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What Remains
Down in the Dirt, v143
(the March 2017 Issue)




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What Remains

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July-Dec. 2016
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Escape

Cynthia A. DiTaranto

     I set the timer for fifteen minutes and forced myself to feign reading until the shrill startled me. The dim of dusk made it difficult to see clearly. Yes, they were there. The sign that we had agreed upon was out there. The wind was mild but a chill ran through me. I pulled my Pashmina shawl tighter and walked to the sand dunes of my private beach. The messenger was hiding in the shadows somewhere close watching to be sure the communication was received. An anonymous courier safeguarded against any implication.
    I stood staring. Pink aquatic shoes stuck on the wooden sand dune fence would not mean anything to someone else. They could have been forgotten or left to dry but who would assume that like a hobo’s symbolic language they revealed so much to me. As previously decided I did not hesitate but walked gingerly past the forsaken shoes continuing to the edge of the sea as if I had meant to go for a nighttime stroll all along. We shared so many memories. She would have done the same for me.
    We were best friends ever since childhood. Then she was swept off her feet by her sociopathic but wealthy husband. He was older, more mature she would say, excusing much of his behavior and even more so when she became pregnant. No longer did we meet up for lunch. When I called there was always an appointment but I knew that was not true. His control and abuse intensified until she had reached her limit.
    The taxi door opened and she fell into my arms on the front porch. The air was tinged with salt from the ocean breeze but the salinity from her profuse tears was far more. Her busted lip resulted from her threatening to leave with Sarah. He gave her an ultimatum. Go at once, alone or else he would frame her to make it look like she was a murderess. With his contacts, they both knew he was capable of this and more.
    We stayed up night after night plotting. He was not the only one with connections. We found someone who knew someone who could get them fake passports. At first it would look as if Sarah had been kidnapped by strangers. That would give them some time to make their getaway. If they could make it to South America they could start a new life. Arrangements for a rental car without paperwork had been made as well as the use of a private plane that could land on an abandoned air strip in Chile pretending to need an emergency landing site. Two escape routes gave them some much needed security. They could disappear in Santiago amongst its seven million residents.
    The day that seemed never to arrive, came so quickly. Every move was timed and planned to be executed without a flaw. If something went wrong they would have to abandon their attempt. We knew that her husband would be out of town on business. Sarah’s regular driver would be distracted by an unexpected minor accident involving his car. The underground group that offered assistance in such extreme situations would be waiting at the ballet studio pretending to be the replacement chauffer. They would exit through the back and then deliver Sarah to her mother. The final escape was in their hands.
    At this point I had no role to play. The moves were already in motion and I was left to wait biting my nails with anticipation and worry. The more time that lapsed without any word the better. I attempted to watch TV but ended up flicking through the channels. Had they said the word “ballet school”? I used the back arrow on the remote to return to the news. Police cars were surrounding a building and girls all with their hair in buns and wearing dance attire were congregated on the lawn. “Early this evening a student was kidnapped from this studio. If anyone has any information that would help our investigation please contact the following number.” So, they had been successful so far.
    When I saw the sign I knew they were on their way. One shoe meant that Sarah’s capture was unsuccessful and my friend was forced to leave alone. But there were two. If the toes were pointing down they were traveling by car. But they were pointing skyward. I looked up into the endless expanse knowing that they would be safe.



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