Authors: Janet Durbin
He moved to her side. “No."
"Wanna make a break for it?"
"To the cab?"
"Yea."
"And go where?” He knew the answer. It was the same one he wanted.
"Home.” She dropped the curtain back in place. When she faced Web, she encircled him with her arms. “I miss my ranch. I miss Sandy. I miss the quiet."
He wrapped his arms around her, “Me too. Besides, I need to get back. Deputy Frewerson is probably going crazy by now."
She gave him a peck on the lips before letting go. “Since you drive like a cop,” she walked to the counter and picked up the keys, “you get to go first."
He took the keys from her outreached hand. Once he stood by the door, he spun around on his heels, holding the keys in the air like a gun, and said, “Ready deputy?"
Holding her fist up, the pointer extended like the barrel of a gun, she said, “Ready Freddie."
Web flung the door open and leaped to the ground at a run. Nature was hot on his heels. They separated and went to either side of the cab. Web unlocked his door and leaped in. He quickly leaned over and pulled the handle, unlocking the passenger door. Nature hopped it. As she was shutting her door, a shout echoed across the parking lot. It came from the van.
The reporter and camera operator were flinging their doors open. They were too slow. Web fired up the engine, threw the gear lever into reverse, and stomped on the gas pedal. The camper responded immediately. Smoke rose from where the tires spun before getting traction. He slammed on the brakes and pulled the lever into drive He saw black marks in the mirror when the camper shot forward. The men from the van were leaping back into their vehicle. He watched it start after them.
The camper flew down Madison Ave. At the next intersection, Web turned sharply to the left onto Nova Rd and headed south. The camper rocked back and forth, but Web brought it under control quickly. He looked back. The van was trapped by traffic. With any luck, it would stay that way until they got out of sight. He saw a sign for Morris Blvd and turned right. They drove past the Daytona Beach International Airport. Web considered turning into it and hiding, but the camper was too obvious. It would stand out. He glanced at Nature. She was hanging on to the seat with one hand while the other had a death grip on the door handle.. She noticed him looking at her. He held up a thumbs-up gesture. She smiled, refusing to release her grip.
Web returned his attention to the road and saw a sign for I-95 up ahead. On Beville Rd, he turned right and mashed the gas pedal. The news van had disappeared several blocks back. He didn't reduce his speed. It might catch up any second now and he wanted to make it to the highway before that happened. He relaxed a little only after the camper merged in with the I-95 traffic. As they passed over a bridge, he and Nature saw the van sitting off on the side of the road. They had apparently taken a wrong turn and went around the airport instead. He honked the horn and waved. Nature also waved. She was having as much fun as he was.
It felt good to be heading home. Home. It was a word that had meaning again. As if sensing his thoughts, even though she wasn't touching him, Nature glanced sideways at him. She snuggled against his body when he raised his arm, placing it over her shoulder. They rode that way for a long time, both glad to finally be on the road, heading north.
The man entered the Daytona area just after two. He drove down several streets trying to locate the one the news people had focused on. He saw a sign for a local airport. He ignored it. He had no use for planes. They just made a lot of noise and polluted the environment. He decided to stop and ask directions.
He pulled into a gas station and filled the tank. The trunk remained quiet. He noticed a van parked in a spot outside the door. It had one of those camera mounts on top of it. He wondered if it was the same film crew.. If it was, he knew it would be a sign, a sign that he was on the trail of The One. He went inside to pay.
Two men hung out by the coffee machine. One wore a suit. They seemed nervous. He moved closer to the glass coolers with the drinks inside. They stood just off to the side of where the men were. He listened to their conversation.
"What do you think will happen?"
"It wasn't our fault. We did the best we could under the circumstances. If they would have sent us some relief, we would have been ready instead of being so damned tired,” the guy in the suit said.
"Do you think they will can us?"
"Nah. If they did, then they'd have to do our job."
That made the guy in the jeans chuckle. “Yea, I could just see Veronica sleeping in the van."
"I'd like to see Veronica sleep in the van.” The suit lifted his eyebrows a couple of times.
"I bet you would, you sex craved maniac. Don't you ever get enough?"
"Not when it involves a good looking thing like her."
"Speaking of women, what did you think about the one in the camper? What was her name?"
The man was getting bored with their conversation. He was about to lose hope on getting anything useful when the sudden mention of the camper caused him to pay closer attention. Maybe they would give him some information that would help him in his search after all. He glanced at the drinks, listening, making it appear as if he was having a hard time deciding.
The suit pulled out a notepad. He glanced at some words on the page. “Nature. Nature Kranderson. She was okay. I wouldn't mind exploring what she had."
The man seethed. If she was The One, then this kind of talk was inappropriate. He held his tongue though.
"I bet that guy with her got a taste of her.” The man in the jeans poured some coffee into a cup. He put a lid on it before continuing. “They slept in that camper all night. Can't imagine that happening without a bit of hanky panky."
"Now who's the sex craved maniac.” The suit moved away with the man in jeans. They paid for their coffee and returned to the van.
After he recovered from his initial anger, the man stood before the drinks, frozen. Realization hit him. Did he actually hear what he thought he heard? Did he actually have a name to go with the face? Could his luck be that good? Could she truly be the one he sought for so long?
"Hey buddy. You gonna stand there and let all the cold air out or are you gonna grab something.’”
The man was jolted out of his reverie. He grabbed a bottle of Pepsi and shut the door. Walking up to the counter, he said, “Sorry about that."
"Just don't let it happen again."
"I won't.” He pulled out his money. “I owe for this and a tank of gas."
The clerk looked out the window. “That yours?” He indicated the older model Ford sitting at pump six.
"Yeah."
"Nice car."
"Thanks."
"That will be $31.75."
The man handed over two twenties. He took the eight dollars and folded it with the other bills. He dropped the quarter into one of those fundraiser things that sat on the counter. Picking up the soda, the man whistled a catchy little tune he remembered from somewhere as he pushed the door open. He had no clue what the name of the song was. He just liked it.
He patted the trunk as he went past. The thought of the woman inside caused him to think of the woman on the TV. He got in and twisted the lid off the bottle. He took a long drink before starting the engine. He had no idea which way to go. The men from the van gave no indication as to which direction the One had escaped to. It didn't matter. He had something that was of far greater importance. He had a name. With a name, one could find out any information one wanted on the internet, even an address and phone number. And with a name like Nature, the list would not likely be long.
He smiled as he pulled back onto the street and started in the direction indicated by the sign for the nearby university. At the university, there would be computers. Where there were computers, there was access. Where there was access, there was information. He looked forward to seeing what he could find out about a woman named Nature Kranderson.
The deer stood in the trees ahead, grazing on some bits of grass. The hunter had followed it for the last few miles, careful not to alert it of his presence.. It felt good to be away from the office. It felt good to be out in fresh air. The last time Mark had gone hunting was about this time last year. His wife nagged him to take the boys but he needed to be alone. Besides, his boys were more interested in video games and their computers, than they were about roughing it in the woods with their dear old dad. If he had brought them, the entire vacation would have been a waste.
He crept quietly up the trail, making sure to place his feet on nothing to draw attention to him. He saw the buck, a twelve pointer, just ahead. He raised his gun. He took aim. He shifted forward slightly. A noise sounded beneath his foot. The buck's head rose abruptly. It looked in his direction. It bolted for the cover of the trees. He swore. Looking down, the hunter saw a rock. It had moved when he leaned forward, causing a twig partway under it to snap.. Mark picked it up and hefted it into the trees. A dull thud echoed back to him. It sounded weird. Since the buck was long gone, he decided to investigate.
He worked his way closer to the cliff wall. As he drew near, a stench hit his nose. It smelled sickly sweet. It smelled like when the trash was not taken to the curb and the meat inside rotted. He pulled his shirt over his nose to reduce the intensity. Something lay at the base of a large boulder. It was partially covered with leaves. Mark could not tell what it was. He inched forward. The stench increased. It caused his stomach to roll, to toss a bit of acid up into the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, feeling the burning that remained. He almost turned back, but curiosity had him now. He had to see what it was.
He leaned over and brushed some of the leaves out of the way. He fell back, away from what lay underneath. He turned around and threw up. When he finished, he leaned a shoulder against a tree. He glanced over at the body.
The girl lay sprawled at an awkward angle. Her outstretched arms were tied together. Her belly and part of a leg were gone, eaten by wildlife. Part of her face was chewed and one breast was missing. Blonde hair lay tangled around her head. He could tell she was young. The hunter was glad his boys were not with him. This was something they did not need to see. He wished he hadn't. Working his way back to his truck, he got in and picked up his cell phone. He had purposely left it in the vehicle so no one could bother him. He was glad he brought it now. He dialed 911.
Within an hour, the area surrounding the body was a hive of activity. The hunter was questioned and his name and phone number written down before he was allowed to leave. Mark got into his truck. He drove down the dirt trail to the main road, 250, which passed through the Monongahela National Forest.
A short time later, he was home hugging his kids tight. Later that night, he made frantic passionate love to his wife. Afterwards, she looked at him questioningly. It had been a long time since he had shown her this much affection. Usually his job got in the way and made him grumpy. He only pulled her against him. They held each other all night.
Mark never went hunting again. The events of what happened in the woods never were discussed. The wife did not pry. She was happy. They were a family once more.. That was enough.
The man parked in the farthest spot from the building, just in case the woman in the trunk started making noises. He walked to the library and entered the air-conditioned lobby. He smiled. Computers sat off to the right. Students doing research, or whatever they were doing, occupied several stations. The man didn't care. He was only interested in what he came for. He moved toward one that was unoccupied.
He pulled the chair under him and brought the mouse closer. He focused on the screen. He clicked on the spot for the internet. The screen came alive. Typing in the name of a search site, he waited for it to come up. When it did, he clicked on the tab for searching names. The curser blinked. It waited for him to type. He hesitated. He could not remember her last name. He sat back, thinking.
He knew her first name was Nature. He remembered it because it was an appropriate name for The One. The last name ... that was something he needed to ponder on. He thought about the men in the gas station. He thought about their conversation. He thought about how they had defiled her with their talk. He smoldered with anger but kept it hidden. He remembered how he wanted to teach the guy in the suit a lesson. He remembered the mouth moving and how he wanted to shut it permanently. As he pictured this, He watched the lips.
Suddenly, it came to him. Kranderson. Her last name was Kranderson. Nature Kranderson. The words flowed like they belonged in heaven. His fingers flowed across the keyboard in the same manner. He looked at the screen. His hand hovered above the enter button. His heart raced. He held his breath in anticipation. He hit it.
The screen changed. Some squares raced across the monitor. It was searching multiple data banks for the name. It stopped. One name was on the screen. It was hers. He guided the arrow onto it and watched as it turned into a hand. He clicked the mouse.
The information on the screen made his heart soar. He now had her full information. He now knew how to find The One, the one to complete him, the one who would end his hunting forever. He exited the program and stood. He left the building, keeping his pace casual. He did not want to draw unnecessary attention to himself. The woman was still quiet when he returned to the car.. He wondered if she was dead. He would stop later to see. Right now, he had to get on the road. He had to go a long way. He had to go north. He had to go to Montana.
Nature relaxed into her seat. An arm hung out the open window, the fingers waving in the wind caused by the moving vehicle. Her other hand was across the seat. It held onto one belonging to Web. The kidnapped girls were temporarily forgotten. It felt good to be going home. She missed her bed. She missed the calming quiet.. She missed Sandy.