The Bond That Built Us (17 page)

When it is completely dark, we are forced to stop. We are in the city now and I’ve been tempted more than once to go into a gas station and find a pay phone. But Kellan says we need to keep going, so I do. We find what seems like an abandoned warehouse and there is an opening that is hidden from the street and is covered from overhead.

Kellan lies down in the grassy area and pulls me into him. We curl up together
and try to get some sleep. I can see locals in the distance, carrying on without knowing where we are. I pray that no one finds us here. I don’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“We’ll rest for a couple hours. We have to be close,” Kellan says into my hair. His
hand rubs up and down my arm and rests at my elbow, then slowly falls to drop over my hip. Even though it is uncomfortable, we manage to pass out.

I jerk awake to a sound coming from the bushes to our side. My eyes have adjusted and the faint lights from the city leave a ominous yellow glow to everything around me. I peer down and see Kellan sleeping soundly next to me. I hear the sound again so I squint my eyes and try to find out what’s making the noise.

After two minutes or so of nothing, I just assume it’s my paranoia. I fall back down to the grass and close my eyes. Kellan’s hold on me tightens for a second and he sighs. A s
mall smile forms on my lips and I turn a little to be closer to him. I reach up and touch his face with my fingertips, tracing his features lightly.

I hear the sound again only this time it’s closer. I whip my head around and see the bushes are moving. I sit up and prepare myself for whatever animal is there, ready to attack. My stomach is jumping around and my heart is fluttering so fast I can’t catch my breath. I nudge Kellan to wake him in case I need his help. He comes to and sits up with me.

I point to the bushes and he furrows his eyebrows in curiosity. The noise rings through the silence of the night and his eyes widen slightly. I can hear his heart beating in his chest, mirroring my own.

Kellan grabs me and pulls me behind him so he is effectively shielding me from whatever is out there. The noise gets louder and the bushes move faster now. Finally, when the tension is so heavy and the anticipation is getting the better of me, a hand emerges and pulls the bushes to the side.

Through the darkness, with the little light we have, a face appears beside the hand. The lips are curled up into a nefarious grin and the dark beady eyes are glaring right into us. Then out of nowhere, another face surfaces, with the same wicked expression.

The second one cackles, the sound of the familiar laugh sending chills all the way to my core. The first face moves forward, and within two steps he is out of the bush and into the cleari
ng, standing just feet from us.

Carlos opens his mouth and even with the smallest whisper, the words cut into me
and send a bolt of cold air through my veins. “Found you.”

I wake up screaming and thrashing, thoroughly freaking out Kellan. His eyes are hooded and he looks sleepy. He sits up with me and holds my face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over my cheeks.

“Aubrey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he assures me, and pulls me in close. I breathe in the smell of the sweat on his skin to try and relax me. The tremors that rack through my body from the nightmare are slowly subsiding, but I’m still not in control of it. My eyes search the land surrounding us.

“They found us, Kellan. They found us,” I choke out.
My vivid nightmare wreaks havoc on my psyche and I am frantic, waiting to see Carlos and Andres hiding in the shadows.

“No, they didn’t. It was all in your head. It’s just you and me. Hey, look at me,” he says softly and lifts my head. “Watch me and breathe with me, okay?”

I nod and focus on him breathing in, and out… in, and out. I mimic his breaths until I am calm enough to do it on my own.

A small smile plays on his lips and he leans in to kiss me lightly. I keep kissing him to keep my mind off of everything that happened.
I need him to distract me from my nightmare, my pain, and my dark thoughts. I lean him back and crawl onto his lap, straddling his hips, until I am suddenly aware that we haven’t brushed our teeth since yesterday.

I pull back and slide off of him, embarrassed at my forwardness.

“Sorry,” I mumble and roll over so my back is to him.

“Nothing to be sorry about, remember?” He spoons me once again and pulls my hair to the side to kiss the back of my neck.

But I am. I’m sorry for everything. I’ve done nothing but cause Kellan problems since I met him. I need to stop acting on my feelings and let him go. I’m no good for him.

Once I realize this, I feel calm. I accept my decision. I think of what we’ve been through and though it could have turned out worse, I couldn’t have done it without him. My payment will be to let him go and find someone who isn’t such a train wreck. I will sacrifice the feelings I have for him. It’s easier said than done, but with every moment that passes, I know it’s for the best.

“Hey, you see that street sign?” Kellan exclaims. We’ve been wandering for about an hour and I
have tripped over my feet twice. The flip flops on my feet are dirty and already wearing through and the balls of my feet burn. We’ve run into many locals and they don’t seem to even notice us. That is hopefully a good sign.

I lift my head up and see what he is pointing to. Kukulkan Boulevard is right before us. That is the street that flows through the hotel zone, the street that separates our villa from the beach. A weight lifts off of my shoulders and I have the urge to cry. We are
so close now. Just another mile or so before we hit the hotels and condos.

We walk as fast as we can down the palm tree-lined street until we hit the first building. We run in and the lady at the front desk smiles at us at first but when she takes in our appearance she drops the smile.
We really don’t know what to say, so we just stand there and stare at her. I’m so dumbfounded that we have made it that I am just waiting for it to not be real anymore. I’m preparing myself for the realization that we have just been hallucinating everything and really we are only a block away from the building we just spent the last week.

She starts to say something, probably her typical ‘welcome’ spiel, but stops short. Her eyebrows furrow together in thought and then recognition hits. She gasps and takes a step back. “You’re the… Oh, my!” She grabs the phone and presses some numbers violently. When the person on the other end answers, she begins speaking in Spanish faster
than I have ever heard someone. She drops the phone and looks around and hands me her water bottle and runs off. I look down at the half empty bottle and up at Kellan.

He shrugs and nods for me to drink it. I down a few gulps and it soothes my scratchy throat. I hand it to Kellan, who finishes the rest. We both sigh in relief. We’ve managed to drink a little out of water fountains on our way, but were afraid to drink too much because you know what they say about the water in Mexico.

A man comes down the corridor following the woman’s heels and he looks on us in shock. “Aubrey and Kellan?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes,” we reply in unison.

“Oh, my God. Olivia, call nine-one-one, now!”

We are escorted to a small couch in the entry and sit to watch them run around.
Olivia is on the phone and the man is yelling commands at her, chewing on his thumbnail. He keeps looking over at us every few seconds to make sure we are real. He jumps to a start and disappears down the hallway and back again with his lunch pail. Inside is a turkey sandwich on ciabatta bread and a bag of Doritos.

We only wait a few minutes before a police car comes up into the parking lot and ushers us away. I turn to the couple and wave, and they bow their heads to us.

“Welcome back,” the man says before the door shuts us off from them.

The next few hours go by so fast, but not fast enough.Kellan and I hold hands the entire time, afraid they will separate us.
When we get to the police station they try to do just that. I cry and scream like a five year old and whimper as they carry me to a separate room for questioning.

I can’t believe it’s over. It seemed like a lifetime that we were in that room, but now that I’m sitting in a cold chair in a bland gray room waiting for someone
else to come in and talk to me, it seems like it went by so fast. I keep looking at the mirror on the wall, knowing someone is behind it staring back at me. Maybe it’s my parents, maybe it’s Carlos and Andres and they are in on the whole thing. Maybe it really isn’t over and once they talk to me I will get escorted back to that dreadful building.

I take big breaths and wait some more. An hour or two passes and nobody comes. I know there is going to be some drama because the Mexican police probably don’t want the United States FBI involved. Tough shit, they are on my side. I need them.

The door slowly opens, creaking ominously as a large Mexican man steps into the room and glares at me. In his hands is a folder and pictures of Carlos and Andres are pinned to the front. When he slams the folder onto the table in front of me, I see Andres is in a police uniform. I fall out of the chair and onto the floor, devastated.

“Are these the men that kidnapped you?” He asks, his voice booming throughout the room.

I nod. That’s all I can do.

“We are doing what we can to find them. The building you described was empty when we searched it.” I don’t believe him. I can’t believe him. This man and Andres could have been partners. This man could have been involved. Suddenly I am grateful for Kellan
who demanded no cops be contacted until we were certain we were safe.

“Do you know them?” I ask bitterly. I know the answer already.

“Yes.”

“And were you aware of us before we were found? Did you know where we were and what they were doing?”

He hesitates slightly before swallowing. I see spots and my vision becomes blurry and black before he answers, “Yes.”

16

Kellan

Three weeks later

The reporters have dwindled, though there are a few still milling around. After we were released from police custody we went straight to the hospital and left for home from there. Aubrey and I gave a million interviews, separate and together. They asked us why we didn’t go to the police in the city, didn’t find a payphone and call somebody collect. Why we didn’t go to the hospital that was just a block away from Kukulkan Boulevard. The fact that Andres used to be on the police force before being kicked out for abusing witnesses didn’t waver some attacks to us.

We explained the best we could, but the more they asked, the more we questioned ourselves.
We really didn’t know before that he was on the force. I just did what I saw in the movies. I knew anyone from distressed cities could not be trusted. But the questions still kept coming. I’m surprised they attacked us like they did, like we weren’t the victims in the situation. I thought they would find us lucky or smart for managing to get away alive.

In one particular interview, Aubrey broke down and cried on national television
and refused to answer any more questions. I was worried they would think us guilty for some fucking reason, but it turns out Aubrey crying cut the interrogation short and we were done. Until the next fucking interview. The last few were so robotic I don’t even remember what I said.

I held Aubrey’s hand the whole way. She needed it. She still does. We both have nightmares almost every night, and every time we do, we call the other to talk through it.
Needless to say, I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in way too long.

We went back to our parents’ houses for a while and the distance between us killed me.
It was torture because since the day I met her we spent all day, every day together and then suddenly we were states away. I had to go back to school. I went against my parents’ wishes to postpone my last semester until the fall and started classes a week late. I talked to my coach and he OK’d me to play ball. Practice starts in a week.

Aubrey showed up on campus a day after me.
We were bombarded on campus the first few days, but just like the reporters they lost interest quickly. Now most of the students just stare at us, though, which is just as uncomfortable as the questions.

Now that we are back,
I spend as much time with her as I can. I go to her apartment and sleep with her every night and we help each other through our nightmares. Mine aren’t as frequent as hers and I suspect she has PTSD but I’m afraid to bring it up to her. It turns out I don’t need to.

“I think I need to go to therapy,” Aubrey says to me one
Sunday morning, as we lay there in her bed refusing to leave the comfort of the sheets. We are both lying on our backs and staring at the ceiling. That night was extremely bad for Aubrey and I had to hold her for a whole hour while she calmed down. “My mom suggested it the other day and I think I need it. What do you think?” She turns her head to the side to gauge my reaction. Her eyes look so sad.

“Yeah, it might help.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” She asks seriously.

“No, of course not. Why, did anyone call you that?” I will punch whoever said
that. I feel around under the sheet for her hand. When I find it, I lace our fingers together and rub my thumb over the top of her hand in small circles.