Rees poured them two more drinks. He held his up. “To Ken.”
“Do you think he’d be offended we’re toasting him with wine instead of an IPA?” Rowan lifted her glass.
“Not at all.”
Rowan agreed. “To Ken.” She clinked Rees’s glass and drank.
I miss him.
24
Malcolm, twenty-five years ago
The man was going to kill Rowan. Malcolm knew it.
He’d broken her leg.
Who does that to a little girl?
He does.
Malcolm shouldn’t have felt surprised. Everything the man had put them through was evil.
She’s going to die, and I’ll have to watch.
He pulled her closer as she slept, trying not to bump her leg. He’d hit it accidentally a few times, and it’d made her cry out in her sleep. It had been three days since he broke her leg. She couldn’t walk. Malcolm had helped her pee in the bucket, and it’d embarrassed her and she’d hated it. She’d tried to stop drinking, so she’d pee less, but he knew that wasn’t healthy.
He made her drink.
At least the man had fed them that night. And he’d left more food than usual. Maybe he felt guilty for what he’d done. Rowan hadn’t wanted to eat. Malcolm had had to beg her to do it. She’d said she wasn’t hungry anymore.
How can that be? She has to be starving.
Malcolm wiped his nose with the back of his hand. It kept running because he couldn’t stop crying. Everything was such a mess, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
I don’t know what to do.
He hated him. Malcolm didn’t understand why the man had thought it would be funny to tell him he would send Rowan home and then take it back. He thought the man had lied about his parents moving away, but then why hadn’t anyone found them?
What if he’s right? What if we’re here forever?
Rowan needed to see a doctor. She needed a cast on her leg. Malcolm didn’t know how she would ever walk again if no one fixed it.
I can’t carry her around forever.
He suddenly wished his sister would die, and his tears flowed faster. “I’m sorry, God, I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “I really, really didn’t mean it.”
He was a horrible person. Malcolm should be the one with the broken leg. Rowan would never think bad things about him as he just had about her.
The locks on the door clanked. Malcolm panicked and scrambled for their blindfolds.
He didn’t warn us!
At least the man didn’t make Rowan get in her corner anymore since she couldn’t get around very well. Rowan didn’t wake at the noise of the locks or when he lifted her head to place her blindfold. It was dark, and his fingers were clumsy as he fumbled with the ties.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
He was still tying her blindfold when the door creaked open. He hunched over her, hiding his face, petrified to look toward the door, waiting for him to yell.
Silence.
After a few seconds he risked a look and squinted in the dark.
The silhouette was wrong.
The man was thin. Not big and bulky.
Someone is here to save us!
Malcolm lunged to his feet and then froze as he realized it was the other man. The silent friend.
He’ll tell him we weren’t blindfolded. We’ll be punished.
But the man just stood there.
“What do you want?” Malcolm whispered.
The man stepped back, motioned them out of the shed, and then pointed at the woods. “Go.”
His brain didn’t understand. “Go where?”
“Just go. Get out of here. Take her.”
Is he setting us free?
“Is this another trick?” Malcolm whispered. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if the man could hear it.
“No trick. Get the fuck out of here.”
Malcolm stared at him for another moment and then bent over and shook Rowan’s shoulder, pulling away her blindfold. “Rowan. Wake up. Wake up.” His voice quivered.
She swung a hand to bat him away and nestled her face into the blanket.
He leaned close to her ear. “We can leave now.” He spoke softly, but deep inside he wanted to yell. This was it. This was the moment they’d been hoping for.
“What?” She lifted her head.
“He’s letting us go. But we’ve got to go now.”
“What?” Rowan repeated. She spotted the man at the door and froze. “He’s rescuing us?”
“No. He’s letting us go. We need to go as fast as possible, but I’ll carry you.”
“You can’t—”
He put his arms under her shoulders and knees and lifted.
She’s so light.
Rowan whimpered as he jostled her leg, but she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Sorry about that.” Malcolm turned to the door. The man took another step back, leaving them plenty of room to get by. Malcolm moved out of the shed, Rowan in his arms.
“Get moving,” the man told them.
“Thank you for doing this,” he said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” the man said gruffly.
Malcolm looked around in the faint moonlight. There were tall, dark trees in every direction. He didn’t see a road or path. They were in a forest. “Which way do I go?” He had no idea where they were.
“Doesn’t matter. Go that way. Don’t stop.” He pointed toward a clump of trees.
Malcolm took a breath and started walking. Then he moved faster, feeling as if he were being watched.
Is he close by?
He broke into a jog, and Rowan cried out as her leg bounced.
“Shhhhh.” Malcolm went back to a quick walk, trying his best not to jolt her. They entered the tall trees and the moon vanished. He plunged forward into the dark.
His arms ached. She was light, but he couldn’t do this for very long.
I’ll carry her for as long as it takes.
I can’t stop. Must keep going.
Malcolm halted, panting hard, and leaned one hand against a tree, staring up at the hints of blue sky between the pine trees. It was the afternoon of the second day since he and Rowan had escaped. Yesterday he’d carried her all day but taken frequent breaks. They’d figured out a way for her to ride on his back that made it easier for him, but he still couldn’t go that far without stopping. It was hard to carry her without bumping her leg.
This morning he had left her where they’d slept overnight, telling her he could move faster to find help and that he would mark the way so he could lead someone to her. He’d been dragging his heel, making gouges in the dirt and breaking branches, so he could trace his path back.
Was I right to leave her behind?
They’d drunk at a creek the evening before, but there was no food. He hadn’t even seen berries on their trek. Although if he had, he wouldn’t have known if they were poisonous and so wouldn’t have tried them anyway. Desperate, Rowan had chewed a couple of leaves and spit them out, saying they were bitter.
Malcolm hadn’t seen any trace of people. No roads. No paths. No tents. He kept thinking he heard cars or voices, but he couldn’t find them.
Even if she was with me, we still wouldn’t have found people to help us.
There had to be a town somewhere. The forest couldn’t go on forever.
His feet hurt. He was thirsty. He was hungry. He was tired of crying.
But he started walking again.
“Where you going, boy?”
Malcolm froze.
Is his voice in my head?
“Answer me, boy!”
He slowly turned. The bearded man was twenty feet away, and he had a rifle slung over one shoulder. Waves of anger rolled off him. A few feet behind him was the man who had freed them.
Was this a game?
“You thought your sister and you could escape?” The big man shook his head in disgust. “Stupid kids. You’ll be punished for this.”
Malcolm wanted to run, but his feet hurt so bad. And the man had a gun. He had no doubt he’d shoot him if he ran.
Maybe being dead is better than going back with him.
But he needed to stay alive for Rowan.
The men moved closer. The smaller man took Malcolm’s upper arm, and they followed the armed man. Malcolm stared at his feet for a long time as they walked but occasionally glanced at the man who had freed them. He wanted to read his face, see a sign of hope, but the man wouldn’t look at him.
He wondered again if it had been entertainment for them.