Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Searching

AIDEN

When Zach jumps up from his hiding spot, it hits me like a punch in the gut. One second, I’m ready to fight for my life, expecting to likely die for that goddamn box. The next second, I’m fearing for Zach’s life. How could he do that? This isn’t his fight. It’s not his sacrifice to make. This is precisely why I only work alone. But I’ve let my personal feelings get in the way, and Zach is paying the price.

Zach is steps away from the forest when he yells out to get the group’s attention. They all turn and start running after him. The man named Wayne holds up his rifle, pointing directly at Zach. I’m about to jump up, but Tyra knocks his gun down as it discharges.

“Alive!” Tyra yells. “No shooting!”

Tyra and Wayne run after Zach into the forest. The other two men hang back, but they’re looking intently in the direction everybody ran. As sick as it makes me feel, Zach has given me a slim opportunity.

I slide along the side of the car and peek over the edge. Both men are still turned away. With a soft hand, I open the back door and pull the backpacks out. The metal latches on the outsides of the pack hit against each other, making a clinking sound. Stopping in my tracks, I wait for the men to turn. I consider the rifle attached to the back of my pack. Using it is my last resort, a line I’ve never had to cross. And a one-way trip I don’t want to take.

But the men don’t turn. They’re too distracted to notice. Carefully, I sling a backpack over each shoulder and make my way into the woods behind the gas station.

Moving quietly but swiftly through the forest, I calculate my next move. It’s dangerous, but if I head in the same direction as Zach, I could be some kind of help. I pause for a moment and listen. The faint sound of yelling comes from the south, so I head in that direction.

My mind is a jumble of emotions. I curse myself for getting into this situation. We knew the woman back in town was a trap. I should have been more careful. I’m so angry with Zach for doing this. It wasn’t his sacrifice to make. But I’m also surprised by how much my heart is aching.

I head toward the shouting, but it’s becoming less frequent. And soon, it stops altogether. I continue south, the last direction the voices came from. But I tack slightly east, which will eventually lead me back to the road.

Then voices break the silence, far closer than I expected. They’re no more than a hundred feet away, so I get low and listen.

“Well, you said don’t shoot him,” Wayne shouts. “So it’s your own goddamn fault!”

“If you would stop running through the forest like a fucking rhinoceros, he might not have gotten away.”

Zach got away.

Tyra continues, “Goddamnit! Connor will have our heads when he hears we fucked this up.”

And there it is. Somehow, until they spoke his name out loud, a part of me thought I was mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t Connor I saw outside the bank. Maybe he truly was dead.

Now, it’s become real. The guilt I’ve carried about his death sheds off me like the dead skin of a snake. Not entirely. There’s still a scar there. But my guilt is replaced by anger. And by something else. A sense of dread spreads through me. The conspiracy theories Connor told me were unsettling. If he’s fully bought into them, he’s not an enemy to be taken lightly.

“Why are we taking orders from that stuck-up piece of shit anyway?” Wayne asks.

“Because that stuck-up piece of shit gave you the gun you’re holding and the bourbon you threw up last night. And he’s got a lot more when we deliver these bastards. Alive.”

“Okay, fine. I guess I can put up with his bullshit for a bit longer.”

The voices in the woods continue, but I’m no longer listening. My head is swimming with thoughts. I imagine Zach alone in the woods and me with all his supplies. He won’t last long by himself without help. But how can I possibly find him?

Wayne and Tyra are now on the move. Based on the direction of their voices, they’re headed back north. It won’t take them long to return to their truck and start canvasing the road.

I lie unmoving for several minutes, waiting for them to be out of earshot. After I no longer hear them, I get up from the forest floor. The going is slow, especially with two backpacks. The thought of dropping one enters my mind for a second, but I shove it away. I’m not ready to give up on Zach. Not by a long shot.

But one thing has become painfully clear. It’s too dangerous for Zach to travel with me. If I find him again and return his supplies, I’ll have to take the next opportunity to send him off on his own. That’ll give him the best possible chance to make it. Even though it’s the right thing to do, the thought fills me with an unexpected sadness.

After hiking for a while, I come up parallel to the highway. I keep it within sight but stay far back enough so no one can spot me from the road. My hunch is that Zach is continuing on our current heading. I hope he has the sense to keep off the road, too, but I’m keeping my eyes open just in case. And maybe I’ll get lucky and run into him. But the hours pass by with no sign of him. There’s also no sign of our pursuers on the road, which is surprising, but I’m glad about it.

I stop once to rest and eat. I’m wracked by guilt, thinking about Zach going without. But there’s nothing to do except press on and hope for the best. A few times, I risk a shout-out, calling Zach’s name. But there’s no response.

I plod on until it’s too dark to continue. A clearing in the forest is large enough to set up a tent. I won’t risk a fire with the FLA breathing down my neck.

Throughout the night, I toss and turn in my sleeping bag. Images of Zach enter my mind. His gentle smile. His thoughtful eyes. And then the image of him being captured hits me, and it tears me up inside.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I wake up when the morning sun hits my tent. I have a stale granola bar for breakfast, then head out. The going is slow again. My shoulders rub raw against the weight of the two backpack straps. I’m not sure I can make it much longer.

It’s then that I glimpse something ahead in the forest. Some kind of man-made structure. It’s tall and wooden, like an old water tower. As I get closer, the structure looks bigger and more complex. A crisscross of wooden beams forms an extensive structure. Maybe an old railroad bridge?

But it’s bending and curving more than any bridge should be. Then I figure it out, laughing at myself. It’s a wooden roller coaster. I think back to our conversation from the other night. Zach told me about the amusement park around here, where he had his first kiss on the dark ride. This must be Cedar Grove.

And then it hits me. This is where Zach would go. He’d try to meet me at the one common place we talked about together. It’s still a long shot, but it fills me with hope. Suddenly energized, I pick up my pace.

Before I get to the coaster, I run into a chain-link fence. It must be the perimeter of the park. Barbed wire lines the top, pointing outward to stop precisely what I’m trying to do. Get in. So, climbing it is out of the question. I walk along it, looking for an opening.

After a short while, I approach a service entrance. A closed gate in the fence, but not locked. I go through it, keeping my eyes and ears open for danger and any signs that Zach came through here.

Walking along the cobblestone promenade, all the familiar sights of a theme park surround me, but everything is abandoned, run-down, and covered with overgrown vegetation. Ride entrances, cotton candy stalls, and large sculptures in elaborate gardens stretch out in every direction. An old, broken-down carousel has horses and carriages with peeling paint and weeds growing up through it.

I pass by a ride with a sculpture of a velociraptor, its claws menacing and its mouth gaping open. A sign beside it says Raptor in red lettering with deep claw scratches. Behind it sits a large metal coaster painted dark purple. Vines crawl up the steel structure, eating the coaster whole.

A kiosk in the middle of a walkway has the title Park Map. It’s faded from the sun and barely legible, but I can still make out some details. A little arrow points to my current location. I scan the ride names and find one called Earthquake, the ride Zach mentioned. It’s not far.

A knot forms on my insides as I approach. Zach is either here, or this is a dead end. No gray area. It’s a medium-size building, with a track heading out one door and going in another. Old rusty ride vehicles that look like sporty convertibles queue up on the track. The outside of the building depicts an earthquake scene from San Francisco, with bridges collapsing and people running in terror. A large Earthquake marquee covers the front.

There’s no sign of Zach.

I call out loud enough to be heard in the immediate area but not so loud as to attract outside attention. “Zach. You around, Zach?”

Nothing.

I reach for a flashlight from a backpack. Maybe he’s taking shelter inside.

The all too familiar click of a gun being cocked comes from behind me.

“Now you just hold on there. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

It’s the voice of elderly woman. She talks slowly and has the slightest drawl. I put my hands up as she instructs.

“Now turn around. Slowly.”

I turn to see a woman in blue jeans and an oil-stained shirt with the name Jo embroidered on it. Her long brown hair is speckled with gray and drawn back into a ponytail. She’s got a cocked rifle pointed right at me.

“I’m looking for a friend I lost. I don’t mean any harm.”

The woman eyes me suspiciously and keeps her gun aimed at my chest.

Behind me, rusty hinges groan in protest as the entrance to the dark ride opens. A familiar voice calls out. “Jo, it’s okay. He’s a friend.”

Jo lowers her gun immediately, and I turn toward the voice. I drop both packs, run over, and give Zach an enormous bear hug, holding back tears of joy.