by S A Ison
The turn of events still left Phoenix breathless. His heart ached, because he now knew, he’d not make it to Seattle. At least not quickly. Phoenix wanted to leave now, today, but he was smart enough to know he was ill-equipped to handle such a journey, especially after getting a taste of the absolute insanity of today. He had been genuinely shocked that they had been fired upon in White Sulphur Springs and then Miles had killed a man and didn’t seem at all upset. The thought of it all made him sick. It was too much for him. Too much to deal with and his brain was wanting to shut the reality out.
He could not. Phoenix had never been a thrill seeker, he enjoyed the outdoors, but in a non-lethal kind of way. He had never taken chances, nor drove fast. He was, he thought, just an average, laid back kind of guy. That life was over. He had survived a plane crash only to have walked into a world changed overnight. Part of his brain was still numb, still in shock. He was functioning, he was thinking, but he was still numb with the realization that nothing would ever be the same.
Julian seemed remarkably calm after the initial shock. Julian was an easygoing surfer, and it saddened Phoenix that neither Julian nor Yuma would never get back to their islands. Though he doubted he would see his own family, Phoenix thought he stood a better chance.
Miles was carrying several bags, bulging with clothing, some of it sticking out of the top of the bags. Phoenix ran to grab a couple of bags and put them into the back seat of the jeep.
“Let’s head around back. I’ve got to shut down the boiler. I don’t want the pipes freezing and breaking. The fire will burn itself out.” Miles said.
“Miles, I know Jael told you that you had to come live at the farm, but pardon me for asking, but why go? You live about eight miles from her. You could actually walk there.” Phoenix asked.
“I could. But here is my reasoning. One, I do care about Jael. I think you know that.” Miles laughed good naturally, pink tinging his bewhiskered cheeks. “I don’t want her to be alone. She’s a wonderful woman. I’ve lived out in these woods fifteen years, alone and isolated. I won’t go into the reasons why, but it had been necessary. No, I’m not a fugitive from the law.” He held up a hand, laughing and Phoenix grinned, knowing his face showed startlement. He wondered about this man.
“I’ve never been a people person, Phoenix. I’ve always been a loner. That’s just me. But I’ve met a few people in my life that were worth knowing. Jael is one of them. You and your friends are too. The other reason for going is that gas will either go bad or run out within six months to a year. I could siphon it, but then what? I’m stuck. I’ve only a small plot of land to grow a few vegetables. I hunt, and that might do me. But Jael has a working farm. She has the resources to actually live, self-sustaining. Me, I depend on grocery stores.” He shrugged.
“That makes sense. Living in Boston, I normally ate out for lunch nearly every day. For dinner, just about the same. I think I had half a pizza and I think maybe half a sandwich in my refrigerator, at the apartment. Man, I’d be in trouble.”
“Worse, you’d be in the middle of a city with all this crashing down around you.” Miles grunted. Phoenix watched as Miles turned several valves at the outdoor furnace. Hot water poured out and steam rose. The men walked to a small shed. Miles pulled out the keys and unlocked the shed. Opening the door, Phoenix looked into the dark interior. There were neat shelves with large clear plastic containers. He saw mylar within.
“Grab those totes there and stack what you can in the back of the truck. I’m going to put these gas cans in there as well. I’ve got nearly twenty gallons here. It won’t last long, but it will be enough to help with both the jeep and the truck.” Miles nodded to the shelving.
Within an hour, both the truck and jeep were stuffed and Phoenix pulled out. He followed Miles, careful of the deep ruts.
“Man, this has been one hell of a crazy day, Phoenix. I feel numb inside. Part of me wants to laugh at the lunacy of it all and part wants to cry and rage at it all.”
“I feel ya, bruh. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up. That this isn’t how my life is supposed to go. But, man oh man, I’m not waking up.”
Ω
Fargo, GA
Blake and Alice sat at the small kitchen table. The scent of gun oil filled the small cabin. Alice had finished cleaning and operating the Beretta Nano. She had dry fired it and pulled it from her holster for the last two hours. The fear in her face had turned to boredom and Blake grinned.
“I take it you’re no longer afraid of handling the gun?” He laughed. Alice narrowed her eyes at her husband and Blake laughed again.
“No, I see now and understand what you said about gun safety and handling. I also see, like using scissors or a knife, it’s a tool, to be handled carefully, but not fearfully.” Alice said, a reluctant smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.
“That’s all guns are dear, they are tools. Unfortunately, a lot of people don’t get training and that is where the danger lay. Also, there are a lot of mean people out there as well. Have to watch out for that, especially now.” Blake shrugged.
“Can we go out and target practice?” Alice asked hopefully.
“Sure can. I’ve plenty of 9mm, wanted to make sure we had enough. There aren’t any more stores.” Blake said, getting up. They walked outside. Fiasco woke when they’d gotten up from the table and followed them out. Blake was glad to see that the puppy’s diarrhea had stopped. As though reading his mind, Alice picked up the puppy.
“I’ve been reading the plant book you got. Mostly, thinking about Fiasco’s diarrhea and possible worms. Oddly enough, it says that a plant call, woodworm, works. Also, carrots. I saw that we have dehydrated carrots. I’m going to add the carrots to his rice and chicken. If he has any worms, and I’m sure he does, that should help his tummy.” Alice said and set the dog on the ground.
“That’s a good idea. Let me get ear protection out of the shed. Then I’ll set up a target. Today, I’ll only have you shoot five times. I don’t want to draw a lot of attention to us. In a few days, well try again, and as you get better, we’ll move the target back.”
Blake pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the shed. The heavy doors swung open and he reached inside. On a hook were two sets of ear protection. One was pink for his wife and she smiled when she saw them. He secured the door and then walked over to an old cypress stump, silver from age, it was nearly up to his chest. He pulled a sharpie from his back pocket and drew a ring on the smooth worn surface of the stump. Then he drew a large black dot in the middle.
“I want you to try to hit the dot, but I’ll settle for getting your shots within the circle. Remember to keep your finger out of the trigger guard, and along the barrel of the weapon. When you’re ready to fire, get your aim correct and sight down the barrel at the target. I’ll start you off at fifteen feet. Relax your breathing. Let me get Fiasco, I’ll hold him, so he doesn’t get scared.” Blake positioned Alice to face the stump. He knew he was taking a chance by announcing their presence here by the river, but Alice needed to learn.
He picked up the puppy and held the animal securely in his arms. He watched as his wife took her stance and he smiled; she was doing everything right. Her first shot was a miss and her shoulders slumped.
“Don’t worry dear. That’s why you practice. Four more shots.” And held the trembling puppy. By the fifth shot, Alice had gotten two within the circle. Fiasco had stopped shaking and he put the puppy down.
“Okay. That wasn’t scary at all. I kind of liked shooting my gun. Especially when I hit the target.” She grinned. They walked into the house and Blake watched as she loaded the magazine.
“I want you to have that weapon on you at all times. You can wear the hidden waist holster inside your pants at the waist. That way, it is hidden from view. Remember how you practiced drawing it? Now it is loaded, so just be mindful of that.”
“It just feels weird.” Alice grouched.
“After a while, you’ll not even notice. Would you like
to learn how to fish now?” Blake grinned. Alice laughed.
“Only if you put the worm on the hook. Aren’t there alligators down there?”
“Sure, but they shouldn’t bother us. We can set on the dock. There are a couple of Adirondack chairs.” Blake nodded down the slope. The cabin was roughly thirty feet from the Suwannee river. Blake had put in a floating dock, a fish cleaning station and two Adirondack chairs. The last time he’d been there has been two years previously. He’d spent two days fishing and relaxing. Alice had thought he was in Washington, D.C. The cabin had been his little get away, from the world, from his wife. He and Alice had grown apart over the last years. There had been a strain and distance between them after James had moved to Canada.
Blake knew most of that was his own fault. Now, there was nowhere to hide. He had to face Alice and try to rekindle a relationship with her. He could not hide behind travel, TV, fishing and alcohol. Blake walked out back and retrieved his fishing pole and another he had gotten for Alice, on the off chance that she might wish to learn. She had never before shown an interest in fishing, but now, there was a lot of time on their hands. He’d also thought of crafts and such, getting various yarns and such. He didn’t really know what women liked to do, but collected different things.
They walked down to the dock, and Blake stopped her just before they got to the dock. He pointed his fishing pole at a shadow, that lay under a bush.
“Oh my god, what kind of snake is that?” Alice whispered in horror.
“That is a cottonmouth, or water moccasin. If I’ve not warned you yet or if you didn’t know it, this place has a ton of snakes, pretty much all of them poisons. Just stay on the path and watch where you walk, and you should be fine.” He said, giving a wide birth around the sunning snake.
“What other snakes?” Alice asked nervously, looking around her, as though she would step on one.
“Let’s see, there is the Eastern diamondback, that’s a rattlesnake. There is the coral snake, if it is pretty, stay the hell away. There is the copperhead, and timber rattler, and of course, the pigmy rattlesnake.”
“Of course. Jesus Christ.” Alice swore and looked at Blake.
“Dear, they were also in Florida as well. We just lived where there were more people. Same with the gators. Just be aware of your surroundings. If you want to walk in the woods, carry a long stick.”
“I don’t think I want to walk in the woods, I guess you’re right.” She sighed.
“Would you like to know about the poisonous spiders?” Blake grinned and Alice shot him a filthy look.
Ω
Calkins, MT
Lydia screamed from the stairs, the gunshot echoing through the house. She watched as Yuma screamed and crumpled to the floor. The intruder’s eyes were wild and Lydia looked into them and shivered. There was a blur from the door and the trespasser’s body flung forward, then Lydia saw it. Thor, he’d come through the front door and had hit the man in his upper back. The man’s arms spread wide and it was as though it all happened in slow motion in Lydia’s mind.
The arms flew up, the hand holding the gun sprung open and the gun flew across the room. The other hand was up and open and blood flew across the room. The afternoon sun caught the blood as it arced. The droplets were jewel bright garnets, spread across the air, then they fell to earth as the gun clattered to the wooden floor. A tiny voice in the back of Lydia’s brain said, that’s gonna be a mess to clean up.
Thor’s large body was now over the intruder, the dog’s mouth was affixed firmly across the man’s throat. The man’s legs were kicking wildly on the floor, a dull thudding noise, as his sneakers bounced. Both his hands were on Thor’s ruff, but the dog wasn’t budging. The telltale snarling and growling were muffled. Lydia’s eyes shifted to Yuma, who was curled into a ball and she finally came to herself and rushed down the stairs. She went sliding as she hit Yuma’s blood and nearly fell on top of him.
“Yuma, where are you hit? Where did he shoot you?” She asked frantically, her hands searching his body, patting him. Yuma uncurled a bit and drew out his arm, the one that had been fractured and held up a bloody hand. Lydia gasped, the pinky finger hanging on by connective tissue. The top of his ring finger gone, his entire hand and arm bloody. All the color in Yuma’s face was gone and his mouth was open and he was panting heavily.
Her mind picked up the fact that the kicking from the intruder had lessened, but she didn’t spare a look. She heard Albert also snarling and growling. She caught the movement of Albert jerking at the pant leg of the downed man and had a sudden and absurd urge to giggle. Before she could, a milk white dishtowel was flung over her shoulder and she grabbed it, looking behind her. Jael was behind, her hands full of bandages, cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. Lydia shivered; glad Jael wasn’t carrying a bottle of alcohol.
“We’ll clean and wrap his hand, enough to stabilize him. Then, I’m going to go to my neighbor’s house and get him. He’s a veterinarian and I think he’ll be able to help Yuma better than we can.” Jael said, putting a hand under Yuma’s arm pit.
“Okay, sounds good. Yuma, can you stand, sweety? We’ll get you to the kitchen and we’re going to wrap your hand up. Do you understand?” Lydia asked, putting another hand under Yuma’s other armpit. Both women hoisted the man up and Lydia could feel the tremors that ran through his body. She knew he was in shock. They guided Yuma into the kitchen and sat him by a window, at a small kitchen table. Jael pushed back the white lace table cloth and laid Yuma’s hand on the scared wood table.
“Put the dishtowel beneath his hand, I’m going to pour the peroxide over it.” Jael ordered gently. Lydia lifted Yuma’s hand and held it steady as Jael tipped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The fingers began to foam with white and red. Yuma made a choking sound. Lydia grabbed cotton balls and began to dab around the wound. She was careful not to get the cotton fibers into the wound. She swallowed. She could feel sweat popping out on her forehead and upper lip. She wanted to wipe her face, but didn’t.
“I think that’s enough. Okay, let me wrap his hand. Then, I’ll go get Bob, or Grant, his son. Grant’s a veterinarian as well.” Jael said, as she took the gauze and unrolled it on the table. Lydia held her breath as Jael began to wrap the hand. Yuma made a cry of pain and Lydia took Yuma’s head and turned it into her, holding him. She felt his good arm snake around her waist and squeeze her. Her nostrils flared at the metallic copper tang. His body was vibrating, trying to keep his hand immobile. She was shaking too, either from shock, fear or nerves. Or all of the above, she though.
She let her breath out in a gush when Jael finished and she looked into the other woman’s eyes. Jael, though very pale, seemed calm. That anchored Lydia.
“Yuma, I’m going to go get a doctor. I don’t know how long it will take me. Please just stay here at the table. Keep your hand elevated. Yes, that’s it, up.” Jael said, patting his shoulder.
“I’ve got some whisky; I’ll give him a shot. That should help him a bit.” Jael said, going to a kitchen cabinet and pulling a bottle of amber liquid. She got a small glass and poured two fingers and passed it to Yuma. Yuma picked up the glass and sniffed and then a smile trembled on his lips and he downed the whole glass. His face turned bright red and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Lydia was about to smack him on the back, when he found his breath and coughed explosively.
Yuma’s eyes watered and he tried to speak, but his throat was paralyzed. Jael smiled kindly and patted his shoulder. She poured a small bit more, then put the bottle away.
“You might want to sip that. I’m going to get Bob now. Lydia, can you help me get that bastard out of my house?” Jael nodded to the man laying still as death on the floor. The gasping noises they’d heard earlier were now silent. Thor and Albert were sniffing around the man. Lydia nodded and patted Yuma on the shoulder, leaving him to his glass of amber.
Her footsteps squeaked on the old wood flooring; she was reluctant to look at the man’s face and kept her eyes ave
rted. Jael squatted beside the man, her hand going to his neck. The man stunk, even at the short distance away from her. He reeked of old sweat, filth and something else, something synthetic. A pong of smoke?
“He’s dead, thank god. Looks like your dog crushed his windpipe. I think his brother was one of the ones killed here. Either me or Miles killed him.” Jael said, no emotion in her voice, only a matter of fact frankness. She stood and looked at Lydia and smiled gently.
“Help me drag him out of here and then I’ll go see about finding Bob or his son. I’ll bring one of them back, unless this sorry son of a bitch hit their home first. Then I don’t know what we’ll do.” Jael grabbed onto the lifeless hand and Lydia grabbed the other. She almost let go, she had the bloody hand. She gritted her teeth and both women pulled for the door. The man’s body was heavy, though he didn’t look that way. He was dead weight.
They pulled him over the threshold and Jael paused long enough to close the door, leaving the dogs inside.
“When the boys get back, they can take care of the body.” Jael grunted, and the women pulled him down the steps of the porch, leaving a bloody snail trail behind. The man’s feet thudded down each step. They held him high enough that his head didn’t bounce. Lydia wasn’t sure she could take that horrid melon sound. She felt her stomach flip flop and let out a heavy sigh when they dropped him at the bottom of the stairs.
“Let me get my coat and I’m going down to Bob’s house. I’m not sure how long it will take me. Lock the door. I’ll leave the shotgun, though don’t use it unless you have to. It kicks like a mule. If you do have to use it, thumb the hammer back aim and fire. Snug it to your shoulder. Otherwise, let the dogs go after him.” Jael said, grabbing her coat off a coat tree by the front door. Jael gave Lydia a quick hug and was out the door, Lydia’s mouth hanging open.
