Memory Lane

Chapter Thirty Eight

"Before I built a wall, I'd ask to know what I was walling in or walling out." -Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Thirty Seven

Jesse and I snap our heads to the door.

"Shit," he breathes, quickly grabbing the blanket to help us put out all of the candles with one gust of wind, which sends the picnic basket flying somewhere across the room. I grab the book just in time. "Come on, we can go out a door in the back before they find us."

As if the tension between us brewing moments ago was just a dream, he grabs my hand and pulls us out of the room and down the hall without a moment's hesitation.

He takes my hand in one with the blanket under the other and pulls us out of the room and down the hall. He doesn't have time to put on the flashlight on his phone once we hear the loud thud of footsteps all around us, so we run blindly down the hall and just pray we don't trip over any broken floor boards or fall through any rotted wood. The only source of light that we have is the moonlight pouring in through some cracks in the siding of the Inn.

My legs ache and burn with how fast the two of us are running in order to flee, but I let Jesse pull me as fast as we need to go without even a whimper of complaint. After what I just did to him, he should leave me. Or, better yet, walk me down the hall to the cops and throw me to them. Isn't that what people with freshly broken hearts do?

The sound of footsteps thuds in my ears and Jesse grips my hand a bit tighter, tugging me closer to him now that I've fallen slightly behind and am really just being dragged. Finally, after what feels like ages and was enough to create a consistent burn itching up my legs, we find a backdoor to escape through. Jesse tries to turn the knob, but the fixture is so rusted that it doesn't even budge.

"Come on," he exasperates.

He tries again. It doesn't budge. We hear shouting behind us, footsteps coming closer, and now the jagged movement of lights coming from cops running with flashlights in their hands.

"You think they'll arrest us or just call our parents?" I ask.

"Do you want to stick around to find out?"

"Good point. Bust the door down?"

Next thing I know, Jesse throws his shoulder to the door. Even in the movies, something like that takes a couple of tries, but Jesse is able to bust it open with his first attempt. The wood splinters off on some sides and Jesse shields me from it.

"Stop!"

"Get over here!"

Hand again held in his, Jesse and I sprint past the now shattered door and into the wooded night. With all of the leaves off of the trees now that we are in the middle of November, the eerie beams of moonlight are casting shadows from the bare bones of each tree. Running in my shoes with heels was fine as we ran through the supportive floors of the Inn. But now that we are outside in the leafy, soft ground I can't seem to take more than a few steps without the heel sinking into the ground.

"Jesse I have to-"

But he's already one step ahead of me and kneels down, easing the strap off with calm urgency and pulling both shoes off while I use his back for support. The cops are definitely not far behind us, so I should be freaking out. But Jesse's calm demeanor is helping.

"Come on," he says, holding my shoes in one hand and grabbing mine in the other. The blanket tucked under his arm. "We can lose them. I doubt they're going to chase us down for more than another minute or so."