Boot Camp

  “I don’t.”

  She starts to shake her head dismissively, then stops and looks at me again. “Blue blood. I remember. You were a strange one.”

  “Why?”

  “You just were.”

  “Maybe because I didn’t deserve to go.”

  “That’s what everyone thinks.”

  “Doesn’t mean a few of them aren’t right.”

  Rebecca takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. She rubs her thigh where the cramp or pull must be. “You shouldn’t be talking to me. You should be running as fast as you can.”

  “Harry wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that.”

  “Don’t you know what’s going to happen if you get caught?”

  “You’ll take me back. They’ll put me in TI and beat me every few days. Sooner or later they’ll manage to rewire my brain so I believe I really did deserve to be sent there and that they saved my life and I probably would have died otherwise.”

  Rebecca rolls her eyes, then reaches into her pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes. She lights one and takes a deep drag. She glances at me. “Want one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Never smoked?”

  I shake my head. Rebecca takes another deep drag. “Well, thanks for not reminding me that I could probably run faster if I didn’t.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She gives me a funny look. “You’re the one whose parents sent you away because you wouldn’t stop seeing some older woman. Your teacher, right?”

  “Some crime, huh? And Harry told you not to believe a word I said. He said I was a brilliant manipulator.”

  “That’s what he always says.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s mostly true.”

  “Mostly, but not always. Only he said it’s not your job to decide.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “Just following orders.”

  “Everyone follows orders. You can’t keep a job if you don’t. You either wind up in the street or in jail.”

  “The Nazis were just following Hitler’s orders.”

  Rebecca squints suspiciously. “Maybe Harry was right about you, Mr. Brilliant Manipulator.”

  Am I wasting time talking to her? Shouldn’t I get out of here before Harry shows up? But before I go, I have to try something. “Look, my life is in your hands. Just because Harry has decided it’s not his job to question orders, does that mean you have to be the same way? Or does the very fact that I’m asking mean I’m trying to manipulate you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What if ‘manipulate’ is the wrong word? What if I’m trying to persuade you on an issue you’re uncertain about? Is that wrong? What if it’s something I really believe in, but you haven’t yet made up your mind? How is that manipulation?”

  Rebecca doesn’t answer. She blows some smoke and looks off in the distance as if thinking. Finally she drops the cigarette and crushes it beneath her shoe. Then she gives me an intense, focused look. “You know, it’s not just you we’re after. It’s the other two as well. Maybe everything you’ve said is true for you. That doesn’t mean it’s true for them.”

  “It’s true for them, too. Otherwise I wouldn’t be with them.”

  She gives me a dubious look. “You better get going. Harry catches me talking to you, it’s not going to do either of us any good.”

  I take a few steps back. “But it’s your job.”

  “Harry says one thing about this business: There’s a never-ending supply. If we lose you, we’ll just be sent to grab someone else. Now get.”

  I back away. Rebecca just stands there. I keep backing away. She still hasn’t moved. I turn and run.

  Walking quickly through the woods. I need to get to Pauly and Sarah, but I can’t go straight back. Rebecca knows the direction I left in. Maybe she let me go on purpose, hoping that I’d lead Harry and her to Pauly and Sarah. Damn it! When she mentioned Pauly and Sarah, I should have pretended that we’d separated right after leaving Lake Harmony and that I had no idea where they’d gone. Now she knows they’re around here somewhere.

  The woods end at a narrow road that follows the shoreline. The road is lined with small resorts, motels, stores, and restaurants, many of them featuring rustic log-cabin designs. They have names like Riverside Rest, Riverview, Waterline Café, and Don’s Daily Boat Rentals.

  Wait a minute… boat rentals? That could be our shot.

  A couple of hours pass before I get back to the cornfield. I’ve taken the most circuitous route possible to avoid being seen or followed. Pauly and Sarah are huddled on the ground in their plastic-bag vests. The sight of them is shocking. Somehow in the past few hours I forgot how haggard and dirty we are. In addition Pauly and Sarah look pale and sickly.

  Still, Sarah smiles happily when I appear. Pauly looks glassy-eyed and feverish but asks, “Where have you been?”

  “Almost got caught.” I tell them about Rebecca. “So they know we’re here, and they’re looking for us.”

  “Crap,” Pauly mutters.

  The sun is higher now, almost overhead, and here among the dead brown cornstalks, without a breeze, it almost feels warm. Pauly’s forehead glistens with perspiration, but it can’t be from the sun’s heat. He must have a fever.

  “I think we have a chance,” I tell them. “There’s a place down the road that rents boats.”

  Both Sarah and Pauly give me puzzled looks. “We’re … gonna rent a boat?”

  “No. We’re gonna steal one.”

  We head into the woods. It’s slow going. Sarah’s foot is swollen and tender, and I have to support her. Pauly stops often and coughs, his thin body shuddering with each hack. Each time he coughs, Sarah and I exchange nervous looks. If Harry and Rebecca are anywhere near, they’ll be certain to hear him.

  I lead them to the spot where the trees end at the narrow road. From here we can see the rustic motels and the run-down brown shack behind the sign for Don’s Daily Boat Rentals.

  “That place?” Pauly whispers hoarsely.

  “Yeah.”

  “So what are we waiting for?” Sarah asks, eager to get going.

  “That pickup wasn’t there before,” I explain. A dented light-blue pickup truck is parked next to the shack.

  “What do we do?” Sarah asks.

  “Let’s see what happens.”

  We wait, hidden in the trees. Now and then a car rattles past, usually an older model, sometimes with rusted-out lower panels. It’s well past summer-vacation season, and cars pass at a leisurely pace, as if no one is in a rush to go anywhere.

  When a shiny new maroon sedan comes down the road, I do a double-take. The driver is wearing a cowboy hat and craning his head this way and that. Reflexively I duck down even further than before.

  “Was it them?” Sarah whispers.

  “One of them. Maybe both. I didn’t get a good look.”

  “What do we do now?” Pauly asks.

  If Harry and Rebecca just passed, hopefully it will be a while before they come back this way. Now the sound of a sputtering engine catches my attention. Across the road, exhaust spits out of the light-blue pickup. It starts to back up, and heads away down the road.

  This might be our only chance.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  Pauly bites his lip, his eyes darting back and forth. But Sarah is already pushing herself up. “Let’s do it.”

  I slide my arm under her shoulder, and we step out of the woods.

  And into trouble.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “Additional privileges will be your reward for rising through the levels.”

  Two hundred yards to our left, just where the road begins to curve around a bend, the shiny new maroon sedan is parked in front of a small yellow house with black shutters. A woman in jeans and a man in a cowboy hat are standing at the front door as if waiting for someone to answer the doorbell. The woman sees us and points. The man in the cowboy hat quickly turns his head.
>
  Pauly sprints away. I more or less pick up Sarah and follow. We dash past the sign for Don’s Daily Boat Rentals and around the brown wooden shack. Beyond it is a short green lawn, then a rickety wooden dock sticking out into the river with four dented old aluminum skiffs tied to it.

  The dock bobs and wobbles unsteadily as we run onto it. Each skiff is about fifteen feet long with three bench seats and a small black outboard on the stern.

  “You know how to drive one of these?” Pauly asks.

  “Used to,” I answer as I help Sarah down into the middle seat of the last boat. The red plastic gas can reads full. I pump the black plastic ball, open the choke, and give the pull cord a good yank. The engine comes to life and revs with a cloud of white smoke. But before we go, I have an idea and climb up onto the dock.

  “Pauly, quick.” I jump down into the boat behind ours. In the stern gunnel is a screw stopper for draining the boat when it’s in dry dock. I start to undo it. “See what I’m doing?” I hold up the stopper, then toss it into the water.

  “Yeah.” Pauly moves down to the next boat and does the same. I leapfrog him and do the third boat. Cold water seeps through the holes and into the bottoms of the boats.

  “Way to—,” Paul starts to give a little cheer as we climb back into the first boat with Sarah in it, but he freezes with his mouth open. I twist around and see why. Harry is barreling around the shack at full speed. Rebecca follows, hobbling.

  “Untie the bow!” I yell.

  Pauly knows what to do. I twist the throttle wide open, and the outboard engine whines as the bow lifts and we start to accelerate away. Behind us the dock rises and drops under Harry’s heavy footsteps, but there’s no way he’s going to catch us now.

  The dock grows smaller as we head out into the river. Harry stands at the end with his hands on his hips and a furious expression on his face. Rebecca is next to him with her arms crossed. We watch them from the boat for a few moments, unsure whether to let ourselves feel the elation of escape. But Harry and Rebecca just stand there. As incredible as it seems, we’ve done it!

  In the boat, Pauly turns and faces forward, taking the wind in his face, his plastic-bag vest rattling in the breeze. The river must be at least a mile wide. The far shore looks green and forested with houses set among the trees. The water has a slight chop, and as the boat gains speed, it begins to bang and bounce, kicking up white wings of spray on either side. Huddled on the middle seat, Sarah faces me with her back to the wind, the edges of her plastic-bag vest rippling, her head bobbing every time we bounce off a wave. For the first time in hours she smiles. Her lips move, but her voice is lost in the wind and engine noise.

  I point to my ear. “Can’t hear you. Talk louder!”

  “I said, pretty good for a city boy!” she yells. But the words have hardly left her lips when the smile is replaced by widened eyes and a jaw dropping in surprise as she stares past me back toward shore. Harry and Rebecca have jumped into one of the other rental boats, and Harry yanks on the starter cord while Rebecca unties the bow rope. A puff of white smoke rises behind them as they leave the dock in pursuit.

  Sensing that something is wrong, Pauly swivels his head and looks. His lips move. The words are lost in the wind, but I think he’s just said, “They’re gonna sink.”

  Harry must be so intent on chasing us that he didn’t notice that the stopper was gone. There’s almost always a little rain collected in the bottom of these boats, so the water inside probably didn’t even register in his mind. By now we’re a quarter of a mile out in the river, leaving an ever-broadening white wake. The Canadian shore is three quarters of a mile away. It’s hard to imagine Harry and Rebecca will make it that far.

  Sarah gives me a concerned look. These boats have no cushions or life preservers. And the river water is cold. Even if they know how to swim, they’ll probably succumb to hypothermia before they can reach safety.

  Pauly’s face goes somber as he figures it out too. Is our freedom worth two lives? But if we go back to warn them, we might get caught. The Canadian side is getting closer. Now I can see the windows in the houses and a car driving along a road.

  Pauly and Sarah continue to stare back. Three hundred yards behind us Harry’s boat bangs and splashes over the waves, kicking plumes of spray from both sides. Did Harry notice the stopper was out and stuff a rag in its place?

  By now we’re almost halfway across. Individual trees are beginning to come into focus. Behind us, Harry’s boat is no longer bouncing over the waves. It sits deeper now, pushing water ahead of it like a tugboat.

  Pauly and Sarah study me as if waiting for my decision.

  You didn’t go through all that pain and suffering and come all this way to turn back now.

  If the places were reversed, there’s no way Harry would come back and save you.

  But you can’t let people die.

  Can you?

  Our skiff bangs over the waves. The opposite shore is getting close. I can see each tree clearly, boats, docks, a bright yellow kayak pulled up on a lawn.

  Well behind us, Harry’s boat is low in the water, hardly moving anymore.

  Ahead of us are several resorts with docks. I head for one where the windows appear to be boarded up for winter. Now, instead of giving me searching looks, both Pauly and Sarah look away. As if neither can meet my gaze.

  Moments later I slow down and ease the boat beside a dock, then reach over the gunnel and steady it so Pauly can help Sarah climb out. Sarah glances toward the boarded-up resort and then—sensing that something isn’t right—turns to look at the idling outboard motor, and then at me. “Aren’t you coming?”

  I shake my head.

  Standing beside her on the dock, Pauly purses his lips, then nods as if he understands. Sarah blinks, fighting off tears. “It’s not fair.”

  Out in the middle of the river Harry’s boat is no longer moving. Instead it sits almost level with the water.

  “I better go.”

  “You’re a good guy,” Pauly says glumly.

  Tears start to fall from Sarah’s eyes. She kneels down on the dock, takes my face in her hands, and kisses me on the lips. “Thank you.”

  “Say hello to your aunt for me,” I tell her.

  Sarah glances at Pauly, who lowers his gaze and looks away. She turns back to me, her dark eyes glistening wet. “Garrett… there is no aunt.”

  “Huh?” I don’t get it.

  She takes my hand and squeezes it. “There’s an aunt in Minnesota, but we made up the one in Toronto.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “We were afraid if we said we didn’t know anyone in Canada, you wouldn’t help us. You’d think it was hopeless.”

  I’m stunned. Of all the people… I never thought they’d lie to me.

  “Then what are you gonna do?” I ask.

  “Try to make it on our own,” Pauly says. “No matter what, the American authorities can’t get us here. Listen, Garrett, we had to do it. We would have died in that place.”

  Brilliant manipulators. Strangely I don’t feel angry. I almost admire them. They were desperate. I can’t blame them, because like me they didn’t belong at Lake Harmony.

  “Try to understand,” Sarah pleads.

  “I understand.” I push the boat away from the dock and turn it around.

  Believe me, I understand …

  By the time I get back out to the middle of the river, Harry’s boat is swamped. He and Rebecca are sitting on the bench seats, holding on to the gunnels, the cold river water up to their waists, watching me with silent expressions. Rebecca’s teeth are chattering, her lips are blue, and her jaw is trembling uncontrollably. I stop my boat about thirty feet away.

  “Come back to watch us drown?” Harry snarls through clenched teeth, as if he refuses to let me see how cold he is.

  “Not my thing,” I answer.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “If I save you, promise you’ll take me back to the Canadian side.”

  “I’d rath
er drown,” Harry answers.

  “For God’s sake, Harry,” Rebecca blurts.

  “You go with him; I’ll stay here,” Harry says belligerently.

  “What’s the big deal?” I ask. “So what if three of us get away? Aren’t you the one who said that the great thing about this business is there’s a never-ending supply?”

  Harry stares angrily at Rebecca, as if he knows where those words came from. She hangs her head. Just then three big air bubbles break the surface behind them, and the stern of their skiff starts to sink. The nose tips skyward, and Rebecca screams. I move my boat closer, kill the engine, and reach over the side to help her. The skiff rocks as she climbs in and flops onto the seat. She’s soaked, dripping from the chest down, and shivering from the cold. Just as his boat begins to slide backward and disappear beneath the surface, Harry leaps forward and with a splash grabs the gunnel of my skiff, nearly tipping it over. Once the boat steadies, Rebecca and I pull him in.

  A moment later they’re sitting on the center bench, dripping wet, teeth chattering behind blue lips. Harry’s lost his cowboy hat. He pulls off his cowboy boots and about a quart of water pours out of each one. I climb back to the stern and grab the pull cord to restart the engine.

  “I’m going to Canada,” I tell Harry. “And you’re going to let me go when I get there.”

  He grits his teeth and looks like he wants to kill. But then his eyes relax and his mouth softens into a smile as he looks past me. The distant wail of a siren cuts through the air. A black and white speedboat is racing toward us with red lights flashing. It’s kicking up a white plume six feet high and leaving a broad wake. A police boat.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “You must demonstrate your allegiance to Lake Harmony’s program.”

  As I look longingly toward the Canadian shore and try to judge the distance, a heavy dose of disappointment weighs down my shoulders. There’s no way I’ll get there. That police boat is ten times faster than this old aluminum skiff. In no time it pulls within a dozen yards of us. There are three officers aboard, all wearing black bulletproof vests. The younger two prop M19s on their hips. The older officer, probably the captain of the boat, holds a cocked forty-five-caliber semi-automatic. These guys mean business.