Indivisible

by C. A. Rudolph

  The child gestured her interest.

  “Thunderstorms. They used to scare me more than anything. My dad told me to try learning about them, so I did. Now I find them comforting, even sleep through them.”

  Daniel peered over. “You were afraid of thunder? What about lightning? It’s way more dangerous.”

  “That’s a good point. I wasn’t allowed outside during storms for that reason, and thunder can’t exist without lightning. So, I suppose in a way, I was scared of both.”

  The little boy studied her. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

  Lauren beamed at him. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be fearless, Daniel. And if I gave you that impression, I probably did so by accident.”

  Lily pulled away and turned to her brother, poking him on the shoulder.

  Daniel sighed and leaned in so she could whisper into his ear, pulling away a few seconds later. “Lily says superheroes aren’t afraid of anything, and maybe you just need more time.”

  Lauren smirked. “Maybe she’s right. We’ll wait and see what happens, Lily. But I think your expectations of me might be set a little too high.”

  The young girl’s brows drew together in curious fashion.

  “Never mind,” Lauren said. “I’ll work on it.”

  Lily smiled and rested her head against Lauren’s chest.

  “Daniel, how long has your sister been like this?” Lauren asked, combing the bangs from her eyes.

  “Like what?”

  “Withdrawn.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” said Daniel, shaking his head.

  “She’s incredibly quiet. And when she does speak, it’s in whispers, and the only person with whom she directly communicates is you,” Lauren explained. “It’s not a bad thing, so don’t take it that way, that’s not why I’m asking. We all do things to make ourselves feel comfortable for reasons only we know. I was just curious…and a little concerned is all.”

  Daniel shrugged. He looked down to his shoes, realizing one of them had become untied, then leaned over to address it. “I don’t know. My sister’s always been quiet. I think she used all her voice when they took us.”

  “Used all her voice?” Lauren queried.

  Daniel nodded, pulling tight the final knot in his laces. “Yeah. She yelled and cried and screamed a lot then. And I think maybe her voice ran out. I haven’t heard her talk regular ever since that day.”

  Lauren drew her lips in a tight line. She rubbed Lily’s back and gently combed Lily’s hair with the tips of her fingers. “I’m sorry I brought it up…and even more sorry the two of you had to go through that.”

  Daniel shrugged again. “It’s okay, you weren’t there and you didn’t know. Nobody knows. Nobody here knows anything about us.” He went silent as his attention followed Ruth’s voice. She could be heard rummaging about in the kitchen with several others, assigning duties for breakfast. “Lauren? Do you think…we’ll ever see them again?”

  “Your parents?”

  Daniel nodded.

  Lauren sighed and reached for him. “I wish I knew the answer to that. I wish I knew the answer to a lot of difficult questions, but I don’t. Knowing the future isn’t one of the superpowers I was born with. But if I did know, I would tell you.”

  “That’s okay,” said Daniel. “I…see them in my dreams sometimes, so I think maybe they’re still out there looking for us. I just hope they find us.”

  Lauren patted Daniel’s shoulder, smiled grimly and squeezed his neck. She knew precisely how he felt. “I’m not a parent, but I know for a fact that a parent’s number one job is looking after their children. If you and Lily were my kids and I lost you guys, nothing would stop me from getting you back. I’m sure your parents are doing just that…and if you can see them in your dreams, they can probably see you in theirs.”

  “You think so?”

  Lauren nodded. “I do.”

  A dishtowel in her hands, Ruth then slid into the room, making her presence known with a grand smile. “Daniel? Lily? Would the two of you like to join us in the kitchen? I need some help with the gravy, and I know how much that pretty young lady there likes to churn fresh butter.”

  Daniel nodded and rose, both eager to assist and switch topics. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to his sister. “Come on, Lily. Let’s go help.”

  Lily turned away from Daniel’s outstretched hand, clamping on to Lauren like a vice.

  Daniel scowled at her. “Really? Come on, don’t act like that. Mrs. Ruth needs help in the kitchen.”

  Lily only snubbed him.

  “Daniel, it’s okay. I got her,” Lauren said. “She might need a little more coaxing this morning.”

  Ruth smiled and reached for Daniel’s hand, but before she could haul him away, Lily summoned him.

  “What is it this time?” He slid back to his sister, and she put her mouth to his ear once more. “You really need to say these things yourself, Lily.”

  Lauren looked to Daniel expectantly.

  “My sister says you make her feel safe.”

  Bernie reemerged after disappearing to the home’s upper level for reasons unknown. “Good gracious. I’m starving to death,” he said, passing by the living room in a rush and sticking his nose into the kitchen. “I smell food, but I don’t detect anything cooking, Ruthie. By my estimation, that’d make you a smidgeon behind on your chores for the day.”

  Ruth angled her head at him. “Look who’s talking. It’s rather difficult getting anything done around here from all the way down in the basement. I would’ve thought to come up a while ago, but I was more concerned with trying not to meet my maker. I figure I’m more use to you alive and kicking than the other way around.”

  Bernie chuckled. “Well, if I don’t get some vittles in me before long, alive and kicking might be out of the question. What do you think about them apples?”

  “If you’re that famished, I reckon you’d better get your stubborn backside in here and lend assistance. I can only work miracles as fast as these two rickety old hands move, you lowly geezer.”

  “Eh, I reckon I’m not that afflicted. Never have been keen on the idea of slogging what little time I have left away in the galley.”

  “Then kindly put some space between your detestable self and my galley before I make use of those butcher knives you were kind enough to sharpen for me.”

  Bernie shook his head and took a few steps into the living room, sending Lily a kind wave. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, girls. But do you see what I gotta put up with? Makes no sense why a wife would speak to her husband in such ways. What do you think?”

  Lauren shrugged. “I think the two of you are cute, meant for each other, and it’s really none of my business.”

  Bernie huffed. “I see. Takin’ her side, then. Figures.”

  “No…I…”

  Bernie let out a cackle and headed towards the front door. “It’s all right. I’m used to it.” He raised his voice for all to hear. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be out in the barn…getting us some fresh milk to go along with breakfast!” He then angled his head towards the kitchen on his way out. “Assuming we get any today.”

  Once breakfast was made and served, the children were called inside in groups. It was a standing rule in Bernie and Ruth’s home that the younger generations receive their meals first and foremost, and no adult be allowed to partake until they were through.

  About an hour after they’d finished and scattered back to their chores and daily routines, Lauren took a seat at the dining room table with a plate of fresh scrambled eggs, two strips of uncured bacon, and a generous portion of biscuits and gravy—a rather uncommon meal for the times until arriving here.

  A stainless-steel percolator in hand, Ruth took a seat across from her, setting a plate of food down on a handwoven placemat. She situated the percolator on a ceramic pad near the center of the table. “Lauren, care for a cup of coffee?”

  Lauren shook her head slightly, stuff
ing a slice of bacon in her mouth and savoring the briny flavor. “No, thank you.”

  “You sure? It’s the good stuff—whole bean dark roast. Bernard and me never could stomach instant.”

  Lauren nodded. “I’m sure. Truth is, I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker. Now, my sister, on the other hand, she could probably live on the stuff.”

  “Your sister and I share something in common,” Ruth said, grinning. “Just like a million other folks, I expect. Perhaps one day you’ll come to your senses.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Coffee was one of the items the old fart and I decided to invest in when we started planning for the long term. As much of it as we drank before the fall, I’m certain without it the two of us would’ve given up the ghost a long time ago. It sure keeps these old bones and joints moving. I suspect it might have a related effect on young ones.” Ruth filled her mug. “Lauren, I do want to thank you…for your help in the kitchen this morning and all the other times you’ve chipped in. Putting together meals for all these kids can be awfully trying some days. These hands of mine don’t seem to want to move like they used to.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Lauren said graciously, “in return for room and board.”

  Ruth grinned and took a sip from her mug. “That’s sweet of you. Just know that we don’t expect it. We’d never ask you for anything we wouldn’t ask of anyone else. After all, you’re a guest here.” She paused. “I know you’re far away from home and family. The old fart more or less alluded to me a little of what you two spoke about the other night. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” Lauren said, though not fully certain. “He did kind of catch me in a…weak moment.”

  “That’s how he described it.” Ruth hesitated, regarding her younger counterpart a moment. “Lauren, dear, are you doing all right?”

  “I think so,” Lauren said, a slight, awkward chuckle accompanying her words. “I mean, considering the circumstances.”

  Ruth’s grin was cloaked in a similar unease. “Indeed. In-deed. I understand your pining for home. Any idea how long you plan to stay? I’m not asking because we’re thinking of kicking you out or anything, so don’t get the wrong idea. You’re welcome here as long as you like, just like the old fart’s probably told you. You can consider this house your home. And I do mean that.”

  Lauren swallowed a mouthful of eggs and washed them down with a gulp of water. “I appreciate that, Ruth. I do. And everything else you’ve done and said. And thank you. But to answer your question…I haven’t really given much thought to it.” She glanced out the window to the endless knolls and drifts of snow bleaching the landscape.

  “Mm-hmm,” Ruth rattled. “Well, it’s no rush. It’s not like you could just run along down that road right about now with all that chilly white crud out there.” She paused, sending a glance to the ticking grandfather clock in the corner. “I wonder when David and the boys plan on joining us and helping themselves to some of this grub. If they don’t get in here soon, it’ll all get cold, and that dang microwave of ours stopped working a while back…for some reason.”

  Lauren snickered. “I’m sure they’ll be dragging their feet in before long.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I…don’t think they’re feeling too hot,” Lauren said, leering. “They definitely didn’t look it when I ran into them earlier.”

  Ruth looked inquisitive. “You think they’re catchin’ some sorta bug?”

  Lauren’s expression turned hangdog. “No, it’s more like the bug caught them.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.”

  The pair went silent a moment. When the woman across from her wasn’t looking, Lauren stealthily slipped a slice of bacon under the table to where Cyrus had been waiting patiently, his snout nestled between her knees. “Ruth, Dave acquainted me with someone this morning…he was with them when I found them out near the highway.”

  Ruth rolled her lips between her teeth and nodded. “Probably Lazarus, wasn’t it?”

  “You know him?”

  “Very well, I’m afraid. Knew his daddy, too. His daddy was a good man, passed away a few years back from cancer.” Ruth sipped her coffee. “Lazarus has himself quite the unusual personality, if you catch my meaning. He’s a good person though, from what I’ve seen of him. A little rough around the edges, but I reckon he means well. What did you think of him?”

  Lauren considered the question. “He’s…peculiar. And bothersome.”

  Ruth chuckled. “He was probably just testing you, dear. His family founded the Sons in the late nineteenth century and’s been leading them ever since, kind of in the vein of a monarchy. Those men follow his orders now, same as they did when his daddy was alive. And that makes him an ally.”

  Lauren nodded. “He said something I found a little hard to believe, something about a feud between his group and another. He said this morning’s skirmish was between the Sons and their…mortal enemies.”

  Ruth used a free hand to rub the soreness in her knuckles. “Yes, ma’am, the Snyders. Those two troupes have been at each other’s throats for going on several generations now.”

  “I wasn’t aware feuds even existed in today’s world,” Lauren said, “or in yesterday’s world, for that matter.”

  “There’s a lot that goes on in the hills and valleys of Appalachia that isn’t talked about anywheres else,” Ruth said. “Lots of secrets and skeletons in the cupboard…many of them even I don’t know much about. And I was born and raised here.”

  Lauren leaned forward curiously. “Any idea what the feud is about? Or how it started?”

  Ruth sipped her coffee. “From what I recall, it all started over a girl.”

  “A girl?”

  “Mm-hmm, a beautiful girl,” Ruth purred. “Gorgeous girl. Native American…Saponi, from what I recall. Curvy hips, silky black hair all the way down to the backs of her knees. If memory serves, it was Lazarus’s great-grandfather and one of the Snyder elders. They got in a spat over who was going to marry her—and she was far from the…polyamorous nature. But she was a floozy, strung both men along for months until they fell head over heels for her, then told them both she wasn’t going to choose between them. Said they had to decide.

  “She played them both like fiddles, and it didn’t take too long before things got ugly.” Ruth hesitated, looking awkwardly towards the kitchen. “Lauren, honey, I hate to break up a good chat, but I had better take a plate out to the old fart while the food’s still relatively warm. He’s too darn stubborn to come in and get it himself, and if he eats it cold, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

  Lauren smiled at her. “No, go ahead. It’s no problem. I look forward to hearing the rest. It was just getting good.”

  “I’ll save the best for last,” the old woman said, and rose. “Listen, you make sure to help yourself to more before Dave’s soldier boys come in here and wipe it all out. You hear?”

  Several minutes following Ruth’s departure, the front door opened, and Lauren could hear Dave Graham’s commanding voice intermixed with several others. He passed by the dining room, making a beeline for the kitchen, with Woo Tang, Santa, and Sanchez marching in sequence behind him.

  A few seconds later, Lazarus passed by in the process of shedding his jacket. He wavered before strolling into the kitchen and held a hand out, twiddling his fingers in Lauren’s direction. Then, after passing, he angled his body backward, leaned his head into the entryway and winked at her.

  Lauren scowled and shooed him away. “Breakfast is on the stove. Help yourself. It might still be warm.”

  Lazarus joined the others while mouthing something Lauren couldn’t make out, and several minutes after, all five men merged in the dining room, each with a brimming plate of food and a beverage glass in hand.

  Dave scanned the room as he took his seat and his eyes soon perked up. “I must be delirious. My partially obstructed snot box is detecting a familiar yet tantalizing bouquet. Rather diffic
ult to validate, but it reeks an awful lot like Colombian rocket fuel.”

  “Why Colombian?” Sanchez rubbed his eyes and pointed to the percolator. “Mis ojos can’t focus on nearby objects for shit, but that shiny contraption looks like a pot of November Juliet to me, LT.”

  Dave and Sanchez both went for the coffeepot at the exact moment, but the sniper’s hand sequestered the handle, leaving Dave’s calloused palm to settle for a lid landing.

  “Fine reflexes, jarine,” Dave grunted, sending along a tarnished look. “Care to fall back?”

  Sanchez grinned coyly and shook his head. “Jarines never fall back.”

  “I suppose they don’t.” Dave relinquished his hand with fierce hesitancy. “Go on then, warfighter. Get your subpar IQ recon on.”

  “Oorah.” Sanchez pulled the pot close and put his nose to it. “Damn. It’s heaven in there. Presence of November Juliet confirmed.”

  “Well, wonders never cease, do they?” Dave said. “The missus went and whipped up a whole batch of wine flu therapy.”

  “Permission to decant?” Sanchez queried.

  “Granted. But no gorging,” replied Dave. “Be charitable and leave a goblet or two for each of your fellow disadvantaged brethren.”

  “No worries, LT, I got this.” Sanchez filled his mug, ribbons of steam wafting into the air, then brought it to his lips. “Target acquired, standing by to ingest.”

  “Um, what’s…November Juliet?” Lauren pondered, a delicate pattern of caution marking her tone.

  Sanchez set down his mug, leaned casually over, and whispered into her ear to provide enlightenment.

  “Really?” She rebounded, grimacing. “Jesus, Sanchez. That’s horrible.”

  “Not to mention racist as hell,” Sanchez said, offering no disagreement. “Sorry for the coarse language, chica. But you should be used to it by now with me. And you did ask.”

  “And now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”

  Santa rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes amidst a yawn. “You all go right ahead with that diluted swill,” he said. “Unless it’s denser than sludge or has a pH low enough to trigger contact burns on human tissue, it ain’t gonna touch what’s ailing me.” His hand disappeared under the table and reemerged with a two-milligram single-use morphine syringe. “This little jewel right here is what I had in mind. I must’ve got into a bad batch last night or something. Everything hurts…even the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.”