Untraceable

Survival Skill #48

Use body movements or positions to convey a message in a dangerous situation.

~

Mo’s arms clutch onto my waist and he tugs my stiff body forward. But I can’t seem to move. It’s like someone’s has nailed my feet to the ground. I stand there, gawking at Tommy’s body, speckled in red. Mo blocks my view and yells in my face. “Grace! Grace! We’ve got to go! Now!”

“Tommy!” My voice sounds raw and broken, as if I’ve been yelling for days. I jerk my arm away from Mo’s grip and sprint back to Tommy who’s not moving. I drop onto my knees next to his body. A couple of red holes dot his chest, and blood drips out of his nose and mouth.

I shake him. “Oh, God! Tommy, Tommy. Please! Please don’t leave me. Oh, God. Please!”

Tommy doesn’t answer me.

Panic roars through my chest, making me frantic. Unleashed. Wild. I sob and try to drag his limp body behind me. My feet slip and slide in the loose dirt. Tommy’s body is pure dead weight, and it pulls me down.

Mo slides in next to me, spraying dust into the air, and hollers in my face again. “Grace! He’s gone. We have to go!”

All I hear is that he’s gone … because of me.

I notice the tear stains on Tommy’s face. “I’m so sorry.” I kiss his cheek. “Gv-ge-yu-hi.”

I don’t want to leave, wishing I could stay with him, but Mo grabs my hand and pulls. “Come on!”

Gunfire echoes around me. I jolt to life as full sensation returns to my body. The world around me springs back to life, and my survival instinct kicks in. I peel myself away from Tommy and sprint alongside Mo down the dusty path. He clutches my sleeve and yanks me left and right, practically jerking my arm out of its socket. As I run, Tommy’s sweet face clouds my vision. For a split second, I want to go back.

I need to go back.

I can’t just leave him behind. But I don’t want to die either.

Mo pushes me up the hill. Behind us, a couple of men from town stomp along the path. We both duck behind a bush and press our bodies into the murky leaves to hide. I fight to suck in air while still remaining quiet. It’s as if a huge boulder has rolled onto my chest. Pools of tears threaten to wash away the vivid image of Tommy’s last few moments replaying in my head. A quiet moan slips from my lips but I try so hard to hold everything inside because I know I need to be quiet.

I shake my head over and over. This isn’t happening. It’s all a bad dream. Tommy isn’t dead. Dad is still alive. I just need to wake up. From where we hide, I can still see his body still lying in the clearing and I will him to stand.

Get up. Get up.

Mo drapes his arm over me and pulls me close. I bury my head into his shoulder, smelling the familiar and once-comforting vanilla scent. He strokes my hair a few minutes before whispering in my ear. “Listen to me. You hide here. I need to go back down there for something.”

I cling to his arm. “Wait, why? What for?”

He runs his thumb down my jawline. “It’s a hunch I have. It’s important. Trust me. I want you to stay here.”

My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. “Please. Don’t.”

He brushes his lips along my forehead. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Even though I don’t want him to leave, groveling for him is worse. I take in a deep breath. “You promise?”

He kisses my knuckles. “Abso-bloody-lutely.” Then he places his gun in my hand. “You know how to use this?” I study the pistol and give him a ‘what do you think?’ look. He pats my shoulders. “Okay, I was just checking.”

Before I can answer or argue one last time, he charges back down the hill. I watch as he sneaks across the campsite. My body shudders in fear. Where’s he going?

I scan the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The swinging lanterns give off a faint light, barely enough to see.

Off to one side, I spot a shadow creeping out of a tent with a rope in one hand and a bag draped over his shoulder. I sigh in relief as Mo steps into the dim light, checking both ways before crossing the path. Squatting, he pulls back a tarp blanketing the ground to reveal another large hole similar to the one we were in earlier. His mouth is moving as if he’s arguing with someone. Who’s he talking to? He drops the rope down the hole and leans in.

Off to my right, a few men make their way through the trees, heading straight for Mo. They move methodically in a V-formation, randomly poking bushes and kicking leaves.

I whisper to myself. “Come on. Hurry up. Get out of there.”

The men inch closer.

How can I warn Mo they’re coming?

I replicate Tommy’s owl call, hoping to jog his memory. He doesn’t seem to notice. Before I can get out another warning, a man charges out of the woods and tackles him from behind. Mo tosses the man onto the ground. All in one smooth movement. Not missing a beat.

Mo falls on his belly and stretches his arm down the hole.

Al pops out of a tent and charges Mo with his gun drawn.

What can I do?

A memory of Dad and me shooting at the gun range resurfaces. Dad’s words unravel in my head. You’re good with a gun, Gracie, you could be a marksman. Not something I thought was handy.

Until now.

Without hesitating, I hold up Mo’s gun and zero in on Al’s thigh, pausing for a second.

Al points his gun at the back of Mo’s head.

I close my eyes and fire.

Al drops to the dirt and writhes in pain.

At the sound of the shot, Mo spots me on the hill me and gives me a thumbs up.

I signal back but am relieved. Whether Al deserves to live or not, I’m glad I didn’t actually kill him.

Mo reaches in the ground one more time and pulls. A head breaks the surface, and a skeletal figure rolls onto his back. Mo helps the man to his feet and wraps one arm around his waist. They both head in my direction. The frail man stumbles to his knees a few times, but each time, Mo is right there to hold him up.

I squint through the tree limbs, waiting for them to get close so I can see the man’s face. My heart pounds in my chest.

Mo sprints to the hill and pushes the filthy man up the slick grass.

The man claws at the dirt, but obviously isn’t strong enough to make it.

Men swarm in from all directions, heading for the slope.

I yell down to them. “Mo! Hurry!”

The scrawny, filthy man looks up and smiles when he sees me.

I gasp. I’d know that smile anywhere.