Unraveling The Past

“Keep your gun trained on him,” he yelled to Joanna, holstering his own weapon. “And hold on to me tight.”

With that, he roared down the street and headed for the open road.

* * *

Joanna leaned against the wall of the gas station while Tyler filled up the motorcycle. It was after midnight, and they had crossed the state line into Arkansas, traveling on clear roads like a bullet. But she was frozen to the core. Tyler had given her his padded jacket, yet her teeth still chattered.

Tyler walked over to her, the visor of his helmet threaded through his forearm and resting in the crook of his elbow. He handed her a cup of coffee, purchased from a machine, and she took it gratefully. The warmth of the cardboard cup in her hands was exquisite.

“The cashier says there’s a twenty-four-hour motel about two miles down this road. I think we should check in for the night and get some rest before we make a plan.”

Joanna glanced anxiously down the dark highway, straight and deserted, stretching into the starry horizon. The gas station was lit up like a beacon in the blackness, with just one lonely male cashier sitting behind bars, reading a sports magazine.

“Do you think somebody followed us?” she asked.

“I doubt it. There’s no way anyone could hide away on these roads.” He stared into the distance. The sky was free of clouds and as black as oil, lit by millions of stars. “I forgot how special Missouri skies can be.”

“I hate to remind you,” she said, giving him a gentle nudge. “But we’re in Arkansas.”

He nudged her back. “Same difference. It’s the same sky.”

They both stood in silence for a few moments, gazing at the stars, mentally preparing themselves for the task ahead: the job of proving her innocence. She thought of how her life had become a disaster in just a matter of hours. She had woken up that morning as an undercover officer assisting a drug task force. Now she assumed there was a warrant out for her arrest.

She felt Tyler’s arm curl around her, and she let her head drop onto his shoulder. If she could, she would fall asleep right there on her feet like a horse.

“However long it takes,” he said, “we’ll get to the truth.”

His words comforted her but also reminded her of her lack of preparedness. She looked down at the bag by her feet. “All I have in my possession are a couple of guns and a lot of ammo.” She tried to raise a smile. “And that isn’t even mine. I don’t have any money at all.”

He left his fingers splayed on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of expenses. Since I joined the SEALs, I’ve always kept cash, a passport, a weapon and a cell phone in a locked safe just in case I need them.”

“Wow,” she said. “I guess you like to be ready for every eventuality.”

“The SEALs taught me to always be prepared. Life has a funny way of throwing you a curveball when you least expect it.”

“And life just threw you the biggest curveball of all,” she said, stealing a glance at his pensive face. “How are you holding up? I know this must be really hard for you, like learning to walk again.”

He turned his head and looked down at her. “To tell you the truth, I still can’t make much sense of it. I keep closing my eyes and concentrating really hard, but all I see are the hillsides of Afghanistan.” He pulled the photograph from his pocket. “I keep seeing these five men.” He sighed. “In my mind, this is where I still am. I just wish I knew how and why I ended up back in Godspeed. How could I turn my back on my unit, on my life in Virginia, on everything that I hold sacred?”

“You didn’t turn your back on any of those things,” she said, positioning her body to face him. “You just took a different path. From what you told me, you thought that God was guiding you back home to Yardley County.”

He knit his eyebrows. “I said that?”

“Yes.”

Joanna had always found Tyler’s strong trust in God uplifting, bolstering her own waning faith. She couldn’t see how God would lead her down such a cruel path. She had assumed she had done something wrong and was now being punished. But Tyler’s faith was unshakable, and she frequently took solace in it, wrapping herself in his conviction that God listened to all prayers.

He smiled broadly. “Well, if God guided me back home, then it must be for a good reason. I appreciate you telling me that.”

He slipped his hand into hers. Tyler was very tactile, and showing affection came easy to him, but she was different.

“You look beat,” he said, leading her toward the motorcycle, its blue paint polished to a gleaming shine. “Let’s get some sleep and make a plan in the morning.”

“Thank you, Tyler,” she said. “Even though you’re dealing with some pretty intense emotions right now, you’re still committed to helping me, and I’m grateful.”

He looked skyward, clearly troubled. “The word intense doesn’t even come close to describing how I’m feeling right now. I’m used to being in control, knowing how to identify the enemy, knowing who I can trust.”

“You can trust me,” she said. “I promise.”

He brought his face down to meet hers. “I’m taking a big chance on you, Deputy, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask you some tough questions later on. It’s not easy to trust a stranger.”

This comment stung. “We’re not strangers,” she said. “Not by a long shot.”

“We’re as good as strangers to me,” he said. “That’s the way I see it right now, at least until my memories start to return. So I’m asking you to be totally open and honest with me, no matter what. Can you do that?”

She imagined Tyler prying into her past, her battle with cancer and the toll it had taken on her. She hated talking about it and usually downplayed her feelings to hide the pain.

“Sure,” she replied. “You can ask me anything.”

She hoped he didn’t hear the hesitancy in her voice. He could ask her whatever he wanted, but she might not tell the whole truth.

* * *

Tyler woke early, just on the cusp of dawn. He sat bolt upright, taking in his surroundings. He saw a clean, functional room with well-worn furniture and peeling wallpaper, slightly nicotine stained at the top. That was when he remembered he was in a low grade motel, and Joanna was in an adjoining room, connected by an inner door.

He checked his watch: 7:15 a.m. He usually didn’t sleep so late, but he was glad of the unbroken rest. He rose, straightened out his wrinkled sweatpants and shirt and then rubbed his grumbling stomach. He obviously hadn’t eaten in a long while, and he was famished.

A loud knock sounded through the room, and Joanna’s voice could be heard on the other side of the door, panicked and insistent.

“Tyler, can I come in? There’s something you should see urgently.”

He opened the door, and Joanna stood before him, wearing the same clothes she had yesterday: neon yellow jeans, white sneakers and a purple hooded sweatshirt. She would stand out like a sore thumb in any crowd. They would need to buy her some new clothes today.

“What is it?” he asked as she came rushing into the room, picking up the remote control for the television from the nightstand.

“This,” she said, flicking on the TV and turning to a local news station.

On the screen he saw his own face next to Joanna’s, above the words fugitive cops on the run. He took the remote from her hands and turned up the sound, listening in horror to the newscaster’s report: “The sheriff of Yardley County, Missouri, Tyler Beck, is believed to be harboring a wanted felon somewhere in the region, and citizens are being asked to remain vigilant. Deputy Joanna Graham, a former biochemist and Harvard graduate, is wanted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation for alleged drug offenses committed while working undercover for the Southern Missouri Drug Task Force. Both Deputy Graham and Sheriff Beck vanished last night and are now on the run, possibly crossing a state border to evade detection. The Godspeed police chief, George Crenshaw, made this statement about the matter late last night...”

The picture then cut to Chief Crenshaw, standing outside his station, surrounded by reporters shining lights on his face. By his side was the mayor, his lips pinched into a thin smile.

The chief read from a piece of paper in his hand: “‘Sheriff Beck suffered a severe blow to the head yesterday while responding to an emergency call, and doctors believe that this injury has seriously affected his memory. The sheriff’s actions are entirely out of character, and it’s likely that his head injury is to blame. Tyler Beck and I are friends and equals, and I’m not judging him for trying to help his deputy. But I’m appealing to him directly to contact the nearest law-enforcement unit and turn himself in.’” Chief Crenshaw looked straight into the camera, his dark eyes narrowing in seriousness. “Tyler, if you’re watching this, please do the right thing. You know it makes sense.”

As the clip ended, the anchor shook her coiffured head in disapproval and said, “What is the world coming to when you can’t trust your local sheriff’s department to uphold the law? These two could possibly be somewhere in the state of Arkansas, so keep a lookout, folks, and if you spot them, do not approach them. Instead call 9-1-1 right away. But don’t let this news stop you from enjoying the Christmas holidays. Go out and continue your shopping, but be vigilant. Stay safe.”

Tyler let out a long breath, as if he had been winded. He never expected this amount of publicity. He knew that Chief Crenshaw would be annoyed at being duped, but to place Joanna in further danger like this was just plain irresponsible. Crenshaw had now totally exposed her as an undercover officer. If any members of The Scorpions didn’t already know her status as a sheriff’s deputy, they would now, and they might decide to exact their own vengeance.

“Do you think the guy who checked us into the motel last night will call the police?” Joanna asked.

“It was late, dark and he was only a teenager, more interested in playing his computer game than looking at our faces.” Tyler wasn’t totally convinced of this, but he hoped it was true. “We should hit the road anyway, just in case.”

Joanna raked her hands through her long, dark hair. She had removed the tiny braids she had worn the previous day, and the strands were now slightly crinkled yet still lustrous and shiny, falling like silk over her shoulders. Something stirred in his memory: a flicker of recollection. He knew how her hair smelled and how it felt beneath his touch.

“Where can we go?” she asked. “Our faces are splashed all over the news.”

Tyler pulled the photograph from his pocket. The five other men in this picture were as good as family to him, and he would trust each of them with his life. With one of them now dead, this left four people to whom he could reach out for help. He knew each of their cell phone numbers by heart, but he had lost seven years. Would they have moved on without his knowing? Would they still have the bonds of friendship they once did?

He took out his cell phone. “I’m gonna make a call. Don’t go anywhere,” he said walking into the bathroom, closing the door and sitting on the edge of the tub. He didn’t feel entirely comfortable making this call in front of Joanna. He figured he could almost certainly trust her, but there was still a tiny seed of suspicion, a niggling doubt that she was holding back somehow. When he had asked her to be completely honest with him, he had sensed her reticence and suspected that she was holding something back. Despite her apparent openness, there was something aloof about her, a part that she kept hidden. He pondered whether this was the reason for their breakup. One character trait he would not tolerate was an inclination to lie. Joanna had not fully passed his test. Not yet.

He punched in the number of Dillon Randall, a close friend and colleague who had served alongside him on at least three missions that he could remember. A recorded message told him that the number had been disconnected. He tried the other three numbers and got the same result. The data in his head must be old and out of date.

He clicked his tongue in exasperation, feeling the time ticking by. He should take Joanna away from this place and get her somewhere safer, but without a plan, he could simply make things worse by moving her out in the open.

He turned over the photograph in his hands, thinking hard, and caught sight of a scrawled number on the back. His heart lifted. It was his own writing, and above the number was one single word: Blade. What did this mean? Whose number was it? Given that his options were limited, he decided to give it a try.

When the phone was answered Tyler recognized his old friend Edward Harding’s voice instantly, his laid back, relaxed style of talking making his hello sound like the word yellow.

“Hi,” he said quickly. “It’s Tyler.”

Ed’s tone instantly changed to a sociable one. “Hey, Sheriff. How is everything in Yardley County?”

“Listen, Ed,” Tyler began. “I need help.”

Ed remained silent for a few seconds before answering. “Everything okay, Tyler? Nobody’s called me by the name Ed in a long time.”

“What do you mean?” Tyler asked, confused. “Did you change your name?”

“Um, not exactly,” Ed replied with a note of concern. “But since I lost my leg, my buddies all call me Blade, remember?”

“What!” Tyler exclaimed. How could he have forgotten something like this? “You lost a leg?”

“Yeah, right after Dark Skies. What’s going on, Tyler? What happened to you?”

Tyler stared down at the photograph, now understanding why he had written the word Blade above the number. “I somehow lost the last seven years of my life,” he said. “And now I’m on the run from the police, trying to protect a deputy who’s been wrongly accused of a crime, and my face is all over the local news.”

Ed obviously took a little while to let this information sink in. “I’m not even gonna ask how this happened,” he said finally. “Because I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of time. You need somewhere to hole up, right?”

“Right.”

“Where are you?”

“Northern Arkansas.”

“Are you close to Millington, Tennessee?”

Tyler pictured a map of the area in his mind. “Yeah, it’s only a couple of hours away. There’s a naval base there.”

“That’s right. The navy sometimes uses the base for top-secret training, and they own a log cabin in the Meeman-Shelby Forest State Park for secret personnel to stay away from prying eyes. I went there once before I was medically discharged—”

Tyler cut him off. “You’re not a SEAL anymore?”

“Tyler,” Ed replied with a low laugh, “I just told you that I only have one leg.”

In spite of his situation, Tyler laughed, too. “I’m sorry, Ed, this is a lot to take in.”

“I might need to call in a favor or two to gain access to the cabin. I’ll contact Dillon. He transferred into the coast guard a little while back, but he’s a lieutenant now, and he’ll be able to pull a few strings.”

Tyler felt a swell of gratitude in his chest. “I realize I’m asking you to take a big risk.”

Ed came back quickly with the words of a SEAL motto. “He who is not courageous enough to take risks...”

Tyler finished the sentence: “Will accomplish nothing in life.”

“Exactly, my friend. Go to the state park and keep your cell phone on. I’m in North Carolina, so it’ll take me nine or ten hours to reach you by car, but I’ll get there.”

The faint sounds of a police siren drifted into the bathroom. Tyler inhaled sharply. Had the sullen teenager at the reception desk recognized them after all?

“I gotta go,” he said. “I hear sirens.”

If any gang members listened to police scanners, it could mean that Crusher might not be far behind.

“Go,” Ed said firmly. “But remember—Audentes Fortuna Iuvat.”

Tyler translated the Latin phrase that his SEAL team would often recite before missions: “Fortune favors the brave.”

He ended the call, flung open the bathroom door and picked up his motorcycle key from the dresser, ready to jump into action. Tyler may have lost a significant portion of his life, but he most definitely remembered how to be brave.

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