Those words clear away the cobwebs of sleep in my brain, and I sit up with a start.

“What do you mean?” I forget to lower my voice, and she winces and looks back at the door.

“Please, be quiet.” Her whisper is desperate. She presses two fingers to my lips and gives me a warning glare.

She reaches down to the floor beside where she’s kneeling and pulls a rucksack onto my bed.

“The police are coming tomorrow. Somehow, he knows. He’s planning on poisoning everyone tomorrow morning at breakfast. I’ve given him something to make him sleep. You and I are going to leave tonight.”

My heart starts to race, my pulse thrashes loudly in my ears. I put my feet on the floor and stare in disbelief. We’re leaving. He’s going to poison breakfast. I turn to look at her.

“What about everybody else?”

She ignores me. “It’s dark, so you need to pay attention.” She puts the backpack into my lap.

“I want you to take this, walk down that path to the fence, walk east along the fence for eight minutes. When you see a red ribbon tied, stop. You’ll be able to push the fence apart and squeeze through,” she says without looking at me. Her hands are busy pulling clothes from the floor onto my bed.

“What about you?” I ask her—my voice a whisper even quieter than hers.

She looks over at me. Her eyes are intense.

“You have to listen,” she hisses at me.

I nod, not daring to even open my mouth to respond.

She turns back to her task.

“You’re going to walk until you reach the road, and when you get there, turn east again and walk three miles to the gas station. I don’t want you to turn around until you get to the road.”

“But—”

“I will be right behind you,” she says firmly. “When we get there, we’re going to call the police, tell them where we are and help them get here to stop him. Do you understand?” she asks and I grab her hands and squeeze them until she looks at me.

She looks alert and excited. For the first time since Ellie died, she doesn’t look like she’s on the verge of tears.

“Okay,” I say, even though I have so many questions.

“I will be right behind you. I promise,” she says and squeezes my hand.

“My baby, you’re a man now. I wish …” Her voice breaks and her face crumbles. The line of her lips are pressed together so tightly, the skin around her mouth is white.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me. It’s the first time I’ve hugged her in nearly three years. I’m taller than her now. I miss being able to nestle my head into her shoulder.

Now, her head nestles into mine.

She pulls away and tugs her hands out of my grasp.

“Put on those clothes as quick as you can and let’s go. I have no idea how long he’ll stay asleep.”

I pull the T-shirt and jeans on over my underwear and slip on the shoes. They’re all new. I haven’t had a pair of shoes on my feet in a year.

My toes protest at being contained, but the soles of my feet rejoice at having something between them and the cold, hard floor.

“There’s money, more clothes and a few other things in here.” She walks around to stand behind me and puts the backpack on my shoulders.

She rests her cheek between my shoulder blades and slips her arms around my waist.

My hands slip down to cover hers.

I can’t believe we’re leaving.

“I wish I could have sent you into the world with more than this. But you’re a beautiful, smart boy and I know you’ll be okay because of that, my love. I’ll do whatever I have to so you can have the life you deserve.” She speaks softly, but the words resonate through my entire body.

“We can talk once we get where we’re going. Come on.” She slips outside my bedroom door and into the pitch-black house. I follow her, and when we step out into the moonlit night, she hugs me tightly for just a second and then whispers, “Follow my directions. It’s dark in those woods. And be quiet.”

I step into the woods and start walking. I don’t turn around. I don’t stop. Even when I’m afraid she’s not behind me. I do exactly as she says and pray that when we get to the road, she’ll be there.

She is.

We make the three-mile walk to the gas station in complete silence. I can feel her nerves as keenly as I feel my own. Every step brings up closer to being free, but we’re both afraid to believe it’s true. I keep listening for the sound of an engine behind us.

Mama calls 911, and in a voice that is calm and collected, she tells them about Cain’s Weeping and then tells them where we are.

In a matter of minutes, police cruisers are pulling up.

They take us to the police station, and we wait in a room together. They bring us food. More food than I’ve ever had at once. When I take a bite of the cake they gave us a slice of, I think of Apollo. Maybe, I can find her. All I know is her name. But, that should be enough.

While we sit, Mama tells me a story. “I was so young when I met your dad, and he charmed my socks off. But then, when I got pregnant, things changed. He was older than me but not by much …” She pauses and takes a big gulp of her water.

“He didn’t finish school, and the only job he could get was in one of the mines in San Marcos. He died.”

I remember Apollo’s story about the widow’s watch.

“And then, I met Jeremiah.” She says his name with a grimace.

Then she reaches across the table and grabs my hands.

Her eyes grow dark and intense as she looks at me.

“Listen carefully. Don’t forget what I’m telling you. Don’t be in a rush. Don’t share your body with anyone but someone you love. You’re old enough now … and you need to know that sex means something. It has consequences. Make sure you’ve both finished school and can take care of a family together. Especially you. You’re the man. Remember that. You don’t want to leave your young wife with a baby and no way to feed herself and your baby. It could ruin her life.”

I nod solemnly and make a silent promise to remember that.

Her eyes lose some of their hardness and fill with tears. “I’m so sorry I took you there. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. You almost died because of me.” She strokes my face with a tenderness she hasn’t shown me in years.

“It’s okay, Mama. We’re going to be okay now.”

We never saw them, but we were told they were brought in. The police found Jeremiah dead in his bed. Mama tells them she thinks when he found them gone he took some of the poison she knew he’d been planning on giving the rest of the town the next morning.

She glances at me after she tells them and the look in her eyes is pleading with me to understand. Our gazes hold, and I understand. She killed him.

I only nod at her. It’ll be our secret. I wish I could run and hug and celebrate and thank her. I know it’s wrong to wish another human being dead. But him? I’ll never be sorry the world is rid of him.

The rest of his leadership council and the other people who helped him keep us all prisoner were taken alive and arrested.

They took statements from us. Mine took a whole day. They took pictures of my entire body. Most of my scars had faded. My head was still nearly bald. I told them everything.

After nearly two days of interviews and doctors checking us out, Mama and I are free to go.

Mrs. Ferguson and Riley are there when we walk out of the station. She and Mama hug for a long time and then we climb into the cab of their truck.

I feel the weight of the world lift off my shoulders as we turn out onto the highway and drive away.

We’re free.

We drive for hours. It’s a bone rattling ride. The warm, heavy East Texas wind whips around us, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to speak. The wind carries with it the occasional pebble or twig. My mother and I huddle and try to shelter each other from the elements.

I’ve never been happier in my life.

We stop for the night at a place called a Motel 6. We get two rooms. I'm sharing one with Riley, and my mother shares one with Mrs. Ferguson.

“Mrs. Ferguson and I have a lot to talk about. You need to get some sleep. Our room is right next to yours. That door connects them. If you need me, I’ll be right through there,” Mama said when I said I’d rather share with her.

We eat dinner together, and we watch television. It’s like a feast for all of my senses, and I stare transfixed as we watch a television show about a guy named Jerry and his weird neighbor and friends. There are commercials for all sorts. I want to stay up all night and watch. Everything looks so clean. Everyone is smiling.

I can’t wait to start living just like that.

We say goodnight and Riley and I go back to our rooms.

He’s just like he was back in Cain’s Weeping.

He doesn’t talk to me. He just gets into bed. In seconds, he’s snoring. I wanted to ask him about his life and where we’re going. It’s a place called California. Mrs. Ferguson said she had a job lined up for Mama.

Resigned to sleep, I open my backpack to look for my toothbrush. But the first thing I see when I open it is parcel of dark green canvas cloth. The same fabric of my old hammock.

I left it by the lake and was never able to go back for it.

My fingers are trembling as I lift it out of my rucksack and put it on the bed. I stare at it for a minute. Not sure whether or not I can open it. But my curiosity conquers my fear and I slowly unfold it.

My heart stops beating.

My breath catches in my lungs.

Nestled in the fabric is a stack of books.

Apollo’s books.

Every single one that she brought to me to read at the lake. There’s an envelope on top. Stuck to it is a piece of white paper folded in half.

My fingers are shaking so badly that the first two times I try to open it, I drop it.

But, the third time, I manage to unfold it and read.

“Dear Graham,

I found these things by the lake the night Jeremiah found your book. I never got to tell you that I met your little friend. She came looking for you. I sent her away with a letter to mail. It was to the Fergusons. Because of her, they were able to help me with my plan to get us out of here. I wanted to wait to give these to you when I was sure you’d actually be able to keep them safe. It was too risky while we were still in Cain’s Weeping. I wrote this letter in case we somehow got separated or I didn’t make it. I’m so glad you have another friend in this world. I hope you can find her once we’re settled. I want to make sure you live the very best life that you can. Remember to be kind, work hard, and be grateful. Especially when things feel bleak, count your blessings. You are too good and too beautiful to be anything other than great. I’m proud of you.

I love you. I always will, and I wish you happiness.”

Love,

Your Mama.

Helena Elaine Davis”

Davis was her name before she married him.

I reach for the pen and pad of paper that was sitting on the bedside table in my hotel room and wrote out my name, Graham S. Davis. I would never tell anyone that the S stood for Star, because they’d probably think it was dumb. But Apollo gave me that name and I want to use it.

I write the name a few times.

I have a name that means something. A name I’ve chosen.

I say it over and over again. And it makes me feel like I have some control over my life.

Maybe I can make it into something more … like my mother said.

I put her letter down and pick up the envelope and realize it’s two stuck together.

The one on top is addressed to me. The one below it is addressed to Row Locklear.

Apollo.

This time, when I open it my hands don’t tremble.

I lie back down on my bed to read.

Dear Grahamstar,

I hope you find these things after I’m gone. I was always gonna leave you my books, but I decided to leave you the letter I wrote to Daddy, too. I thought maybe, until we see each other again, you could read it, so you’d remember what a wonderful time we had by the lake.

You are my most special and best friend, Graham. I hope you’ll write to me from wherever you are. And when we are old enough, we’ll travel to a place that we can call our own. We’ll lie in our hammock and read, watch the stars, and eat pineapple upside down cake.

And no one can tell us to stop.

I hope you leave that place soon. The world is waiting for you. My address is in the front of all of the books.

I can’t wait to get your first letter. Until then, I hope you’re going to be okay. Just remember to look up at the stars and know that I’ll be looking up at them to and thinking about you and how jealous they all are because you outshine them.

I love you,

Apollo Havaa Locklear.

I fold the letter in half, turn it over in my hand, and then press it to my nose.

I try to see if I can smell the strawberries. It just smells like the inside of the backpack, but I close my eyes and try to imagine it does.

Apollo came looking for me. When she left, she thought about me. She wants me to find her.

I slide the letter back under the piece of twine and tuck it back into my backpack. It’ll be a treat I give myself every time I finish a book.

I slip one of the books out of the backpack. It’s called “Illuminated Rumi.” I flip to page one and read the poems and think about Apollo.

And then, for the first time in a long time when I dream, I don’t see Ellie calling me to join her. There’s only Apollo, our Greek gods, and our hammock.