Flee (The Aurora Lockette Series, Book 1) (10 page)

“Okay,” I said.

“Aurora?” she said.

“Yes?”

“I love you. Be careful and stay calm. I’ll
take care of it from here.”

I texted her the flight number and found my
seat. I stared at my little phone. It vibrated over and over with
calls from Bree and Gavyn. I didn’t answer. I finally shut it off
and put it in the bottom of my purse when the flight attendant gave
me the death stare.

The flight wasn’t very long, but it felt like
it would never end. I could feel every mile between me and Gavyn. I
doubted I would ever come back. My chest hurt, each beat sending
webs of pain through my body.

I wanted to be unconscious with a dead, cold
sleep where I didn’t feel anything.

Instead, I slumped over my chair and studied
the tops of my shoes. I was in a precarious situation. Would people
come after me? Would I be on the news? Would the government try to
take me to study me? Okay, maybe that was a little out there, but
who knows?

The flight from Colorado to Kansas was worse.
By the time I taxied into Wichita, I had some time to process the
events of the day, but I was isolated in the airplane so I had no
idea what was going on outside the pressurized cabin.

My mom was waiting outside the terminal,
leaning against her car. She smiled and pulled me into a hug, but
there was tightness around her eyes and the engine was running.

“You don’t have any luggage, right?” she
said.

“No.”

“Get in the car. We’ll swing by the house,
but then we need to go.”

I got in without another word. She climbed in
next to me, took off the parking brake, and peeled out of the
airport parking lot.

“What is it?” I asked in a small voice.

“It’s already on the internet. The San
Antonio newspaper has it on their website.” She tossed me her smart
phone.

She had a San Antonio newspaper website
pulled up. Under the headline, “Breaking news: Bizarre story coming
out of San Marcos,” was a quick blurb: “We’ve received several
eyewitness reports that a three year old child, who fell off a
bluff into the Guadalupe river, was rescued by a ‘flying’ woman.
The event happened at a law school gathering, where hundreds of
students are claiming they saw a woman fly. In another strange
twist, unconfirmed accounts also claim Gavyn Dhaval, a
well-regarded British actor, was present at the party. Police are
investigating the incident.”

I handed it back to her. “Now what?”

“Now we have to hope it doesn’t get picked up
nationally. But, the fact Gavyn’s name is attached to it pretty
much guarantees it will.” She gave me a pointed look. “I need you
to prepare yourself. It could get rough.”

We made it to our house in twenty minutes.
The small white house with green trim and weirdly long driveway was
familiar and safe.

She pulled far up into her driveway, but
didn’t park in her small, detached garage like she usually did.

My sister, Erica, was waiting inside. She
pulled me into a rough hug. “You stupid cow, I miss you!” she said
into my ear. When she stepped away, she threw her glance from me to
our mother. Erica’s eyes were wet, brown hair disheveled, and she
looked tired.

My mom gestured her head towards the dark
T.V. “Why is that off?”

Erica shook her head. “It hit CNN – I just
saw it on the ticker. You’ve got two messages on your phone from
news stations. You guys need to go.”

“Go?” I repeated.

“Here.” Erica dragged a suitcase off the
couch and leaned it against my leg. “I went through all my clothes
and packed you some stuff that’s too big for me. I think it’ll fit.
I put a toothbrush in there too.”

She unzipped the small front pocket. She
placed a chunky old fashioned cell phone in my hand. “This is a pay
as you go cell phone. I bought two, and I have the other one. I
programmed my number in it. I think it’s best we communicate this
way.”

“Good thinking,” Mom said. “My suitcase is in
the trunk. We should go.”

“Okay.” Erica hugged her. “I can’t stay at
the house because it’ll throw the boys out of their school routine,
but I’ll check in on the house every couple of days.”

“Thanks, sweetie. We’ll be okay.” My mom
turned to me. “You ready?”

“Wait.” I took a few steps back. “What are we
doing?”

My mother answered. “We need to go into
hiding.”

“Where are we going? Don’t you need to
work?”

She slung her purse over her shoulder. “I
took emergency leave, and I have access to a cabin in the Ozarks.
It’s empty for the next few months.”

“I should probably text Bree and let her know
I’m okay.” I dug through my purse until I found my cell phone. “I
have thirty-three missed calls from Gavyn.” The tears pricked
behind my eyes again.

“You can’t call him, or Bree, or anyone else.
Throw away your cell phone, forget law school, and forget the boy.
This is life or death.”

She snatched her keys off the table and went
outside. I followed her on weak, shaky legs. Tears spilled out my
eyes and made the world blurry and strange.

I curled myself up in a ball in the passenger
seat. She said little, other than to force me to drink a bottle of
water every now and again.

A few hours passed where my mom gripped the
steering wheel a little too hard and checked her rearview mirror
constantly. Finally, she stopped at an isolated gas station in the
middle of nowhere. I was staring at my cell phone in my hands. I
had so many missed calls and texts it was displaying an error
message that my memory was full.

She put her hand on my leg. “I’m sorry this
has happened, but you can’t call them back. I can’t let you put
yourself in any danger.” She patted my knee. “Make a clean break.
Get rid of it.”

She shot me a look that was a mixture of
resolve and pity before she stepped out of the car to refill the
gas tank. I got out too and threw my little bright blue phone in
the trash. It was my last connection to Gavyn, and it started a
fresh round of tears.

We made the eight hour drive in one night,
arriving at the lake cabin in the wee hours of the morning. It was
a small two-bedroom on the shore of a beautiful lake. A small dock
jutted out the back into the moonlit water. On any other occasion,
I would have been thrilled with the location.

It was fully furnished, with two couches and
a flat screen television, an open kitchen, and bedrooms on either
side of the living room, both furnished with queen size beds. The
décor was dated, but it was neat and well kept.

I sat on the back porch for three hours,
leaning against the railing, sipping a glass of water.

I watched the sun rise for the first time in
a long time. Boats flitted across the surface of the lake in the
distance. Birds circled and swooped in a magnificent rush to catch
their watery prey.

She came outside when the morning changed
from dawn to light. She sat beside me on the porch, scooted closer,
and slung an arm over my shoulder. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“You need to eat, or go to bed. Preferably
both. You can’t sit out here forever,” she said.

“I’ll sleep then.” I squeezed her hand before
I went inside.

After twenty-four straight hours of being
awake, merciful sleep rendered me unconscious in short order.

I dreamt of Gavyn.

I dreamed we were back in San Antonio. He
gave me a bracelet and told me he loved me. I was floating away
from him. I tried to sink back down to him, but I just kept
floating away, higher and higher until I could no longer see
him.

I woke up covered in sweat. I shot up to a
seated position as the events of the previous day and night rolled
into my head. There was a soft murmur of voices from a T.V. set,
the smell of coffee, and a clank of dishes.

I showered and finally changed out of my now
stinky clothes. I dug through the suitcase packed with my sister’s
clothes. Luckily, we were about the same size. I found a pair of
running shorts and a soft cotton t-shirt to wear.

Mom stood from the couch as I came in.
“Morning.” She wrapped me in her arms and gave me a super-long mom
hug. She put one hand on my shoulder and used the other one to tip
my chin up so she could see my face. “You okay, kiddo? How are you
feeling?”

“Yes, I think so.” I pulled out of her reach
so I could look around. “What time is it?”

“3:00 in the afternoon. I picked up some
groceries. I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“You’re eating anyways,” she said.

I sat down on the couch in front of the T.V.
while she bustled around in the kitchen. “So, how bad is it?”

“Not good, but not as bad as I thought. It’s
been picked up on all the major networks. They’ve tracked down your
life, your law school, and me. I don’t think the family of the kid
has a lot of credibility, especially since Gavyn’s rep is refusing
to comment. The cops have said they think some drug use was going
on. Erica said there are a few news vans camped outside the
house.”

She sat next to me and put the sandwich and a
diet soda on the table in front of me. “Eat, drink.” She gestured
toward the T.V. “Most of the new stations are painting this as a
human interest story. I don’t think the claim you can fly is being
taken seriously, but my home phone must be ringing off the hook. I
had eighty nine voicemails when I called in this morning. I called
the phone company and had the number disconnected. I’ll wait a few
weeks to see if I need to move. If we stay in hiding, I think this
may blow over.”

“Whoa, whoa.” I put down my sandwich. “If
anyone needs to move, it’s me. When this settles down, you go
home.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” she said,
“but, over the next couple of days you’ll need to call the law
school to let them know you will be withdrawing. You can’t go back
there.”

“Fine. I was going to drop out anyways.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

I fingered the bracelet Gavyn had given me.
“Gavyn asked me to be with him. I was going to withdraw from law
school. I was going to go with him everywhere: L.A., London, on
location when he shot movies, press tours, the whole nine yards. I
was going to see the world. That’s what we had planned. Now, it’s
all gone.” This time I didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears.
I dissolved into a mess of sobs. My paper plate flipped over and
spilled my sandwich onto the floor, but I didn’t care. I cried, and
it was loud and it felt kind of good.

She pulled me across the couch so I was lying
on her lap. “Let it out. It’s okay.” She stroked my hair and cheek.
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t realize you’d gotten so serious.”

I cried until I was all dried up. It was dark
when we stood to go outside and watch the sun set. We sat on the
end of the dock, drinking cool beer and slicing the surface of the
smooth water with our feet.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not fair to you.
I know. You have no idea how he feels about your ability?”

“The look in his eyes when he saw me was…” I
swallowed the icky bump in my throat. “It was pretty clear he was
afraid.”

“But he chased you. Why would he chase you if
was afraid?”

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t have time to
stick around and chat.” I paused to take another swig of beer.
“This can’t be good for him either, all this press.”

We finished our beers, ate dinner, and then
crashed. I hadn’t physically exerted myself all day, but I felt a
deep, dead tired in my mind and body. I had a dreamless night.

I woke up the next morning to the insistent
purr of boats buzzing across the lake. I resisted the urge stay in
bed and mope. I needed to wake up and function, or at least pretend
to function.

My mom was standing in front of the living
room T.V.with a mug in her hand. She was as still as ice.

I focused my attention on the T.V. It was a
sensationalist national news network. It showed people camped
outside my mom’s home carrying signs and chanting I was the devil.
They were from some weird backwoods church. The photographers duly
interviewed these people. Their deep wrinkled, gap toothed faces
spoke into the camera.

“She doesn’t go to church, but she can fly.
She is not of the angels, she is of the devil!” a hateful woman
shouted at the camera. “We must rid the world of her evil. She must
come forward and accept her punishment!”

“What a bunch of idiots! Why the hell is this
on the national news?” I said.

“No one takes them seriously. I don’t
understand why they are covering this either. This is what I’m
afraid of though. Those crazy hillbillies probably have guns and if
we were there, they might try to hurt you. Not that they would get
very far.”

The newscaster returned to the story about me
and reported several death threats for me had been called into
local news stations in Wichita. That one caused the color to drain
out of my mother’s face.

I accepted the news calmly. I had lived in
fear of being exposed for the past ten years. Now all I would have
to do is face the consequences.

“I think it’s time you learn to shoot a gun,”
she said. “I can protect you now, but you need to be able to take
care of yourself in the future.” She snapped up the remote and
turned off the T.V. “Enough garbage. Get dressed. Let’s check out
the hiking trail around the lake.” Her mouth was set in a firm
line. She had bright red spots on her cheeks. I felt sorry for
anyone who messed with her today.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the
lake, avoiding people, and trying to keep our minds off the brewing
media storm.

When I went to bed later on that night, I
stared at the ceiling for hours. I didn’t feel anything at all; no
fear, no pain, nothing. It was abnormal, but better than pain.

The news stations were still talking about me
the next day.