Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

13

Gage

I didn’t even havetime to be amused at my grandmother’s bluntness the way I usually was. We had to get moving, we didn’t have much time.

“I did,” I confirmed. “And I’m about to save them again. I’m going to say this right up front—there is no time for long explanations, or for arguing. I am going to give you instructions. Very specific instructions. And you are going to follow them to the letter. That’s how you’ll stay alive. Are we clear?”

I delivered the message to all three of my family members, but I put special emphasis on the eye contact with my mom. And after I asked if they were clear, I only looked at her for confirmation.

She didn’t say anything, just nodded weakly. It was so outside the norm of her usual manner that I figured she must be sincere. That was good enough for me.

I crossed to the safe embedded in the back wall of the control room and let it scan my palm print and eye, then gave the password. The security system compared my biometric markers with the ones it had on file and the safe’s door swung open.

I pulled out a duffel bag. It was filled with cash. I took enough for me and Savannah to stay in hiding long enough to get to one of my other stashes, and handed the bag, still containing the rest of the cash, over to my father.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my mother. It was just that she didn’t have the best track record for accepting what I said without pushback. Although she did seem to be doing a pretty good job of that at the moment, I couldn’t trust that the streak would continue.

I was better off focusing on my father. I spoke firmly, hoping that my point would get across. “You can’t go home. They’ll be sending people there, looking for you, wanting you to lead them to us. Do you understand?”

My father nodded, and I continued. “You can’t use your phones, you can’t use your credit cards. Stay in places that don’t require ID, use that cash to get by. If you haven’t heard from me in a month—”

“A month!” my mother exclaimed, but I pushed ahead.

“If you haven’t heard from me in a month, there’s contact information for someone in the inside pocket of the duffel. Tell him I sent you. He’ll set you up with fresh IDs. When you have them, get as far away as possible. Leave the country, if you can. The same man who set up your IDs will handle laundering your assets to your new identity, but that will take time. You’ll have to make that cash last until then.”

My father nodded solemnly. I was relieved he was taking it so well, but a little nervous that he might just be in shock.

I pulled another bag out of the safe and removed three burner phones. “Only use these to communicate with each other. Don’t call anyone else. Anyone. I’m serious. Do you understand?” All three nodded, and I continued. “I have the numbers of these phones. I’ll call when the coast is clear. If I don’t call, you know what to do.”

I handed a phone to my mother, who took it without comment, then one to my father, who did the same. When I handed one to my grandmother, she said, “I’ve never in my life used a cellular telephone, I don’t see why I’d decide now was a good time to start.”

I sighed. “Take it anyway, Grandma. Just in case.” She shrugged and took the phone from me.

“All right. One last thing. You can’t take anything that belongs to you. You’ll need to change into sweats I’ll give you. They won’t fit well, but they’ll have to do. You’ll need to leave your purses, your wallets. Everything.”

“What about the car?” my father asked.

“I’ve got a car in the garage out back. Too old to be equipped with GPS. You’ll take that.”

We filed out of the control room and into the bedroom. I moved to the dresser and pulled out three plain black sweats outfits. I shook my head as I did. I never would have imagined a scenario where I’d need so many sets of clothes. Especially with none of them actually being worn by me. But, that just went to show why it paid to be prepared.

I handed out the clothes. My grandmother headed into the bathroom, and Savannah and I stepped out to give my parents privacy.

As soon as I’d shut the door, she turned to me. “Do you think they’ll be able to do it?” she asked.

“What?”

“Not contact anyone. It’s harder than you think. It eats at you. The isolation. The loss of your identity. You’d be surprised, you know. How much of who you feel you are in this world is based on who you are to other people. It’s just...it’s not as easy as you might think.”

I stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t think it will be easy. But I think they’ll do it. They won’t just be protecting themselves. They’ll be protecting us, too. They get that now. They won’t knowingly put us in danger.”

She nodded. “I think you’re right. I hope you are.”

My parents and grandmother stepped out of the bedroom, then. I put out a hand to stop them before they walked down the hall. “When we pass the bodies in the living room, just don’t look at them,” I advised.

“Oh, God,” my mother mumbled. Then, she looked shocked, as if something had just occurred to her. “We need to call the police! What if someone finds them here? The police will think you just...murdered three people. We need to explain!”

I shook my head. “No one’s going to find them.”

“You can’t know that,” my mother protested.

“I do,” I said. “They’ve been checking in with their boss every hour. When they miss a check-in, two at most, their boss will send a cleaner. By the time night falls tonight, no one will ever know anyone was here.”

My mother’s face took on a bit of a green cast, but she didn’t say anything.

“Well, I think that sounds very efficient,” my grandmother piped up. “But if they’re on their way, shouldn’t we skedaddle? I, for one, would rather not be here when the cleaning man arrives.”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “Absolutely.”

We filed out the front door, and I noticed that my parents resolutely avoided looking in the direction of the three felled gunmen. Unlike my grandmother, who stared hard at them as we walked past, and then mumbled, “And good riddance to bad rubbish,” when we were out on the porch.

“They were human beings,” my father protested weakly.

My grandmother snorted derisively. “Barely.”

My father looked like he wanted to respond, but didn’t say anything. I was glad. I wasn’t in the mood to break up a philosophical debate by reminding them that they needed to get out of the area before more of those barely-human-being types showed up.

“Come on,” I instructed them, and led the group around back to the detached garage. I opened the door and handed my father the keys to the older model sedan inside.

My father embraced me in an awkward hug, complete with the three back pats that all awkward hugs ended with. “Be safe,” he admonished.

“We will,” I promised, although I had no way of knowing if that were true or not.

My father climbed into the driver’s seat and my grandmother hugged me. I squeezed her frail frame. “Do good, kid,” she told me. “I know you’ve got it in you.”

“I will, Grandma,” I said, and she got into the back seat.

My mother threw herself against me and squeezed my neck so tightly I thought I might choke. “You keep our girl safe,” she whispered fiercely. “And yourself, too. You two had better come back to me all in one piece. Do you hear me?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She let go of me and then moved on to Savannah. She pulled her close, held her just as tightly as she’d held me. She whispered something in Savannah’s ear. I couldn’t hear what she’d said, but Savannah’s eyes welled with tears, and her voice was hoarse when she said, “I will. I promise.”

My mother crossed to the passenger side and got in, not letting herself look back at us. In fact, I noticed that even as my father pulled out and drove away, waving at us along with my grandmother, my mother never turned her eyes back to us again.

Savannah laid a hand on my back. Reading my mind, she said softly, “It would have been too much for her. She couldn’t look at you and leave. She could only do one. Not both.”