The Stranger Beside Me

  The Stranger Beside Me

  Simone Holloway

  Copyright ©2013 Simone Holloway

  First published by Simone Holloway 2013

  Distributed by Al Romance

  The first thing she noticed was the noise: water flowed and gently lapped onto a beach; a soft rustling surrounded her as wind blew through trees. Her eyes were closed and she was face down. She was soaked; but it was of little concern to her.

  The sounds echoed through her body, lulling her to sleep. Had she fallen asleep at the beach? She wondered. Her mind was a hazy fog. How long had she been here? Where was she? These thoughts should have troubled her, but she felt disconnected.

  Distantly, a panicked voice on the edge of her mind was pleading for her to rise and flee.

  She ignored it and settled down onto the soft ground. Sleep was carrying her away when the shrieking cry of a bird pierced the fog of her mind.

  She shot up instantly. Adrenaline flooded her body. Her chest heaved; her heart raced.

  She looked around. She was at a lake surrounded by trees. The area appeared to be completely isolated.

  How did she get here? A sharp pain shot through her head, neck and shoulder. She brought her hand to her head and began rubbing her temples. The pain subsided long enough for her to clear her mind. She tried to remember where she was, what she’d done that morning- anything.

  One half-formed memory flashed through her mind: she was laying in bed beside a man staring at his back. Suddenly he turned over and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in close. His body was warm and muscular. He had a square jaw, short hair, and soft eyes. The word ‘soldier’ flashed through her mind. Then, he was gone.

  She had no idea who this man was, her boyfriend? Her husband? She looked down at her hand to see if she was wearing a wedding ring. They were covered in blood.

  She ran to the edge of the lake, plunged her hands into the icy water and began to scrub.

  She caught a scrambled image of her reflection in the lake. Long, messy red hair flowed around a soft, round face. She didn’t recognize herself. A wave of nausea washed over her. She began to scrub her hands faster.

  Long after the blood had been washed off, she lifted her hands out of the water. She ran them over her body searching for a cut or wound. Other than the pain in her shoulder and head she was uninjured: the blood didn’t belong to her. The thought chilled her to the bone.

  She looked around frantically. She scrambled up a short hill behind her and found herself standing in the middle of a dirt road. She looked left, then right. Instinctively, she chose left and began walking on trembling legs.

  She didn’t walk long before coming to a bend in the road. She peered around the turn and saw a parked truck. Cautiously, she moved forward.

  The road abruptly ended at a small cabin. Relief washed over her: they would have a phone; she would call the police and figure out what was going on. Or, so she hoped.

  The thought of putting an end to this strange day made her walk faster. Just as she entered the front yard of the cabin a man walked out from behind a small shed. He had dark blonde hair, high cheekbones and a short beard. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a black t-shirt, blue jeans and black combat boots. Again, the word ‘soldier’ flashed through her mind. This man didn’t resemble the man from her memory, but he felt familiar. She shook her head, chasing the thought away.

  “Can- can you help me?” she asked. Her voice was raspy; her throat ached. But her voice didn’t sound completely unfamiliar to her ears. It gave her a small amount of

  encouragement.

  The man looked confused. She could only imagine what he was thinking. He’s going about his day, same as always, when this wild looking woman emerges from the woods.

  She was soaking wet, disoriented, possibly injured. She suddenly realized that he was probably frightened by the sight of her. She knew she would be if she was in his shoes.

  “I’m sorry to scare you.” She tried to keep her voice steady and strong. “I think I’ve had an accident. I can’t exactly remember. Could I use your phone?”

  The man considered her.

  The situation reminded her of a horror movie. A stranger shows up at person’s home, says there’s been an accident and tries to gain entry by asking to use the phone. Those kind of movies always ended with murder, theft or worse.

  “You can bring the phone outside to me, if you want. I don’t have to go inside your house.”

  It suddenly struck her as odd that this man would be intimidated by her. Even through the heavy layers of clothing he wore she could see he was well-built. In a fight, she would pose no threat to him.

  “I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise.” The man shook his head and smiled. “Of course you can use my phone.”

  He began to walk towards the cabin then stopped.

  “Actually, I don’t have a land line and there’s no cell service out here. This is just my weekend getaway place. I could drive you into town.”

  She didn’t want to get into a vehicle with a stranger, but she was out of options. She had no idea how far the town was and she didn’t have the strength to hike back down the road.

  “Okay,” she said.

  The man wiped his hands on a towel and walked back to the shed. He returned a minute layer carrying a duffel bag. Up close he was quite striking. His eyes were a sharp blue with a hint of green. He was tall and athletic. In his late twenties or early thirties, she guessed.

  “This way,” he said.

  He opened the truck door and stopped. He surveyed her drenched body. “You must be freezing.” He took off his flannel shirt and wrapped it around her. His hands were dirty and he smelled of sweat and the earth.

  “I’m sorry I took you away from your work,” she said. The man paused. “Your chores, your yard work. I’m sure you were busy. You probably weren’t expecting some crazy woman to show up on your front yard and ruin your day.” She gave a half-hearted laugh.

  The situation was beyond awkward and for some reason she wanted this man to like her.

  The man smiled. “No trouble.”

  He helped her into the truck and closed the door. Just as the man slid into the driver’s seat beside her, she heard the sound of an approaching car.

  “Someone’s coming,” she said.

  The man looked up sharply. His friendly face became severe. He threw his bag onto the seat and started the truck.

  She turned expectantly, but the vehicle never appeared. “Are you expecting company?”

  she asked.

  The man didn’t answer. He put the truck into gear, reversed quickly, then started down the dirt road. They turned the bend to find a black SUV parked on the side of the road.

  They passed slowly. The vehicle was empty. The sight of the car gave her goose bumps.

  Did she know this car? She wondered. Were the people searching around the lake for her?

  Or was she just being paranoid?

  She looked to the man to gauge his reaction. His face was tense. He regarded the car and surrounding area with a critical eye. It was obvious he found the situation suspicious, but why?

  “Do you know that car?” she asked.

  “No. Do you?”

  “I don’t know what I know anymore.” She suddenly felt very tired. “How far is the town?”

  “Not far,” he said softly.

  He hit the accelerator and they sped off down the road.

  They turned from the dirt road to a paved street. They had been driving for at least thirty minutes and they were still in the woods. Tall trees crowded the road blocking the sun from view. She felt like she was trapped in one of the Brother’s Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

  They hadn�
�t passed a single car, except for the one parked at the lake. The isolation made the appearance of the black SUV all the more suspicious. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  She turned to look at the man. His face was half in shadow, but she could still make out his high cheekbones and straight nose. When he felt her gaze, he turned to her. She looked away quickly; he made her nervous.

  She squirmed in her seat. She had to take a breath and remind herself of the bizarre circumstance of their meeting. No matter how handsome the stranger was, she had to stay focused on getting to the police.

  She cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”

  The man paused briefly before answering, as if he had to consider the question. “John.”

  “John, I’m…” Her mind jumped from one name to another: Alison, Alex, Laurie. None of the names sounded right to her. Who was she? She frantically searched her pockets for a driver’s license or some form of identification. She came up empty except for a soggy piece of paper in her jeans pocket. It was a receipt for a motel room. The bottom was signed, ‘Jo Si…’ The last name was illegible. Whoever I am, she thought, I need to work on my penmanship.

  “Jo,” she said. Her voice wavered. “My name is Jo.”

  The man stared at her intently. “Are you sure about that? You sound uncertain.”

  Jo swallowed hard. “I must have hit my head or… I’m having a hard time remembering things. I must sound crazy to you.”

  John smiled. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Surprised by how crazy I sound? No, I think I would believe it.”

  She thought she heard him stifle a laugh. “No, you’d surprised by how unsurprising this is.”

  Alarm bells sounded in her head. Jo found the situation bewildering. “Why isn’t this surprising?”

  Before he could answer, the cabin of the truck was flooded with light. Jo turned to see the black SUV barreling down on them. John accelerated, but the SUV easily kept up with them.

  It was growing dark and the roads twisted and turned through the mountains. John had to constantly slow down and swerve to keep the truck on the road. After nearly flipping their car, he said: “Fuck it.” He slammed on the breaks, stopping at an angle in the middle of the road. The SUV had no room to maneuver around them.

  Jo’s heart raced. She looked back to the SUV, hoping to catch a glance of the men inside, but she was blinded by headlights.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  John unzipped the bag on the seat beside him. Inside were several weapons. He pulled out a handgun, checked the clip and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Then he took out a shotgun, cocked it and told Jo to get down.

  As he exited the truck, he turned to the SUV and fired into the windshield. Jo was torn between wanting to see what would happen and terror. Fear one out as she threw herself to the floor of the truck.

  She heard a man yell, then several gunshots followed by silence. Her hands shook as she raised herself up to peer out the back window. The SUV was being slowly driven by someone off the road. The vehicle disappeared from sight.

  Jo wasn’t sure what to do. John had left the keys in the ignition. Just as she was deciding to take the truck and leave, he appeared on the road. He bent over and looked at something. Jo squinted, but in the dark it was hard to make out what he was looking at.

  Then it hit her: it was a dead body. He took the dead man by the arms and dragged him off in the same direction as the SUV.

  Jo felt frozen by panic. This man was clearly dangerous. She knew she should flee but some foreign instinct told her to stay. She waited as John pulled a second body from the road and hid it in the trees.

  When he returned to the truck he was breathing heavily. He sat behind the wheel and stared out into the night. He ran a hand over his face and through his beard. He looked conflicted, or uncertain. Coming to a decision, he closed the door and turned the truck back onto the road.

  They drove in silence, passing through a small town and then another. Jo knew they wouldn’t be going to the police any time soon. A distant part of her thought: good. A strange combination of fear, confusion and relief washed over her. Why would she feel relief about John’s actions? It was all so surreal and yet, familiar.

  She looked at the gun sitting beside him on the seat. Had she seen it before? Deja vu overtook her. Instinctively, she reached out to touch it. She had no intention of using it, she just wanted to hold it.

  When John caught her in the act, she placed her hand in her lap quickly. Where had that urge come from? She wondered.

  John made no move to push the gun out of her reach. Instead, he looked away. He didn’t see Jo as a threat. For some reason she found this infuriating.

  “What were you doing at that cabin?” she demanded. “Where are you taking me?” He stared straight ahead as if he didn’t hear her. “Who were those men? You just killed them.” She knew she was stating the obvious, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Are we really going to do this, Jo?” His words were harsh, as if he was insulted.

  Jo stared at him uncomprehendingly. He was mad at her? Who did he think he was? She had every right to be upset, to ask questions. Before she could respond, John pulled the car over to the side of the road.

  “Tell me what you think is happening,” he said.

  “I think you killed two people. I think you’re holding me against my will-”

  “You want to get out?” He reached across her and opened the passenger’s side door. “Go.

  I’m not gonna stop you.”

  Jo stared out into the night. A light rain had begun to fall; the trees whipped around viciously under the force of a high wind. The thought of being left alone on the side of the road was less than appealing.

  She looked back at John. He studied her for a moment. Jo didn’t want to say it: she wanted to stay with him. She had no idea who she was, or what was going on, but he was a link to the events that led her to this moment.

  John was dangerous. He killed two people quickly, efficiently and with little to no remorse. There was an air of professionalism to the action. It was clear he’d killed before.

  Again, Jo was reminded of her memory of the strange man in her bed, the soldier.

  She studied him closely. His eyes were troubled. The muscle in his jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth. She felt certain she needed John, but she didn’t know why. She looked away, feeling suddenly ashamed.

  Wordlessly, he reached over her and shut the door.

  Silently, she thanked him for understanding. He knew she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, leave the truck. For now, they were in this together.

  John’s face softened. “Tell me what you remember, from the beginning,” he said delicately.

  Jo took a breath. “I woke up beside the lake. My head was pounding; my hands were covered in blood.”

  At the mention of blood, John’s face turned serious. “Blood? Are you hurt?”

  He looked over her body, then took her hands and examined her arms. Jo couldn’t find the words to stop him. It was comforting to feel his touch and oddly familiar. He ran his hands over her shoulders and neck.

  Jo felt a chill go up her spine. Her eyes dropped down to her lap. John ran a finger down her jaw to her chin. Slowly, he lifted her face. When their eyes met, Jo felt like crying. “I can’t remember who I am.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  Headlights filled the cabin as a car drove past them, shaking the truck. John turned quickly, but the car continued on. If the driver was looking for them, he made no attempt to stop.

  Jo turned to face away from John. She could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t want to meet his gaze. She’d come very close to kissing him just now. Jo took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She had to do better than this; she was losing control. John was involved with whatever had happened to her. He appeared to be on her side-for now. But how long would that last? What if he was deceiving her? This was not the man to fall for. And what about the man from
her memory? They had been intimate. Was he her boyfriend, or husband? Jo rubbed her temples. Her headache had returned.

  “Take me somewhere,” she said. “Away from here.”

  John nodded and pulled the truck back onto the road.

  ~

  The night was dark, heavy and silent. A large house loomed in front of them. Jo walked closely behind John. He swore it was a safe place for them to spend the night, but Jo was nervous.

  The house was dark and empty; it gave her the creeps. As they entered she hugged the wall and waited for John to lead her to her room.

  “You can take any room you want,” he said. “Bathroom’s upstairs. Get cleaned up and get some rest.”

  “We have a lot to talk about. How are you involved in all this? Did you know those men?

  The ones-” She almost said ‘the ones you killed,’ but stopped. “The ones who were after us?”

  “Let’s sit down.”

  John placed a hand on her lower back and led her into the living room. Jo sat down on the couch; John sat closely beside her. Their legs touched, making Jo squirm. John made her nervous, but for all the wrong reasons. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him. He was handsome and strong; he’d risked his life to protect her. In spite of watching him kill two men she found herself trusting him.

  “Can you turn on a light?” she asked. John’s face was cloaked in shadows. She wanted to see his eyes as he told his story.

  “We’d better not. We don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

  They were in an extremely isolated area. Jo didn’t think there was a soul around for fifty miles, but he was right: better safe, than sorry.

  “Go on,” she said, “from the beginning.”

  He rubbed his hands together and sighed. “I first met you six months ago.”

  Jo was taken aback. This man knew her. “How…how do you know me?”

  John paused. “You really don’t remember, do you?” He sounded surprised.

  Did he think she was pretending to have amnesia? Jo didn’t answer.

  “You were working for a man,” John continued. “I don’t know his name, or much about him, but he was involved in some shady business.”