Untraceable

Survival Skill #43

When choosing shelter, be sure it is dry, offers concealment, and has an escape route.

~

Slits of light break through the darkness engulfing me, as if mini blinds are opening. I’m surrounded by a dingy gray color and total silence. Am I dead? My brain muddles through some random scenes, trying to piece together events. The fuzzy world fades in and out. A peach with black fuzz moves into my frame of sight.

A hand touches my forehead.

A voice speaks to me. “Try to relax, Blossom.”

Facial features slowly come into focus. I manage to whisper, “Mo?” Saying his name alerts my brain, and my memory comes flooding back. A streak of anger zips through my body. I ball up my fist and punch him square in the chin.

Mo stumbles back, stunned. “Bloody hell! What was that for?”

“That was for me.” I sit up and take stock of my situation. I’m in a cave somewhere with a total traitor. Mo’s face is scruffy, and his face filthy. I try to hit him again. This time, he grabs my wrists and holds them tightly in front of me.

The anger boiling inside me gives way to my broken heart. I feel like a broken china dish someone has tried to glue back together. Appearing fixed, whole, but with a hairline crack, a weakness, preventing me from being truly whole again.

I lower my head and whisper, “I hate you.”

Mo releases my hands and rubs his jaw. “That makes two of us.”

“Leave me alone.” As I scoot across the sandy floor to get away from him, pain pulses through me. Feels like a burning knife is slicing open my gut. I lean my head against the stone wall and breathe.

Mo inches closer but doesn’t touch me. “You have to relax.”

“Fuck … you.” Then for some strange reason, I smile. For years, Wyn’s tried to trick me into blurting out those two little words, but I could only muster a fudge you or an F you. Now I realize Wyn was right. Two words can make me feel better.

Mo ignores my verbal breakthrough and holds out his hand. “Take these.”

I smack his arm away, sending two white pills sailing through the cramped space. My voice comes out sharp. “No.”

He picks them up and offers them again. “They’ll make you feel better.”

I turn my head away and purse my lips in defiance. “I don’t feel anything anyway. Besides, it’s probably poison.”

He smirks a little. “No. I couldn’t find any of that out here.”

“Why should I do anything you ask?”

His eyes try to bore into my soul, but I turn my face toward the wall. It’s like he’s Medusa and can only have power over me if I look him straight in the eye.

“You’ve got to trust me.” The cute English accent that once made him sexy now makes me sick. I can’t even hear his voice anymore without thinking of him in his psycho mask with those crazy men.

“HA! That’s the line of the year. Look, I don’t need your stupid aspirin or whatever it is you’re trying to shove down my throat. And I certainly don’t need you.” I push back even further. Bolts of fire shoot through my stomach, and I double over in pain. “Ow.”

Mo points to the pills in his open palm. “You sure?”

I snatch them from his hand, knowing I want the pain to die down more than I need to make a point. He holds up a canteen of water, but I slap it away and chew the acidic medicine raw. Even when some of the powdery stuff glues to my throat, I still refuse his water. After several minutes, the pain lessens a tad.

“Where are we?” I croak.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I frown. “Is that why you didn’t tell me who you were? Because you didn’t want me to worry about it. Gee, you’re so thoughtful, Mo. What a great guy. What a bloody good catch you are.”

This time, Mo doesn’t smile. He remains serious. More serious than I’ve ever seen him. His muscles are tense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Was there a better way for me to find out?” He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “You’re a liar and a murderer.”

Mo doesn’t flinch. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I cross my arms in front of me. “You never gave me a chance to. You just lied. About everything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” I yell. “It doesn’t mean anything! You owe me more than that. You owe me some kind of rational explanation. You owe me the truth.”

“I didn’t choose this path. I want to be a geologist, for God’s sake.”

I push him hard, and he falls back on his butt. “You don’t believe in God. What you believe in is something crazy and absurd. You believe in killing animals, threatening people, and blood money.” I stop talking and catch my breath.

“That’s not true,” Mo says quietly.

Something shifts inside. Any feeling I have drains. I’m using logic with someone who’s completely illogical and irrational. Probably crazy too. My words come out flat and unemotional. “Then tell me. What is true … Mo? Or should I say, Morris.”

He gets up and paces. “How do you…?”

“I found an article online about you and your father. It was in my dad’s case file.” I stop suddenly, tired of talking, and stare at the guy in front of me. The guy I started to love. The guy who’s not the same person I kissed a couple days ago. Mo stares out the entrance. His confident posture refuels my rage and I egg him on, wanting so much to hurt him the way he’s wounded me. “Your dad would be disgusted with you right now.”

Mo glares at me. His piercing brown eyes reveal a hint of hurt. “You don’t know anything about me or my dad. Just because you read some article, you think you know everything now?” His eyes flip from anger into sadness before I can even blink.

I soften my tone, hoping to extract some information. “Then tell me … what’s going on?”

He sighs. “Last year, I was in the woods with my dad when he was shot.”

“Did you kill him?”

Mo spins around and slams his head on the low, rocky ceiling. “Ow! No!” He touches the small cut above his brow and winces. “How could you even say that?”

I keep my eyes on him, refusing to let him off the hook until he tells me more. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Mo.”

His body loses its posture and his shoulders curl forward in defeat. “My father was murdered. By these guys. In cold blood.”

“The article said it was an accident.”

Mo kneels down. “Grace, the article was wrong.”