© Heidi Mae Wahlberg 2024. All rights reserved

Chicago, IL 1991

I am skipping legit skipping home from the bus stop. I haven't skipped since I was eight and my mom was still alive, but today is a day for skipping.

Today is a day for smiling too, no beaming actually, and singing, dancing, all of it! When I get home. I'm going to do the stereotypical girly dance all over my bedroom, too. Wait till I call Belinda with this news!

I don't care how silly I look, skipping down the crowded streets past the L train. I ignore all the dirty looks because nothing can bring me down today. Not a thing.  My mind keeps going back to that moment after lunch.

"Sammy, hold up!"

"Chase?  Hey, what's up?"

"Belinda was saying you didn't have a date to the dance yet... That true?"

"No, I mean, yes, it's true I don't," I stammered.

"Well, you want to go with me? I know dances are dumb, but I figured I should go to one right, just to say I did. We can always skip out early if it sucks, hit up an after-party. I mean, if you want to go with me" he pauses. "Do you?"

If I want... if? I froze in shock for a solid minute, I swear, before I finally squeaked one word out, "Sure."

I've known Nick Chase forever and probably crushed on him forever, too. He never seemed to notice me, though, at least not that way. The Chases live on my block, and Nick's older sister Natalie used to babysit me. Nick and I talked some and played together a few times when we were kids, but as teens, we never exchanged much more than a Hey, or How's it going?

Nick is one of those guys who's cool without trying, always has been, even too cool for his first name, so most people call him Chase. He doesn't care what anyone thinks, does whatever he wants, and gets away with most of it, too. He usually hangs out with a few other guys who aren't quite as cool as him, at least in my eyes.

He's so hot, he has these sparkling blue eyes that always seem to be full of mischief and a slightly crooked and endearing smile. He's super tall and a little skinny. He keeps his dark blonde hair long down to his chin, and it usually looks a little greasy. He always looks like he just rolled out of bed with his baggy jeans and rumpled flannels.

I've kept my crush quiet all these years, which is easy enough. I don't have many friends outside of Belinda, who I've known forever. I keep to myself, most of my time spent running my house, and taking care of my dad.

I've perfected the art of blending in without standing out, I keep my mousy brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail with a side part. All I ever do for makeup is a foundation to hide any blemishes. I'm wearing my usual outfit, a pair of jeans that are loose fit but not baggy and a sweatshirt. With it, I have my white Nikes on, the one brand name thing I own.

Day in and day out, I go to school. Talk to Belinda, ride the bus back to my stop, and walk home, I'm as close to invisible as a girl can get. So why would Nick Chase ask me to the dance?

He likes you, a voice in my head whispers, sending a surge of butterflies dancing through my belly.

Seventeen, almost eighteen, and I haven't even been on a date yet. It's so embarrassing.  The only guy I ever really crushed on was Chase, and I assumed it was impossible. I'm half wondering if I dreamed it up, he's supposed to be a daydream crush after all. How do I handle going out with him for real?

I didn't plan on dating any guys in high school, mainly because of being shy, but my main focus was always my grades. I know how dorky that sounds, but I need scholarships we don't have any money.  I have to get into a good college, and I have to get the hell out of Chicago. I have made all the right moves to do that, and I am really excited to apply to colleges later this school year. 

I have been playing parent to my never grows up dad for far too long. When I graduate it's time to live my own life and make something better for myself than this. I know that's what my mom would want. My heart aches at the idea of leaving my dad behind after everything but, I need to. Someday I'll come back and take care of him, but I've been doing it for years, and I'm so tired.

I remember just how much when I reach the front of our shabby house and sigh. My dad's truck is parked half in the driveway and half in the grass. At least he's back, I guess. It's been nearly four days this time.

I walk up the cement stoop and find the door already open I frown as I walk in, slamming it behind me hard.

"Dad, it's too cold to leave the door open!" I holler. It's September already and chilly.

"Sammy!" he yells back. I hear his voice coming from upstairs, and I hear something in it I haven't heard since that day—that terrible day. Panic, total panic, puts me on edge as I make my way to the stairs.

"Dad?" I ask cautiously as I grow closer. His tone has me on edge.

"Come in here and help me. Hurry! We don't have much time!" He sounds so scared, what is wrong with him?

My bedroom door with it's, No Trespasser's, sign is open, and my room is a mess. A tornado of clothes is piled on my bed and my dad is grabbing things from my drawer and adding more to the pile where a duffel bag is sitting open next to it.

I gape at my him as he faces me, his black hair, which is peppered with grey, is ruffed up and messy, and his face seems to have aged more in the days since I last saw him. His green eyes, so much like mine, are full of a wild fear that chills me to the bone. He is in his mid-fifties and always felt like a young dad with all his partying and laid-back ways, but tonight he looks so old.

"I can't explain now because we don't have much time, daylight is running out," Dad says slowly as I stand there stark still, the little hairs on my neck at attention. "I need you to pack one bag of clothes. We can only take what you can carry, and there is stuff more important you need. Make sure you pack warm clothes, blankets, your pillow, and a comfort item." His voice breaks at the end.

"What? Why?" I plead as I shake my head in disbelief. "Are you drunk?"

"No," he says, and I can see he isn't, he looks very tired and panicked, but he's not the droopy-eyed, laughing idiot he is when he's drunk, he's legit freaked out right now. "I will explain it all in the truck just, hurry."

He leaves the room, and my heart is racing as I begin to stuff the duffel bag with clothes, we're going somewhere that much is obvious. Why and where? I remember what he said and pack a lot of warmer clothes, and blankets, my pillow and then I shove some undergarments in the pocket on the side. I luckily remember to run into the bathroom and get my toiletries and a towel.

"Toilet paper?" I ask out loud, then shrug and grab it anyway, my bag is quickly getting stuffed, but I still have room to slide my journal and a pack of pens into it.

"Sam, we got to go!"

"I'm coming," I call back as I gulp. I take one look back at my bedroom, the faded yellow and pink wallpaper is peeling, and the carpet is worn to the wood below, but it's my room, the one I've known my whole life. I suddenly feel a lump form and don't want to leave it.

"Hurry!" Dad yells again.

"I'm coming!" I nearly scream it.

I scurry downstairs and I find my dad in the kitchen shoving a box of rice into another duffel bag that is also stuffed full.

"Let's go," he ushers me to follow him through the kitchen door.

"Your truck is out front, Dad," I comment.

"I know. Leave the bag, I'll get it, just come through here."

I follow him to the attached garage and see he has my old bike out.

"Ride this down to that old lake you used to hang at with your mom. I'll pick you up there."

"I don't understand," I stammer. "Why? I am not doing this until you talk to me."

"We don't have time," he stresses and looks at me in a way that says don't argue. "This is life or death. You need to do what I say."

"Okay," I gulp.

"Hurry to the lake don't waste time and do not talk to anyone," he says before slipping back inside.

I open the garage and get on my bike.

****

Several hours later, we are driving down a long-winded highway the same twisty highway we have been on since we left the old lake. As promised, my dad arrived at the lake shortly after I did, he directed me to leave my bike there, and I had to hide on the floor of the truck until we were well out of the city.

The answers he promised haven't come yet, the ride has been silent so far, but I can feel his fear. It is heavy, and suddenly, I'm not sure I want to know, but I need to.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask as he makes a turn and I find us on a narrower road with farmland on each side.

"Wisconsin," he says in a hoarse voice.

"Are we camping?"

I noticed the back of the truck where he has an ax, and a lantern along with a few boxes of bullets, what I don't see is what worries me.

"Dad? Where is your bag?"

"Sammy, I made a mistake," he says softly, and the guilt is as heavy as the fear, those chills are back as I sit up straighter.

"I got into poker and at first, I had a streak of luck. I thought I could win enough to finally get our washer fixed. You been nagging at me about that."

"Well, it sucks dragging laundry bags to the laundry mat," I retort.

"I lost a  couple of games. And these guys offered to spot me, the game they said I should buy into seemed like a lock. It seemed like a surefire way to get my money back and then some so I took it."

"What guys, dad?" I ask.

"They owned the club but I was drunk and I didn't ask," he admits as his cheeks flush some. "I should have asked."

"And then you lost?" I guess, his grip on the steering wheel tightens his knuckles are whitening.

"I promised them I'd make it up and they were cool even, spotted me again the next night, but last week they started getting a little upset when I lost again. They gave me a week to get their money." 

"Oh my, God, Dad! These guys are dangerous then? Like gangsters or something?"

"I found out later they are," he confesses his knuckles are white he's gripping the steering wheel so hard. "A man, someone I've smoked with and played with a handful of times, warned me off them. He tried to get me to give the money back before that first game, but I didn't listen."

"They threatened you?"

"In a veiled way but I picked up on what they meant," he says. "It's not me they'll come after, it's you. They'll hurt me with you, Sammy."

"What! Are they after me right now!?"

"Not yet," He promises but it does nothing to alleviate my fear.

"My friend, Franky, the one I told you about. His family rivaled the Russo's at one point, but a big bust some years back sent enough of them to jail that the rest were easily wiped or turned."

"And he wasn't?"

"He was pretty minor in the family, no one ever knew him, and now he just hides out in plain sight and keeps an eye on things."

"For who?"

"I didn't ask."

"That was probably smart," I mumble, at least he did one thing right.

"Franky told me about this land his family owns, they used it for hunting, but they also hid people there at times in the past. It's off a hidden off-road, and hard to get to, making it a perfect spot to hide. The woods have food to harvest and a fresh creek, he also says there are hunting shacks set up, he drew a map you can follow, but he has only been once."

"How do you know you can trust this Franky guy?" I ask.

"He lost his wife too, most of his family actually," Dad all but whispers. "He's a good person, I feel it. I went to him begging him for money and he said he has none to give but offered this. No one knows this place exists except him and now us. He swore this place would be safe for you as long as you're careful about other threats."

"Other threats?"

"Nature and the predators in the woods," Dad says warningly. "But we have been camping and you're a smart girl."

"What if they followed us?" I ask as an alarm makes every hair on my body stand up.

"Money's not due for a few more days. No reason they'd start tailing me yet," Dad says as he gulps. "But I checked every street up and down to be sure. I have been watching behind us this whole time. We can't stop until I let you out. Then I am going circle back to a casino, come home late tomorrow, and report you missing."

"Franky helped you plan all this?"

"It was a last resort. I tried to get the money, I tried to find another way," Dad pleads with me to understand but I just feel sick.

"Wait, let me out and go to a casino.... you're not coming with me?" I ask as my alarm grows.

"No, my part of the plan starts the moment I get back in the truck and we can't waste a second of it. You'll need to trek through the woods with the map alone, but it's better I don't know exactly where you are."

"But... how do I ever get home, when do I ever get home?" I ask as my heart starts to quicken. "I'm supposed to walk through the woods all alone. This is crazy!" 

He takes a sharp turn, and my eyes well with tears at the Welcome to Wisconsin sign.

"I will find a way to get you someday, Sammy," Dad promises in a low voice. "But until then, you have to be the tough girl you are and take care of yourself out there. I packed you what you need, and you know how to fish, and you've seen grandpa and I hunt. You be diligent and careful and make sure you always have firewood. Stay fed and warm and aware of your surroundings, those are your main rules."

"They'll know," I argue. "I run away, right after you borrow all this money from them. Come on, Dad. They'll start looking for me, and then what, I'll be in the woods all alone!"

"They won't find you here. No one knows this place exists. Franky assured me of that."

"This can't be real," I say. "Since she died it's just been you and me and now, you're going to dump me off like this?"

"I don't want to!" Dad yells out his voice full of guilt and pain. "It's the only way."

He starts picking up speed, and the road grows narrower as the trees grow taller.

"There is another way there has to be!" I cry out. "I'll help you come up with the money, Dad. We're a team, remember?"

Tears stream down my face as I plead, and it seems like the harder I cry, the faster he drives.

"There is no other way, Sam. I tried to find one I swear I did, and this is it. These guys... The things they are capable of..."

"Like what, like they kill me?" I ask as I shudder. "Because I could die out in the woods, Dad! How long am I supposed to stay out there? Until you get the money, then what? What if they kill you, and I never even know?"

Why? I want to ask that, too. Why did he take that much money from guys like that? That answer, I know, is moot now.

"They could give you a fate worse than death, Sammy. We are talking about a huge crime syndicate here. There's no telling what they'd do with an attractive teenage girl."

My shudder turns into a full-on chill as I freeze.

"I have a plan, the bike will be found at the lake, I dumped an old boot of yours in there too. I'll say you go there sometimes to think about your mom. The police will assume you fell in, and everyone will think you died." He can barely say the word died, and I get chills from it. "It might take time, but I'll be able to get money from the insurance company, and then I'll pay these guys off, and I'll find a way back here to come get you. You will be okay, I promise. I won't let these men use you to hurt me."

The longer he talks higher his voice grows as he begs me to understand.

"I was going to get scholarships," I whisper.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I am so sorry, Sammy."

"I worked so hard," I whisper, and for what? For someone else's choice to take it all away.

"I mean it. I will find you again."

"And then what? We live the rest of our lives on the run. From these guys and the law?" I question. "We can still turn around, go back. We can go to the police!"

"That would get us both killed and probably everyone you know, too," he says gravely. "We are lucky we have this chance to save you."

I stop speaking since there's no point, and we ride in teary silence for what feels like ever. The sun starts going down, and Dad speeds up to the point of it being dangerous, but I guess getting caught is too.

The road is now a dirt one, not even sure it is a road, it's bumpy and jerks us around, when he finally slows, he comes to a stop in front of a small clearing. It looks a little dead end, surrounded on each side by thick and dense woods.

I sit there feeling shaky as my dad gets out of the truck. Is this really real? I blink a few times, hoping I'll somehow wake up, and it won't be.

I watch as he sets my duffel bag and the other bag, brought my old sled and has set up for me pull everything we packed. Smart, but it doesn't make this better, he then opens the back seat for me to exit. 

"Come on," he says quietly. "You have to hurry. It's getting darker by the minute."

It's just past six. We've been driving for nearly four hours now. My stomach is growling, and I suddenly feel a new burst of anger. Sending me on a trek through the forest with no food in my belly? Typical Jamie Morgan, I guess.

"I made it easy for you to drag everything behind you." Dad shows me the rope he attached to the sled, it's loaded with two duffel bags, an awe, a lantern, more blankets, my boots, and my winter coat, and I gulp at the boxes of bullets. He hands me a piece of paper and then a hunting rifle. I've shot one before at targets with my grandad when he was still alive. I went hunting with them as a kid too. But this is different, if I need this gun it is going to be because a wolf or bear is coming at me.

"You'll be okay," Dad says as if he read my thoughts and is trying to convince both of us. "Follow the map it leads to a creek and then that's your guide. The little hunting shacks are built deep in the woods but walking distance to the creek, don't stop until you find shelter. It's already getting dark and that's dangerous as it is."

He looks up at the sky and his eyes look so sad, I bite back the tears I want to cry. I feel the need to tell someone, anyone about today. The chance to call Belinda is long gone. the chance to have the date is long gone but it almost happened I need to say it.

"I had a date to the dance. Chase asked me and now..." I trail off.

Now he'll think I'm dead.

"Sammy, I'm–"

"Don't," I cut him off. "You said sorry, and I believe you are,  but it doesn't change a thing."

"I know," he pulls me in and hugs me. "I know, just stay alive, please, I promise you I will come back for you. Promise me you'll be here when I do."

"I promise," I say. I know I should kick, scream, yell at him, but I can't I just don't have it in me.

His eyes dim as he sighs, I take a moment to study his face committing every wrinkle to memory, I don't know when I'll see him again it aches.

"Can't you come with me, Dad? We could wait it out together. Maybe they'd forget about the money over time."

I know it's a fruitless ask but I had to try.

He doesn't answer instead he pulls me in and hugs me close, and for a short moment, I'm a little girl again, in her protective dad's arms, safe from all the evil in the world.

But then he lets go and I face him putting on a brave face.

"Sammy, you have always been a tough girl. You had to go through a lot of hell and grew up way too fast. You've been taking care of your old man since you were a kid. If anyone can handle this, it's you."

I'm glad he thinks so, I don't. I am scared and a million other things. I want to be angry, I want to scream at him, but I don't want this memory which could be our last to be like that, so I swallow it down.

"I love you, Dad," I say quietly.

"I love you too, kiddo," he pats my cheek. "Now go on."