Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1 (6 page)

I sighed. This wasn’t what I wanted,
but there was no way I could deny the plea of a scared little girl.
I cracked my eyes. Ashley stared at me like I was Wonder Woman in a
world of ordinary mortals. “I promise,” I replied as my eyes closed
again. Then I prayed for indestructible bracelets and an invisible
airplane.

* * *

‘Get out … NOW!’

The mental command was
urgent and demanding, interrupted my sleep like a bullhorn. Dreams
of dancing with my eighth grade crush shattered as my body and mind
were instantly compelled to evacuate the tent. Normally a still,
small voice, the
call’s
intensity practically ripped me from my sleeping bag. I
floundered through the dark, searching our flimsy nylon shelter
until I found Michelle. “Wake up, Shell,” I pleaded, but she was
sound asleep.

‘
Drag her! Do it
now!’
The
call
became a compulsion; so powerful
it was excruciating. I felt like I would spontaneously combust if I
didn’t get out of the tent, but as painful as it was to stay, I
couldn’t leave my friend behind.

I unzipped the flap,
grabbed Michelle by the shoulders, and dragged her toward the
outline of the large canvas tent where her dad—Howard—slept. My
shaking fingers fumbled the little metal zipper.

‘
NOW! NOW!
NOW!’
The thoughts battered my body
like physical blows. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood,
trying to pull myself together.

“
Dad,” I pleaded. “Help me,
I can’t …” Howard wasn’t my father, but he was the closest thing
I’d ever had to one. I’d given him the title when Michelle and I
became best friends in kindergarten.

The inside of the tent lit
up like a beacon of hope. I started sobbing. Safety was so close:
visible yet unattainable.

“
What is it? What’s
happened to Michelle?” Howard frantically unzipped the flap and
helped me drag her still sleeping form inside it.

“
Nothing … with Michelle.”
I huffed, trying to catch my breath. “But something’s wrong.” I
wiped my nose with my sleeve. “I don’t know what, but I just—I
just—”

Then we heard it: the very
eerie, very loud, very close, scream of a cougar.

There are few things in
life more terrifying than the sound of a cougar. Not something one
could get used to, it’s like woman’s scream laced with malice,
dripping with hatred. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and
I instantly needed to use the restroom.

The scream woke Michelle. I
clutched her hand and we scrambled to the back of the tent.
Terrified, we clung to each other, our fear hanging in the air like
fog.

Howard grabbed his Marlin
.22 caliber, bolt-action rifle. It was our hunter’s safety training
weapon and he slept with it loaded beside him while we were
camping. Holding the rifle in one hand, he pulled back the unzipped
tent flap with the other. The darkness outside was sinister and
evil, hungry for a victim to claim. As if answering the summons of
the dark, Howard raised his rifle and bravely stepped into the
night.

A reverberating crack
echoed throughout the valley …

* * *

“Wake up, he’s here,” Ashley whispered
into my ear.

The sound of the spinning
dial washed over me like a bucket of cold water, rinsing away the
lingering dream residue. “The food, Ash
—
” I glanced at the shelves; only a
few cans of lima beans remained.

She patted her backpack. “Already done.”

I nodded, impressed by her
forethought. Then the magnitude of the situation struck me like a
blow. What would we have to do to get out of there alive? Would he
fight us? Would I have to kill him?
Breathe. You can do this. He’s a murderer.

By the time Connor opened the door and
stepped inside, I was standing behind it with my gun drawn. I
closed the door for him—I’m considerate like that—and instructed
him not to move.

Holding his arms up in surrender, he
didn’t look surprised to see the weapon in his face. He disregarded
me and addressed Ashley, “What now?” he asked.

“
No.” I waved the business end of my
Sigma in front of his face. “My gun, my questions. Did you kill
Ashley’s parents?” I glared at him, aiming toward ferocious, but
feeling more like a scared puppy than a frightening
lion.

He took a deep breath.
“Liberty, let me explain
—
”

“
No. You don’t get to explain. Just.
Answer. The. Question. Did you kill Ashley’s parents? Your brother
and his wife?” Disdain dripped from my voice and I didn’t bother
even trying to hide it.

“
Things are—were—complicated.” He took
a step closer to Ashley.

I pressed my gun against his chest.
“Really? Because it seems pretty simple to me. Did you kill them or
not?”

“
Ash—” His big, dark eyes sought the
girl, but she turned away, and walked behind me.

“
No. You talk to me.”
I nudged his chest with the barrel, noticing the smear of blood
down the front of his shirt and the scratches on his
cheek.
He didn’t look like that
when he left, did he?
“What’s with the
blood?” I gestured at his shirt. “It doesn’t look like you’re
bleeding, so does this belong to someone else? What, do you just go
around killing people?

He blinked at me, and then looked down
at his shirt. “Um … I was attacked.”

“
Sure. Whatever.
Ashley and I are leaving. You’re staying. Do
not
follow us. Got
it?”

He nodded and I motioned for Ashley to
go ahead of me. I stepped out of the safe and pushed on the door,
but Connor blocked it with his foot, holding it slightly
ajar.

“
Wait.”

I turned back expecting a fight, but
Connor’s eyes held only pain and sorrow. “Promise me you’ll be
careful with her,” he said.

Thrown off guard, I hiked
my pack higher on my shoulders, giving myself a moment.
Connor is the enemy. No mercy.
Forcing my lips into a scowl I replied, “I’m not
the one who killed her parents.”

His mournful charcoal eyes were still
locked on mine as he removed his foot from the door and stepped
back. I closed the safe, spun the dial, grabbed Ashley’s hand and
fled.

Over the next few days, we cautiously
made our way out of the city, heading east. At night, we’d pull out
the sleeping bags and snuggle close for warmth in whatever
abandoned building we could find. The miles were long and tiring,
the ground was hard and cold, but the company was nice.

Ashley was strong for her size and
fast for her age; a city girl who loved to watch the wildlife
frolic and to marvel at the beauty of nature. Her presence was
tremendously comforting after so many months of paranoia induced
solitude. We walked for long periods of time in companionable
silence, hesitant to break the quiet with meaningless chatter. I
seldom heard a peep from her and never a complaint. Her innocent
smiles chased away my nightmares, and her dependence necessitated
my sanity.

* * *

Early in the morning of our fifth day
since leaving Connor, we came across a modest farm northeast of
Alderton. As we approached, memories of my family’s happy farmhouse
amplified the wrongness of this abandoned one. An unnatural quiet
pined for the baying of livestock and the sounds of their
caretakers. A tractor sat, neglected and forlorn, waiting to be of
use once again. I listened for it, but the creepy Twilight Zone
music never started playing.

Farms are supposed to be
life. This is death.

Petrified cow dung was
evidence that the corral we walked through once held cattle, but
had been empty for a while. The front door hung askew and we
approached cautiously. Marks of forced entry scratched up the
frame. The all too familiar
parfum de la
mort
was heavy on the air, so I drew my gun
as we entered the house.

The home was a recently updated
seventies ranch-style. We stepped into a large, open family room
that would have passed for cheerful, if mom, pop, and the two young
boys hadn’t been rotting on the floor. I plugged my nose and
averted my eyes, but could still hear maggots crawling over their
dead bodies.

“
Ash, don’t look.” I held out my hand
like it could block her view.

Of course she didn’t listen. Looking
past me, she caught sight of the remains of the family and
immediately started gagging. While she ran outside to be sick I
grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch and spread it over the
bodies. Wrists still bound together, they’d died facing each other
in a circle. I didn’t investigate further. The small glimpse I’d
had was enough to churn my stomach and add to my ever increasing
collection of nightmares. Instead, I crossed myself and wished the
family peace. The blanket didn’t block the rancid odor, but at
least we couldn’t see their hollow eye sockets anymore. Ashley
joined me when she was done outside, and we tried not to breathe
while we continued toward the kitchen.

The pantry had been thoroughly
ransacked, but the thieves had overlooked the canisters sitting on
the counter. I found flour, sugar, pancake mix, and cornmeal in the
partially full containers. Each treasure was dumped into a plastic
baggie and stuffed into my pack. Further exploration of the kitchen
revealed a can of non-stick spray, various seasonings and a small
bottle of maple flavoring, all of which I took. The last thing I
filched was a cast-iron skillet. When I handed it to Ashley, she
looked at me like I was crazy.

“
Put it in your bag. We’ll need it,
and it can be used as a weapon in a pinch,” I explained. I could
see the question in her eyes, so I mocked hitting someone over the
head with the pan. She stifled a giggle at my ridiculous pantomime
and stuffed the pan into her bag.

We exited through the back door, and
slipped into the small shed on the side of the house. I rummaged
around for a fishing pole—didn’t find one—but didn’t come away
empty-handed either. Fishing line, hooks, and some of those
scissors that can cut through anything all found their way into my
pack.

“
Move over MacGyver.” I zipped up the
bag and returned it to my shoulders.

Ashley looked at me questioningly.
“Who’s MacGyver?”

I shook my head. “Who’s MacGyver? Only
the most amazing genius-crime-fighter ever. He never carried a gun,
but always saved the day using only his vast scientific knowledge
and the items he had on hand.” She rolled her eyes, which only
encouraged me to continue. “He built bombs out of things like
bubble gum. You seriously don’t know who MacGyver is? Did you even
watch TV?”

Ashley cast me one of those apprehensive
looks usually reserved for religious fanatics and door-to-door
salesmen. “Mom wasn’t big on violence.”

“
MacGyver wasn’t violent.” I leaned
against the counter. “He was a genius.” I held up my hands. “It was
educational.”

“
Right,” Ashley replied, patting me on
the arm like she was trying to appease some psycho.

I growled in disgust. “They just don’t teach
kids anything these days. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

By the time we left the farm, I felt
much better about our chances of survival. We headed more north
than east to shoot the gap between Puyallup and Enumclaw. I planned
to stay east of Highway 167, in an effort to avoid as many towns
and people as possible without drifting too far off course. The map
in my back pocket advertised several little lakes, streams and
rivers, which we could use as water sources along the way. The
weather had been mostly dry and we’d need to fill up our water
bottles soon.

About three more hours of walking
brought us to the enchanting sounds and smells of the first stream.
We approached with practiced caution before descending upon the
water source. An abundance of animal tracks marked the spot as a
popular watering hole.

“
See this Ash?” I pointed at the
ground before me.

She nodded.

“
Deer track.”

She studied the ground. “How can you
be so sure?”

“
Size and shape.” I pointed to the
deer droppings a few feet away. “That helps too.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What about
this one?” She pointed to a small paw print.

I considered the track. The claw marks
were faint and definitely canine. “Most likely a wolf,” I replied.
“Or maybe a wild dog.”

“
There are wolves out here?” Ashley
looked around suspiciously.

“
Of course. But don’t worry; they have
plenty to eat in the early summer. They won’t bother
us.”

I owed much of my survival to my
outdoor packed childhood. Michelle’s father—Howard—had been the
local butcher in our home town. He was a widower, and Michelle was
his entire world. Positively the coolest dad I ever met, he
welcomed me along on their escapades. An avid outdoorsman, Howard
served as our self-appointed camping, fishing, hunting and hiking
guide. He was always more than willing to drag us into the safety
of Mother Nature and away from the dangers of boys.