I’ve got a map with all the stops. It will be a tough five or six days in total.”
“Just know, I’m not forgiving you for abandoning me. I’m accepting because it’s safer for me and Lila.” I glare at him, the anger over my abandonment consuming me as I stare into his eyes. Eyes that look exactly the fucking same as mine. I can’t believe how much I look like him.
He nods. “I understand.”
We eat breakfast and then pack, stuffing the trucks with supplies needed for the journey ahead. I see my dad lift up various items: canned food, blankets, flashlights, all essentials for survival in the wilderness. Lila busily stows away our personal belongings.
“Got everything?” Dad asks, his eyes scrutinizing the packed trucks.
“Yeah,” I reply, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag.
“Good. Let’s hit the road then,” Dad declares, a determined glint in his eyes.
As we’re about to climb into the trucks, a man steps out from the trees. I recognize him immediately. An ex-inmate who’d shared the same cell as me for a few years. Freddy. He’d been a friend inside and I’d mentioned this place to him, but the problem with convicts is they act on impulse and greed. Friendship means nothing if money is involved. I know it first hand. His eyes dart nervously around, landing finally on me. He brandishes a gun, pointing it straight at me.
“There’s a $50,000 bounty on your head, Ash! Dead or alive,” he shouts. His voice is laced with desperation, eyes glittering with the prospect of the reward.
I crack my neck. “Is that right? And how exactly are you going to kill me, Freddy?”
He waves the gun around. “How the fuck do you think?”
Suddenly, there’s movement in my peripheral vision. Dad lunges at Freddy from the side, trying to grab the gun. There’s a deafening bang. My heart lurches as Dad crumples to the ground, clutching his leg.
“Fucking hell!” Freddy yelps, taking a step back, his eyes wide with shock. But there’s no regret in his gaze, only fear.
“Shit!” I growl, rushing to his side despite still being fucking pissed with him. His face is pale, starkly contrasting the blossoming red stain on his jeans.
“Get the gun,” he gasps, his hand gripping my arm. His other hand is on his leg, trying to stem the blood flow.
I glance back at Freddy, his face contorted with fear and uncertainty. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the look of a cornered animal, desperate and dangerous.
I glance at Lila who is unprotected, and the sight fuels my adrenaline. Without giving it a second thought, I lunge at Freddy, tackling him to the floor. The gun skitters away from his grasp, and I deliver punch after punch.
My anger finds release on his face. He struggles beneath me, but the fight drains out of him, his body going limp. I don’t stop. My fists continue to land on him even when he’s no longer breathing.
“Ash! Stop!” Lila yells, her horrified voice piercing through my frenzied rage.
