Chapter Twenty-One

Calee

It takes a good, long while for my heart to stop pounding and for my breathing to get back to normal. Yeah, I'd been expecting them to find me, but having them actually show up at our door still rattled me to my very core. Seeing Harold and Ennis coming toward us in that parking lot was like watching a scene from a horror movie.

But Eric got us out of there. He saved me.

Except, now they know who he is. They know he's protecting me. Which means that he's in danger. Because of me. It's a bitter pill for me to swallow, given what happened to Danny, but there's nothing I can do about it anymore. As much as I wish I could, there's absolutely nothing I can do. He's involved.

“Hey,” he says. “Stop beating yourself up. This isn't your fault.”

My smile is wry. “How do you know that's what I'm doing?”

“I've done it enough to know what it looks like,” he says. “I think I've gotten to be something of an expert, actually.”

“Oh? How so?”

He shrugs. “Just life.”

Eric doesn't seem to want to talk about it, so I don't push. But I know so little about him and I find myself intensely curious about him. Other than the fact that he's a surgeon and an Army veteran, I don't know much of anything else. And I want to know.

“We should probably find someplace to hide out for the night,” he says. “Or, what's left of it.”

I look at him and feel a rush of emotion wash over me. It's powerful and leaves me a little lightheaded – and I don't understand what it is I'm feeling. I clear my throat and sit back in my seat, doing my best to push everything out of my mind. I'm exhausted, confused, and terrified – not exactly the best recipe for clear thinking.

“I can't believe they found us,” I say, more just to dispel the silence in the car.

“Any idea how?”

“I don't know,” I say. “I took a bus out of Elk Plains under a different name. And I don't think the lady who sold me the ticket would have told them. The fake name was her idea.”

“Huh,” he says. “Is it possible she did though?”

I shrug. “I guess it's the only logical explanation,” I say as a wave of fear and guilt wash over me. “God, what did they do to her?”

“I know it's tough and you're feeling a lot of guilt right now, but you need to compartmentalize it,” he says. “We can't afford to deal in what if's or let ourselves get wrapped up in our feelings. We have a couple of bad guys with guns after us, which means we need to stay focused on that.”

“Is that what they taught you to do in the military? Compartmentalize?”

He nods. “One of the things, yeah,” he replies. “It's a useful tool.”

I look at him and can see the air of authority and command about him. Even while we were being chased by Harold and Ennis, he was unruffled. He'd somehow managed to stay cool and calm. To keep a clear head and focus on the immediate threat – unlike me. I was all over the place. I feel like I still am. It's not hard for me to picture him being one of the guys in charge.

“So, were you a general or some sort of commander or something?”

He laughs softly. “Captain, actually.”

“Oh, is that like better than a general?”

Shaking his head, he gives me a warm smile. “Far from it,” he says. “Do you really know nothing about military ranks?”

I cock my head and roll my eyes. “It's not like we had an extensive education about the military out on the Ark.”

“Point taken,” he says. “Well, a Captain is an officer, yes. But it's relatively low on the scale in the bigger picture. Captain, Major, Lieutenant Colonel, Full Bird Colonel, then you get to the generals –”

“Sounds confusing.”

He shrugs. “Not really. But probably not all that interesting to most people.”

“Did you like it?” I ask. “Being in the military?”

“It had its moments,” he says. “I met some good people. Made some good friends.”

That shadow crosses his face again and I can see those old ghosts in his mind rising from their graves, haunting him.

“Why do you sound so sad about it?” I ask.

“I lost some good people,” he says. “Lost some good friends.”

I nod although I don't understand. How could I? But I can empathize with the grief he's obviously feeling.

“On the plus side though,” he says, “I don't think I'd be the doctor I am today without the experience I had over there.”

“Silver linings.”

“I suppose so.”

He pulls into a rest stop just off the highway. I look at the clock and see that it's closing in on five in the morning. It won't be long before the sky begins to lighten and the sun starts to creep over the horizon, signaling a new day.

Once upon a time, not all that long ago, I used to enjoy getting up just before dawn. Used to like sitting and watching the first fingers of morning light crawl across the sky. I'd always greet the day with a sense of hope and optimism. A sense that it could be the day that I finally find the courage inside of me to do it – that I would finally escape from Raymond and Noah's Children.

Over time though, the optimism faded. So did the hope. And eventually, I stopped getting up with the sun at all. Life was nothing but a continual series of hardships and disappointments. Although that spark of hope never faded entirely, the overwhelming sense that I would be on the Ark for the rest of my days, having nothing to hope for or look forward to, drowning in despair, was all I could feel. Somehow, I'd resigned myself to the idea that I would forever be under Raymond's thumb.

But then things changed. I changed. I rest my hand on my stomach and imagine that I can feel the life blooming inside of me. Because of Danny and because of this baby, I was forced out of that pit of despair and resignation I'd allowed myself to exist in for far too long. And yeah, I'm on the run and living in a constant state of fear, but for the first time in a very long time, I feel that spark of hope inside of me again.

I look over at Eric and know that it's because of him, that hope is blossoming within me again. Without him, I would be alone and not have known what to do. He makes me feel safe. Makes me feel like we can outrun Raymond and his men. Like we can escape from them forever.

But I know it comes at a price. And that he is bearing the brunt of the cost. His life is being altered – and his life is in terrible danger – because he's helping me.

“I'm sorry,” I say, staring through the windshield.

From the corner of my eye, I see him turn to me, but I don't dare meet his eyes. Parking in a dark corner of the rest stop, he shuts the car off.

“What are you sorry about?”

For a long moment, I say nothing. But then, I turn to him and give him a faltering smile.

“I was just thinking about how I'm upending your life,” I say. “How I'm putting you in danger.”

“We've been through this already.”

“I know,” I say. “I just need you to know how sorry I am for everything. I don't blame you for wishing you'd never crossed paths with me.”

His laugh was soft. Reaching out, he put his fingers beneath my chin and raised my head so I was looking him in the eye.

“I don't regret crossing paths with you for a second,” he says. “In fact, I should be thanking you for it. And you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. Nothing at all.”

“Thanking me? For what?” I ask. “I've brought you nothing but –”

“Stop,” he says. “Let's not do this. Just know that you have nothing to be sorry for. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this detail. It's all good. Now, you should get some rest. A pregnant woman needs rest.”

He gives me a smile and withdraws his hand from my chin – and surprisingly, I find myself sad about that. There's something reassuring and comforting about his touch.

“What about you?” I ask.

“I'll be fine,” he says. “I'm going to stand watch. Now, settle in and get some sleep.”

I nod as he gets out of the car and walks a short distance away. In the pre-dawn gloom, all I can see is the shape of him amidst the shadows. He looks like a spirit standing in the murky darkness.

Or a guardian angel. My guardian angel.