Wanted (Amanda Lance) - By Amanda Lance
Chapter 1
Did you know 30,000 people are kidnapped around the world every year?
Ironically, part of the reason I was kidnapped had to do with the search for quality family time. In truth, there was no need for us to drop Robbie off at the army base. We all knew he could have accepted an offer from one of his buddies to catch a ride with them. He could have even taken a bus if he wanted. I think Dad must have thought the short road trip was an opportunity to savor some of those sitcom family-style moments together. Although he wouldn’t admit it, I suspected he was afraid it was the last time we would all be together. Granted, none of us thought I would be the one in mortal peril.
As we drove to Fort Drum, Robbie and I took the immense opportunity to tease Dad about his growing sentiments. “I bet you weren’t this emotional when you fought in Desert Storm, Old Man,” Robbie taunted.
“Now, now Robbie.” I had put the marker in my book and kicked the back of his seat. “That’s disrespectful. You know Dad prefers to be called Sir Gray Hair. Or,” I corrected myself, “He-with-the-Fuzzy-Inner-Ears.”
Robbie laughed his Robbie laugh. “Mr. Receding Hairline.”
Dad laughed. “You kids are just lucky I can hold my temper.”
When Robbie embraced him that last time at the entrance gate, Robbie repeated his “if you were me” argument once more. Through the entire sham of their debate, I watched the sun lowering as cadets brought in the various flags for the evening—the gold and pink commanding a stronghold over the sky and everything beneath it. Perhaps I should have been playing referee as Mom would have done and as I had been doing since her absence, but at this juncture, their arguments served less purpose than usual. Still, I thought maybe it was better for them to say it all out loud than have it be left unsaid.
“I’m going to live my life the way I want to,” Robbie said.
“You were lucky to make it through there once, it might not happen again.”
“You can’t expect me to just leave my friends out there while I stay here—”
“I expect you to stay safe.”
Once they wore themselves out, we all engaged in the family tradition of substituting the seriousness of the situation with humor.
“If you were me, you’d be doing the same thing, Old Man.”
“If I were you, I would have joined the Corps … sissy.”
As Robbie and I said our farewells, he gave me one of those awkward sibling hugs that we usually only saved for holidays or tragedy.
“Take care of yourself, Addie.”
“I always do.”
He sighed. “Sometimes that might mean not taking care of everybody else.”
I just laughed at him. “You can lecture me when you get home … sissy.”
Dad and I got back in the car and I immediately began fiddling with the radio to avoid that narrow silence that settled between us. Even after we pulled back onto the freeway, it continued for miles, long into the evening hours until the local radio stations fizzled out and I had to change them to other, unfamiliar ones.
Without music to distract me, my mind began trailing back to when Mom first got sick. Despite the politics, I was proud of Robbie for joining the army. It was something he had mentioned long before Mom’s cancer and remained eager about despite our parents’ protests.
Mom’s illness was a prime opportunity for exit.
“You can’t just leave when things get bad,” I said to Robbie.
“I can’t stay here, Addie. Not like this.”
In time, I could see his point. On some level, I even envied his ability to get away so easily. Mom needed more care than she would admit, and once she was gone, Dad needed more time and attention than a kid. Treatment could offer Mom more time, yet it wouldn’t be with the Mom we knew.
When offered her options, Mom had laughed what remained of her laugh. “Thanks, but another couple months of this? I think I’d rather eat my husband’s cooking. Or my son’s, for that matter …”
It was only a few weeks later that she was on her deathbed, telling me she loved me, and teasing me because my socks didn’t match.
But now I slipped my feet out of my sandals and tried to stretch, tried to daydream, tried not to worry about my big brother.
“Get your feet off the dash, Addie. I don’t want them to scuff the glove box.”
Reluctantly, I let my feet slide down back into my shoes, my legs already missing the stretch the tall console provided.
All around us, the meandering trees and woods seemed to suffocate us, and yet ahead was a clear, outstretched highway that promised freedom if you only stayed the course. I rolled down the window and felt my fingers dance against the wind. Briefly, I considered what it would be like to feel my whole body out there.
“How much longer until we get to the exit?” I asked.
Dad sighed. “Maybe an hour. That accident back there took us off route by forty-two miles. Just be patient, Addie.”
I smiled and flipped my sunglasses back on. Looking at the night through the dark lens was strange but not entirely unpleasant. If nothing else, they blocked out some of the brighter headlights coming from the opposite direction. I turned my attention back to Dad. There were very few things Dad hated more in life than falling off course. It was easy to see he was annoyed at having to drive at night, having refused my offer to take the wheel.
“I’m really just concerned for you, Old Man. I know senior citizens run strict schedules for themselves. If we don’t get home by eleven, you might miss out on a rerun of Green Acres.”
Finally, he smiled. “Watch it, Missy.” He tugged on my ponytail playfully. “I’ll give you something to be concerned about.”
I laughed. “You’re just cranky because you haven’t had your Metamucil today.”
Dad laughed at the old joke, but it was a tired, forced laugh, more for my sake than anything else.
In return, I pretended not to notice the artifice in his demeanor. It was like a game of charades that I almost always let him or Robbie win. It was obvious his thoughts were still at Fort Drum with Robbie—but I wasn’t going to call him out on his right to worry.
In my own way, I had attempted to make it up to him a few months earlier by finishing high school. Granted, an uneventful occasion for a homeschooled kid, but it seemed to make him happy for a minute. And while Dad buried himself in work projects, I threw myself into my studies as a college freshman. Usually we met at dinner or somewhere in-between.
“It seems like he just got home,” Dad said suddenly.
It was getting harder for me to stay positive. “Then just think of how fast time will fly until he comes home again.” My smile felt fake and it made me feel like a liar.
Dad laughed again. “What would I do without you, Addie?”
“Phh! Starve to death, run out of clean clothes, never get the car serviced.”
He mockingly bowed to me. “Yes, Daughter, you are exceptionally important.”
I feigned a curtsy. “Why thank you, Father, it is so nice to be appreciated.”
We stayed silent for a long time. This was one of those many moments where I was wishing I knew more about sports or accounting errors or anything else Dad was interested in just to keep a conversation going. When Robbie first left, Dad would frequently spend his spare time pacing the hallways or working on things in the yard, just for the sake of keeping occupied. We were like that in a sense. To avoid thinking we put ourselves to work. But while his arena was his office, mine was the thick stacks of book in the library.
I leaned back and looked at myself over in the side-view mirrors, my hair was a thick, blonde mess— much like Mom’s had been before the chemotherapy. And although my features were symmetrical, I always thought my nose was a little too sharp for my face. My eyes were also as green as Mom’s had been, with that same almond shape I was occasionally complimented about.
Other than that, I was more ordinary than anything else. For whatever genetic reason, I wasn’t long and lean like my parents. Instead, I was petite with a simple frame. If I had cared or put enough effort into it, maybe I could have been a dancer, but the motivation never came to me.
I wrapped my wrists around themselves until I heard the dull pop of the joints. We had only been driving for three hours, but already I could feel the heaviness of the long ride setting into my body.
Intentionally, I put my feet back up on the dash. Dad saw me out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say anything. I moaned dramatically and slithered as far down into my seat as my seatbelt would allow. Twisting side to side, I cracked my back until there was no sound left. For a moment, I thought I saw Dad smile, but I wasn’t certain. I put my feet down and sighed loudly.
“Yep, I sure miss those days when I could feel my limbs.”
I sighed again and almost burst out laughing, but contained myself. I started playing with the power seating instead.
“Dad? Dad? Dad?” Skating back and forth on the chair’s axis, I began to chant like a mosquito in his ear. “Hey Dad, maybe we could make a stop? Dad? Hey, Dad? Dad? Dad?” He was pretending not to hear me.
“Dad, my leg’s asleep, I can’t feel spine, I must stretch properly.” I reached out to him like I had seen so many dying heroes do in the westerns he liked. Although he still pretended not to see, he smiled.
“We’re not scheduled for a stop.”
“Oh. Come. On!” I leaned over and glanced at the gauges. “There’s less than half a tank left, and it’s better to fill up now than before it’s too late.”
He glanced at me with a furrowed brow that told me I had won. It was already past nine, and like any practical parent, Dad wasn’t particularly fond of gas stations after dark.
“Fine, but only because I need coffee.”
I turned my head so he wouldn’t see my victory smile.
“And keep those feet off the dash.”
The next exit promised a taxpayer-funded rest stop as well as a gas station and a convenience store attached to a conglomerate of fast-food bistros compacted together. We pulled into the singular entryway only to crawl around the parking lot, attempting to look for any open spot. As we did so, it was difficult to ignore the trash blowing around everywhere and the numerous people who didn’t seem to care where they let their pets relieve themselves or where they let their children run.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and secured my sling bag across my chest. “Yikes.”
Dad rotated his neck and sighed. “Okay, forget about the parking. How about you grab us some drinks while I fuel up?” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
“I’ll get extra caffeine for you.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before hopping out.
People all around us were honking and yelling. “You have your phone on, right?” I asked.
“Yes, Daughter.”
“Okay, Father.” I laughed.
Dad stuck his head out the open window and shouted at the van behind him. “I’m going already!”
I hustled away to avoid the horns and dirty looks that were coming in my direction. The summer was all but over, so I was surprised there were still so many kids running in and out of the main entrance, or that there were so many people there at all. Luckily, the crowds weren’t that difficult to navigate. I dodged hordes of babbling middle-aged women as they shopped for trinkets and used every ‘excuse me’ and ‘pardon me’ I had to navigate through the group of confused exchange students standing in the middle of the foyer. A toddler with a runny nose collided into my legs. He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes for a moment before a large woman grabbed his wrist and yanked him away.
I decided to use the restroom before getting in line at the coffee shop, knowing full well that Dad would be vehement about not making another stop after this one. I almost took a moment to brush out and fix my ponytail but remembered the tired Dad who was probably already waiting for me in the car, so I decided to skip it. Even as I glanced around, I felt an incredible urge to get out of the stuffy restroom that was being bombarded by all of those girls and women—I felt an overwhelming urge to escape. An automatic dryer blew in my face as I gave the door a violent shove. Despite the heat the machine gave off, I felt myself shiver, a feeling of foreboding coming over me.
I continued to avoid the crowds until I saw the neon coffee cup that indicated my intended destination. The long line was discouraging, but things seemed to be moving quickly enough, so I tried to keep my frustration in check. To occupy myself, I opened up my bag and withdrew the modest-sized coffee-table book on Da Vinci that I had been browsing through in my spare time. In the last several days, I had grown particularly fond of some of his unfinished pieces from the 1400’s. To me they seemed mysterious and exotic. I frequently liked to envision how they would have turned out if he had finished them.
“Did you know the Vitruvian Man was named after General Marcus Vitruvian? It’s s’posed to be ‘bout balance in man and all that.”
The sound of another person’s voice so close to my ear startled me. I think I must have given myself away with my reaction because the voice started to laugh a little.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” said the voice. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
When I turned, what I saw was more than surprising. While I had been admiring the fine lines of Da Vinci’s self-portraits, I hadn’t noticed the line growing behind me. In particular, I hadn’t noticed the individual standing directly behind me. He was a man some years older than me, although I couldn’t have immediately guessed through the large aviator sunglasses he was wearing. It was only the very subtle creases around his mouth that actually gave him away as being any older than me. Even then, however, I had to second guess that theory when I saw the cigarette behind his left ear, where lush, dark hair was slicked from his brow to his neckline. His neck and shoulders were buried deep in the folds of a denim jacket, and his hands were firmly tucked in his jacket pockets.
If I had been thinking properly instead of concentrating on the untraditionally handsome man behind me, I would have noticed how strange it seemed—the unusual choice in wardrobe for the humid ninety-degree heat.
But no alarm bells went off—at least not then. For the moment I was preoccupied with the exceptional line of his jaw and the ideal brow above his sunglasses. I found myself wondering what color his eyes were, and if they would be different under this fluorescent light than in the sunlight.
I actually had to remind myself to blink. “Yikes.”
“Huh?”
Hearing his voice again brought me back to myself. “You didn’t scare me.” I turned back around so he wouldn’t see me blushing; I hoped it wouldn’t spread to the bare flesh of my shoulders and cursed myself for not wearing a t-shirt instead of a tank top. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, willing the line to move faster. Behind me, I heard the distinct sound of male shoes shuffling around. Was that a Southern accent I had heard?
I put Da Vinci away and kept my eyes straight ahead, trying now to focus on anything and everything but the person behind me. But as the seconds ticked by, my heart started thumping in my chest like a caged rabbit, and the enormous building seemed far too small. Was this the craziness so many other girls had for boys? I felt myself blushing again when I thought of the stories my bunkmates used to tell at summer camp. And yet the person standing behind me was very clearly past his boyhood—
“You all right?”
His voice was so close to my ear again it nearly knocked me over. It was strangely soft, a sort of whisper. I almost I thought I had imagined it. Just the way it startled me forced me to turn again.
“You look like you’re gonna fall over.”
At least I managed my tied tongue. “I-um, just seriously need coffee.”
He seemed amused by my response and smiled for a second. I was grateful that I didn’t make a complete idiot out of myself. Still, seeing him smile at me did nothing to slow down my wild heart.
I think I felt his eyes on me for a few more seconds before I heard a phone ring. By the sound of his Southern accent responding, it must have been his.
“What?”
After a few more seconds, I heard him speak again.
“Yeah, I got it.”
I heard shoes scuffling away, but I didn’t have to turn around to know he was gone.
“Can I help you?”
“Huh? What?”
“What do you want, Miss?” An angry cashier rolled her eyes at me. I couldn’t honestly blame her; I hadn’t even realized I was the customer next in line. But for the sake of my own sanity and just to reassure my self-consciousness, I looked behind me. Sure enough, the mystery man was gone. I decided it was just as well. Someone like that and the caffeine could have easily given me a heart attack.