She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,217

other end was male and loud enough for all of us to hear through the tiny speaker. “I just took reservations for twelve here on the north end. They’re driving down from the Pass in four…scratch that, six vans. ETA approximately one hour.”

A click then, as he hung up.

My father replaced the handset. “That was Lloyd. He’s got a little place just this side of Deception Pass. He would have spotted them crossing the bridge. Barring some kind of delay or road hazard, the pass is fifty-eight minutes away.”

Preacher wasn’t about to wait. He scooped Darby up off the floor and grabbed Cammie by the hand and headed for the door. “We’re taking the ferry out. We can be there in half the time. You’re welcome to follow, if you want. We can regroup on the mainland. We get separated, meet in one week at the Crater Lake welcome center in Oregon.”

“That’s a bad idea,” my father said. “The next ferry is at noon. I’d be willing to bet they’re on it. If they’re not on that ferry, you can be sure they’ll be on the mainland waiting to board the next one. Probably watching every car leaving Whidbey. You don’t exactly blend in with that Pontiac.”

“We get to the mainland, we’ve got a shot at outrunning them,” Cammie said. “Or we can take one of the other cars and try and slip past them. We can’t wait for them to get here.”

“Why not? This place is defendable. Why do you think I’m here?” He motioned out toward the water. “We’ve got a sheer cliff behind us, with only one set of stairs to get up and down, and nearly four acres of open space in the front between the main house and the only road in or out. They can’t get close to us. We won’t let them.” My father crossed over to the kitchen and opened three of the upper cabinet doors. Rather than plates, glasses, pots, or pans, we found ourselves staring at an arsenal. Dozens of weapons, freshly oiled, gleaming. Handguns, rifles, shotguns—several appeared to be military grade. M-16s or AK-47s, I had no idea. “I stopped running twenty years ago. I’m not starting again today. We need to end this.”

Cammie looked defeated. “They want us all dead, Eddie.”

“They may want us out of the way, but we’ve got three of the children here with us. They won’t do anything to risk their lives. They want them alive.”

“Why?” I broke in.

The room went silent. They all turned to me. “Why do they want you dead but not us? Why are they chasing us in the first place?”

My father appeared puzzled by this, as if he expected me to already know. He glanced at Preacher and Cammie, but neither said anything. He turned back to me, truly surprised. “You don’t know? Your aunt didn’t tell you? The guidance counselor, Elfrieda Leech—she didn’t give you my letters? I’ve been writing you for years.”

“I’ve never gotten a letter from you. All she gave me was this.” I took out the letter Stella’s father had written and handed it to him. He looked over it, then handed it to Cammie. “Your aunt must have told her not to say anything. Fucking Jo. Always insisting you live out a normal life. She never grasped…” His voice trailed off as he thought about this. He went over to the dining room table and started sifting through the various documents and folders.

“We don’t have time for this,” Preacher said.

“We’re making time,” my father told him. He found what he was looking for and handed it to me. An old flyer, the kind with tearaway phone numbers printed at the bottom. About half were missing. The headline read:

EARN $1000!

CHARTER PHARMACEUTICALS NEEDS VOLUNTEERS FOR THE FINAL STAGE (STAGE FOUR) OF TESTING FOR THEIR NEW VACCINATION PROTOCOL. ONE SHOT TO YOU MEANS YOUR FUTURE CHILDREN WILL NOT NEED TO RECEIVE ANY VACCINATIONS!

CALL FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

“They told all of us that as long as both parents received the shot, you’d be protected from dozens of ailments. Everything from polio to diphtheria, pertussis, tetanus—even chicken pox, small pox, and measles. Your mother and I were already dating. We had talked about kids, and frankly, we needed the money. We went. We all went. Back then, students were making money hand over fist participating in trials like this. Some were scary—LSD and hallucinogenics. This was the seventies. We were all doing that stuff anyway. Why not get paid?”

“The government