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Kristina
The bed and breakfast the older man described as small is anything but. It’s more of a three-story, Colonial-style house with a detached, two-car garage. The landscaping is flawless, with flowers of all colors adorning the outside of the porch and hanging in pots from the ceiling.
After we check in and pay cash for our single, two-bed room, we are shown to the second floor. Our room’s décor screams country. On display is an array of wooden furnishings with copper knobs and pink-and-white curtains. A baby blue wallpaper adorned with white flowers covers every wall.
“Wow, someone really spared no expense in making sure this places reads country,” I mutter after the host has left Tiger and me alone in the comfortably sized bedroom. I stroll over to one of the queen-size beds and lay my duffle bag on top of the blue comforter with a splash of tiny pink hearts here and there as part of the intricate design.
“This is different.” By the sound of his voice, I deduce the multiple adorable barn animal portraits on all but the wall to our right, where a pair of large windows provides an ample view of the parking lot to the side of the building, is less than inviting for him.
“I’m going to take a shower. I’m dying to feel decent again.” I open my bag and pull out jeans, a T-shirt, clean underwear, and socks. “Wait for me here, okay?”
Tiger sits on the edge of the bed next to me and dumps both his bags on the floor. “I’ll be right here.” His face has suddenly undertaken a look of utter exhaustion.
“Are you okay?” I take a moment to observe him, but he responds by closing his eyes and tipping his head to the left. “Do you want to shower first and then take a nap? I can wait to grab something to eat. We should probably head on next door to the convenience store to stock up on water and junk food anyway, since we’re down to almost nothing.”
“I’m not tired, just thoughtful.”
“About what?”
His eyes pop open but avoid meeting mine. “Much.”
The vagueness of his answer tells me he’s not in a talking mood so I glance around the room in search of something that’ll entertain him while I run into the bathroom to clean up. I spot an outdated TV on top of a dresser directly behind me.
“Do you want to watch TV while you wait?”
A slight dip of the jaw is his response so I saunter over to the dresser, grab the remote, and click on the TV. A quick flip of the channels later and I stumble upon a romantic comedy by Woody Allen. Not an ideal flick for a guy, but since he’s hardly ever watched TV, I don’t think he’s up for complaining.
“I won’t be long,” I say as I lay the remote on the dresser. When he doesn’t respond, I hurry to the bathroom and lock myself in.
***
Refreshed after a shower, I sit on the bed and comb my hair while Tiger takes his turn washing up. I untangle the knots and leave it loose to dry on its own. Once I’ve repacked my brush and deodorant, I take out the maps Grandma wrote on, spreading them over the mattress.
Next, I take out the paper with the addresses she provided and compare each one with the marks on the maps. It quickly dawns on me that she’s marked down alternative routes to the addresses on the paper. They all lead to the same areas, accessible through different roads.
These must be the locations to her connections, people she knows to some degree. What’s not yet clear to me is what these people have to do with Gerard, or if they have something to do with the despicable man to begin with.
There’s at least one checkmark per state, from Montana down to Florida, and from Idaho to Mexico. Which brings me to my next question. Tiger said only two specimens escaped from the Institute that he is aware of, so who do these marks belong to?
I shrug. I’ll find out eventually.
Satisfied I’ve managed to sort some of this mystery out, I fold the maps and stuff everything inside my bag. I climb onto the bed and lay on my side to watch TV while Tiger finishes with his shower.
My eyes close automatically as I lay my head on the soft, flower-scented pillow. The exhaustion of the past day has finally caught up with me and though I try to fight it off, I fall into a deep sleep.
***
I’m startled awake by a hand being forcefully slapped over my mouth. My first instinct is to fight. I flail my arms and kick out, determined to break free. I land a right hook on the figure’s face, but end up cracking my pinky instead. My assailant is unperturbed and continues to hold me down to the bed.
“Kristina, it’s me.”
I lie still, staring at the wet hair plastered against his forehead, trying to process the whole ordeal.
“Don’t make any noise.” Tiger points to the window to my left, on the other side of the room. “There are men outside. Another pair is downstairs in the lobby,” he whispers as he releases me.
Reality sets in. We have been trailed to the B and B. But how?
“Are they Gerard’s men?” I sit up and glance toward the door, already picturing them barging in at gunpoint, threatening to kill us if we make a sound.
“Yes.”
I almost swallow my tongue in fear. “How did they find us so quickly?”
“His resources go far and wide.” Tiger picks up both duffle bags and points to mine. “Take it. Move slowly and quietly,” he instructs.
This is why Rose told me to wait it out in the farmhouse until nightfall. Gerard would be looking for us nonstop and now he knows where we are.
“How are we going to get past them?” I scramble off the bed and pick up my bag, shoving the strap over my head and shoulder.
Tiger tiptoes to the door and opens it to look out. “When we first came in, I noticed an exit on the opposite side. If we can sneak in that direction, we might make it outside.”
“Didn’t you say there are men outside?”
The door closes with a light push as he turns to face me. “By the sound of their heartbeats, I have pinpointed their locations to the front of the building, but we must make haste. Soon they will cover all the exists and box us in.”
“Say we make it out, what then?”
“We have to go now. They are heading this way.” Without another word, he opens the door, grabs my hand, and pulls me out into the hallway. I shut the door softly and follow along as he rounds a corner to our right.
We keep to the walls, quietly creeping across the hallway as Tiger guides us to the exit at the other side of the corridor. We turn yet another corner, to our left this time, and find the sign for the staircase.
Tiger opens the door and peeks through the gap, keeping a close eye on the top of the staircase. He listens before reporting, “They are going up the opposite stairs. We have to move slowly, to make as little noise as possible. Let them believe we are in the room, unaware of their presence.”
“Okay.”
We descend the stairs with caution, still holding hands. Every step squeaks and groans beneath us, the wooden planks seeming to protest as we put our weight on them. This slows us down. Any noise can lead the men right to us.
Halfway down the staircase, Tiger picks up pace, nearly dragging me the rest of the way as he moves with much more urgency. “They’re at the door. Let’s go.”
I bite back a scream and run behind him as he tows me to the exit and shoves it open. “Where to now?” The question comes out as a harsh whisper.
We’re out by the time we hear someone at the other side of the house shout something unintelligible. I quickly scan the area for a place for us to hide when I see a huge beacon of hope across the street.
“There!” I point to the bookstore at the other side of the road behind the bed and breakfast’s parking lot. “The bus.”
Tiger takes off running toward the huge, shiny four-wheeled mode of public transportation, holding my hand tight in his. I shake off the idea of getting caught and fight through the fear threatening to consume me as I force my short legs to keep up with Tiger’s long stride. We run through the parking lot, and across the street where we evade traffic by weaving in and out between the cars waiting on the green light.
A series of angered shouts resonates behind us. I glance over my shoulder and make out the silhouettes of three men bursting out of the same door we exited from. They sprint across the parking lot after us, covering the distance between us much too quickly.
“Tiger!” I yell in warning. The last of the patrons waiting to get on has just stepped inside. We have seconds before the bus drives off.
We move faster, shoving through a crowd of people, reaching the bus’ doors as they begin to close.
“Wait!” I shout at the driver. “Please, wait.”
Tiger wraps one muscled arm around my midsection, and picks me up to settle me in front of the driver.
“Go. Please, go.” I look out the window, noticing the three men trying to cross the street, stopped only by the oncoming traffic.
“You need to pay the fee.” The driver points the sign to his left indicating the proper amounts for adults and children.
I swallow the panic welling up inside of me, and rummage through my bag with shaky hands. I find a five-dollar bill, and slip it in the slot. “Go, please.”
The driver’s brow knits together as he murmurs something about rude kids and how we’re always in a hurry, but in the end closes the doors and drives off. I hold on to the handrail and glance out in time to see the men cross the street. They see us inside and try to flag the bus down.
“No. No. No,” I whisper.
The driver moves his right foot to step on the brakes. I reach out for him and bury my fingers in his right shoulder.
The driver fixes me with a hardened stare. “What in the world...?”
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” I urge the man. Whether it’s the panic he reads on my face or the desperation he hears in my voice, I have no clue, but he doesn’t stop and instead, accelerates.
“Find a seat,” he orders softly.
I release my grip on the driver and quietly make my way to the first row of seats, ignoring the gaping onlookers at the back of the bus. I slump into an empty space and let out some air. Tiger sits to my right.
“How did they find us so fast?” My heart beats a steady staccato against my chest. I struggle to calm my uneven and heavy breathing as I sit with my face almost between my knees. We came so close to getting caught and the thought makes me sick to my stomach.
“Gerard is very resourceful. If he wants something, he will stop at nothing to get it.”
“Okay, so, uh, we have to stay away from the spotlight, blend in, and not call for unnecessary attention. I think we can manage.” It’ll be a trial, but nothing thus far has been a picnic.
“Kristina.” Tiger pats me on the shoulder gently to get my attention.
“What?” I lean against him as the adrenaline rush begins to die down. I’m exhausted and fighting off the need to puke all over the floor. If I could just close my eyes and pretend as if we didn’t come close to being kidnapped a second time, I’d be less inclined to lose it completely. But I can’t erase the past day, hour, or minute.
“I’m right here.” His arm comes to rest on my shoulders. I hold myself rigidly beside him, unsure of how to take his brazen move.
As unsettling as his approach might seem right now, he’s only trying to comfort me.
“Is this appropriate?” he asks, seeking approval.
I don’t have the courage to tell him no so I lay my head on his chest.
“We should get off soon. I wouldn’t put it past the men to follow us in their cars. Plan A didn’t work out so well. So we’re going to have to figure out what to do from here on out.”
Tiger’s response is a light squeeze, which I find incredibly reassuring, under the circumstances. I have a gut feeling things are bound to become more complicated, but we can still make it if we put our heads to good use and come up with a solid plan.
If we can’t go to the authorities, we’re going to have to think like criminals.