After hiking down into the city, the first thing he did was go to the nearest store and plunder a beer. He gulped it by the cooler, then plundered a couple more. Then he made his way to the bus stop. About this time, he needed to relieve himself from the quickly guzzled beer. With no restrooms around, he sat in the yard of the nearest house, slid forward so that his robe would not get wet, and urinated on the lawn. (Gross, but that was like him—part human, part devil, part animal.)
After getting on the bus, he took the long route to Olivia’s neighborhood. By the time he got there, it was dark. Still, it was way too early to sneak into Olivia’s house to take her. Slinking in the darkness, he made his way to his mother’s house and snuck into her side yard, where he and Barzee had left their beloved “hand house,” a tiny handmade house on wheels with a bar in the front so that two people could pull it. He and Barzee had pulled this hand house all over the Salt Lake Valley as they had journeyed for the Lord. He crawled into the hand house, slithered under a pile of old clothes, and waited until it was the dead of night.
When it was the darkest and quietest part of the night, he slid out from underneath the old clothes and headed to my cousin’s house, a few blocks away. Circling like a wolf, he checked out the house, looking for the best way to get in. He checked all the doors. They were locked. He checked the windows until he found one that was open just a crack. Then, just like he had done at my home almost two months before, he took a patio chair and leaned it up against the side of the house underneath the partially opened window. Climbing onto the chair, he opened the window and cut a long slit in the screen. He stopped and listened. He waited. He heard nothing.
He reached his hand through the slit in the screen to push the blinds back. CRASH! Something fell off the windowsill and shattered upon the floor. He froze, not even breathing, his heart pounding in his chest. He listened. No voices or any footsteps. He took a deep breath, then pushed the blinds back once again. Another crash! He had knocked another decoration onto the floor.
Then he heard the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway. The lights came on and someone started shouting.
Realizing that the Lord had not chosen Olivia to be his next wife, he turned and ran, the green bags bouncing like crazy across his back. Running as far as his breath would take him, he finally had to stop and rest.
It took him several bus rides to get back to our canyon, then a long hike back up the trail.
He never spoke of Olivia again.
23.
Barzee Takes Off
Mitchell and Barzee were always fighting. You would think that in such an austere situation as we were living in, there would be little to fight about, but they always found something. Lack of food. The condition of our clothing. Whether it was going rain. What to do and when to do it. When to pray and what to pray about. But the main thing they fought about was me. And the reason was pretty simple. Barzee hated me. And Mitchell was never going to let me go.
A few weeks after Mitchell’s failed attempt to kidnap my cousin, he and Barzee got into a serious fight. After hours of screaming and cursing, Barzee finally took off, running down the side of the mountain.
We watched her disappear, the sound of her crashing through the brush eventually fading into the distance. I turned to Mitchell. “Will she come back?” I asked.
“Of course she will.”
Silence for a moment. I wasn’t sure.
“Has she ever taken off like that before?”
“Nope.” Mitchell pretended he didn’t care.
We waited and waited. No sign of her. I felt creepy, being with him by myself. As much as I hated Barzee, I hated being alone with Mitchell even more. It was like being alone with the devil. It made my skin crawl. Mitchell seemed completely unconcerned that Barzee had run away. Figuring he’d take advantage of the privacy, he took the time to rape me.
The afternoon passed. I could see that Mitchell was starting to get worried.
“Do you think she went down to the city?” I asked.
“Of course not.” He brushed off my ridiculous suggestion.
We continued waiting.
Finally, Mitchell decided that we had to go and find her. He walked over to the cable to unlock me.
“Where are we going?” I asked, overjoyed to be free for a moment.
“She must have gone down to one of the other camps,” he said.
Mitchell had spoken several times about these other camps. Apparently there were two of them. Both were down the canyon and much closer to the main trail at the bottom of the mountain. Both were outfitted with the necessary supplies; tents, water, tarps. He and Barzee had used them before they had kidnapped me, but never after. They were too dangerous, too close to the city and popular hiking trails.
Watching Mitchell unlock me, my heart started pounding with excitement. I was going to be uncabled. That alone was enough to make me want to cry with joy. After nearly two months of being treated like an animal, I can’t begin to explain how wonderful it was to have a moment of freedom. And we were going down the canyon. Closer to my family. Closer to civilization. Maybe I would see someone who could rescue me. Maybe I would be found.
But I had already decided that I would never run away. I had tried twice already and both times failed with severe chastening and warnings.