I hesitantly get out of the car, still clutching the brown paper bag containing my jar of maple mustard. Cara walks up the stairs and opens the door, allowing me to step in first.
My jar of mustard hits the floor when I see Ryley stand up from the bed. Her lower lip quivers as her arms open for me. I rush to fall into them, letting years of tears out while she holds me.
“I thought I’d never see you again.” I’m blubbering, but Ryley doesn’t seem to care. She holds me against her, stroking my back and hair.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I couldn’t. I had to run to protect Claire. He was going to take her from me.”
“Ssh, it’s okay, Penny. Everything is going to be okay.”
“How can you say that? Frannie is close and I’m going to have to run again. Claire, I mean” I take a deep breath and remind myself to call my daughter Chloe. I can’t get in the habit of saying Claire or I might slip. “Chloe is established here and I’m going to have to take her away from her friends.”
“That’s not going to happen. None of us will let that happen.”
“Penny,” Cara says my name to get my attention. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I have to tell you that I have a team of agents arriving very shortly. We want to use you to draw Frannie here so we can arrest her.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No way. I can’t put Chloe in harm’s way.”
“She won’t be, I promise,” Cara states. But she can’t protect us. No one can. I have to disappear again. I have to run, change our names, and find another place to hide. I can’t let Frannie find us because if she does, he’ll be right behind her. He’ll win and I’ll never let him have my baby. I don’t care if he’s in jail. He has people on the outside working for him.
I see the look of determination on their faces and realize that they’re not going to listen to me.
“Look, I understand that you think I’m missing, but I’m not. You can see me standing here, but my life as Penelope McCoy, it’s over. Cla— Chloe and I, we have a good life and you being here is disrupting it. I need to get back to my family.”
I bypass Cara and avoid Ryley’s outstretched hand. By tomorrow my daughter and I will be gone and poor Ray will be come home thinking everything is okay until we don’t return from the grocery store. If I could fake my death I would.
“Penny, please don’t go, I have something to tell you.” Ryley’s voice is full of desperation.
I shake my head as I turn the doorknob, and find myself eye-to-eye with a chest. I look up slowly and gasp, trying to catch my breath. My hand covers my mouth and tears cloud my vision. I feel hands on me before everything turns black.
WITH TODAY’S LACK OF security measures in place, it’s a shock that there aren’t more attacks happening on trains and buses. Buying the train ticket was easy. I was even thanked for my service now that I’m dressed in some Army issued fatigues. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever be caught dead walking around in the blueberry Navy working uniform. Besides, I think Frannie would expect that, and as much as I’d love to run into her out on the street, I need to get my ass to Boston.
As soon as Cara said the words, “I found her,” everything stopped, including myself. Breathing didn’t exist. The lights and sounds of New York City came to a halt and it was if they were no longer functioning. The streets were deserted; the people of Times Square were gone. And so was Cara because my phone died as soon as she said those three words.
I frantically looked around f
or help, but there wasn’t anyone I could ask. Every store I stopped at that morning didn’t have what I needed and pay phones are non-existent these days. Not that I would’ve been able to call her since her number was stored in my phone and I didn’t have it memorized like she asked me to do. The smart thing would’ve been for me to write her number down just in case. But I didn’t.
All I knew was that Penny had been found, and by the tone of Cara’s voice, she sounded happy. Which to me means Penny is alive and well. My next move was to get the train. I had to get to Boston to meet my friends.
I don’t know how long I stood on the street corner—with my mouth hanging open and a dead cell phone in my hand—until my brain could tell my legs to move, and once they did it was like I couldn’t stop.
The first thing I did was ask directions to the nearest Army Navy store. I still needed some clothes I’d be comfortable in and that was the only place to provide them. When I walked in, I felt at home. A weird sense of calm washed over me. It could’ve been because this wasn’t an ordinary AN store, this was a store run by an arms dealer. The militia runs it. I was with my kind, or at least people who understood my desire to outfit myself. The first thing I found was an Ontario MKIII Navy knife, followed by my boots and the rest of my purchases were gravy: box cutter, Leatherman, zip ties, and a couple of rounds for my gun. I was going to be prepared in the event Frannie is on my train.
Once I arrived at the train station I was able to calm down. I stood in the corner, waiting for my train to flash on the screen and bolted to the door. The last thing I wanted to do was share a seat with someone—I wanted people to be scared to sit with me. It should be easy. I’m a master at looking pissed off. Hell, I’ve only been doing it continuously for the past six months.
I rest my head against the window with my duffle bag held tight in my arms. I lucked out and was able to nab a four-seater that no one else wanted to sit in with me. I don’t blame them because I’m not much of a travel companion.
The scenery flies by and it’s only when we arrive in a town and slow down or come to a stop that you’re actually able to take some of it in. When the train is traveling at seventy plus miles per hour, everything is a blur, much like my life right now.
I know each stop brings me closer to Penny, but the train is taking forever. I caught the first train to Boston without thinking about the stops it would have to make. The express train is the one I wanted, but instead I’m on the slow one.
The train comes to a full stop and people move down the aisle to get off. I watch their reflections in the window, not needing to see their face. Most often, they’ll smile or tell me thank you. Thing is, they have no idea what exactly they’re thanking me for. If they had a clue they wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing what kind of monsters are out there lurking, and I’m talking about the Lawson types.
Unfortunately my luck has run out when an elderly woman sits down across from me. Considering her age I don’t think I have to fear her unless she’s hiding an AR-15 in her bag. If she is, we’re all dead so it wouldn’t matter.
“You look lost,” she says in a sweet grandma voice. The only thing missing are milk and cookies to soothe my scraped knees.