Bend, Oregon
December 16, 2000
She dragged herself out of the culvert, bringing herself into the frigid light of day, her eyes stinging with the brightness. Rebirth. She was new in this world, new to herself. She could become anything. Choose a new name. Become a new person.
Assuming she could make it to safety. Bend lay a few miles up the road, but she had heard the sirens, so many screaming sirens. The authorities might be on the lookout for anyone who had been in the fire…especially a murderer. She looked down at her legs, trembling with the burden of her body. Her black sweats were wet and stained, but you couldn’t see any blood. Maybe she could find a shelter, a place that might give her a spare set of clothes, a meal, some water. God, she was so thirsty. Her head pounded with it. Her mind was a desert.
She squatted at the sound of an approaching car. She had to get out of this ditch and up onto the road. She had to get as far from this place as possible. She could still pick up a whiff of ash and smoke in the air.
She groaned with the effort as she pulled her way up to the road. She grimaced and brought herself to her feet. She breathed in freedom and exhaled hope. She wasn’t dead yet. And until she was, she’d put as many miles between her and this place as she possibly could. She couldn’t bear to think of what she’d left behind. What she’d abandoned. She could only look forward.
She gritted her teeth and began to run, each footfall a new agony, her thoughts bound up in hope and determination. She’d worked so hard to survive, no way could she give up now. Dreams of the new future she’d build for herself were so loud in her mind that she didn’t hear the growl of the pickup truck’s engine until it was just behind her, slowing to a crawl and then to a stop. Eszter didn’t stop, though. She kept her eyes forward and her feet moving, her heart thundering with the presence of this new threat. When the truck didn’t speed past her, she glanced over her shoulder at it and immediately stumbled with dizziness. The truck moved forward, once again pulling to a stop next to her. Its passenger-side window was already rolled down.
The driver, a man in coveralls, his messy, black hair held in place by a baseball cap, gave her a quizzical look. “You look like you’re running from a ghost,” he said. “You okay? Need a ride?”
Eszter looked up the road. She was so tired. Everything hurt. Nothing felt safe. She peered at the man, taking in his gentle smile and stubbly face. “I’m going to Bend,” she said.
“Me too,” he said, shoving open the passenger door. “Hop on in if you want. It’s only a few miles.”
Only a few miles to a brand-new world. Of course, she had no idea what she’d do once she got there, but right now, it barely mattered, as long as she was away from here. She carefully climbed into the truck, all her mental energy focused on not crying with the pain of the burns and the scream of her overtaxed muscles. “Thanks.”
He held out his hand. “Martin Rodriguez.”
She shook it. “Es—” She paused, clearing her throat. That wasn’t her name, not anymore. But it didn’t feel safe or right to use her birth name, either, and now the man was looking concerned, perhaps wondering if this bedraggled person he’d just picked up didn’t even know her own name. The solution came to her as if murmured in her ear, a familiar voice lilting in her memory. A voice she’d never hear again, a friend gone forever.
She smiled at the man even as tears stung her eyes. “My name is Christy.”