SAGE
My body felt different running now, compared to when I’d run toward the helicopter earlier today. Then, I was fast. I felt my body move in a way I’d never experienced. Now, I ordered my legs to sprint, and they were doing their best, but it didn’t feel like anything special. It felt … normal. Just the same as when I’d run on the farm.
“Ollie!” I shouted as I got closer. The air was crisp, the morning sun in the sky to the east; the smell of dewy, fresh-cut grass and manicured shrubs filled the air.
Ollie’s ears perked up, and he turned his head in my direction. He must have recognized me because he barked twice and took off at a full run, just as fast as when he sprinted alongside Beckett and me riding horses back at the farm.
He jumped at me when we drew close enough to each other, and his body crashed into my chest at the same time I wrapped my arms around him. I couldn’t contain my sobs and laughter while he licked my face, my neck. Ollie’s soft fur and warm body were the thread to home I needed to keep my sanity, someone from the farm and my life before, alive, and miraculously unscathed.
I stiffened when I saw the gardener steering toward us on his golf cart.
He tipped his hunter green cap and stopped in front of me. “Good day,” he said.
White tufts of hair poked out from the sides of his hat, and he had a full white-gray beard. He looked from Ollie, to me, and back to Ollie again, and I could see softness in his eyes.
He smiled sadly, and I was unsure whether he was sorry to see that someone else cared just as deeply for the dog, or if he knew why I was here and felt sorry for me. Since the man was employed by Vasterias, I assumed the former. The man surveyed me, as if he might open up conversation, but instead of asking questions or requesting Ollie be returned to the golf cart, he tipped his hat again, turned the cart in the opposite direction, and drove off.
I nuzzled Ollie, watching the gardener warily, almost expecting him to turn around and change his mind.
When the man finally disappeared down the hill and around the side of the cottage, I started walking southwest, away from the mansion, refusing to put Ollie down. After the last ten hours of sitting, my legs didn’t feel like staying in one place, and I wasn’t about to let Ollie out of my sight.
I sensed someone approaching behind me and turned to see Dallamore, waddling across the lawn, looking more inconvenienced than anything else. He observed me with Ollie in my arms, then glanced at his watch. “I’ll be up at the mansion. The cameras are on, so don’t try anything tricky. You have a bit of time to wander. Come to the portico in two hours, and we will have lunch. Do you understand?”
I nodded, knowing full well if I found an escape route in the next ten minutes, I’d take it.
I pulled Ollie closer and let Dallamore turn away first and get a good distance away before I started walking again. So much for Dallamore and his wish to “wash his hands of me.”
I scanned the property: rolling hills covered in lush grass, giant trees, and rose bushes. All mixtures and types of colorful flowers were delicately arranged in garden areas with benches. Such a contrast to our flat, dry farm property back home—the Kansas land I loved.
Still, I inhaled deeply, allowing the scents of the outdoors to calm and center me.
In the distance, at the top of the tallest hill, rested a giant tree and a white gazebo. That tree would give me a good view of whatever was over the stone wall, which might help me figure out what to do next.
I buried my face into Ollie and inhaled again, the smell of him wiping away my headache altogether. The presence of Ollie, the reminder of home, bolstered my determination.
Somehow, we were getting out of here.