by Maira Dawn
"Come here to us, Son."
"It's not that easy. I've taken in--well, we've been helpin out a woman and a boy. She's got a bit of family left here, and I reckon she won't want to leave."
"You have a woman now?" His father’s voice lifted with interest.
"No," Dylan quickly said. "No, I didn't mean--"
His father broke in and chuckled. "Sounds to me like you have a woman."
Resigned to his father's humor, Dylan gave in. "I don't know what she is, but we're helpin her."
"Bring her too. And your brother and the boy, there's room here for all of you. It’s where you should be, where you always should’ve been.“
Dylan bowed his head. A part of him did belong there. ”I’ll keep it in mind, but your place is a ways off. We had trouble getting to Skye’s family, and she‘s closer. We shouldn't go that far unless we have to. We’re set up pretty good on the mountain, but Dad, we just might end up there, if need be."
“Her name’s Skye, uh?”
Dylan laughed. “Dad.”
“I like knowing there’s someone for you.”
Dylan looked around the corner to stare at Skye sitting with the others. “She’s someone all right.”
“Good. Keep her. And know I’m here for you. Our people have existed long before this thing, and we will exist long after. You need me--I'm here."
"Yeah, Dad, I know. You've always been there for me."
Father and son exchanged contact information, including where they would leave sign if either left their area so the other could follow, if it came to that. Dylan then told his dad everything he’d learned about the AgFlu.
They stayed on the phone as long as they could, first with small talk and as that dwindled, content with silence, grateful for the connection between them.
When Dylan hung up, he raised his hand to the tears slipping down his face.
35
Seems to Me
Dylan joined the others on the patio, stopping first in the doorway and letting the sun warm him and take away the morning chill. Sitting beside Skye, the only empty seat left, Dylan informed every one of his family's news.
Skye gave Dylan a gracious smile. “I’m so happy for you and your family. What a difference! If only Disease Control kept a stricter quarantine, maybe other families would have the same good outcome.” She hung her head.
At Skye’s words, Tricia bristled. “Pfft, or any quarantine! Cowards!” She rose from her seat. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
Tricia gave Dylan a sharp stare and a nod toward the kitchen, he followed her. Tricia pulled glasses out of the cupboard, and handing part to Dylan, told him to fill them with water. Suspicious, Dylan nodded, and glanced at Tricia out of the corner of his eye. What did she want with him?
Tricia leaned against the counter, crossing her arms and tipping her head. “You aware that girl's sweet on you?”
Not again. Dylan tensed and snorted his disbelief. “Nah, she ain’t. She wants to be friends.”
"She don't see it yet, but she's figurin it out," Tricia insisted as they settled deeper into their local dialect.
Dylan scorned Tricia’s opinion. "Look at ‘er, look at me."
Undeterred, Tricia flung her hand out in Skye's direction. "Ya think that girl's afraid of country? That girl was born and bred country, she just wandered over the city line a bit, is all. Country ain't her problem. Be patient, she's had a rough go of it, but she'll let ya know what it is, soon as she can."
With his hands gripping the countertop’s edge as he leaned back against it, Dylan snapped his jaw shut. He didn't want to discuss this, especially when he thought he'd just gotten it all figured out.
But Tricia continued anyway, "At the risk of sounding trendy, it ain’t you. Skye's got some stuff she's figurin out."
Through the doorway, Dylan watched Skye as she curled up in the patio chair with Jesse beside her, whispering in her ear. Skye raised her head and laughed, her face lighting up for a moment before her grief came back to her.
If it could work out... Dylan pulled his gaze away and shook his head. Don't help to think like that.
Tricia poked him in the arm. “I know what’cha thinkin. Don't give up on her, she needs ya and more than that she wants ya.”
Dylan rubbed his arm and frowned. “Stop pokin at me. Ya know I hate that.”
“What I know is, it’s the best way to get your attention.”
“Stop it, Trish. We ain’t kids no more. And anyway, a girl like that don't end up with a boy like me."
Tricia puffed out an irritated sigh. "You forget we shared the same hills, D. I see you, and I see her. And you got it all wrong." She recrossed her arms. “Seems to me a boy like you don't know nothin ‘bout Skye. Here's the truth of the matter, and ya darn well know it, there's no boy like you and girl like her. Not no more. There's just two people trying to survive." Tricia poked her finger at his chest. "Survive together."
Dylan gave Tricia a hard stare. "Can't believe you're sayin all this, what with Tom and all."
With a wistful glance over at Tom, Tricia said, "Me and my husband have disagreed about ya for some time now. You wouldn't have gotten in so much trouble if things wouldn't have been— well, what they were. On the other hand, I reckon that spat of upset taught you a few things. Things that are gonna be useful now. Cause to survive, you will have to be the trouble."
Dylan nodded. If those men on the road were any sign, that was true. Be the trouble, or the trouble will take you.
Tricia moved to poke Dylan again, and he swatted her hand away. She frowned at him. “Are ya listenin, ya big lug?”
“Yeah. I hear ya.” Dylan scowled back. "Now stop, or I’ll tell Tom to keep ya away from me.”
Tricia’s eyes teased. “Big D! Always was scared of lil’ ol’ me. I guess I was always too tough for ya? Uh, Dylan?”
A matching light entered Dylan’s stare taking him back to their younger days. He jumped toward Tricia causing her to squeal and hop backward. They laughed, and Tricia gave Dylan a quick hug.
“I care about ya,” she said. “I want to see ya happy--and Skye. You can do that for each other.”
Dylan glanced at Skye again, he never seemed to take his eyes off her for long. “I hope you’re right, Trish.”
“I am,” she said and handed Dylan a tray of drinks.
The two entered the patio to find Skye listing the advantages of moving up to the mountain.
Dylan set the tray down on a sage-colored plastic end table and added to the conversation. “There’s empty cabins all around us now. You could have one.”
On seeing the drinks, Skye asked Dylan to pass her one. Quickly, he handed one to her as he reminded himself that this is what her kind of folks do. Nice people offer drinks, especially to people they care about.
Wade leaned forward in his seat. “I gotta lot of know-how. I can get any of them in fine workin order for you. There’s others who've made it through the AgFlu livin up there, got the makings of a little town now. Seems fittin the sheriff would be up there too.”
Tom laid back in his chair and voiced his misgivings. "I feel like I need to stay here in Colton. There are people here too, and if the Infected return and try set up house here, we'll have lost it."
“And be safe up in the hills,” Dylan said, “Move up for the fall and winter. Then come spring, if we have to, we'll come back here and make a stand. We can watch them from up there.”
Tom glanced at Tricia and looked at the ground. “I can’t commit, but I will visit next week and see how it would work out for any wanting to move up there. How’s that?”
Dylan nodded. It was a step in the right direction.
“In the meantime, D, let me give you a radio so we can stay in touch.”
The day flew by and soon it was time to leave. The expression on Skye’s face said it all, and Dylan laid a hand on her shoulder when a tear slid over her cheek. When Dylan looked back at Tricia and Tom, he couldn’t miss the emotion that played a
cross Tom’s face.
It was clear Tom didn’t like Skye and Dylan getting close. And Dylan would probably feel the same if he were in Tom’s shoes. Tom was the law, and he and Wade had rode the edge of that for some time now. Dylan stiffened. Tom may want Skye here, but things were different now. She belonged on the mountain with them. Dylan waited for the words he knew would come.
After clearing his throat, Tom said, "I've got to thank you, boys. Skye says you took good care of her. But Skye, you and Jesse can stay here now. You'd be good company for Tricia. I'll follow you back, get your things, and we'll be home in a no time."
Unsettled, Tricia glared at her husband. The men were still for a moment. It seemed like an order and that didn’t sit well. As one, Dylan, Wade, and Jesse closed ranks around Skye. "Yeah," Dylan said, "we're gonna keep her."
Tom bristled at Dylan. "You don't just keep— Skye belongs here."
Before things escalated, Skye smiled, pushing Wade aside as she stepped forward beside Dylan. "That's okay, Tom. I'm keeping them too."
Tom sighed and brought his hands to his hips. "All right then, I guess I can't say anything to that."
Tricia swatted her husband before hugging them all. "I hate what this disease is doing to us. First, our businesses gone, then our families and now we are separated."
“Well,” Wade said, “you decide to move on up to the mountain, just haul your stuff up there when you come and visit. And bring some of those cookies.” Wade sprinted to the kitchen to stuff his pocket with a few more. On his way back, Wade wrapped an arm around Jesse and slid him a couple of the treats.
Skye waved at Tom and Tricia as she walked to the truck.
When they were almost to the vehicle, Dylan turned and shouted to Tom and Tricia, "Hey, you know where we can find some chickens?"
36
The Crash
Frankie laid on the hill near the road and watched as Skye and Jesse settled in the car. As he pulled at the wet grass, he took another swig of his too-small bottle of whiskey. They almost caught me, but I tricked 'em. Sped off and found a different spot to spy.
Frankie had watched Tom’s house for days hoping Skye and Jesse would show up. Today was his lucky day.
Jesse smiled up at Skye when she tossed his hair. Their affection made Frankie feel bad, and he didn’t like it. He should be the one to do that. It was his right, he was Jesse’s parent, not her.
That’s my kid—my kid you’re going on about, makin him a momma's boy. Boys need to be tough.
As Wade and Dylan got into their vehicle, Frankie pushed himself up off the grass and made a drunken mad dash to his car. After stumbling a few times, he stayed low to the ground. Once Frankie reached it, he opened and shut the door with exaggerated quietness.
From here, Frankie barely made out the top of the black truck as the vehicle backed out of the driveway, but he needed to keep his distance. With no other traffic on the road, if he got too close, he would arouse suspicion.
Impatiently, Frankie waited until Tom and Tricia walked into their house to start his car. He gripped the steering wheel as he watched them waving, twisting his hands on it as he bided his time. The instant the front door shut, he turned the key and slammed the car into gear.
Raising the whiskey bottle to his lips, Frankie sucked out the drops that remained, then hurled bottle behind him with enough force to further crack the already broken back window. He glowered at the truck that slipped around the curves in front of him.
Do ya think you can just beat me and leave me for dead? Take my boy? Thought it’d scare me of, huh? Guess what? I don’t scare easy. You just lit the fire, boys, you just lit the fire. My whole life people been looking down on me. You’re no better than me! Bad enough when the state took ‘im. But there ain’t no law now. I want my boy back, I just take 'im. You nobodies ain’t got any right to steal what’s mine. And that boy is mine, like it or not.
Determined, Frankie removed a hand from the steering wheel to stroke the gun on the seat beside him. I’ll get 'im back whatever it takes.
Anger popped and stretched within him, and he inhaled deeply only to jerk in anguish. Broken ribs, and no doctor meant a slow recovery for Frankie. His resentment grew along with his pain.
What if, instead of only getting his boy back, he made them pay for taking Jesse in the first place? Frankie wiggled a little straighter in his seat. He liked that idea. Hurt them like they had hurt him. Frankie sucked in a lip as he attempted to think of a plan. What he had in the trunk would help, but it would take more than him. Trouble was, there wasn‘t much he was able to do by himself and like-minded people—well, any people were hard to come by nowadays.
Carefully, Frankie worked his way around the curves. One wrong move and the group in front of him would see him. He couldn't allow them even a glance. Today he would find out where they lived. Later he would return to do what he wanted.
Dylan's truck slowed, and Frankie brought his car to a crawl. Worried he was caught, Frankie stopped before the next turn, got out and walked to the curve. To peek around the rocky hill, he kept close to it and slowly worked his way to where he could observe Cole’s group.
Dylan’s pickup idled, and a quick glimpse showed Frankie an armed Dylan and Wade striding down the road directly at him.
Frankie ran for the gun he’d left in the car. He skidded to a stop and glanced back. He’d never make it before they rounded the corner. Desperately, he searched the ground on the lower side of the hill until he spotted a narrow trail. Frankie raced for it.
He slid down the steep path kicking up wet mud and stones. He grabbed a tree to break his fall and laid flat against the hillside.
Frankie saw Wade and Dylan from the chest up as they sauntered to his car and took his gun and a few other items from the front seat. They moved to the loaded trunk, and Frankie held his breath. The two talked as they scanned the area. When they stepped closer to the edge, Frankie blew out a sigh. If they had opened that, he didn’t know what would happen.
Instead, Dylan and Wade readied their weapons and called out to Frankie. Wade said something to Dylan, and they both laughed. At Dylan's delighted nod, Wade got into the driver's seat of Frankie’s car and maneuvered it, so it crossed the street instead of aligned with it. The battered car now faced the clear expanse of sky and the edge of the road.
Realizing their intention, Frankie took off, half running, half skidding down the hill. He knew what was in that trunk, he’d put it there.
"Hey!" One of them said as Frankie continued down the hill as fast as he could go. He wasn't stopping. He knew what waited for him if he did.
"Hey!" came the shout again.
Gravel crunched, and there was a scrape of metal against pavement as the two brothers pushed the front end off the edge. Frankie threw a glance over his shoulder, hoping it would stop there. Instead, it flew over the side so close to him Frankie could have touched it.
Front over end, it rushed by him. Grinding and crashing with the first hit. Frankie dodged the rock and dirt that shot up all around him, stinging him in a million places. The car continued its erratic, deafening course as it went. He ducked and hugged the dirt, waiting.
On the final smash, it teetered back and forth before it stopped and shuddered. For a moment, Frankie thought the car's journey was at its end, but he was wrong.
The vehicle shot upward as it exploded into hundreds of fiery pieces. Orange and yellow flames decorated the fragments and licked at what remained on the ground. Frankie ducked what he guessed was part of a door coming at him. It hit the hill above him and slid, smoke rolling off the metal and the turf beneath it.
Frankie's face, hot from the explosion, reddened further with the shout of triumph from above. Dylan and Wade laughed and applauded at the site of the flames. Then slapped each other on the back as they walked toward their truck.
Once their truck roared to life, Frankie grabbed at grass and roots, pulling himself up the hill. Ribs aching from the effort, he hauled himself
onto the road and stared after the pickup. His anger reached a fervor rivaling the flames below.
I'm gonna kill them.
37
Ready
Crunching metal and shattering glass along with the boom of an explosion loud enough to make Skye’s ears hurt had her scrambling for the car door handle, Jesse right behind her.
"No! Back in the truck. You stay in this car!" Skye told him, pushing him onto the seat with one hand.
"I want to see!" Jesse's eyes lit up with excitement. Even from here, the flames were visible, and he was eager for a closer look.
"No! I said no!"
"Well, what if they are coming for us? And you leave me here and--"
Skye huffed. "Oh, my—Jesse! Fine! But you stay right by me, you hear?"
Jesse nodded several times. Skye grabbed hold of his shirt. She would take no chances with him.
Cautiously, Skye and Jesse rounded the curve to see Dylan and Wade looking gleefully over the hill at the blaze. The tension in Skye eased, and when Jesse struggled to break away, she let him.
“Dylan!” Jesse said as he raced to the Coles.
When Dylan turned toward Jesse, his expression changed, and he waved Jesse back.
“I wanna see,” Jesse said.
“Nah, Jesse, not today.” Dylan corralled the boy as he tried to peer over the side of the road. Wade and Dylan started up the hill, dragging Jesse along with them.
Skye met the three on their way up the street. “Dylan? What’s wrong?”
Dylan frowned and shook his head. “Ain’t nothin wrong. We just need to go.”
“But what happened?”
“Nothin.”
Skye raised an eyebrow at Dylan.
He nodded at Jesse who he was still half-dragging up the road. “We’ll talk about it later.”
