Destination 1974

Chapter 27

| Lizards, iguanas, and snakes, oh my... |

~***~

I toss and turn in the dusty rock they try to call a bed, and I flinch every time it squeaks. I roll over to face the room, and I'm surprised to see every kid, even the new ones, are sleeping soundly. I sigh and reach my hand to the cement wall. My knuckles knock on it once, but it falls short when I pull my hand away, remembering I'm not in a motel with Clyde in the other room anymore. All of that feels as if it happened in another life. I grab my chest; why did he have to hide that from me?

I look down at my chest and notice I'm still wearing the pin Clyde put on me. I pull it out, realizing this could very well be the reason why I can't sleep, but then I notice a little piece of paper pinched in the back of the pin. I quickly scan the room before pulling it out carefully and unfolding it to reveal a handwritten note: Meet me behind your building tonight.

I fold up the note and slip out of bed, cautiously walking into the restrooms. I venture through the stalls and sinks area and wander to the showers. I smile when I notice an open window at the very top of the high walls. I approach the wall and look around to see if there's anything for me to climb. I smile when I notice the little shelf for the soap, and I lift my foot on it. I close my eyes and count before pushing myself up with my foot and quickly grabbing onto the shower head for support. I grasp the windowsill, my heart beating at the exhilarating moment, and I struggle to pull myself up. After a lot of grunting and a lot of awkward leg flailing, I manage to get my right leg up to pull the rest of my weight onto the window. I sit on it, panting heavily before pushing the window open even more. I look outside and sigh when there's nothing but a flat concrete wall leading maybe ten feet down to the pavement. I scan across the walls and stop at the vines to my left near the corner of the building. I smirk.

I carefully, and ridiculously, meet my foot to the rope-like vine dangling from the shrubbery on the side of the building. After getting myself completely wrapped around the vine, I realize I have no idea how to actually get down with this.

I decided to prop my feet against the wall and try to carefully walk down while hoping the vine will not give out on me. However, I make one step and I slip, falling down the vine with my hands sliding down the slimy plant. The friction in my sore hands slows me down enough to land a bit less painfully on the ground. I wobble to my feet and cringe at my bloody hands. I suppose that's better than breaking my legs in half from falling, or something.

I look around the corner and see Clyde waiting there, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips.

"That sure as hell won't get anyone's attention," I remark sarcastically as I approach him. He looks over at me and raises his eyebrows.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asks with a scoff.

"I tried and succeeded to get out is what happened," I pinch the cigarette and flick it onto the ground, "seriously, stop being such a f***ing moron," I grumble while squishing the bud with the sole of my boot. I look up at him and arch my eyebrow at his baffled expression, "smoking's not gonna to keep you hidden very well when you're breaking the rules, agent."

He squints with a pouted frown. "I thought we were passed the bullsh!t?" he asks, stepping forward.

I shrug it off, "we are passed it," I pull my lips into a line, "I just thought, since you're a professional FBI agent, that you'd know better to be more careful."

He rolls his eyes and walks past me, shoving me slightly as he does so. "Let's go. We need to search the perimeter of this place and find somewhere to meet up at night," he continues walking away, and I follow, "we also need to plan our way out when we're done here."

"Sounds good," I look around at the swampy environment as we approach closer. Sure, I say the bullsh!t is behind me because it's easier to focus that way, but it always finds it's way onto my spine. It crawls until I uncontrollably shake it off with casual sarcasm.

My boots squish in the muddy grass of the field as I look up at the stars. We enter the shrubbery and trudge our way through the large plants and over the branches on the ground. I hope we don't pass any iguanas...or snakes...or lizards...or literally anything, to be honest.

After walking for hours around the wall of the camp, we decide to backtrack since this property is way bigger than we'd expected. "It shouldn't be too difficult to get out," Clyde notes as we approach my cardigan tied to a tree, "we just need a distraction that gets everyone in this area out of our way," he continues as I untie the cardigan and put it back on.

I nod in agreement, and we start walking back where we came from. However, on our way back, I notice an opening in the trees, and I decide to venture my way through.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Clyde whispers harshly as he chases after me.

I point ahead of me, "look," his eyes follow my finger, and he reacts accordingly to the little shack in the middle of the swampy woods. "I bet nobody knows this is here," I say as I approach the little wooden shed.

It looks like an abandoned wood panelled tree fort, instead, it's not in a tree. I cautiously push the door open, and I look around wearily before entering.

"It's so dark in here," I comment out loud while squinting. I suddenly walk into what I assume is a table, and I feel the top of it for any objects.

Suddenly, the room is dimly lit the moment Clyde lights up a match behind me, and we smile at the old lantern on the table. He grabs it, and lights it up, causing the shed to illuminate much more. We look around in awe at the books and papers scattered around the room, and there's a map of the camp pinned to the wall.

"This looks like it was a fort of some sort," I palm an old open dictionary on the table, "for a resistance."

"I wonder if a couple of kids built this place to plan an escape," Clyde wonders aloud as he explores the old pictures and papers.

I approach from behind him and see him smiling at a polaroid photo of five young girls laughing about something. I also can't help but smile; they look so happy, so peaceful like there's not a problem in this world that can conquer them. I brush my thumb across the worn photo and squint at the odd stone necklaces they're wearing.

"I hope they got out," I mumble as Clyde passes me the photo. Clyde stops midway turn, and he looks back at the picture now in my hand. We stare at the picture forever, but then he exhales. Clyde turns and paces around the large interior of such a tiny shed. This place is like Clyde's glove department.

"I think this is the safest place for us to meet up," Clyde suggests after pacing around the room. I nod away from the photo and shove it into my cardigan pocket.

"Yeah. I'm sure we can find that clue quick enough. How hard could this be?"

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