Page 58 of Good and Gone

Those things are almost unimaginable. But I realize there are worse things. More than fearing going through with it, I’m scared that we’ll go home, and everything will be the same. I’ll go through today, and everything will be the same tomorrow. I’ll go through tomorrow, and everything will be the same the next day. And the next day.

These men are not giving up. They’re threats without faces or names, which makes it nearly impossible to predict when they might strike. Eventually, they’ll get to Hailey, and then what?

Eight seconds.

Down the tracks, an oncoming train screams. The whistle shrieks, the train is gaining speed. I feel its heat and its stench deep in my throat. I feel the horn blasting, feel myself shrinking as I stare into the fiery heart of the engine, screaming as it nears.This is it.I take a step forward. I'm walking, and then I'm running.

Suddenly, I see him. I see the reason Hailey dropped the sweater. He’s easily six foot five. He wears a T-shirt and jeans. The shirt has holes and stains, the number "99" printed across the front and “Spencer” written on the back. His skin is pale and his eyes are small. They narrow and widen, never completely still and always searching. I’ve seen his type plenty. You wouldn’t have to work in a pharmacy for more than a decade to know instantly that this guy’s an addict.

I hear the train sound its horn, and then the whistle, and then I am screaming, screaming as I hear the squeal of metal on metal, the howl of the wind as it passes. I scan the field for Hailey, but I don’t see her.

I tackle the man from behind, and he goes down with a thud. I draw my weapon and press it to his skull. "Don't move, motherfucker."

I lean into him, right on top of him, pressing as much weight as I can into his back, my knee wedged in between his shoulder blades to keep him in place. He tries to turn his neck so that he can look at me.

"I said, don't move."

I hope he listens, because I can't afford to kill him yet. I need him to talk. I need him to give me answers.

41

Hailey

Isee my husband holding a gun to that man's head, and the memories flood my mind like a heavy downpour. I know instantly he is the tentative guy and suddenly, I am in that room again.

There's a cot and a pile of straw on the floor. There's a camping toilet in the corner and a bowl of pellets on the floor. I drink water from a sipper water bottle attached to the wall. The other man is there too. He calls me Bunny, his favorite pet.

I wake up on the floor in the middle of the night. I'm naked again and cold. I stand up cautiously, but my legs wobble. They feel like gelatin. "Go back to sleep, Bunny," the man they call Boss says. "It's the middle of the night."

The man leaves and returns with more pellets and some chicken broth. He says I can eat it as well. He makes sure I know they didn't hurt me physically. And that they never will. "We're going to make lots of little bunnies, you and me." He then says he is going to let me go. With that, he grabs a pair of scissors and cuts the zip tie that binds my wrists together.

"She isn't Hailey anymore," Boss says. He has a fat nose and too much hair on his face. "From now on, you call her Bunny." Then he spits in my face, as if he wants to make sure I understand that there is no way out for me now.

At that moment, my entire body ignites like dry kindling in a fireplace. My stomach churns and my skin heats up as if the flames are licking at it. The next thing I know, they're all shouting: Boss, the man with tattoos who dragged me into this room.

A darkness fills my head and I fall to the ground in front of the cot. Boss throws a bucket of water at me. It hits me like a wading pool. "Get out, JD," he says. "Leave us be."

I'm curled up in a ball. I have a blanket, but it isn't enough. I'm cold. My entire body is shaking. Tears are streaming down my face. I'm trying not to breathe because I fear that if I do, I will smell him, and I will want to vomit.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know bunnies don't like water."

I don't answer because my mouth feels like it's been stuffed with cotton.

I hear the door open and then close. I feel his shadow pass over me. He pulls me up by my arm, hand around my throat. He's going to hurt me, and it will be my fault because I said no the last time.

I feel the pressure of his body against mine. His free hand is roaming, touching everywhere at once. He doesn't care that I'm crying and don't want to do this. He doesn't care that I have a husband. A family. A little girl who needs me. All he cares about is his own sick pleasure.

Afterward, he cuts my nails and combs my hair. He says I have to start a new life now.

"Hailey!" I hear Tyler shouting my name. We're in the woods, or rather, I'm in the woods. He's in a clearing, near the train tracks. I tell myself to stay put, that I'm safe. It's not like last time. I have my wallet, my phone, my sweater. I can call for help.

But then I think I'm imagining things the way I did in that room. Maybe it's the drugs. Maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe it's not my husband calling my name. It could be those men. My eyes dart in every direction. I need to find that house. I'll be safe there. If I can just climb under the porch, they won't find me. Then in the morning I can make a run for it. I can go back to that park, and that lady with the child will be there, and she'll help me find my way back home.

"Hailey!" I hear Tyler shout from the clearing by the train tracks. He's getting closer. I look around for another place to hide, just in case it's not really Tyler. I slip into the ferns and brambles near the road. I can't stay. I'm not safe here. They'll come back and find me if I do.

I glance back at Tyler. His face is soft and open and hopeful instead of angry, which makes me wonder if I am going crazy. Maybe he really is here. Maybe we are really going home.

I take a breath and dare to slide down the slope toward the tracks where Tyler is walking, calling my name. He stops his yelling and looks around. When he sees me, he scoops me up off my feet, hugging me close to him. His voice is shaky as he says it again, "Hailey, what are you doing? Are you okay?"

---