Mark Young - Off the grid

Then he thought about their first encounter in San Francisco. She admitted to watching him for several years. That didn’t sound like a normal life. A normal woman didn’t don a wet suit, sneak into a houseboat at night, and force him to leave moments before the place blows up, leaving a dead man inside. That’s far from normal.

Maybe he and Alena shared the same difficulties-unable to live like the rest of mankind. Might that draw them together? Then Marilynn’s face flashed through his mind. Get a hold of yourself, Gerrit. One woman-a traitor-lay dead. And now he was thinking about another woman, this Mission Impossible gal who seems to have no history.

This concussion might have jarred his brains loose. Better focus on your own problems, pal. His track record with women seemed bound for failure. Better focus on staying alive.

Like his uncle, he might be running and hiding for the rest of his life. Kane was just the tip of the iceberg. Other people-wielding even more power-must lurk out there in the grayness of politics, government, and business. Powerful individuals who determined he was a liability. For the moment, Kane and the others thought he’d been eliminated. How long would that last?

Joe rose from the table and began gathering dishes. “Why don’t you folks relax and I’ll have these done in a jiffy.” As he gathered the last dish and entered the cabin, Jessie leaned over the table and took Alena’s hand. “It was so nice getting to know you this afternoon. I’m sorry you have to leave so soon. We women need to stick together in this group.”

Travis laughed. “Hell-raisers more like it.” He winked at Gerrit. “We have something in common, my man.”

Gerrit leaned back. “What’s that?”

“Women and water.” Travis grinned. “The first time I met Jessie, she tried to drown me.”

Jessie slapped Travis on the shoulder. “You drowned yourself, honey. I stood by to make sure you didn’t kill yourself.”

Travis continued. “I hired her as a river guide to get me through the white water upriver from here. Instead, she watched as I almost killed myself in one of those rapids. And when I bounced back from death’s doorstep, she was laughing her head off.”

Jessie gave him a hug. “You survived, so I did my job.”

Travis shook his head. “Back to my point-women and water. So Alena drags you outside moments before your place is bombed to smithereens.”

Gerrit gave a quick look at Alena. She lowered her eyes, blushing.

Travis continued, unrelenting. “You know what they say about the debt you owe someone who saves your life, buddy. You’re tied to them forever. So, I guess it is foreordained that you two-”

“Stop it, Travis.” Jessie gave a threatening look. “You’re embarrassing them. I think it’s sweet that Alena risked her life to save Gerrit. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Suddenly, Gerrit felt uncomfortable. “You know, I’ve been cooped up in bed and need to stretch my legs. I think I’ll take Bones and Sam and head down to the river, if you guys don’t mind.”

Travis smiled. “It would do Sam good to run some of this dinner off. Go for it.”

Relieved, Gerrit patted his leg, looking at the dogs. “Come on, guys. I snagged a couple pieces of Travis’s steak with your names on it.” He held them up for the dogs to see as he made his way to the stairs. They came bounding after him, tails wagging, eyeing the meat with hungry eagerness.

He climbed down the steps and walked a few yards down the gravel pathway when he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw Alena following.

“Mind if I tag along? Needed to get away from Travis.”

Gerrit nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“He is a great guy. Helped us in the past when we needed assistance. But sometimes, he gets on my nerves.”

Gerrit bent down and let each dog have one of the chunks of meat. “Welcome the company. By the way, do you know where we’re going tomorrow?”

“Where we first met-San Francisco.”

“Why there?” He wiped his hands off and began walking down the path.

“That is where I live when I am not running around chasing you.” She smiled for a moment. “Seriously, we thought it best to relocate you there until things cool down. I am all set up and can provide a good cover for you while we start to fill in your backside.”

“Backside?”

“You know, the story about your fake past.”

“Oh. You mean backstory?”

“Whatever you Americans call it. Anyway, Joe and Willy-you haven’t met him yet-will recreate your past with a new name, ID, the whole thing. Make you a new person.”

“What name should I use?”

Alena stopped for moment, looking into his eyes. “I like the name David. David from the Bible.”

“Why him?”

She came alongside as they neared the river. “He was a warrior, a leader of men. And he was very brave-like you, Gerrit.”

“I’m not a brave man, Alena.”

She took his arm for moment. “You forget. I have been watching you for more than seven years. I know just about everything there is to know about you. I say you are a David.”

Suddenly her closeness made him feel uncomfortable. He never let anyone get close before. His first inclination was to back away. Build a wall. “You know everything about me? Like what?”

Alena just smiled. “Come on, I think the dogs want to go for a swim.”

“What is your last name?”

“Shapiro. Alena Shapiro.”

“That a Russian name?”

She nodded. “A Russian Jewish name.”

“How did a Russian Jewish woman wind up in San Francisco working with my uncle?”

Her eyes darkened as if she suddenly pulled down a curtain. “A long story, Gerrit.”

“Give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

“ Reader’s Digest? What is this?”

“I mean, just give me a brief story about how you met.”

She took a deep breath. “It is not a happy one. When I was about nineteen years old, my parents finally obtained a visa to Israel for all three of us. A lifetime dream of theirs and they wanted to get me out of Russia. We resettled in that country and I had an opportunity to go to school. When I was twenty-two years old and serving in the Israeli army, my parents took a trip to visit my father’s brother in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1994. My relatives were showing my family around the city, including the AMIA building.”

Gerrit looked at her sharply. “Asociacion Mutual Israelita Argentina? I remember the incident.”

She nodded, eyes downcast. “I’m impressed. You even have the pronunciation right.”

He shrugged. “What can I say. It’s a gift…or a curse. My memory.”

Sadness washed over her. She closed her eyes, and words seemed to catch in her throat. “Eighty-five people killed, including my folks. The handiwork of Hezbollah and the Iranian government.”

“I’m sorry, Alena. I shouldn’t pry.”

She angrily wiped away a tear. “Sometimes it feels like it happened years ago. And I have been at war ever since. Other times, like right now, I close my eyes and I feel like it just-”

He saw she could not continue. He knew not to dig any further. “Loved ones can leave a hole in your soul that can never be filled,” he said, quietly.

She nodded. “Time and God may heal the soul, but scars will always be there-never letting you forget.”

They walked in silence to the river’s edge, the swollen Clearwater River running swiftly past their feet as evening shadows fell. An arctic chill swept down the canyon as winter let them know another snowstorm might be coming their way. Spring was a long way off.

As dusk settled, a momentary sense of peace descended, as if the land and the river promised shelter from the pending storm. The forest around them seemed quiet and content, ignoring winter’s threat.