The Fountain Girl

Chapter 23

Over the weekend I trudged through the cold and snow, putting up flyers in the neighborhood with Anna's clear face, on lampposts, trees, and ever trashcans. I included the things that people needed to know about her: her name, her hair color, her eye color - Those things that I never really knew I noticed until I recalled them.

I visited all of Bryan's gang's members' houses, and was disappointed at the response of the occupants of every single one, much to my suspicion. Apparently none of them had been home for three days and their relatives hadn't heard anything from them. Like me, they were also worried.

James helped me with the putting up of the flyers, and told me that if there was anything else I needed his help in, he would be there in a flash. I was unused to this newfound brotherly love that we shared all of a sudden, it was almost like James was trying to start anew.

I was doing all the things I could do to find Anna, and it wore my energy level down to a bare minimum.

On Sunday evening I was watching television as I crossed out the houses of the gang members on a list that I had compiled. My worry for Anna increased as each address was cancelled, until finally there was no address left. I sighed in frustration as I closed my eyes to take a nap in the dark living room. The doorbell rang shrilly and there was a rap on the door. A smart, short rap.

I groaned as I stood up from the couch, stretching my arms backward to loosen my stiff muscles. And then I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps scurrying off the porch. The footsteps were heavy and paced a little slower than a woman would run, so it must've been a man

I tiptoed towards the door cautiously and wrapped my hand around the brass doorknob. I let the door click open.

I pushed it behind me and noticed that no one was on the porch. He must have left. I glanced downwards and found a note on the floor, words scattered across it in messy handwriting. I picked it up and raised an eyebrow as I read it slowly:

Creaking Front, 23 miles east of Southampton Exit 7 if you want her back. Come alone. It'll be a valiant exchange.

I was momentarily paralyzed after reading the note. I didn't even read it a second time. The words ran around in my head and I tried to catch them, to understand them. Three days after being missing and he leaves me a note.

And yet the note's message was simple, clear, and had no second meaning. 23 miles east of Exit 7? They really have gone to the most remote of hiding places. As far as I knew, there was almost nothing but barren rocky landscape beyond there. All civilization ceased to exist for a few miles.

I held the note tight in my hand, and the same phrase that repeated itself over and over in my head over the weekend resurfaced: Anna, I'll save you.