The Indiana Apocalypse Series

by E A Lake

  “You can’t touch the wives,” Liv said softly. “You can’t discipline the children, you can’t eat in the big house, you can’t miss a spot of dusting, you can’t have men back here in the women’s cabins, and you can’t ever back talk anyone without expecting to pay the price. It’s plain and simple.”

  Something new gnawed at my mind.

  “Sasha, how come I know his voice? Where do I know Shaklin’s voice from?”

  She shrugged and glanced at Liv. When it was obvious to her that the other hadn’t spilled the beans, she stared back at me quietly.

  “You know him from Terre Haute,” another voice answered. Morgan’s. “And you already know that.”

  “Why am I here if I’m from Terre Haute?” I asked, turning to face the tallest of them head on. “Why am I here, Morgan? Why do I know Shaklin? Why do you all know me? Why isn’t anyone upset that he just hit Sara? Something isn’t adding up. I need answers.”

  A knock at the door made me jump; the others acted as though they hadn’t heard it.

  “It’s Belinda,” Morgan said casually, ignoring my requests and making her way to the door. “Maybe she can enlighten you, since you’re too stupid to remember anything now.”

  “Who’s Belinda?” I asked Sasha as Morgan opened the door.

  Just then, Sara walked out of the bedroom, wiping her injury with a rag.

  “She’s Wife Four,” she answered flatly, not looking me in the eyes. When her face did rise, I noticed the shame. And something else.

  “Wife Four?” I whisper-shouted. “Are you crazy? I need to hide.”

  The door opened and the thin, rather plain young woman marched in and directly over to Sara.

  “She’s Wife Four,” Sasha replied, standing next to me. “And she’s your sister, Quinn.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Are you alright?” the new entrant asked Sara in a tender voice. Inspecting her wounds first, she hugged her only after the younger woman nodded. “I’m sorry it happened again, dear. I’m so sorry. I just knew he was going to explode. Gertie was so upset about Lucky getting bit. That’s all she talked about at dinner last night. I could see the steam coming from Tony’s ears by this morning.”

  “And yet, you did nothing to stop the attack,” I commented in an accusatorial tone. Belinda shot me a grin and shook away my terseness.

  “Well, I see some things never change,” she replied, kissing Sara’s cheek before releasing her. “And your attitude is one of them, Quinn.”

  She studied me as I did the same to her. I’d never seen the woman in the almost floor-length light blue dress before. Her well-manicured shoulder-length brown hair looked like Sara’s. Her brown eyes could have belonged to anyone from my past.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, making a lap around me. “You don’t remember your own sister. You must have really hit your head hard, Quinn.”

  “I don’t remember any of you,” I replied, trying to keep any skepticism out of my tone. “They all claim I know them—”

  “You do,” Belinda replied. “You know them very well actually. You danced with all of them at Sara’s wedding. You were drunk and Morgan had a good feeling about things that night.”

  I ignored whatever memory she was trying to bring out.

  “And you’re my sister,” I continued. “And yet I don’t recall your face or voice one bit, not one little bit. This is all starting to sound a little fishy to me. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being played or what.”

  “He remembers Shaklin’s voice,” Liv inserted. “He can’t remember how he knows him, but he’s heard him before.”

  Belinda shook her head and released a deep breath, her gaze floating to each of my housemates.

  “Sit down, Quinn,” she requested, pointing at the couch. “You’re about to get a history lesson that’s going to blow your mind.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I sat between Morgan and Sara. Liv took the remaining spot on the couch while Belinda and Sasha pulled up kitchen chairs in front of us.

  I tried to recall the woman, Belinda. But no matter how hard I concentrated, nothing came to me. Her looks, her voice, her body were all foreign to me, as though I’d never met her before.

  “Can you prove to me you’re my sister?” I requested before allowing her to begin her story.

  “Probably not,” she admitted tightly. “Anything I say you’ll try to counter with some sort of made-up logic. That’s why it was important that no one tell you anything for the first 24 to 48 hours. But since you recognized Tony’s voice, well, maybe I can help jar some memories loose now.”

  What she said made sense, at that point. It seemed I was a skeptical person. Perhaps I was before, or perhaps it was the situation I awakened to. Time would tell.

  “Tony Shaklin is your best friend in the world,” Belinda said bluntly. “You’ve known him since first grade and you two have been thick ever since.”

  “Was his best friend,” Sara added. “Until like eight years ago.”

  Belinda nodded. “That’s right. But that doesn’t negate the fact that all through grade school, and junior high, and high school, you were the best of friends. Any of this sound familiar, Quinn? Anything?”

  “Not one word,” I replied honestly. Gone was some of my spite. Belinda’s confident tone had done a good job of humbling my attitude. Hell, who was I to argue? I still didn’t think I was the Quinn Reynolds they thought I might be.

  “You went to the university together,” Belinda continued. “You both majored in business and hatched an idea together. A pretty good one, actually.”

  “What kind of idea?” I asked, finally interested in her tale.

  Belinda shot Morgan an amused glance. “Wow, just how hard did he hit that thick skull of his?”

  “It was pretty bad,” Morgan replied. “It bled for a long time and he was out almost two days.” She pushed my hair aside gently and inspected my wound. “Looks better now. But he still ain’t ready for too much all at once.”

  Belinda hovered over me. “Business, Quinn. You and Tony were business partners. But that’s all I’m giving you right now. The rest needs to come back to you on your own.”

  A new knock at the door abruptly ended our conversation. Liv opened the door and greeted our new guest. I hoped it wasn’t another wife. I wasn’t sure I was ready for much more commotion.

  “Hey Lester,” Liv said in a friendly tone. “What’s up?”

  A middle-aged man, dressed like a cowboy no less — spurs, chaps, hat and boots — entered and smiled at me.

  “I heard you were up and around, Mr. Reynolds,” he said politely. “I’m glad to see you alive. Although I must say the girls gave you a lovely burial.”

  I glanced around the room, confused.

  “Shaklin told us we had to bury you,” Morgan replied, pointing a thin finger out the back window. “So, Lester and Billy helped us dig a nice, deep hole, we threw in some rocks and sticks and the clothes we had to cut off of you and filled it back in.” She grinned, pushing the thin, yellow curtain aside. “We even gave you a nice cross to mark the spot. All Christian-like and such.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, a little too sarcastically. “That means so much to me.”

  “Mrs. Three is looking for you, Bel,” Lester added. “Wants to know if you came down here to check on Sara or start a relationship with her. I told her I’d come fetch you.”

  Belinda came over and gave my cheek a quick peck before heading for the door. But I needed to know a little more before she left.

  “How old am I?” I asked as she reached the door.

  “Forty-four, Quinn. You’ll be 45 next January.”

  “And you?” I pointed at Belinda. “How old are you, dear sister whom I don’t recall?”

  She smiled before answering. “Thirty-five. Just turned 35. Tony had a nice meal made for me with cake and all.”

  I rose for the final bit of information I needed.

  “Why am I her
e, if I’m from Terre Haute? What brought me here? You?” Her eyes narrowed with that question.

  “Most likely not,” she replied sadly. “Though I could humor myself and pretend you came to save me. But my life isn’t all that bad here. They can tell you.” She pointed at my housemates.

  “Do I really know them from before? Are they really friends of mine?”

  Belinda came back and took my hands, kissing the backs of each one. I noticed how small she actually was; much shorter than myself and even a little smaller than Sara, the tiniest of the four.

  “You care about each of them dearly, Quinn,” she stated sadly. “I’m jealous when I tell you this, but you care about two of them much, much more than you cared for me. Does that help at all?”

  I shook my head and she gave me a tight hug before leaving.

  “Let me know when he’s ready?” she whispered to Morgan, just loud enough for me to hear.

  No, nothing my “sister” had said helped make anything clearer in my mind. However, my new or old best friends probably could help clear it up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lunch was quiet that day. Sara was solemn, while Sasha stared at her sister continually with a worried expression. Morgan checked Sara’s split lip more than once during the meal, and Liv, bless her heart, tried to carry on a conversation that no one seemed interested in joining.

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Liv said with great joy on her third or fourth attempt to get everyone engaged in something besides moping. “I wonder if we’re getting bacon, or maybe ham tomorrow? We haven’t had bacon in a while. I bet it’ll be bacon.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked between bites of green beans and potatoes. “Is Sunday the only day you eat meat around here?”

  “They eat it up at the big house every meal,” Sasha reported. “Steak, ham, sausage, hamburger. But we only get it once a week.”

  That didn’t clear up all that much. But I was getting used to circular answers.

  “Every Sunday, right around noon,” Morgan picked up, “Shaklin himself comes down here and makes a big production about giving us our weekly allowance. Sometimes he yammers on so long, I’m afraid the meat will spoil before Liv can cook it.”

  “Sounds like a semi-decent thing to do on his part,” I replied, sneaking a peek at Sara, who was still awfully quiet. “I suppose he doesn’t have to give you anything.”

  That logic returned a snort from Morgan and a scowl from Sasha. Liv and Sara pretended they hadn’t heard me.

  I felt sweat run down my back and noticed my arms were coated with a layer of film as well. It was hot and getting more humid as the day moved past noon. I was going to be shirtless and three-quarters of the way to fully naked if the heat didn’t let up at sundown.

  “Am I here to save Belinda?” I asked as Liv and Sasha cleared the table.

  “No!” Morgan answered sharply. “She doesn’t need saving. Hell, the wives have it best around here.”

  “I don’t understand…any of this,” I countered, feeling the frustration rising in my belly. “None of any of this makes any sense to me.”

  “Let’s talk about the players first, okay?” Morgan asked. I nodded and headed for the couch as she and Sara followed behind. Morgan sat on my left, giving me space to breathe. Sara, however, sat directly against me, arm to arm, on my other side. Her actions, rather neediness, was beginning to bother me.

  “One’s name is Gertrude,” Morgan said with a chuckle. “The name fits her well. She’s known Shaklin a long time, has three kids of her own and of course Lucky with him.”

  “Two goes by Shelly,” Sara added, giving me a strange look. “She came at the beginning of year two. February, maybe March. Two kids with that one. Three is Carla; she doesn’t have any kids. She came late in year two, right before Christmas.”

  “How do you keep track of the years?” I asked. “August to August make it tough.”

  “From August to Christmas of the initial year is called Year Zero. So year one began the next January.” Morgan’s reply brought up another question for me.

  “How do you keep track of the months? I don’t see any calendars around here.”

  “They have one at the big house,” Sasha answered from the kitchen, drying plates with a red plaid towel.

  “And why is it called ‘the big house’?” I asked.

  Morgan held up a hand, signaling me to slow down. “One at a time, Quinn. One thing at a time.”

  “Four, well, she’s your sister,” Sara concluded. “They all kind of fall in age in the same order as when they arrived. But each of them have different duties.”

  Her pause caught me off guard. When I looked at Sara, she was staring at the front door.

  “Such as?” I inquired.

  “One runs the house; Three is the negotiator for Shaklin. She was some kind of a legal eagle before the end.” Sara paused and caught her breath. “Two usually is the one who shows up if there’s a problem with any of the children. That’s why I was kinda surprised to see One this morning.”

  “What does Belinda do?” I asked, trying to imagine what special skillset the woman who claimed to be my sister had.

  I heard Morgan laugh on my other side. “She’s the trophy wife. She just gets to walk around looking pretty and such. Oh, she deals with us more than any of the other ones, too. Almost forgot that part. She makes sure we have the supplies we need and we’re in reasonably good health and spirits. She’s the caring one; Three is the bitch no one wants to deal with around here.”

  “What about the big house?” I asked. Maybe Morgan would finally answer that question.

  I noticed a wry grin form on her lips. “I can sneak you out just before sunset tonight. It should be safe. You’ll see why everyone calls it the big house then.”

  I hoped so. Maybe seeing it would jog my memory about something, since nothing else seemed to make any sense in the strange world I was trapped in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I stood on the small porch next to Morgan in the orange glow of the late day sun. I wasn’t so sure about her plan, not once we actually put it in motion. She said it would work. Still, I was uncomfortable.

  Descending the steps slowly next to her, Morgan giggled as I nearly tripped. Yeah, she was enjoying the freak show.

  “First time in a dress, Quinn?” she asked coyly.

  “Of course,” I whispered bitterly. Well, as far as I knew, it was the first time. Since my memory wasn’t all that clear, really nonexistent, I had no idea if it was my maiden voyage or not.

  A man was leaning against a tree as we approached the edge of the woods that surrounded the three cabins that housed 12 helpers. Instantly, I came to a stop.

  “It’s okay,” Morgan said aloud. “It’s Pauly; he’s one of us. No need to worry.”

  That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t a man with a full beard wearing a dress and bonnet out in the open — in an area where men were strictly forbidden, no less.

  “Evening, ladies,” Pauly said causally. He wasn’t as flamboyant as Billy and was dressed more sensibly than Lester. His well-worn dark green shorts hung to his knees and he wore a short-sleeved, airy red shirt, with the buttons opened in the front.

  “Is that one of Alma’s dresses?” he asked, winking at Morgan. I was glad they were seeing the entertainment in all of it. Besides being dangerous, it was so foreign to me.

  “Betsy’s actually,” Morgan replied as we stopped next to the only man in man’s clothing at the time. “Alma’s were too tight.”

  Pauly grinned at the comment. “Oh my, a real man; all bulging with muscles and hot, sweaty skin.”

  He had the last part right. That was for certain.

  “There it is,” Morgan said, nodding to the northeast. “The big house.”

  I felt my mouth drop open as I gawked at the gargantuan place about five or six hundred yards away, perched on top of a small knoll. Its antebellum front made me think I’d been dropped back in the old south just be
fore the Civil War. Hey, I remembered there was a Civil War once upon a time. Score one for me.

  “That has to be 6,000 square feet inside!” I muttered.

  “Ten thousand, four hundred,” Pauly answered. “It had to be bigger than 10,000. Shaklin wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “And he acquired it after the end?” I asked. The amount of brickwork alone had to have taken a year to put in place.

  “A few years before, actually,” Morgan replied, beginning to tug on my arm. “We can’t stay out too long. Never know who might ride by. And they’ll get suspicious if they see that Betsy needs a shave.”

  How? I wondered. How could someone I knew afford something like that? I certainly didn’t believe I’d come from such riches.

  “Where’d he get all of his money?” I asked as we strolled back to our home. Well, Morgan’s home.

  “He sold his business a while back,” she replied as we ascended the steps. “Got twenty million plus for it.”

  “Wow, that’s a ton of money. I guess he was a better businessman than I was.”

  Morgan stopped and glared at me. “You could say that. After all, he did steal the business right out from under your nose the year before he sold it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  We sat inside and I considered my past. Of course, it was a past that I knew little to nothing about. I remembered I had a driver’s license (maybe six years back, maybe a little longer) and there had been a Civil War (a long, long time ago). But that and other meaningless nuggets were about it.

  The bomb that Morgan dropped directly on my head made me wonder what kind of a person I’d been. Probably a stupid one, I figured. I’d let a friend swindle me out of a fortune. Or perhaps I’d been trusting and thought Tony Shaklin had my best interests at heart somehow. No, most likely I was just another dense fellow.