I press my back to the tree, squeeze my eyes shut, and hold my breath.
“With all due respect, Judge, this is the Guild’s sixth visit to the property and I believe Mary May was meticulous in her search. We’ve checked everywhere you can imagine. I don’t believe she’s here. I think the grandfather is telling the truth.”
I can hear the frustration in her voice. They’re all under pressure to find me, pressure placed on them by Judge Crevan. Kate takes a few more steps, right into my eyeline.
She slowly scans the forest, her eyes searching the distance.
Then she looks right at me.
NINE
I EXPECT HER to tell Crevan that she’s found me, hang up, call to the others, blow the large red whistle that hangs on a gold chain around her neck, but she stays calm, her voice not changing. She is looking right through me, as though she can’t see me at all. Has it come to this? Have I been hiding so long that I’m no longer visible? I actually look down at my hands to make sure I can see myself.
“You’d like us to take the grandfather to Highland Castle,” Kate says, looking me up and down, continuing the conversation as if I’m not there.
Why isn’t she telling him I’m here?
The news that they’re going to take Granddad to Highland Castle, to Judge Crevan, the man who personally branded me and destroyed my life, causes panic to well in my chest. It’s quickly followed by a large wave of anger. They can’t take my granddad.
“We’ll bring him in now,” she says, eyes still on me, and I’m waiting for the bombshell, for the moment she tells Mary May and Judge Crevan that I’m right here, beside her. “We’ll be with you in two hours.”
I’m about to scream at her, punch her, kick her, yell that she cannot take me and my granddad, but I stop myself. There is something peculiar about the way she is looking at me.
She puts the phone in her pocket, fixes me with a long stare as if she’s trying to think of something to say, then decides against it, and turns and leaves.
“Right, old man,” she calls to Granddad. “We’re taking you in. Judge Crevan needs words with you.”
Even after I hear the vehicles drive away, I stay where I am. I sit in the cramped and damp conditions of a hollowed-out tree, trying to understand what exactly has happened.
Why didn’t she take me?
TEN
IT’S BEEN ONE hour since Mary May left with my beloved granddad in tow, carting him off as if he’s some kind of criminal. I’m still huddling behind the tree, exhausted, hungry, cold, and very afraid. I can smell the smoke from the pit, smoldering under the earth, cooking the food that probably no one will eat now that Granddad is gone. I feel an overwhelming guilt at his being in this position, and I’m scared of what they’ll do to him in Highland Castle.
I’m scared, too, of what he might be thinking. Does he fear he burned me alive? I wish there was a way to tell him I wasn’t there, in the pit.
When all the vehicles left, initially I was afraid to move, thinking it was a test or a tease, that as soon as I came out of the woodwork they’d grab me. Then I waited, thinking perhaps the farmworkers would come for me, but they didn’t, in lockdown at this hour by their Whistleblower, Dan.
It’s after the 11:00 PM curfew, the time when checkpoints and searches on individuals increase. It’s not a good time to be roaming alone, though at least I can move around under the cover of darkness. I’ve decided that going back to the farmhouse is out of the question, despite its warmth and the welcoming light on the porch.
Perhaps I can make it to Granddad’s nearest neighbor. Can I trust them for help?
But then what did Granddad tell me? Rule number one: Don’t trust anybody.
Suddenly I hear a vehicle return. A door slams. Followed by two more. They’re back. I feel so stupid now. Why didn’t I run? Why did I allow them to return to get me?
I hear footsteps nearby. Male voices I don’t recognize, and then one that I do, clear as anything.
“Here’s the pit,” Dahy says. “She was in here.”
Can I trust Dahy? Or is he the one who called the Whistleblowers in the first place? Has he sold me out, or has he been forced to help another Whistleblower team find me? I don’t know who to believe. I’m cold; I’m scared; I can either jump up and yell “Save me!” and ruin everything I’ve done to get to this point, or I can sit tight. Sit tight. Sit tight.
“She must have gone into the forest,” another man says.
I see the light from a flashlight stretch in front of me, illuminating the black forest for what seems like hundreds of miles. Tall, thick tree trunks for as far as the eye can see. Even if I run that way and the Whistleblowers don’t see me, I’ll be lost in no time.
It’s over, Celestine; it’s over.
And even though I tell myself that, I’ll never give up. I think of Crevan’s face as he hissed at me in the branding chamber, asking me to repent; I think of Carrick’s hand pressed up against the glass as he watched it all unfold, the offer of friendship. The anger burns through me; I hear the footsteps near my tree and I unfold myself from my cramped position. I stretch my arms and legs, and on one, two … I fire myself out of the hole, catapulting into the woods, startling whatever is living nearby, and sprint with stiff legs.
The men jump into action straightaway.
“There!”
The flashlight moves to find me; I dodge its line of fire and instead use it to see what’s in front of me. I dodge trees’ long, thin pine needles; duck and dive; and hear them closing in fast behind me.
“Celestine,” a voice hisses angrily, coming close. I keep running, I smack my head against a low branch and feel momentarily dizzy, but I don’t have time to stop and center myself. They’re closing in on me, three of them. Three frenzied flashlights as they run.
“Celestine!” a voice calls louder, and another hushes him.
Why are they hushing? I’m dizzy, I think I’ve cut my head, all I know is that I need to keep running, it’s what my mom told me to do. Granddad said don’t trust anyone. Dad said to trust Granddad. I need to keep moving.
The flashlights suddenly go off and I’m running in pitch blackness. I stop still, my breathing all I can hear. I don’t know which way is forward or which is back the way I came; I am utterly disoriented in the dense forest. Panic descends again, then I take control. I close my eyes, allowing calm to encapsulate me. I can do this. I turn around, trying to see light from the farmhouse in the distance, or any clues. As I move, twigs snap beneath my feet.
Then I feel strong arms around my waist, a smell of sweat.
“Got her,” he says.
I fight against his grip, but it’s no use: There’s no room to move. I keep trying anyway, wriggling with all my energy to hopefully exhaust him, hit him, scratch him, kick him.
A flashlight goes on, someone is shining it in my face. Both my captor and I look away from the harsh light.