Chapter 5

“Hey, I’m Kathy. Need some help?”

The woman had watched my struggles to peel a carrot for the last three minutes.

“Yes.” I gave up trying to work the peeler and handed it over along with the carrot.

“So how did Bob rope you into this?”

“He didn’t. I volunteered.” I’d woven a rather convincing story about a man with a newly acquired bachelor’s degree in psychology, looking to observe troubled teens as a field study for a paper. Bill had been more than willing to invite me to help out in the kitchen. According to him, I’d get the most interaction if I served them meals first.

I didn’t want interaction, just observation. And, though I couldn’t see Bethony from the kitchen, I checked in on her each time I excused myself to use the restroom. The last time I’d checked, she had found a comfy chair in the corner of the main room. Slouched into it with her arms tensely wrapped around her bag, she’d pretended to sleep as a deterrent to conversation. I wished she’d actually let herself sleep. She still had dark circles under her eyes.

“This is where you succeed or fail at peeling,” Kathy said, reclaiming my attention. She held the peeler comfortably in her right hand and the carrot in the left. Then, she set the peeler to the carrot and slid the blade away from her. She made it look so easy.

“Here,” she said, giving it back. “Keep trying.”

She picked up another peeler and joined my efforts. It took an hour to get through the carrots and potatoes and another hour to chop. There were two other people in the kitchen with us. As we focused on preparing lunch, they washed the dishes from breakfast.

“How many people do you feed each meal?” I asked.

“Around one hundred. We never turn anyone away. If we run out, we have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We usually don’t run out. If there’s extra, we invite those who are still hungry back for seconds. The people here might look rough, but most of them have very giving hearts.”

It reminded me of how things were run at the Compound. Going there had been my first exposure to giving hearts. Mainly Charlene’s. It didn’t mean I wanted to live there, though. Too many wolves ready to get into your business or to compete for the few females who showed up.

However, I understood why my kind wanted to go there. It gave them a place where they felt they belonged. Just like the homeless shelter did for these people.

A scream echoed through the halls. I barely stopped myself from running after Bob.

“Stay here,” Kathy said before following him.

The other guy strolled to the door and poked his head out for a moment before coming back.

“Some girl must have freaked out. Maybe someone tried taking her stuff. Bob has it under control now.”

It wasn’t some girl. It was my girl. Forcing myself to nod, I went back to the vegetables.

Kathy returned several minutes later.

“Is she all right?”

“Yes. Poor thing. It was a dream that made her scream. I can’t imagine what someone so young must have endured to have such terrible things in her head while she sleeps.”

I couldn’t imagine it either.

Over the next six hours, I helped prepare and serve lunch and dinner. Bethony didn’t eat either meal. Instead, she stayed in her chair and suffered her dreams. She screamed at least a dozen times over the course of the day, and my frustration grew with each incident. Kathy’s comment echoed in my mind. What had happened to Bethony? What haunted her dreams, and why did she calm when I was near her? I could only think one thing. Someone had hurt her.

Most of the people who ate dinner left the building after they were finished.

While Kathy and the other guy cleaned up the serving line and went out to collect any missing dishes, I discreetly checked on Bethony to make sure she was still in her chair.

Bob had checked on her each time she’d made any noise. He seemed a decent enough sort, and I was glad she was at least trying to sleep. However, if she decided to stay the night, she’d be on her own. They separated the men and the women and kept watch all night.

“Thank you for helping today,” Bob said, after closing the slider that they used to serve food. “The three of us will finish cleaning up and call it a night. Will we see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

I really had no idea how long Bethony planned to stay here.

****

She stayed two nights. Just as I was walking toward the door on the third morning, she walked out with her bag over her shoulder.

Her scent tickled my nose. The chemicals were still absent, but she reeked of panic and fear. None of it showed on her face or in the way she moved. On the outside, she looked as tired as I felt.

I followed her as she started heading toward the original hotel we’d used. It was close to the bus stop, which was no doubt her destination. Thankfully, I’d parked my bike in the hotel parking lot. The room I’d rented for the last two days had less than an hour’s use when I showered and changed each night. The rest of my time I’d spent helping in the shelter to keep an eye on her or on the roof of the building across the street from the shelter. It was the only place I could watch and listen for her without someone noticing me.

We’d progressed several blocks when she stopped at a convenience store. I wasn’t surprised to see her reemerge with one caffeinated drink to her lips and an unopened one in her other hand. Her throat moved with each long swallow. My mouth watered, and I stuffed my hands into my front pockets as I followed her. She finished the first one and started on the second before she was a block from the bus stop.

When we’d almost reached the bus stop, I fell back and crossed the busy street at a light. While she sat on the black bench to wait for the next bus, I jogged around the block and grabbed my bag and bike from the hotel.

By the time I idled at the curb, the bus had arrived and she had boarded. My eyes felt dry and gritty. I needed sleep and hoped the bus wouldn’t be going too far. As it pulled away, I nudged the throttle and merged with traffic to follow.

The wind in my face kept me awake as I drove for the next several hours. The cool temperature warmed, but only slightly. Any human on a motorcycle would have needed gloves to maintain feeling while on the bike.

When the bus slowed for a middle-of-nowhere town, I passed it. The motorcycle would be too loud and obvious to try to park behind it. Instead, I turned down one of the side roads, pulled over, and cut the engine. Ahead, an iron and wood bridge bisected the rough road. Despite the trek looking seldom traveled, I got off the bike and pushed it into the trees, parking behind some leafless bushes tangled with barren vines. The dense undergrowth hid the dark bike while I considered Bethony’s next move.

The town hadn’t been more than a few buildings. There wasn’t anywhere for her to stay, which meant another bus or hitching a ride.

The soft crunch of gravel reached my ears. I cocked my head and listened. Someone was coming my way on foot. I crouched behind the bike and waited as the sound drew closer and passed me. Carefully, I stood and eased out from behind my cover.

Bethony was walking the shoulder of the road. Plodding steps conveyed her exhaustion. Why would she walk when she was so tired? I silently followed, keeping to the trees.

When she’d almost reached the bridge, she paused and looked over her shoulder. Safely in the shadow of a tree, I stilled. I doubted she’d heard me. Yet, why had she looked back? After a moment, she started forward again, but veered off the road. I listened to her climb down the embankment by the bridge. Then, everything quieted. Torn, I remained were I was. Was she listening for signs of being followed or was she escaping on a hidden trail?

I shook my head, denying the thought as soon as I had it. She was human and couldn’t possibly sneak away from me. A quiet human was as improbable as a mutant baby beetle or unicorn.

Stealthily, I moved to the right, angling myself further away from the road. The trees thinned enough to see a dried creek bed about six feet below. I jumped down, landing softly. Ahead, the creek curved slightly, the bank providing me with some cover as I moved forward. Suddenly she came into view. Near the bridge, the slope to the dried creek bed was covered with weeds and crushed stone. She’d slid almost to the bottom and was laying on her back on the rocks. My first thought was that she’d fallen. But she’d removed her hoodie, which lay beside her, and had her arm behind her head as a pillow. When she twitched, I knew she was sleeping.

What was she thinking taking her warmest layer off for a nap outdoors? I strode forward and picked up the garment. The rocks couldn’t be comfortable but at least I could try to keep her warm. Shaking the hoodie out, I set it over her.

Her eyes popped open, and I froze, busted.