Page 90 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

The man yells. Somewhere behind the boy. Ice water runs down his back. On the other side, he bumps into a stranger. He closes his eyes resignedly. He will restrain him, hand him over to the man. But nothing happens. The stranger just snaps at him before walking on, briefcase tucked under his arm.

For a moment, the boy stands there perplexed. He looks back. The monster has reached the intersection. A few people turn to look at him. Soon, they’ll know why he’s yelling so much. Then it’ll be over.

The boy starts running. He knows where he wants to go. From the newspaper, he learned about an area that no police officer wants to go to. It borders his neighborhood. He read about gangs and fights. This area is his only chance to escape the man’s clutches. He has memorized everything: the picture shown at the time with the few street names that were included. Now, he doesn’t recognize any of it. Everything is foreign to him. He runs without knowing where to. His whole body aches from the beating, but he ignores it. At the next intersection, he turns right and disappears again into a stream of chattering people. So many intersections. So many streets. Lights. It smells of pizza and fries. Of cigarette smoke.

Teenagers push him back and forth like a dog, laughing, but he doesn’t care. He just has to escape. The night becomes a river of screams, cars, wild honking, and music. It smells of food again. His stomach growls. A woman with bright red lips speaks to him and laughs, but he staggers away from her.

At some point, he lost the monster. For the first time, he slows down. He’s not in the neighborhood he wanted to reach. Hands pressed to his ribs, he walks down a paved road lined with mighty palm trees on both sides. Tall palm trees, so tall he has to tilt his head back to see their tops. The Santa Ana wind gently bobs the fronds up and down.

To his right, a collection of colorful stalls rises up on a stilt plateau. At the edge is a Ferris wheel with blue flashing spokes. This must be the Santa Monica Pier he’s seen so many times in the morning paper.

Suddenly, he feels too small for this world.

He stops. There’s something in the air. Not only wind, but also coolness and humidity. Like someone sprayed salt in the air. In the distance, he hears a steady whooshing. He turns once more to make sure the monster is truly gone before running in the direction of the noise. His feet touch something soft that tickles him. He looks down. Sand. It feels funny, but he doesn’t laugh. His toes are bloody. He lifts his foot and pulls a shard of glass from his big toe. He doesn’t feel any pain, there’s no room for that right now.

He needs to know what the sound is and keeps moving. Suddenly, he sees it glittering in the moonlight.

The ocean.

For a moment, he is dizzy because it’s so vast. His gaze glides over the pitch-black surface toward the white, foamy surf.

The boy watches as the waves break on the shore. He’s waiting for something. Maybe a feeling. You should feel something when you see the ocean for the first time. He waits for his lungs to expand, but they contract. He swallows and presses his fists into his stomach. His shoulders twitch, but he doesn’t cry. Not even now. He doesn’t cry and he doesn’t laugh. But he is free.

All he can think about is Rhode Island. It is the smallest state in the United States and comes after Pennsylvania in the alphabet. Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina.

Yet he can’t think of his own name. He has forever forgotten it.

When I come to, everything is black and white. I blink several times, but the color doesn’t return. The canopy remains dark gray and the spruce trunks appear black. The flash isn’t over, I just have a lucid phase. This time, I’m not lying on the forest floor, but standing rigid like a statue in front of the RV, my left hand around a long metal chain.

The memory flashes through me like lightning: I have to get Lou back!

With a pounding heart, I peer up at the treetops, which are bouncing up and down in the storm. Dark rumbling fills the air. Now I’m absolutely certain there’s going to be a storm tonight—I need to find Lou before it hits the area.

Where did she go? Where would you run to if you wanted to escape? Never in the direction of the street, that would be too dangerous because you could be intercepted.

For a moment, I smell sea salt and sand. The cold wind turns into the warm Santa Ana of Los Angeles and the rustling of the trees becomes the surf.

I would walk along the stream to avoid getting lost! I resolutely grab the metal chain and get a mental picture of the situation. The sky seems gray, but it’s still late afternoon. Grey howls in the RV. I must have locked him inside, closed all the windows, and even put out the fire. I can’t take Grey with me, he would only slow me down. There is still a chance I can catch up with Lou at the cliffs. If she’s not there, I can always drive down the road.

I wipe my face with the sleeve of the hoodie and stumble forward. The fear of being pulled out of reality again by my memories balls up like a fist inside me. I have to find Lou. I can’t even begin to think about losing her after all this time. No more Lou smiles. No cute red spots on pale cheeks.

I walk along the lake, which seems dull and murky to me.

You’ll find her. She won’t get far!

If she follows the creek, it will take her at least an hour to reach the cliffs.

I search for the deer trail, a path trampled flat by a herd of caribou that I came across while setting traps. The path leads steeply downhill. Again and again, I stop and listen, but I can’t hear anything apart from the rustling of the treetops. Here and there, pine cones fall to the ground and bounce between the dead wood.

“Lou?” I call out as loud as I can. “Come back! You’ll only get lost!”

I stop again and listen. Nothing. My gaze wanders down the slope toward the stream, but the trees are too close together. I only see dark branches, undergrowth, and tall grass to the right and left of the path.

“Louisa! Come back to me at once!”

What if she escapes? Fear and anger mix inside me, a dull, nameless pressure. I want to scream, freak out, bang my head against the nearest log. How could I have been so stupid and fall for the gas trick! I run faster and almost trip over a decaying badger at the bottom of the slope.

I can’t lose Lou. Never! Ever! I can’t lose her! Never lose! Never lose!

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