Page 7 of Mercenary
He turns and shakes his head.
“Nothing?” I say, interpreting his gesture.
“I didn’t come back for her.”
2
Madelyn
Kylie’s not coming.
I stand in the empty parking lot at the local watering hole, a diner called the Pitt, and watch the dim light inside turn black. It’s two a.m., closing time. And my sister knows it.
The last I saw of her was hours earlier, upset and in a mad rush as she stormed inside like the wind, whisked me out of our trailer and into a cab, then dropped me off here, telling me to wait inside. If I thought the stranger’s visit to our trailer the afternoon before was unsettling, my sister’s frantic insistence we disappear from it all together has me unnerved.
“Promise me that if I don’t return, you’ll head to California straight away,” she’d added. “Follow your dreams without worrying about me.”
“Why wouldn’t you return? Come on, Kylie. Tell me what’s going on. Why do you want us to keep away from Happy Times?”
“I’m begging you, Madelyn. Just do as I say. Promise me.”
I remember sighing. Whatever had her riled up was obviously pretty serious. No sense adding on to her stress. “I promise.”
She’d pulled me into a bear hug, whispered “I love you,” and that was how we parted.
Whatever has happened is serious enough that she wanted us gone from our trailer. I don’t dare return. I shake my head.
A promise is a promise. Besides, she’ll probably call me and tell me this was all a bit of drama over a man she’s desperately in love with. Because the day my sister falls in love is the day all hell breaks loose.
Before I can find my way to San Diego, I’ll need to get out of this parking lot and to the bus station in Dayton, the next town over. I make a second attempt to call a cab but the phone just rings and rings. Closed for the evening too? Hard to say, given how I’ve never been out this late or in need of one.
I bite my lip, wondering what to do. And am still biting my lip and wondering a few minutes later when I decide there’s only one thing to do: walk.
The night’s pitch black, the moon shadowed by clouds. The air is warm and dry like it is in the evenings before a heat wave settles in. No Pacific Ocean breezes or the taste of salt on your tongue. Not yet, anyway.
My three duffel bags are cumbersome and my march down Main Street becomes a slow, awkward push forward. A few cars and a pickup truck pass by yet I go unnoticed, hidden on a boulevard of shadows.
Taillights flash red then disappear off to the side of the road up ahead, like someone’s parked. But I don’t give it any mind until I’m halfway past the red pickup truck, when a tall man steps into my path.
I stop short, and blink.
My stranger.
Is he here . . . for me? I think, and am just finishing the thought when he moves, fast and furious, grasping hold of my arm, pulling me into him and covering my mouth with his free hand to silence my scream.
“Keep your mouth shut. Nod if you understand.”
I nod. I can’t open my mouth even if I try, not with him holding me this way.
“Everything you need inside those duffel bags?”
My eyebrows lift with surprise, but all I can do is nod once more.
“Good. Do exactly as I tell you.” He drops his hand and moves around me, easily lifting the three duffel bags and tossing them into the back bed of the pickup. “Get inside.”
“What’s happening?” I murmur, barely above a whisper.
“You wanna die, Madelyn?”
