The Indiana Apocalypse Series

by E A Lake

  All of the women smiled, but Morgan answered for the group. “I knew you best – as an adult at least – since we were involved, as you like to call it. Most of the time you were sweet and real nice. But every once in a while, you got an idea and convinced yourself you were right no matter what.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Like when Shaklin screwed you out of 10 million dollars,” she replied. I had expected her to sound snarky about it. Instead, she seemed sad. “You thought you’d made the best decision possible. You were sure of it. But that bitch you were married to went ballistic. Told you on a daily basis how stupid you were and all.”

  “Were we already involved at that point?” I asked, noticing her head shake at her least favorite word.

  “That was kind of the start of it,” she replied, playing with a button on my shirt. “We were friends before that; you were kind of my mentor in life, my confidant. I had feelings for you, but I’m not sure how you felt about me before that. But you were so upset when you found out Shaklin had screwed you and all she did was berate you, day after day.”

  “So, I sought solace in the arms of another woman,” I replied sadly. “How gallant of me.”

  Morgan reached her thin arms around my chest and hugged me tenderly.

  “You were in pain and I helped you,” she whispered. “Just like you’d done for me so many times before that. You needed someone at that point to help you get through it all. She wasn’t about to be of any help to you; it was all about the money to her. I didn’t care if you were rich or poor, tall or short, thin or fat. You had a good heart. You have a good heart, Quinn. You were in love with me because I offered you love. Not sex or a thrilling fling or anything like that. I knew you were 14 years older than me. I didn’t care and I still don’t. I love you because you’re you, and you love me for being me. Even if you don’t remember it yet.”

  Somewhere, perhaps deep inside my soul, something sparked. For the briefest of milliseconds, what she said rang true. And for the first time since I’d come to in a squalid world of black and white and grey, something made sense.

  Staring into Morgan’s teary eyes, I saw a person I loved. I kissed her forehead as the feeling faded and I was once again sad. God, I hoped that feeling returned. And the sooner the better, because I finally felt, even for a brief moment, like a human being.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  “It’s Sunday!” Morgan shrieked. “What kind of an idiot plans to make an escape on the day of rest? The one day when Shaklin makes two or three trips down here? And somehow you and your feeble mind still think it’s a good day to run? I can’t believe how stupid you are,”

  My, how 24 hours can change a person’s opinion. Wasn’t it just the previous morning she’d professed her love again to me? Claimed she was so happy to be reunited, to have a chance to begin anew again? Yeah, love could be a little fickle.

  “In my defense,” I offered. “I hadn’t thought of that and no one had pointed it out to me. But still, let’s be honest. Tonight is as good a time as any, Morgan.”

  The disgusted look on her face told me I was just plain wrong. Again. I hoped we’d be able to leave that expression behind on our departure from Shaklin’s ranch.

  “It’s probably the worst day of all to leave,” she retorted. “There’s a lot of things that go into getting everything ready for the new week.”

  I glanced to the others for help, but they turned away. Great.

  “Can someone help me out here?” I pleaded, sort of politely but perhaps a little condescendingly. “I mean, it’s still rainy, the torches probably won’t even get lit tonight and Shaklin’s guards look about ready to mutiny. It all seems perfect to me.”

  “Time for meat,” Tommy, one of the women’s favorite guards, sung out from the middle of the yard. “Get your pretty clothes on; this is your five-minute warning.”

  Morgan pushed past me and I reached for an arm. Bad idea, Quinn; don’t poke the bear.

  “What could you possibly want?” she seethed.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” I said, trying to give her a hug and receiving an elbow in the gut instead. Yeah, that woman loved me a whole bunch.

  “It was a trying week,” Shaklin lectured, pacing in front of his servants – slaves. “I know we did the best we could, but I know we can do better as well.”

  He wore a pressed white shirt and dark blue jeans and for the first time, I noticed he was a little on the heavy side. I found it funny that his wife, One, looked the same as well. When I compared that to his slim guards and rail-thin helpers, I understood who was benefiting in the situation.

  “I’m working as hard as I can to get everyone ready for harvest,” Tony continued, a small smile — maybe a smirk — crossing his lips. He stroked his well-trimmed beard as he extended an arm to the soybean field behind him. “It looks like it will be a banner year for yields, so I’m excited to share my bounty with my staff.”

  Most of the 12 women gave his words a nod and a tiny look of appreciation. I couldn’t see the face of anyone from my cabin except a side view of Liv. She seemed to respond like the others. However, I noticed Shaklin focus his attention on Morgan as he paused before continuing. Undoubtedly, she hadn’t had a similar reaction.

  “Now, meat is a little light this week because…well, it’s just that time of year,” Shaklin rambling continued. “And before I hand it out, Gertrude would like to talk to you about something that’s been bothering her.”

  Oh, that was sure to be a rousing conversation. She appeared to have the personality of a garden slug, and that was kind of an insult to the slug.

  “We’re getting a lot of dirt and dust in the home,” Wife One said in a squawky voice. “I know you think you’re cleaning your feet before coming in each morning, but you’re failing miserably. I expect you to treat my home with the same consideration that Tony and I treat you each and every day. If I came down here and visited any of you—”

  “We’d collapse from shock,” someone interrupted. I didn’t have to look or even wonder who the offender was. Wife One made a beeline to Morgan and stood before her with a pissed-off look and hands on hips.

  “You!” the wife shouted, poking at Morgan’s chest, “are the worst offender, I imagine. If I had to guess, I’d say you were either raised in a barn or a bar. How you ever got into medical school is beside me, given the amount of common sense you lack.” She gave Morgan another poke to emphasize the point.

  “I had help from a very nice man,” Morgan replied in a snotty tone. “There was someone once who cared about me very much and he helped me a whole bunch.”

  “And look at you now,” Gertrude laughed. “Miss high and mighty don’t have no help no more, does she? You’re just a servant girl now. And that’s all you’re going to be for the rest of your pathetic life.”

  I watched as well as I could through the drawn curtain. The situation was getting heated and I wanted Morgan to hold her tongue badly. She didn’t need to say one more word. Thankfully she didn’t reply. At least not verbally.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Why Morgan chose that moment to act out was beyond me. Why she chose to do what she did at that time, I decided, was nothing more than a reaction. She’d been pushed enough, talked down to relentlessly and made to feel worthless. So, she reacted.

  By the time the sun set and darkness set in, we’d be on our way. Without any further problems or hold-ups, we’d be in Pimento by the next day’s morning light. We’d be safe and hopefully putting together a plan to get a bunch of people back to Shaklin’s to free the rest of the women enslaved by the evil taskmaster.

  But Morgan had her own agenda and decided to screw that all up.

  It happened in slow motion, her response to Wife One’s verbal and physical assaults. And while I might have expected a shove or snarky reply, Morgan came up with something even more creative.

  She spat on Wife One. Not at her, or at her feet or on her clothes. No, Morgan Kessel — frie
nd of Sasha and Sara Evans and Alivia Beckland — spit directly into the face of Wife One. And while she shouldn’t have done it, she did.

  I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it away. Shaklin’s wife’s reaction, as well as his, was instantaneous.

  “You little bitch!” Gertrude screamed as she slapped Morgan across the face. When that failed to move Morgan, Wife One shifted gears.

  “Of all the ways you have shown disrespect,” she seethed, shoving Morgan by the shoulders, knocking her to the ground. “This takes the cake.”

  Before Morgan could even get her hands below her, Wife One stomped a foot into her gut, knocking the wind out of her. I felt my hands ball into fists as I fought hard to stay in place and not expose myself.

  Shaklin shoved past his wife and pulled Morgan from the ground by her long hair. He slammed a fist into her stomach in about the same spot the missus had just kicked. A loud, muffled cry followed.

  “You stupid bitch,” Shaklin ranted, punching her again. “You’re never gonna learn,” another punch, “are you?”

  He let go of her hair and dropped her to the ground. She curled into a small ball and began weeping. Shaklin landed a swift kick to her spine and then spit on her.

  “How do you like them cookies, missy?” he raged. “Think you’re so damned clever now?”

  He spun and faced the rest of the stunned women. “No meat for anyone this week. You can all thank Morgan for that. If she ain’t at work first thing tomorrow morning, there’ll be no meat next Sunday either. Now go back to your meager meals and think about what you seen and what I said. I want respect from you all; for me, my family, my farm and my generosity to all of you. And I’ll beat it from you if I have to.”

  Shaklin grabbed his wife by the hand and was escorted away by two rifle-toting guards. The remainder of the guards went back to their appointed rounds; Shaklin’s men sneering and laughing at Morgan, the women’s guards showing concern on both of their faces.

  Eleven women surrounded Morgan and helped her to her feet. I could see Sasha trembling from 20 feet away, she was shaken so badly. Sara and Liv looked completely horrified. Others shook their heads and wiped away tears.

  I went to the door to meet my group the moment they stepped inside. While I was upset about the beating Morgan had taken, I was more concerned about what it might do to our plans for later in the day.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  “That was just stupid,” I said, kneeling in front of Morgan after the ladies placed her on the couch. “I know you were upset, but what made you decide to do that?”

  For her part, Morgan didn’t seem proud or act like she’d won some kind of moral victory. Instead, she wore a pained expression and held her injured mid-section.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” she moaned, peeking up at me with squinted eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I just couldn’t stop myself. She had it coming.”

  While that much was true, the timing couldn’t have been worse. “But today? Of all days?”

  Morgan gave me a little grin before whispering her answer. “I told you Sunday was a bad day.”

  I rose, kissed her forehead and looked at the others. “We still go tonight, if Morgan’s healthy enough. We’re ready; there’s no need in delaying it another day.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Morgan said as she staggered to her feet. “I’ve been punched in the gut before by him. And I’ve never missed a minute of work because of it.” She smiled broadly at me. “Until tomorrow morning, that is.”

  Morgan rested most of the afternoon as I watched the weather and guards. It was partly cloudy with almost no wind. Given that there’d be no moon to follow us with, I figured all was fine. Cloudy or not, it would be dark during our journey. That gave us the advantage, the way I saw things.

  The guards were a different issue. I noticed they seemed more on edge since the noontime smack down. They weren’t necessarily any more engaged than they had been the past few days. Instead, I noticed them meeting in groups of two and three, discussing something in low voices and occasionally glancing at one of the cabins.

  No one ate much at lunch time. Though the potatoes and green beans were cooked perfectly by Liv, everyone’s appetite seemed to have disappeared. I wondered if it was concern over Morgan or pre-escape jitters for what would come after sundown.

  Just before dinnertime, Morgan came out of her bedroom. Each step made her wince with pain, but she shook off any concern I tried to show her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, patting my shoulder in a very un-Morgan, gentle fashion. “Everything is fine. We go after sundown. No change in plans. Now is the time.”

  That was what I needed to hear. Her encouraging words gave all of us our appetites back and we nervously finished all the food we could. Each of us drank two extra glasses of water and lounged after the meal. Liv didn’t even bother to do the dishes. She simply set them in the sink and smiled.

  “Not gonna make a difference,” she proudly announced, joining the rest of us on the couch and chairs. “They’ll just get all broke up when the fire caves the roof in. Not my problem anymore.”

  She was right, dead right. And her attitude told me she was ready, no matter what attempted to slow us down. Sara seemed a little nervous and quiet but gave me a hopeful smile each time our eyes met. Sasha, being herself, chewed on the knuckle of her right thumb while we waited. I figured it was hard for her to break that habit. Maybe that was something that would disappear once we got to Pimento.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Charolette arrived for an evening “visit” about a half hour before sundown and made sure everyone knew she had left her place by slamming the cabin door. I watched two guards eye her suspiciously as she disappeared into our cabin. After that, they went back to talking and generally hanging out near the edge of the tree line some 50 yards away, the opposite direction of our departure.

  There were huge gaps now in the guards’ laps. So much time had passed that I lost count. Once it was dark, it would be a little trickier to know who was where, but the torches — even burning dimly — would let me know when one passed and we were ready to bolt.

  “Another hour or two and we’ll be out of here,” I said, watching one of the gun-toting men wander past without so much as looking up. “It’s weird; they were all edgy earlier, but now they’re back to their usual sulking.”

  “That’s not all that unusual,” Sara replied, taking a spot next to me. “They get a little scared whenever Shaklin gets pissy. It usually wears off pretty fast. Like an hour or two.”

  Good; I didn’t want them to suddenly go back to being on high alert. Not that night. I needed them as miserable and down as possible. We needed that part to be easy.

  I turned and stared at my group, focusing on Charolette. “How’s the foot feeling?”

  She shrugged and smiled, joining hands with Liv. “It’s not healed, but it’s a lot better than it was at first. I should be able to do some walking tonight. You shouldn’t have to carry me any more than half the way.”

  While her response should have been good news, I still worried about that specific scenario. Sure, she probably weighed all of 80 pounds and that wasn’t really much. But we had 15 miles to cover and me carrying her for seven of it would slow us down.

  “I’ve got a pack ready with some biscuits and a thermos of water. Actually, a thermos and canteen,” Liv stated proudly. “Belinda snuck them down for us a few days back. She says no one is going to miss them. So, that’s good, right?”

  Charolette beamed at my youngest cabin mate. “Oh Liv, you just think of everything, don’t you?” She laid her head on the other’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around Liv’s thin one.

  “We’ll hang the heaviest blankets we have over the back windows,” Morgan added. “That way no one will see the fire from the back of the house until it’s too late.”

  “What about the front ones?” I asked, pointing at the two in the living room.

  Morgan shook her head
. “I suppose we can hang some dresses on them or something. We only have two big thick ones for winter, one for each bed.”

  I pulled a chair amidst my team and tried to go over all the details I could think of.

  “We’ll wait until one guy makes his lap and disappears to the left,” I said, pointing at the furthest rear window. “Then we’ll pour out all the extra kerosene we have. We’ll light it right before we sneak out the front door. We’ll sneak down the steps and make our way to the edge of Cabin Three just to make sure the second man isn’t ahead of schedule. Then, we dash into the corn and get the hell out of here. By the time they spot the fire, we should be to that county road Sara claims is about a mile south.”

  Everyone nodded their understanding and full attention.

  “With any luck, we’ll either be in Pimento by sunrise,” I continued, “or damn close. We can do this. It won’t be easy, but we can do this. We just have to remember to stick together and help each other every step of the way.”

  Nervous smiles greeted my words. That was fine. Though everything was well planned and every last detail accounted for, I too was a little nervous. We just needed to avoid making any stupid mistakes.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Stupid mistake number one: believing – no, depending on – the fact that I’d accounted for everything.

  As the sun set, we went into ready mode. While Morgan continued to rest, Sara and Liv covered the back windows with the heavy blankets from the beds. I worried the extra shading would alert the guards, but after two slow laps, I felt better. They hadn’t even looked up when they passed.

  Liv and Charolette, the second hobbling around in a black boot or “brace” as she called it, filled the canteens and counted out two dozen flatbread biscuits that Liv had made the day before. I wondered why they didn’t wrap them in something but instead simply placed them in the backpack. Just before I asked what might have been my dumbest question to date, I remembered there probably wasn’t any cellophane wrap in the apocalypse.