We turn off an old highway and hit a gravel road. There is nothing around us: no houses, no farms, no gas stations. At every turn, Mr. Landry glances in the rearview mirror. There is no one within sight. We drive on this bumpy road in the middle of nowhere for miles until it dead-ends into the bottom end of a tall levee. Mr. Landry pauses a moment but then throws the Suburban in four-wheel drive and keeps on going. We’re nearly vertical for a few tense seconds until the SUV plops on top of the levee, then we’re driving faster than what feels safe.
The levee is significantly higher than the gravel road we just left. It’s bare dirt on top, barely wide enough for our vehicle, then it slopes down dramatically on either side, which makes it feel like we’re flying. Even with the aerial view, I can’t see any other signs of life for miles.
Well, human life, that is. Ethan pokes Teeny and me to show us a mama deer and a baby deer just inside the woods at the bottom of the hill. Teeny scrambles across me to get to the window for a better view.
The levee makes a sharp turn and we’re barreling through a tunnel of trees. Even in February, the trees are thick with leaves and it’s instantly dark outside. As soon as we’re back in full sunlight, we stop in front of a huge body of water.
Mr. Landry throws the truck in park. “We’re here.”
Here. I look around.
Nothing.
“Surely there will be a structure of some sort we’ll be sleeping in.” Emma sounds a bit panicked, but I get why she’s asking. There is nothing but a tunnel of trees behind us and a body of water ahead of us. And it’s close to dark.
Ethan can’t help but laugh. “Of course. We just have to barge across.”
And then I spot the barge partly concealed by a bank of trees. What in the world? He said something about a barge, but surely he didn’t mean that.
The whole barge/SUV thing concerns me. The barge looks a hundred years old, and there’s a little tugboat attached to it that isn’t any bigger than a Volkswagen bug. The river is wide and the current looks pretty strong. And if this is the only way to get over to that little island right there, I guess Ethan wasn’t kidding when he said this would be a hard spot to find.
It doesn’t take long before we’re all piling out of the SUV, hoping to get a better look at it.
Mr. Landry jumps in the little tugboat that’s attached to the side of the barge and a loud boom fills the air when he cranks it up.
Ethan comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“How does this work, exactly?” I ask.
Ethan leans his chin on my shoulder. “Well, he’ll push that barge around with the tugboat and line it up in front of the car. We’ll drive on it and ride it across to the other side…why are you shaking your head?”
“There’s no way I’m getting on that thing. What if it flips over? And then we’re trapped in the car and sink to the bottom of the river.”
Ethan chuckles in my ear and says, “We can ride on the barge, next to the car. We don’t have to be in it.” He squeezes me and whispers, “Anna, stop worrying about everything. We’ll hang out here for a few days, then head back home after Thomas is caught.”
I don’t say anything—just wish I could feel as confident about this plan as he does.
Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:
You can only disappear successfully if you know who you need to disappear from.
New rule by Anna Boyd:
Disappearing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
place is beautiful. The barge ride scared me, but it was worth it to get to the other side. We’re on a meandering dirt road that weaves through a thick forest of trees where a thousand shades of green are on display. And there’s a ton of wildlife. Deer, squirrels, and rabbits stop eating and stare at the car as we drive by. There’s even a particularly nasty-looking snake stretched out across the road, I guess taking a nap or something, and it seems in no big hurry to slither out of our way.
As we drive, little pockets open up in the woods where a field or small pond hides.
Ethan and his dad are in heaven, based on the expressions on their faces. They’re looking at the deer with a different kind of appreciation than mine, which concerns me a bit. Maybe there’s a hog problem here to keep them busy and the sweet little deer alive.
“Won’t be long now.” Ethan’s grin is a mile wide.
Dad visibly relaxed once we disembarked from the barge. The forest thins out and some cabins come into sight up ahead.
“How many people own a piece of this camp?” Dad asks.
