Part 4: The Hunt

Madison sat, half asleep, in the cold terminal. Only ten or so people were at gate nine. It was rare for anyone to want to catch a 5:00 a.m. flight and yet, here she was willingly picking it over everything else. It was the earliest flight on monday that wasn’t a shipping flight. Harper had told her that he was doing the same as if that would make her feel any better. As a way of calming her nerves and trying to stay awake, she looked at her bag in her lap and lightly bit her tongue. For an author who always tended to plan out every single detail in her novels without deviating once from her outlines, this was the most impulsive decision she had ever made. A couple minutes later the boarding process began and, within the hour, the plane took to the air. Madison wasn’t quite sure when it was that she fell asleep but it was the rough landing of the plane, about an hour and a half later, accompanied by the announcement of the flight crew, that woke her up. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Southwest Airlines welcomes you to Charlotte, North Carolina. The local time is 7: 42 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight.”

Turning off ‘airplane mode’ on her phone she was met with a message from Harper about ten minutes ago: “Let me know when you land! I will be waiting in Douglas’ lobby. Can’t wait to see you, it's been too long.” 

She pondered the message and continued to wonder whether it would be a calm reunion or if the squabbles of the past would still haunt their conversations. She shrugged and texted back “I’m here.”

Jo awoke to the sound of a panicked whisper that echoed off of the stucco walls. As she became more aware, the voice became more clear. It was a man, probably a teenager, on the phone with what sounded like emergency services. His voice wasn’t so much panicked as it was hurried. As if there was something that he didn’t want to get away from him. That thing appeared to be her. “Yes, yes I’m quite sure it's her…Yes, she matches the description. Strange clothing, like a dress and a sweatshirt. Short hair…” 

She turned over to face him causing him to yelp. In the morning light he looked a bit older than she had expected based on his voice. He took a step back, gripping the phone harder “S-she’s awake…hurry, please!” 

That look, fear. Jo had never been seen with fear before. Why should anyone be afraid of her? It's not like she was a monster or anything of the sort. She went to reach for him, to tell him to come back, but it was much too late. He dropped the garbage bag he had been carrying and ran. That damn article. 

Sore and hungry, Jo pushed herself off of the concrete. Beginning to stand, she hit her head on the dumpster causing her glasses to clatter to the ground. Picking them up, she discovered a crack running the length of the left lens. As if today could already get any worse. 

Grumbling and rubbing the bruise on the back of her head, she stepped out of the shadows into the bustling street full of the morning crowd on their way to work. 

Madison stepped off of the flight and was met by a familiar face. It was older than she remembered but still the same. His signature smile and kind eyes peered back with similar recognition. It was strange for her to see him this way: standing in a busy terminal but completely alone. A sight that she had seen once before: boarding a plane to New York rather than leaving one. She couldn't believe that it was almost 24 years ago. Harper held his arms wide, expecting a warm embrace that never came. Instead, Madison held out her hand and Harper gingerly took it as if it would burn him if held for too long. After an awkward moment of silence, Harper decided that, if they were to get anything done, he had to break the ice somehow. “Almost three decades… That's a long time. Still can’t look at me? Come on Madi-” 

Unexpectedly, a tear rolled gently down Madison’s face. “Hey, are you ok-?” 

His words were cut off by the warm embrace he had expected a minute ago. She mumbled into his jacket. “It's been forever.” 

He gently wrapped his arms around the shorter woman. 

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you too.”

It was against the crowd that she walked. She could feel the bow of her ship fighting the waves as she silently walked toward an unknown destination. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here. 

Sirens began to rise out of the cacophony of traffic lights and honking horns. She knew that they blared for her. Helpless, she continued to walk. Around her, voices and footsteps of people who all believed they were more important by the next drowned out her thoughts until only one remained: run. 

She knew this may not be the best idea but it was the only one she had. As she did, thoughts of prison only made her sprint faster, pushing all of those self important people out of the way. Eyes stared and curses flew but Jo didn’t care. Sirens grew ever louder as she turned, desperate for somewhere to go, into the nearest alley and straight into a brick wall. The end of the alley. The end of her.

Trapped. Noun: an unpleasant situation from which it is hard to escape. Sentence example: Jocelyn Marie Thatcher was trapped between a brick wall and her inevitable incarceration.

Defeated, Jo slumped to the ground. Out of options, she allowed her eyes to examine the pavement. She let out a single soft laugh. 

How ironic, I ran away for freedom, for an escape and now I am about to be stuck once again. Perhaps worse this time. If it could be any worse. God has a hell of a sense of humor. 

Words erupted from the speaker atop the single police car but Jo didn’t hear what they said. Probably something about not resisting or whatever. She didn’t have the energy for that any more. She could feel herself getting picked up but she didn’t see by who, their face obscured behind a fog in her eyes. Tears. Chewing her nails she sat, making herself as small as a pebble, in the corner of the back seat of the car as they drove her back down the street on which she had put up a measly chase. The cops didn’t even bother to handcuff her.

“I’ve never been to Charlotte before. It’s nice in an urban way. Smaller than New York.” 

Madison examined the city through the glass of a taxi window. Harper grunted. “I haven’t either.” 

She turned to look at him only to find he was looking down at his phone. She opened her mouth to speak but promptly shut it and turned back to the window. Behind her came the sound of The Force Theme from Star Wars. She looked over to see it was coming from Harper’s phone. They met eyes for a second. She laughed as he smiled and picked up. She shook her head. He had always been the biggest nerd she knew next to her roommate Cami. They used to talk about Star Wars all the time. 

“Who is this?...Ah…Yes, she’s with me…is this about…ok, yeah, I’ll put her on,” Harp held out his phone to Madi, “It's the NCPD, they wanted to talk to you. It's about your character, she has reportedly made quite the stir.” 

Madi took it, confused. “Why do they have your number but not mine?” 

Harp shrugged “Because I contacted them before you arrived. You should know I always plan ahead.” 

He was right, she should have expected this. It was one of the only things that they had in common. She held it up to her ear “Hello? This is Madison speaking.” 

A soft voice that seemed in a perpetual state of fear answered the very second she stopped speaking. “Greetings, Ms.Wood. We, uh, have her in custody. I mean, Ms. Thatcher. At least, that's who she claims to be.” 

The man continued, “It would be nice if you could come take a look. We think she’s gone crazy but we probably aren't the best judges. She hasn’t said a word to us this whole time.” 

Madison checked her watch: 8:00 a.m. before responding “Oh, she just does that. Listen, we’ll come and check her out in about an hour. I haven’t had breakfast yet and my critical thinking skills are heavily hindered right now. Does nine sound ok?” 

The man behind the phone thought about it for a second “Yeah, sounds good but no later than ten please.” 

She looked at Harper who nodded. “Of course, see you then, officer.” 

Madison handed the phone back to Harper. “Let's pick up our rental car and find somewhere to eat.”

They didn’t so much shove her into the cell as guide her. 

“So, you are this Jo?” 

The officer in the lead showed a piece of printer paper through the thin bars of the door. On it, was a rough sketch based on the description in the article. The picture was a perfect match for the woman she had seen in the mirror just a day before. However, she could barely recognize her. That's not me anymore.

 Timidly, she nodded in response. She wasn’t angry or sad or even anxious anymore. All was numb. It was as if her emotions had been in an ice bath for so long that they had lost all feeling. 

“Well, we’ll get your handler down here and sort this all out. Is that ok with you?” 

She nodded once more. Handler? What does he take me for? A dog? A beast in need of taming? Or euthanization? 

She lightly punched the floor as she fell like a bag of rocks. The answer? All of the above.

Ruby Sunshine, a popular breakfast and brunch place at the corner of Church and Bland, was the place that Harper chose because Madison, who was notorious for being indecisive, couldn’t make up her mind. They entered the brightly colored building under Harper’s comment: “You really haven’t changed much, have you?” 

Madison pursed her lips. “You would like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

Madison downed her fifth cup of coffee, black as midnight, of course, within the first ten minutes and ordered another, much to Harper’s expectations and astonishment. She set down the cup and turned to him, deep brown eyes tracing his every feature as if trying to update a memory. He smiled, that stupid lopsided grin, and poured another packet of sugar into his lighter roast. She shook her head and looked down at the now fresh cup in front of her. She went to take a sip and saw a look of amusement burned into his face. “Look, do you want me present for when we meet Jo? Then I’m gonna need caffeine and I know you’ll say I’m addicted but at least I’m not on crack or whatever is popular with the kids.” 

She took another sip, it was black as night and bitter as coal but it did the trick. Harper looked at his first, now half finished, cup of coffee and away again as his omelet was set in front of him. “I remember when you did those things. Those were some… fun nights.” 

Madi remembered those nights too. She remembered coming home from the creative writing club stoned out of her right mind and the left one too. Rebellion was the name of the game and, as far as she was concerned, she was winning. She could recall coming back to the dorm and being angry. Not at anything in particular. Maybe at the air, maybe at herself, maybe even her boyfriend. Camilla, her roommate, would always be the first to see her like this. Every time, without fail, she would sit her down and always tell her to “Breathe out your day and breathe in your home.” 

As she brought her a cup of coffee like that which sat in her hand now. Thank God those days were gone. 

“I’ve changed. You made sure of that.” 

Harper smirked as he took a bite of the omelet “Mhmm.” 

AA hadn’t been fun, it never was. Twelve torturous steps over the course of four grueling months. Harper forced her into it and threatened to break up with her if she ever did any drug other than caffeine again. Love, grit, and sheer determination kept her in the program and sober after. Now, even at her lowest, she couldn’t even look at another bag of pills without feeling nauseous. It was the trademark Wood family stubbornness that had taken over at that point. Madison swallowed the last bite of her pancakes along with her memories and stood up after paying the tab. 

“We should get down to the station, we have a fugitive to pick up.”

The aforementioned “Fugitive” was currently trying to claw her way through the concrete floor of the holding cell with the little bit of nails she had left on her reddened fingers. While she kept lightly pawing away at that resilient ground, Officer Lance Abbacchio poured out the contents of her tote and checked her sweatshirt. Once her assortment of objects were sorted by size across the table, he turned to the cell and talked at the figure slumped in the corner,

“You don’t have pockets on that dress do you?” 

Jo answered with a persistent silence and the continued action of her nails. Abbacchio rolled his eyes and sat down in the rolling chair next to the desk. 

“Kind of funny that you have a book of the character you swear to be. Hell, even your drivers license checks out, even if it is counterfeit. Mind telling me why you are so obsessed with this ‘Jocelyn’ that you mirrored everything about yourself after her?” 

Jo looked up only for a moment to cast a look of deep disdain before continuing her ‘tunnel’. He prepared to ask her why she hit Brett when the door was pushed open. Into the empty room, save for the officer and Jo,  stepped a short woman and her six foot something escort. Abbacchio, placing the “evidence” back onto the table, stood and approached with his left hand extended. “Ah, I assume you are Ms. Wood?” 

Madison hesitated for a second before taking the extended hand and Harper followed suit. “Yes. I’m sure you’ve met Harper?” 

The officer looked up at the tall man with a kind smile and well kept ashen hair. He also took the officer’s hand. “Yes, I believe we spoke over the phone.” 

Once the formalities had been cleared, Madi gestured to the sole figure in the holding cell. “Is that Jo?” 

 Abbacchio sighed and began fiddling with the ring of keys on his belt. “Yes, we can’t get her to talk to us. Maybe, since she’s such a huge fan of your work, she’ll talk to you.” 

Madison nodded and stepped over to the cell. The person within looked strange to her and absolutely nothing like what she had expected. She crouched down to look at her more closely. A silent minute of inspection later, she opened her mouth and spoke to her.  “Jo?” 

Jocelyn stopped clawing at the floor and, for the first time with clear eyes, looked at her creator. Madison, taken aback by the fury she saw within her creation’s eyes, continued, “Talk to me, please. Are you actually Jo?” 

The woman nodded and stared at the wall beyond Madison. Seeing this, Madison shook her hand in front of Jo. “No, no, don’t shut down on me. Remember, I made you. I know you. What the hell happened? How did you run away? Why did you run away? What did you do to your hair? Did you always-” 

Jo crawled off of the floor and slammed her hand against the bars cutting Madison’s words short. Jo, eyes welling with tears that could not fall, began to speak in an almost inaudible whisper. “Do you feel no shame?” 

Madison instinctually lowered her voice to match. “W-what?” 

“Answer me.” 

Jo began to cry yet maintained the whisper. “Do you feel no guilt for Clint? For Phil? You ruined my life. Have you no shame?” 

Madison closed her eyes, it pained her to see the object of her pride and joy in this state. “Jo, I-” 

She hit the bars again in response, harder than before to make a small metallic ringing. “Answer me, damn it. All of this pain for a stupid book? Why…?” 

Harper put a hand on Madi’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. “We need to get her out of here. This is no place to have an argument.”

He looked back at the cell. “Jo, come with us and we can explain everything,” He turned to Abbacchio, “Are we able to take her with us?” 

The officer nodded, “She seems harmless enough, just a little angry and confused. There were no witnesses to back up the victim’s claims and, given this is the fourth case of false “assault” against him this month, she is probably already pardoned. He never takes these to court anyway.” 

He handed Harper a set of handcuffs. “These are in case she gets a little out of hand. We can afford to lose a pair anyway. It's not much of an issue, just get her out of here, please.” 

The cell opened and Jo didn’t resist being softly pulled out. She didn’t resist having her sweatshirt put back on. She didn’t resist her tote bag being put back on her shoulder. Despondent, she allowed herself to be guided to the black rental car and into the back seat like a child being chauffeured by their mother. As Harper climbed into the door, he looked over at Madison in the passenger’s seat. The words he considered saying were snuffed out by the pouting look on her face. It was clear to him that this was already not going how she wanted and that was killing her. So, instead of speaking, he merely turned the key and pulled out of the police department parking lot in favor of the road.

The sun rose high above their heads as they drove. Madison, unable to contain herself, had started talking incessantly only a couple minutes after they had left. Jo sat, still as a stone and silent, while taking every question and speculation hurled at her on the chin. This was not how I wanted this to go. 

She wanted to be able to confront Madison but only when she was holding the cards. Instead, here Jo sat, subject to their hand instead. She was being forced to play with a hard sixteen while they were showing an ace of spades. 

“How did you escape? I mean, you are the first instance of this happening that I have ever heard of.” 

It was the man named Harper who spoke. She kind of liked him, he was level headed. He reminded her of Clint. Maybe it was just the way he talked.

“I chose to.” 

She answered honestly and simply, not wishing to draw a bust. Harper nodded and turned back to the road. All that he had was another ace. Infinite potential for answers yet the player hadn’t hit yet so he stayed at a two. Jo shifted so that she sat straight in her seat and tapped the table. “You know what? I have a question for you, Ms. Wood.” 

A bit perturbed, Madison kept her stone gaze on the road. “Yes, Thatcher?” 

Jo tried her hardest to keep her tone neutral. “What did you plan to do…to me? In the book. How did it end?” 

Rather than answer, Madison tapped three times on the phone that had been in her pocket previously then turned it to the backseat. Jo took it as though it were a five. On the screen was a document, on the top it read ‘T.T.O.M.J.M.T. plan: triple revised’. Jo quickly realized that this series of bullet points and paragraphs were the outline of the book in which Jo had previously lived. The beginning was relatively standard, it was stuff that had already occurred. She hit about the halfway point and things delved into unfamiliar territory. A prophecy of sorts. At first everything seemed rather uniform. Then it started to become strange.

• Start having Clint and Jo become even closer than ever

• Clint fights with his fear of rejection and caves and buys a ring

• Jo declines. She swears that she loves him but fears what would happen if she said yes.

• Eventually they graduate and Jo moves on while Clint stays behind. She promises that she will never forget him

• She moves to somewhere else(don't know yet) and starts life anew (This leads into the 4th book).

Jo gripped the phone so hard that she feared it might shatter, disgusted. She had just been handed a queen and had been forced to fold. How could she do this to me? This is horrible. 

She fought to keep her voice from shaking but to no avail. “So… this is it? This is the end. Just like that? That sucks. Do you expect anyone to even like this?” 

Madison wrestled the phone back from Jo’s grasp, ignoring the obvious insult. “Yes, that is the end of the book that you are about to go back to and finish like the character I made and not,” She gestured to Jo, “Whoever this is. Understood? You. are. Not. Jo.” 

Jo nodded meekly and went back to sitting still but her mind was racing. She can’t do this to me! She is not me. We have nothing in common. Apparently being a creator does not inherently allow you to understand your creation. Who the hell does she think she is? 

“Have you ever flown before, Jo?”

It was Harper who spoke once again in an effort to diffuse the tension with a new ante. Jo opened her mouth to answer but it was Madison’s voice instead that slid across the table and folded the new hand for her without allowing Jo to even look at her cards.  “No, she hasn’t. We should probably put gas into the rental before we return it. I think that’s company policy.” 

Jo clamped her mouth in anger and resisted losing all of her chips on what would likely be another bust. Who is she to speak for me? I have a voice. I am not like her. I am not her. I am more than that. 

“I see a Sinclair up ahead, let's stop there. The dinosaur is cool.” 

Although the words seemed enthusiastic, Madi’s voice contradicted them. Harper simply nodded in affirmation, not wishing to contest an angry woman, and pulled into the gas station a minute later. He opened the door and got out, head now reeling from the stark stench of gasoline. As he inserted his card there was the slam of another door. He looked to see Madison getting out. She saw the confused look on his face and gestured to the store. “Bathroom.” 

Harper shrugged and turned his attention back to the pump. He clicked ‘Regular’ on the pad, took the handle, and turned back to the car. He moved for the gas tank and began to fill it. About midway through pumping, something odd caught his eye. The back door on the opposite side was open and the strangely dressed woman in the back seat was now nowhere to be seen. Harper sighed in both disappointment and frustration. He finished filling the tank before closing the freshly open door and slumping into the driver's seat, head on the steering wheel. Madison returned and sat in the front seat beside him. “What’s wrong, Harp?” 

He didn’t answer save for a gesture to the back seat. 

“Where’s Jo… Harper, where is Jo?” 

He shook his head and stifled an amused laugh. “I guess she’s a bit more like you than she thought. She even has your rebellious streak.” 

Madison was now panicking and Harper’s amusement was not helping. “We-we we have to get her back. Pull out and find her, she can’t have gotten too far away. We still can-” 

“No,” Harper pulled his face off of the steering wheel, “We don’t have time. Our plane tickets are for a one o’clock flight and it’s twelve right now. We also have no idea where she could possibly be. If we try to do a goose chase we risk missing the plane and the return deadline of this car.” 

Madison grew indignant as Harper began to drive towards the airport. “Well… I can’t just let her go! She’s my money maker. If I was able to get this book out, which I can't now, thanks to you, then I would finally be able to move out of my studio apartment.” 

Harper took a deep breath, she had always been like this. Unwilling to accept change or defeat for that matter. He decided he would deal with it as he had in the past. With complacency and grace. “Don’t worry, darling, we will catch her eventually.” 

Madison turned to the window beside her. “Don’t call me darling,” she huffed.

Jo walked for as long as her feet would allow her, yet again ducking and weaving down the unfamiliar streets. She walked until darkness began to fall. With each step, she tore pages from the book of her life that she had stolen. She ripped until she forgot who she was before eventually tossing the cover aside into an oily puddle on the street where it floated like an empty husk. She figured that she had gone far enough away from Madison that she would finally be safe and sat down in yet another alley. I have seen way too many dumpsters today.  

As she started to fall gently asleep, back on the brick wall, a voice interrupted her slumber. “Nice hair cut.” 

Her anxious head, and half open eyes, jerked toward the direction from which the voice came. “Who said that?” 

From the dark of the night stepped a taller man, skinny but not lanky with a buzzed haircut the color of wet sand. His face was kind but also sad. He was not unlike a broken toy that was disguised behind a playful, cocky smile. “Jocelyn Marie Thatcher with a boy's cut is almost sacrilege but the author never did specify hair length. Or even skin color, for that matter.” 

The strange man took a couple steps forward before leaning against the same wall she had been laying against. “Fun fact: most fan art undercuts your freckles.” 

She floundered to her sore feet and backed up down the alley. “Who are you and why the hell are you looking at art made of me, isn't that kinda creepy? As if you weren't creepy enough.” 

He brushed off the side comment and flashed that smile again. That terrible smile. That knowing smile. “My name is Silas and… no, I don't think so in the slightest. When participating in a man hunt you had better know who you are searching for otherwise you are bound to get the wrong person, isn’t that right?” 

She started to back away preparing to make a run for it. Whatever it was that he wanted it was bound to be bad. Seeing this anticipatory retreat, he quickly held up his hands revealing scars on both wrists and dropped the smile to something resembling a serene grin. “Calm down, I'm not here to hurt you. Rather the opposite. Actually, I intend to help you.” 

Her brows furrowed and she ceased her retreat. “How?” 

He spoke slowly, keeping his hands raised as if he were addressing a wounded deer. “One simple question first: Do you truly believe that you are the first one to leave a book?” 

For a moment confusion overcame her defensive stance. “I…guess, well, now that you bring it up…yeah? Yeah, I suppose I did but I’m not sure now…” 

Silas lowered his hands. “Well, surprise, you aren't. Just because you are the most famous person to become real, not to mention the most obvious, does not mean you are the only. This is why I am here. You need help, and I have just the people to help you. People just like you. Like me.” 

He held out one scarred hand. Jo recoiled, taking a defensive stance once more. “What if you are here to kidnap me or kill me or something?” 

His hand held firm and his eyes now gleamed with conviction. “If I were here to kill you you would already be dead and if I were to kidnap you, you wouldn't have a choice. Now, are you coming or not?” 

Hesitant, but officially out of options, she took it. By comparison, his hand was warmer than the night and more welcoming than the wall against which she had lay. Allowing herself to be led by his gentle grasp, Jo was pulled further into the alley from which he came moments prior and into the darkness beyond.