I had never been alone. I’d always had someone with me: my father, my sister, even Fernando Mercado. I had always been strong in heart and in spirit, but I was never foolish to think that a young woman could make it in the world on her own when there were no more laws or policemen or juries and judges—no more order. I was afraid to go alone, I was afraid of being out there in the terrible world we lived in without Atticus to protect me—I was afraid. But more than that, more than anything that could happen to me, I was afraid of the can’t, of Atticus being killed, especially for my freedom and my life.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to travel with him until he got me out of Lexington City and then I was to make a run for it, kill him if I had to—but I didn’t. I was supposed to stay with these people and leave Atticus to do what he wanted, go where he wanted, without me—but I couldn’t. I was supposed to be afraid of him not only because of the terrible man he was when I first laid eyes on him, but also because he was a man—but I wasn’t. I wasn’t afraid of him.
I was afraid for him.
I was afraid of being without him…
“Thais?”
I looked up; my bottom lip quivered.
“I will wait for you,” I said, trying to be strong. I wiped my tears, swallowed hard and nodded.
Atticus dashed outside, pushing the barn door out of his way. Seconds later he came back with the horse. He tossed the quilt we’d slept on the night in the barn, over the horse’s back. Then he went over to the backpacks, stepping around Rachel’s unconscious body, and shoved everything back inside. He helped my arms into the straps of the larger backpack.
Fitting his hands on my hips, Atticus hoisted me up and set me on the horse; I grabbed a hold of the horse’s reins.
“Stay out of sight of the house,” he said as he fitted the smaller backpack and his jacket between my legs. “And cut through the woods there”—he pointed toward the back of the barn—“that’s west; just keep as straight as you can in that direction, but don’t leave the woods.”
I nodded.
He walked with me outside the barn, stopped to look out at the flat land beyond the highway where those coming for us would likely be, and then led me around the barn. The deep woods beckoned me out ahead; I couldn’t help but feel intimidated by them, as if they were some kind of final leg of our journey—or the beginning of my journey alone.
Steadying my breath, I looked down at Atticus once more, transfixed on his intense blue eyes, the sculpted shape and rough texture of his handsome face, and I couldn’t imagine at this point never seeing it again.
“I’ll come for you,” he promised.
Tearing my gaze from his, I faced forward and tightened my grip of the reins.
ATTICUS
I gave the horse’s backside a quick smack, and it took off, galloping through the grass. I watched her for only a moment, her hair waving behind her, bouncing against her back in the sunlight, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was the last time I’d ever see her, that I’d just sent her out alone on a road to Hell.
I composed myself, putting on the same casual face I wore when I left the family’s house, and then I set off toward it again, now armed only with a knife, and a purpose.
29
ATTICUS
I rapped my knuckles on the screen door before going inside. David was still reading his newspaper in the recliner; Emily and Shannon were in the kitchen, but came out the moment I re-entered the house.
“Where’s the girls?” Emily asked, wiping her hands covered in flour on her apron.
“They’re on their way.” I gestured casually toward the barn. “Getting to know each other, I guess.”
David’s eyes raised from the newspaper, the black-and-white corner folding down with the movement of his work-worn fingers. Without turning his head, he looked toward the large window that framed the field, stared a moment in consideration, and then looked at me again.
“I had a feelin’ those two would hit it off better than my Shannon,” he said. “Any sign o’Lance out there?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing yet,” I said. “Hey, would you mind if I cleaned up?”
Emily and David’s eyes met across the room. I watched them all closely, every movement, every facial expression, not for a second letting them onto the reason I was really there. A quiet sort of communication passed between the brother and sister.
David gave her a short nod.
“Sure, right this way.” Emily gestured me to follow her down the hallway. “Just’ let me get the laundry out of the floor for yah.”
Once I had her in the confines of the narrow sheetrock walls, I reached down into my boot and pulled my knife, whirling around behind her and seizing her body against mine.
Emily yelped; the knife pressed against her jugular; I pushed the blade against her throat, daring her to move.
Hearing the scuffle in the hallway, David and Shannon rushed toward us, their heavy footsteps reverberating through the weak floor. They stopped cold when I forced Emily into their view, exhibiting her life-or-death predicament.
“I won’t hesitate,” I warned. “Put the gun on the floor.”
David looked down at the gun in his hand, and then raised his hands out at his sides and moved his finger away from the trigger. “Now there ain’t no need for this,” he said. “If ya jus’ wanna take somethin’ and leave—whatever ya want—then ain’t no one gonna stop ya. But ain’t no need to hurt my sister.”
“I SAID PUT THE GUN ON THE FLOOR!”
Emily squeaked, and her body jerked in surprise. A moment later I caught the stench of hot urine wafting into my nose.
David bent over and set the gun on the floor, springing back up into an upright position quickly enough that suggested he possessed more deftness than he appeared. A lot of things about these people were not as they seemed.
Shannon backed away, arms raised out at her sides, threatening scowl twisting her features with rage. “You’re just like the rest,” she accused acidly.
“Shut the hell up—no one ever robbed you,” I said, recalling the story she’d told. “This whole thing is a setup, and you’re not fooling me. Move back into the living room—now!” I squeezed Emily’s body, the blade fastened to her throat, and her head fell back against my shoulder in response to it.
Keeping their hands up, David and Shannon backed their way into the living room.
Moving toward them down the hall, I stopped when I stood boot-to-barrel with the gun. Without letting the blade fall away from Emily’s throat, I fell into a squat, taking her down with me, and scooped the cold metal into my free hand. Once I had the gun, I gave Emily a shove in the back and sent her falling forward. Unable to keep her balance, she tumbled onto the floor, then scrambled toward David and Shannon on her hands and knees, her long dress catching under them.
I pointed the gun at David, and shoved the knife back into my boot.
“I’m not going to spend what little time there is listening to your lies,” I said. “The girl out in the barn already admitted that people are coming for us—who the hell is it and how far out are they?”
“W-We don’ know what you’re—”
In two enormous strides I went toward them, gun raised and ready to fire.