Ellie

 

When I walked away from Jack and entered the trailhead, I felt like I had finally gotten a firm grip on my priorities.

 

Jack was not one of them.

 

I needed to focus solely on Peter.

 

Relying on Jack, leaning on him, was disastrous for me personally. I had finally figured that out. I was in this alone. All I had was Peter, and once I got him back, Peter would be my lodestone.

 

Not that I wasn’t grateful and super-appreciative of all the help and support and generosity of Jack and all of the Iron Bandits, including the old ladies. They were awesome to me, and to Peter, and I felt way better about entering this trailhead knowing they had my back, and had a plan for taking down the psycho. My newest determination to keep independent of Jack really had nothing to do with today’s activities, which considered alone, might have made me come to a completely opposite realization.

 

But I also knew that once today was over, I needed to be Jack-free. I needed to focus on building a life as a single mom for my sweet son, because I was utterly determined that I would get him back. Within minutes, hopefully, or hours, at most, I prayed to God.

 

Oh, I knew what Jack said, what he had meant when he told me that the MC would all have my back. That was the way they functioned, and since Keith had been among their members, I also understood that they would always be there for me and Peter, should we ever need them like this in the future—good God, but I hoped not. Once was plenty, thank you very much. More than enough.

 

But leaning too much on Jack, focusing too much on Jack, made me lose track of my baby. My mind had been on Jack, not on Peter, when Brian had entered the house and stolen my son. I had forgotten to turn the alarm back on after a quick run to the grocery store yesterday morning, as well. It was a series of unfortunate events, really. But every time my mind wandered to all things Jack-related, it was like I got lost in a fog.

 

And that was unsafe for Peter. I needed to cut that crap out of my life. It made me a bad mother. And that was unacceptable.

 

So, Jack had to go. Regardless of how great he was being today. That hug he gave me just before I started out on the trail, to me was like a send-off. I chose to take it that way. I knew that’s not exactly what he was probably thinking about, but it’s where I needed to go with it. So when I pulled away, I was ready. For Brian. For Peter. For whatever came next.

 

I was going to get my son back. And then, I was going to be Super Mom.

 

I was going to kick ass, starting immediately.

 

# # #

 

I followed the twisty-turny trail, in awe of my surroundings. The living rock formations were like something out of a Hollywood movie set for Planet Freak Out. They were huge boulder-like things, but also like columns, rising in bunches and dotting the land everywhere I could see.

 

The trail made no obvious linear sense, and I almost got dizzy as I followed the path.

 

Just being on the trail alone was a scary thing. I felt vulnerable. It took an effort not to look behind me, like Orpheus, in search of a chance sighting of Jack or any of the MC guys.

 

But I remembered my determination, stiffened my spine, and plunged onward. I could do this, and I would. Peter was out there, and he needed me. That was all that mattered.

 

I walked onward for what felt like forever, but what was probably closer to a half-hour, maybe forty minutes. The landscape had opened up enough for me to see that I was generally following along the bottom of a canyon, with walls rising up to be topped off by more of those amazing, intimidating rock columns. If Brian had wanted to choose a campgrounds that would give him an advantage over a person less familiar with outdoor survival—like myself—he could hardly have made a better choice. Had I not known that the MC was at my back, I would have been entirely freaked out by now.

 

The trail took another curve, and the vista narrowed again. It was beautiful, but also somewhat suffocating. I stopped for a moment in some shade to dig out a trail bar and sip some water, when I heard something rustle ahead.

 

Finally. Brian appeared, complete with camo paint on his face. What a fucking freak.

 

But then again, I thought, the saying was true. Just because a person might be paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get him. There was a whole pack of people out to get Brian today.

 

Before he got very close, I pretended to jostle myself awkwardly, adjusting my backpack, in order to dump some of the cheese puffs on the ground, to mark the meeting spot.

 

Brian noticed, but didn’t realize the significance. He smirked.

 

“Where’s my baby?” I wasn’t going to waste time. He knew I was here for one purpose, so there was no point in making small talk.

 

“Safe enough. God, but you are a sight for sore eyes, Ellie. You look beautiful.” He was really cracked.

 

“Bring me to my baby, you psychopath.” I was not going to play nice. I saw no benefit in playing games with this man.

 

“Just let me hold you for a minute, Ellie. We’ve been waiting for so long.”

 

Whaaat? Um, no.

 

“Brian, please. I really need to feed him. Just get me to my baby, let me feed him, then we can catch up.” I hoped that would put him off, and get me what I needed, without more delay. Clearly, he was delusional. I’d have to play his game, from the looks of it. But I would play it my way.

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. That kid cries so much, Elsabeth.”—I flinched at the made-up nickname.—“ I don’t know how you stand it. I almost went out of my mind last night, couldn’t sleep, he was crying so hard, all night long, felt like.”

 

I felt the blood flood my head, and my vision nearly went red. My ears pounded with my heartbeat. I hated this man with every fiber of my being.

 

“Let’s go, Brian.”

 

He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away, and indicated he needed to go ahead of me, to lead the way. He looked dejected for a moment, furrowed his brow, and muttered, “So difficult. Why do you have to be so difficult?” But he did as I bade, and we finally began moving.

 

It was easy, with him in front, for me to leave the trail of cheese puffs. So that part of the plan was working out well. I hadn’t heard so much as a rustle of dead bush or leaf or the pop of dried twigs coming from behind me. Either Jack and the guys were way far behind us, or they were stealth-maneuver masters.

 

After a few minutes on the trail, Brian took us off-trail at a sharp angle around a short but deadly-looking cactus. I dumped the whole rest of my bag there in an arc; Brian didn’t turn around to notice. I couldn’t believe my luck. The guy was way less with it than I had imagined—and I hadn’t been giving him much credit for greatness, before.

 

I quickly plucked another bag of puffs out of my pack and opened it, popping one in my mouth when Brian turned to check that I had followed his curve.

 

“Mm. I love cheese puffs.” And he back-tracked to me and opened his mouth, like a baby bird for me to feed. Ew.

 

“Here, take the bag if you want some, Brian. I want my own bag.” I was not going to hand-feed this psycho.

 

“Thanks, darlin’. You do know how to take care of me, don’t you? It’s part of why I love you so much. You’re the best.” And he smiled at me.

 

I did my best to smile back, but it was so extremely fake that I felt it must more resemble a grimace than a smile. He failed to notice the difference, took the bag, and raised my extended hand to his mouth to kiss. I pulled it away before he got there, and pretended like I had an itch on my arm. He watched me for a moment, and seemed to get lost in thought.

 

“Brian! Come on. Let’s go. I really need to get to Peter. Like, now. How much farther do we need to go?”

 

“Not much, darlin’. Just a few minutes away.”

 

Well. A few turned into probably twenty-five, but who was counting?

 

All the while, I was thinking about what I might do, myself, to get Peter and myself away from Brian without the help of the MC guys. After all, I had heard nothing the whole way along, and was beginning to wonder if they were really out there behind me or not. Better that I sort out a plan for myself, just in case. If they did happen to show up and do something, great. But I was not going to be up shit creek without a paddle. I had brains, and I would use them.

 

Even so, I kept it up with the cheese puffs—no point in not using a tool when one is given. Even if the MC guys gave up and turned around, I would need the trail to get Peter and myself out of here.

 

Eventually, we finally got close. I knew it when I heard the very unhappy, weak wails of my son from somewhere in a close vicinity, hidden from my sight by an outcropping of those damned rocks.

 

I started running toward the sound, having to trail around the formations as I went, and making several wrong choices along the way. This I knew from the deranged laughter of the psychopath behind me, but I didn’t let it slow me down. I knew I was close—I just kept moving toward the soft wails as best I could, trailing those freaking cheese puffs the whole way along in a steady stream from the now-down-tipped bag.

 

But finally—finally—I saw the site. Brian had a grey camo tent set up, a firepit built, and two  camping recliner chairs set up. He had a cooler outside, a blanket spread out, and a dry-line hung for laundry. How long had he been here?

 

…Never mind. The thought had occurred, but I didn’t care about the answer. All that mattered was Peter, who I still did not see. I figured he had to be inside the tent, and as I approached it, I found this to be true.

 

Without looking behind me, I dove in without grace, but carefully enough so I wouldn’t trip over my baby if he was right there at the entrance flap.

 

He wasn’t. He was tucked up in a bunch of blankets, on his back, wedged in so he couldn’t go anywhere.

 

Well. At least Brian had had enough sense to secure him in one place, so he couldn’t roll around and hurt himself. That was something.

 

Peter’s color looked okay, but he had sweated through his onesie. This might be a bad sign, with regard to his heart. Or it could just be a natural outcome of more than a day spent in terrible conditions in a tent in southern Arizona. Hard to tell.

 

The smell in the tent was horrible, and I figured his diaper hadn’t been changed the whole time he had been away from me. My poor baby. I mentally cursed Brian in as many ways as my mind could come up with.

 

When Peter first saw me, I think I shocked him. He stopped crying for a minute, and just watched me with his big beautiful eyes. Then, assured that it was indeed his momma, he really let loose with the wails, as if to let me know how unhappy he was about my neglect. It made me want to cry, too. But I had a priorities list now, and crying was not on it.

 

First things first. I plucked a diaper, some wipes, and a fresh onesie from my bag—the ladies had packed it for me yesterday, and made sure I had it when I left the house in such a rush and without all my brain neurons firing. Thank God for the ladies!

 

Once Peter was clean, I took him outside with me and settled us on one of the camping chairs. Brian had waited outside—surely avoiding the odiferousness of the tent interior—and now watched me with greedy eyes. I did my best to ignore him.

 

With a blanket over my shoulder to shield his view, I settled Peter down and felt him latch on to a swollen nipple. My overly-swollen breasts were painfully ready to unload, and it was a great relief when Petey began to suckle. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. No more wailing, no more nasty diaper smell, and the promise of total relief of the mammaries to come. Peace, of a kind.

 

“Why are you covering yourself? I want to watch. I want to see.”

 

He was whining like a child. Seriously, dude?

 

“Brian, I don’t know if you are aware, but we are in the middle of the desert in southern Arizona. The sun is brutal, and Peter’s skin—not to mention my own—is not prepared for it. I need to cover us both up for safety.”

 

It was the first excuse that popped into my head, but it was also true, and it worked. Score one, for me.

 

“It’s okay. I’ll get to watch later. I can wait. We can make an occasion of it. Baby’s last meal! Ha ha ha!”

 

Fuck. I had to think of something, fast. No way would we be hanging around long enough for him to hurt my baby. This had just turned into a deadly stand-off.

 

I decided that the MC guys only had as long as it took me to finish feeding Peter to intervene. If they took any longer than that, I wasn’t going to wait. I was going to shoot Brian myself, with that gun Jack had hooked me up with. And I would do it without any hesitation.

 

Thank God for Jack, and that beautiful handgun.