thanks for asking. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.”
“No way! Where?”
Amber’s gone, I sigh, and turn to the TV again. It starts to rain, I can hear the thunder.
“Hey! Didn’t you get my call? I told you to get ready?”
I look around hazily. Don’s standing over my couch.
“Hmm, all I heard you say was something about crickets. Why aren’t you soaked?”
Don shakes his head and brings me a cup of water. As I drink it, my head clears.
“I can’t believe that you picked up the phone and talked to me while you were still asleep.”
“Special snowflake I tell you.”
He glances at his watch, “We have a few minutes, it’s only 5:30. You should have enough time to get yourself cleaned up.”
“5:30? No way. I can’t believe I just took a three hour nap!”
“Way.”
I go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I scrub my face harshly with a towel. When I walk back to Don, I’m fully awake and I grab my backpack. We hurry out the door, and get into Don’s car. We drive south, and reach the neighborhoods at the edge of the city. There isn’t much traffic, and we’re in position just a little after six.
We stop a block away from the house. Our car is practically invisible. We do stake outs the night or day of the escape because the situation can and will become extremely volatile.
Today, Don has a head of peroxide blonde hair, and he’s dressed in starkly contrasting black and white. That’s what people will remember if they see him. Tall, blonde male, black and white clothes. Distinctive and memorable.
I go for the browns and blues, shadowy colors that should blend in the shadows. Average clothes, nothing striking, or unusual. I might be your cousin, or someone else’s granddaughter. We settle into the car and play memory games to make sure we stay sharp. Hours tick by slowly. Don unrolls the windows as the air grows stale.
We wait watching as the shadows grow longer. An orchestra of insects accompanies dusk. The sun drops, sending violets and reds across the sky, and the blue darkness of night seeps forth. The light is overwhelmed. Inefficient street lights cast a weak orange yellow light on the streets. I watch them, the third one down the street keeps flickering. I squint my eyes, watching the light bend.
Collection
I look at my phone, midnight’s here. Don gives me a tap, nods his head to the door, and I leave the car bringing my bag. He follows behind me, scouting around from his higher vantage point. We reach the house. The lawn is perfectly maintained, and from the front I can make out a shed in the back. Their abuser locks them in there when they have been ‘bad’. They will be there tonight. We creep around the house, edging against the building. Don keeps behind me.
The shed, like the lawn, is well kept. The doors are held together with chains and a padlock, and I open my bag, pulling out a set of lock picks. It takes me few minutes of fumbling with a small penlight to get the right picks, and my heart hammers against my ribcage. The lock clicks open, and I gently slide the chains off. Eyes glitter in the darkness.
“We’re your EXCOR contacts. Come out quietly.”
The smallest one edges out first. He’s barely had his fifth birthday, or so Don told me. His hands seem smaller than they should be in mine. His sister follows, and she’s several years older than her brother. Finally, out comes their mother, and her whole body sags with tiredness. With all of them out, I quietly close the doors, slide the chains back in place, and close the lock. We file past the house silently with me leading.
Too late, I see him. He’s cloaked in shadow on the front porch, smoking a cigarette. He spots us and yells. It’s a monstrous yell, full of fury and hate. In a second, Don’s beside me. He pushes us all behind him; a human barrier, separating us from monster raging in front. He doesn’t have to tell me, we just run. I grab the boy and put him on my back. The girl trips and her mother drags her as I lead them in the direction opposite from our car. We backtrack on the next street, and I pray that Don will be okay.
We make it to the car breathing hard, and I settle them in the back seat. I pop the trunk open, getting out blankets and water. I also find the extra gun that Don keeps for emergencies. I’ll wait for ten minutes, but if Don’s not back by then, we’ll have to go. I don’t bother with talking, we’re all hanging by the smallest of threads.
The seconds pass, each a heavy stone on my chest. I choke down air quietly. A figure approaches us, the street light shines on him. I recognize the hair, the shirt altered with dark stains that I know can only be blood. Don slips into the car, and I grip his blood-covered hand.
“We have to hurry, he’ll be up in a few minutes.”
He starts the car, and calmly drives onto the street. I turn back and look at our charges. I nod to the mother. She gives me a small nod back.
The streets are empty, and we make it back to my house in good time. Don leads the way into the house, and the mother follows, holding her children close beside her. I show them into the guest room.
“I have clothes for your trip tomorrow, and once you clean up, I’ll work on your hair in the kitchen.”
“I think you made a mistake… My youngest, Joe, isn’t a girl.”
I shake my head. “This is only for the trip. We want people to see a woman with two daughters leaving Austin, not a woman leaving with a daughter and a young son. I’ve bought plenty of candy for bribing your son if he doesn’t feel like wearing the clothes.”
She shakes her head back at me. “We might actually pull this off.”
“You will pull this off.” I grip her shoulder gently, and look her in the eye. “You will. You will find a new life for you and your children.”
“How can you be so sure? What I’ve been through—”
“We’re the same. We made it, and you will too.”
She puts her hand over mine and says, “Thank you.”
“Pizza will be here in an hour.”
I go find Don, he’s in Robert’s old room. The door is closed, but I burst through anyway. His shirt, bloody on the floor, and his torso is bare. The blood was his. He has slashes on his front, and they’re bleeding sluggishly. I swallow hard, he’s looking at me with a pale face.
“Is it bad?”
“I need to call the doctor. I don’t have enough training to help patch you up.”
He sighs and I go to the bathroom. I wash my hands, and dial our doctor. She tells me she’ll be over right away. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’m almost as pale as Don, and my hair is clumpy from sweat. I wet a few towels, get a few dry ones, and peroxide. I can clean him up at least.
Don is lying on the bed, pillows propped underneath his him. I lean over and pour the bottle of peroxide liberally onto him. There’s a sudden gush, and a white foam of bubbles appear. The foam slides off his chest and down in a dirty mixture onto the bed and pillows. I gently dab a wet towel, getting the dried blood off him. I use some dry ones to make a compress, and position his hands to the places I can’t put pressure on myself. His breathing is ragged, but he still gives me a smile. I lean over him, blood is seeping through the towels onto my hands.
Dr. Oliver comes in through the back, lugging her heavy kit with her. I show her one of the wounds.
“Oh this won’t be too bad. I’ll have you stitched up in no time. Let’s just get those towels off, and I can spray you with a local anesthetic.”
Dr. Oliver works quickly and efficiently, joking as she sews up the cuts on Don. I wash my hands again.
“You’re so much more handsome than the dead pigs I used to work on. Oh look there, two down, one more to go!”
There’s a knock at the front door, I realize it must be the pizza guy. Once I’ve paid, our guests troop into the kitchen, lured by the scent spreading through the house. Dr. Oliver isn’t too far behind, “Ooh! Can I have a slice? I really shouldn’t, but I think I deserve a treat, don’t you?”
Everyone grabs some, and I
ask, “Are you finished with Don?”
“Mphf. Oh yes.” she says in between bites of pizza.
“Thanks for coming so late.”
“Oh, my pleasure. But look at the time! I’d better get going, my practice opens at eight! And remember to change the dressings frequently.”
She leaves in a bustle, and I set aside a few slices for Don, but he probably won’t feel like eating for a while.
“I’m going to go check on my partner, but I’ll be back and then we can work on everyone’s hair.”
The mom nods. Her kids are thrilled to eat pizza past bedtime. I go back to Don. He’s almost asleep, but I move him off the dirty covers before he passes out on them. I try and make him comfortable, and go back to the kitchen. There, I dye everyone’s hair. I change the siblings’ hair to deep mahogany, and I give the mother a rich chestnut. Then I try to make Joe’s hair somewhat girlish, lot’s of ribbons. I give their mother a simple page cut.
“You’ll probably have to get this fixed up at a salon, but it’ll pass for your trip. Now, I need to make you a temporary ID. Can you stand in front of that blue wall over there?” I grab my camera a take a quick pic, grab my laptop and forward it to Charlie. He sends me back the fake temp, which I print it out, sign, and hand to, a newly born Rebecca. She stares at it.
“I need to make a call, do you need anything?”
“No, we’ll be alright.”
“Ok, if you need anything, just come get me.”
I head to my study, and get on my laptop. I adjust Don’s order with