Jeff Hirsch - The Darkest Path

“Then this should be easy for you,” I said. “A one-way trip to the Wyoming border guarantees he never will.”

Wade looked at me for the first time since I’d mentioned Sinclair’s name, staring a fire across the basement.

“Doesn’t matter to you that she’d end up a companion just like her mom?”

“Like you said, things are what they are.”

Behind Wade, the crack of sunlight had grown brighter along the edge of the door.

“We don’t have much time.”

“No,” Wade said. “I guess we don’t.”

Wade climbed to the top of the stairs and shut the door with a dull clap. All the air seemed to vanish from the room. Bear began to growl.

“Wade…”

I stumbled backward as he came down the stairs, shotgun in hand.

“You don’t want to do this,” I said, my heart racing and my hands up, trying to ward off the shotgun that was now rising toward my chest. “I’m just asking you to help me like you helped people before. Like you helped Ellie.”

Wade jammed the barrel into my chest and pushed me down to my knees.

“And then what do I do?” he asked. “Sit around waiting for the day you need to trade Ellie’s name for something else?”

“I won’t. Wade, listen to me—”

“Get up,” he said. “Turn and face the wall.”

“How will you explain it to her, Wade? She knows I’m here. You think she wants to grow up with a murderer?”

“She won’t know a damn—”

“What are you doing?!”

Ellie was standing in the open door at the top of the stairs. When Wade turned, I eased back to the steel shelf I was chained to. Bear ran to join me, cowering at my feet.

“Go to your room, Ellie.”

“No!”

I began to draw the slack chain toward me, gathering it into a heavy loop.

“He’s just trying to get home,” she cried as she came down the basement stairs.

“He’s a liar, Ellie! Now get upstairs.”

“I won’t!”

“Then I’ll drag you up there myself.”

I swung the length of chain the second Wade started to move, knocking the shotgun to the floor. Wade scrambled for it, but I grabbed it first. I jumped back, training it on him, balancing the barrel across my cast.

“Unlock me,” I said. “And then I’ll—”

The blast of a car horn sounded outside. No one in the basement moved. The horn went again, followed by two car doors opening and slamming shut. Boots crunched across the gravel. Wade swallowed hard, his face a sheen of sweat. The Path officers called Wade’s name and banged on the front door.

“Tell them you came downstairs to check on me,” I said. “But when you got here, I was gone.”

“They’ll search the house,” Wade said.

“Mr. Wade!” a voice called.

“Keep them talking out front. I’ll go out back until they’re gone. Once they are, you get us to Wyoming and we’re done.”

“I’ll give you the keys to the truck,” he said. “You can go your—”

I dug the shotgun’s barrel into Wade’s chest.

“You will drive me yourself. And if we’re caught, I talk.”

The soldiers pounded on the door, harder now. Wade nodded and I backed off.

“Go.”

Wade moved toward the stairs, stopping to take Ellie’s arm.

“She stays with me until it’s done,” I said. “Give her the key to the padlock and leave.”

Wade swallowed his protest and handed her the keys. The soldiers knocked again and Wade was gone, up the stairs and out the basement door. Seconds later I heard the front door open and Wade’s voice greeting the soldiers.

I lowered the shotgun and waved Ellie over. She kneeled down beside me to undo the lock on my ankle. Bear stayed away, deep in a corner, watching her. The lock popped and the chain fell from my ankle.

“Would you really have told?”

Ellie looked up at me wide-eyed. She cringed when I grabbed her by the arm and pushed her toward the stairs.

“Let’s not find out.”

I waited until dark and then led Wade into the driveway at gunpoint. The night was still, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching us from behind every tree and blade of grass.

Wade threw one of his packs into the bed of the truck. When he was done, I waved him over to the driver’s-side door. He stood there, keys in hand, staring up at the dark house.

“Move.”

Wade pulled the door open and slid into the driver’s seat. I slammed it shut, then helped Bear up on the other side. Wade’s hands were limp on the steering wheel, his big frame sunken.

Bear gave an anxious woof at a squeak of hinges across the yard. I looked up to find Ellie in the light of the half-open door. She was barefoot in jeans, her arms crossed over a red sweater. The house was bright and warm behind her.

“Start the truck,” I said.

Wade nodded feebly, then threw his shoulder forward. The key turned and the truck grumbled to life. He looked up at Ellie one last time. The way he looked at her, it was like he was trying to will every bit of himself out across the yard and by her side. Without thinking, I pulled Bear down and held him close, his back against my leg. Wade grabbed the gearshift and started to pull.

“Wait.”

Wade turned to me. My stomach churned as I looked up at Ellie. Wade started to say something, but I stopped him before he could.

“Give me till morning,” I said. “Then report the truck stolen. I’ll leave it near the border. Somewhere easy to see.”

“I don’t under—”

“Just tell me how to get to the border.”

Wade gave patient directions, which highway to take and when to leave it for a few off-the-map dirt roads that avoided checkpoints. When he was done, I told him to go, but he didn’t move. He sat there in the driver’s seat, looking out the windshield.

“What happens if they stop you?”

“If I find out you had anything to do with it, I start talking. If not… then it’s on me.”

“Listen, son, I wish things were—”

“The longer we sit here talking, the better the chance someone sees us.”

Wade put his shoulder to the door and stepped onto the gravel. Ellie came farther out onto the porch, backlit in the lantern light from inside. I could see her trembling.

“It scares me sometimes,” Wade said. “The things I’d do to keep her safe. Maybe one day you’ll understand.”

Wade shut the door, and the driveway crackled under his boots as he rejoined Ellie on the porch. She was crying when he put his arm around her and led her back inside. The door closed behind them.

I moved Bear into my lap and slid in behind the wheel, leaving the shotgun on the passenger seat. The gearshift clicked into reverse and I backed slowly out of the driveway and onto the road.

I sat there, engine idling, looking back at the house. It was like an island glowing in the dark. I let go of the steering wheel and drew Bear up to my chest, hugging him tight with my eyes closed. He draped his head over my shoulder, breathing in short puffs that warmed my back. In that moment, the boundary between us felt as thin as a wisp of smoke.

We stole through winding back roads, watchful, headlights out wherever we could, following Wade’s instructions to the letter. A few times we saw Path vehicles, but we managed to pull off and go quiet in the dark. Every muscle in my body hummed, tight as steel, until they passed us.

We drove until just before dawn, when exhaustion forced me to find a place to pull off the road and hide the truck. We ate as much of Wade’s food as we could and then slept through the day. Bear snored with his head in the palm of my hand, heavy and warm. When night fell, we set out again.

An hour into the second leg of our trip, we came around a turn in the road, and I could see a line of lights miles out on the roadway. A checkpoint. This was it. Wyoming lay on the other side. I put the truck in reverse and hid it behind the bend in the road. Bear looked up at me when I cut the engine.