Page 71 of Redemption
Christian
He takes a funny route. I can’t believe anyone lives out here. The road is bumpy, in dire need of maintenance, and becomes narrower with each turn. The shadows are getting longer. Dusk falls and I need to make a quick decision. Either I’ll have to turn on the headlights soon and risk being discovered, or I make a stop on the next side road and follow his tracks on the muddy road by foot. I decide for the latter even though I’m not properly dressed and have no idea how long I’ll have to walk.
As I shut down the engine a couple of hundred yards in on a very narrow path, I hear the humming of an engine coming closer and through the trees I see the blue pick-up passing me. I crouch behind a branch. That was too fucking close! He already dropped off his delivery? That seems strange. Maybe he changed his mind? I hesitate. The cold, and the fact my shoes aren’t exactly built for this kind of adventure, almost makes me regret the whole thing. I could be sitting with a whiskey in the motel room flipping through cable TV channels to my heart’s desire. And the fatty probably changed his mind, so I won’t find out anything anyway.
But then again.
What if?
I lock up the car and start walking, the strength of the wind surprising me as it almost robs me of my breath. Plowing through the wet mix of mud and rotting leaves, my expensive Italian black shoes soon start to leak. They’ll be totally wasted when this is over with, but that doesn’t really matter, they’ve served me well and there’re new ones to be had.
Sooner than I expect, I come across a large gray plastic box that stands abandoned by the side of the road. The tire tracks stop here and there is proof of a car backing and maneuvering its way in a circle. I reach out and stroke the lid, then I frown and look around. There are no houses, no signs of life. The box is locked. I reach inside my coat and unsheathe the knife, then I break open the padlock and lift the lid. There are three paper bags. I rummage through them. Groceries. A doll. A couple of newspapers. A book. Weird. Why not bring them all the way to whoever purchased them?
The road continues in one direction only. I drop the lid and keep walking, too curious to stop now. Who would go through such measures to stay hidden? Who would be so careful? The little hairs at the back of my neck stand straight up, and it’s not from the cold.
‘Kerry and the kid.’
I think I already know the answer. I really, really think I know the answer, and my heart suddenly pounds heavy in my chest. I have to stop for a second and catch my breath. Then I move again. More determined than I can remember I’ve ever been.
I shudder when I finally get to my destination. I’ve walked for thirty minutes, and I’ve reevaluated my decision many times over.
It’s the end of the road. Whatever the house hides, this is what I’ve come to find.
It seems abandoned. It’s a small cabin built out of roughly carved logs. There’s no light, no smoke out of the chimney, and no indication anyone lives here. I curse. Maybe I’m not on the right path anyway? Until I see the footsteps in the mud on the yard. Two sets. Small and large. They’re everywhere. A shudder runs through me.
They’re here!
But where? I haven’t seen any tire tracks, and there’s no sign of a car. I look through a window and see a kitchen counter with some plates and glasses on it, when I try the front door it’s locked and there’s no stirring from within. I frown and glance out at the surrounding terrain, but the naked forest is silent and non-telling, void of human life. The treetops bend and wisp in the ever-increasing wind. I walk to the back of the house to see if I can get any clues. There is a back door, surprisingly enough, but it’s locked too. A little lost, I turn the corner again and stop on the same spot I started. I had a multitude of scenarios in my head, but this was for some reason never one of them.
Kerry
The shadows are getting longer, and a new chill is entering the air. The wind increases, dusk is falling and I sense something’s not right. I continue forward, carrying my load, and wave the feeling off as guilt over abandoning Cece. The walk is heavier than before, and I have to stop more and more often to catch my breath. There’s just one more hill to climb and then it’s downward from there, but I have to stop and lay down my burden for a moment. I gasp for air and my right side hurts. Pressing my knuckles into the side of my waist I feel my ribs and realize how thin I’ve become. I have to eat more. No wonder I have less and less energy with every month. I lose weight, muscle weight. I wave the thought off to the recesses of my mind. I have more important things to think of. Cece’s alone.
Clenching my teeth, I struggle forward. I have an urge to hurry. Maybe she’s awake? Maybe it’s a mom’s instinct? She can’t get anywhere, and she can’t reach anything dangerous. But she’ll be scared. I swallow the lump in my throat. I’ll never, ever leave her again. It was a stupid, rushed decision. I know she sleeps for more than an hour, most likely two, at this time of day, and I’ve only been gone about an hour. But no matter how I try, sense and reason can’t silence the feeling of imminent doom.
When I’m finally at the top, I stop for a moment again. From here I can overlook our house and a good part of the terrain. Everything seems fine, at least on the outside. And sheisasleep. It’s just me being stupid. Exhaling with relief, I start descending and I’m halfway down the hill when I see a movement in the shadows behind the trees by the left corner of the house. I stop and squint.
My heart stutters. There’s someone standing on the driveway. Hidden from the house, but not from where I’m standing. Ray again?
No.
Not Ray.
A tall man. Tresses of dark hair wisps around a face I can’t make out. I strain to see clearer, my heart pounding hard now, my breaths short and labored. I think I know before I know.
Christian.
It’s Christian Russo!
I almost faint. My knees go weak. The déjà vu is all too real and the nightmares I’ve had for so many months, years, are suddenly real. I can’t move. I can’t think. Cece’s in the cabin. He’s outside, between my daughter and me, and I’m up here unable to even breathe, let alone run down there and take him out to protect my child. I’ll die if I face him and then he’ll hurt my baby. Cece’s in danger if I run away and just leave her to him. And either way I’ll never see her again.
Oh, God!
I knew it. I knew he would catch up with us one day no matter what I did. I always knew we wouldn’t be safe until… until he no longer exists. With my own prophecies finally fulfilled, I drop to my knees and hide behind a large bush. Why did I leave her alone? I might as well have killed her. Killed us both.
Cecilia!
Maybe that’s what I should have done anyway? That’s what I’ve been thinking during my darkest hours when she was smaller, before I found a life within this new non-life—that we would have been better off dead. Maybe it would be easier to just go to him and let him do it? Let him end the endless nightmares and the fear. I see his gun before me as I saw it when he flicked the cold gleaming metal in front of me that night. The night when he shredded the last pieces of my innocence.