My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 53

Shortly afterward, she headed south on US 17, crossed the Cape Fear River, and turned southeast on NC 133 toward Southport. We kept our distance, following down the narrow two-lane road past intermittent patches of farms and forests until she slowed well below the speed limit and used her brakes often.

There was little traffic along the road and I feared that if I continued to follow at her slow speed, she'd realize she was being tailed. I let her get out of my sight briefly on a curve, turned my headlights off, and followed as best I could in the dark avoiding any use of the brakes. A minute later, she turned left onto a narrow overgrown trail that threaded back into the trees. Coasting toward the turnoff, we watched her headlights as she drove deeper into the forest.

"What do we do now?" Sydney asked as we rolled to a stop just beyond the turnoff.

"Hit redial and let Sam know where we are. Tell him to look for my car and that she went up a dirt road across from it." I dropped the strap to the camera bag over my head. "I'm going in on foot. You wait in the car."

"You just hold on," she said punching the redial key on the phone. "You're not leaving me out here alone."

And I didn't.

As we stepped into the trail Ashleigh had taken, darkness engulfed us as though we'd walked into a mine. The air was pungent with the scent of earth, pine needles, and decaying plants and my swollen ankle throbbed with each step. Sydney took hold of the back of my belt and held on tightly. Well up the dirt path, Ashleigh's car appeared to be moving through a tunnel lit by her headlights. It gave us a heading as well as a look at the path in the distance. We used her lights to avoid trees until she turned sharply to the left and headed toward the only other light we could see—a faint glow far in the distance. Without light, following the path became nearly impossible so we opted for the shortest route. Stepping over a soft, decaying log into thick brush, we waded through swishing leaves in the direction of the faint glow.

Briars and sticks tore at our clothes and skin. Fallen trees lay in the darkness waiting to trip us. Three quarters of a mile in, Ashleigh's lights stopped moving and went out leaving us blind except for the faint glow. With that as our compass, we stumbled through the wilderness brushing away spider webs, slapping at insects, and pausing for an occasional animal to rustle from our path.

Pushing branches away from our faces, we emerged from the trees, crossed a shallow ditch, and came upon a freshly turned field. A break in the clouds gave us a sliver of moonlight by which to see. The field would take us most of the way to a house and barn a half mile in the distance, but the ground was soft. Disked into high mounds and deep furrows, it was as difficult to walk on as sand dunes—but was far better than the briars, insects, and sticks in our eyes.

I shifted the camera on my shoulder and took hold of Sydney's hand marveling at how tiny it was, and how well it fit into mine. Holding her hand was like taking hold of her heart. There was something there that coursed back and forth between us. I was certainly getting something from Sydney. I hoped she was getting something back.

What we were doing was crazy. Chasing a girl with a gun. Running across a field blind and defenseless. Sneaking up on God knows what. It was stupid. Like holding a flame over a bucket of gasoline. And it was invigorating. I hung suspended between hysteria and devastation in a world turned on its side.

As we panted to a stop midway the field, another car turned into the lane and snaked through the trees.

"Do you think that's Sam?" Sydney asked, catching her breath.

I bent low and massaged my ankle. "Let's hope."

"Come on," she grunted dragging me behind her. The vehicle wound its way along the length of the path finally stopping short of Ashleigh's car. After a moment, the driver's door opened and a man stepped out silhouetted against the light of his headlamps. He shined a flashlight around him—even pointed it our way. I waved a hand high over my head and shouted, "Sam!" But we were too far away and there was a fawn grazing at the edge of the field between us that raised its head as he shone the light on him. The man neither heard us nor saw us in the distance. The flashlight turned away, the headlights went off, and the light inside the car went out.