The Leftovers of a Life

by Anna Oney

  "What?" he asked, his lips forming a devilish grin. "You havin' one of your fits again? C'mon, baby," he pleaded. "Git back in bed."

  Believing she had no other choice, Emma reluctantly did as she was told. She crawled into bed, attempting to keep space between them, but Reed pulled her close. His lips went straight for Emma's neck. Caressing her left breast, Reed used his other hand to brush his fingers across her naval.

  Emma succumbed to pure euphoria as Reed pressed his lips against hers. Suddenly, she craved control. She tore away his fingers, and forced him onto his back. She threw herself on top, and clamped her thighs on either side him. Before bringing up the sides of her gown, Emma gazed into Reed's brown eyes, but she was startled when she saw them turning aqua blue.

  "What's happening?" she asked, taken aback.

  Reed replied, "What, baby?"—and then it wasn't him Emma was speaking to anymore. It was Tom. Within a split second of Emma looking at him, Tom's face was switched back to Reed's.

  "Where's Tom?"

  "He's been gone for years. I thought you were over him," Reed said, as his eyes teared up.

  "What?!" she exclaimed as she threw herself from the bed. On her knees, she cried, "No, no, this isn't right! I'm not supposed to be with you."

  Hurt by her words, Reed cut his eyes to Emma, and said, "Then you shouldn't have left."

  "Shouldn't have left" echoed throughout the room hundreds of times. "Shouldn't have left. You shouldn't have left."

  Looking from Reed to her trembling hands, Emma's stomach dropped as she realized they were covered in blood. As she began to cry out, a voice Emma recognized as Tom's whispered from behind her.

  "My blood is on your hands."

  She wheeled about, and Emma looked above to find Tom hovering over her, a look of shame in his eyes. Blood seeped through the slits of his eyes and spilled from his ears and mouth. Bullet holes littered his chest.

  As Emma reached for him her hands were continuously pushed back by an invisible force. No matter what she did, she couldn't get to him. Defeated, she began to weep. Just as her first tear hit the floor, Tom leaned down, and whispered, "Was it all worth it?"

  "Nooo!" Emma screamed, waking herself. "No . . . " Just a dream, she thought, distraught. Just a dream.

  "You say somethin'?" Reed groggily asked from the other side of the door.

  The last thing she wanted to hear was his voice, so Emma answered his question with as few words as possible.

  "No."

  Her hands could barely hold the canteen as she took a sip of water. To try and keep her mind from dwelling on the harshness of her nightmare, Emma quickly consumed the rest of what she believed to be her last meal.

  Situating herself on the hay, Emma exhaled, and whispered, "It wasn't real."

  For the rest of the night, Reed remained silent while Emma fought against exhaustion to keep her eyes glued open. When she felt herself drifting back to sleep, she shook her head, jolting herself awake.

  Unnerved, Emma found herself concerned with what her recent dreams could mean. If it were God trying to tell her something, whatever it was did not seem to have a happy ending. Emma had always strongly believed dreams were a way God warned His children of bad things to come, or prepared them for upcoming blessings. Believing this didn't make Emma feel any better.

  After hours of staring into space, Emma watched as the morning sun broke through the creases in the boards surrounding her. The rays of light pierced through, displaying perfect lines on the ground. For a moment, they hypnotized Emma and she felt strangely at peace.

  It wasn't until she heard, "Look alive, he's comin' back to git you," that she was forcefully snapped out of it.

  Chapter 28:

  Emma

  "He's comin'," Reed whispered a second time.

  "Who's coming?" she foolishly asked.

  "Who do you think?"

  Standing before the entrance of the cell, Emma leaned closer to try to listen to what was being said. Raised voices followed as Heskill kicked in the makeshift door, nearly detaching it from its hinges. He stormed toward Emma. Scared and alone, she stayed huddled in the corner. Helpless, she waited for his retaliation.

  Reed grabbed hold of Heskill's shoulder. Forcibly, he pulled the old man back before he could exact his revenge, and shouted, "Wait a minute! I think she's had about enough of your shit."

  "I want her gone."

  "You want her gone? Or dead-gone?"

  "Which one do you think? Dead, I want her dead."

  "I figured as much. I just needed to hear you say the words."

  "I want you to—"

  "You want me to do it, right?"

  "Yes," Heskill replied, cutting his eyes back at Emma. "I want it done soon. Today! I want it done today."

  "You're stickin' to this?"

  "Yes, damn you!" Heskill shouted, grabbing Emma by the wrist. Pulling her body toward his, Heskill tightened his grip, and said, "I want her off my property now."

  "Don't do that," Reed pleaded. "That's enough of that. There's no need to scare the girl more than she already is."

  "Take her to the place we take everybody who don't belong."

  Exhaling, Reed nodded, and replied, "Yes, sir."

  Please just be for show, she thought. Please.

  Heskill turned and drove his fist into her gut. Collapsing to the ground, Emma clutched at her stomach, gasping for air. She was only able to take in small sips of air at a time.

  "What the hell, man?!" Reed exclaimed, though he wasn't able to keep Heskill from kicking Emma hard in the side. "Stop it! She's had enough!"

  "Don't hurt her!" a boy shouted from outside.

  "Aiden, stay there!" his father commanded. "Don't move!"

  By that time, Emma had gained the strength to rise to her knees. Seeming to choose not to inflict more damage in front of the child, Heskill balled up his fist and stormed from the cell. Strangely, it seemed an innocent child witnessing his savage behavior was what checked Heskill's hatred toward Emma.

  Kneeling beside her, Reed rubbed her back. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his son sprinted around the corner into view.

  The boy didn't waste time getting in his signature hug. Spiritually, Emma craved them, but her body did not. Even his softest embrace was too much for her midsection to handle. Once Aiden noticed Emma's face contorting in pain, the boy loosened his grip, and stood up beside Reed.

  "You gonna be okay, miss?"

  "Yooou." She wheezed, looking to his father. "An-answer that."

  Turning the boy's face toward his, Reed whispered, "Aiden, look at me, son. Stop lookin' at her. Focus on me. Don't say a word. Just listen. We're about to go for a ride."

  "But- but!" Aiden cried, distressed. "You always forget to bring them back."

  "That's just the way it is."

  "But don't take her—"

  "But nothin'."

  Grasping Reed's wrist, Emma tightened her grip, and whispered, "Listen to him."

  Gazing at the hand cutting off his circulation, Reed donned an ashamed look. Nodding to his son, he said, "Go ahead, finish what you were gonna say."

  "She didn't do anything bad like the others. I don't want her to go."

  "Buddy, I know you don't. But I've told you a thousand times not to get attached to these people. Every time you get upset, folks start askin' questions. Stay with your friends until I get back. You hear me?"

  "But . . . but the other kids don't like me." Defeated, the boy looked from his father then back down to Emma. Aiden's eyes were engulfed with tears, but he blessed her with one last smile.

  "Goodbye, miss," he whispered.

  Not another word was spoken on the issue as Aiden vanished from their sight. Again, Reed and Emma were left alone. But no conversation between them would pass the time. There was nothing left to say. Undoubtedly, Emma's execution had been decided.

  Reed helped Emma to her feet and ushered her from the hot box to outside, beneath the blistering sun above. Limping a few more
feet, Emma spotted another cell next to hers.

  "Someone in there?"

  "Yeah, but"—he paused—"they're just as bad off as you."

  No one was outside. At first, this seemed odd. But as Emma and Reed turned the corner, she saw at least ten women and children searching through suitcases and duffle bags. The children sat at the bottom of some rafters, folding clothes and discarding worthless pictures of people they'd taken from. Stationed above them were their caregivers, who sifted through other piles of valuables. It appeared they had a system for going through the trinkets and secret gems they'd stolen.

  What have they done to all of these people? Emma thought as they passed by them. What have they done?

  While Emma's captor led her toward Brute, who was tied outside of the stables, Emma kept a firm hand over her stomach. If she removed it, she felt as though her insides were going to spill out before her.

  Arriving at the stables, she spotted seven other horses kept inside. Reed reached for a length of rope strewn over the fence behind them. Taking her wrists, he smiled and broke the silence with, "This time I'll make sure not to tie them too tight."

  Emma chose not to acknowledge his comment, and used the chest hairs emerging from the top of his shirt as a focal point.

  "They feel okay?" Reed asked, but considering that he planned on killing her in the near future, Emma's attitude remained bitter. After helping Emma on his horse, Reed hopped on behind her. He leaned forward, and whispered, "You hate me, don't you?"

  "Pretty much."

  "I have to blindfold you again," he said, snatching a red bandanna from his back pocket. Holding up his hands, he added, "Just a precaution. I thought you'd like this better than that old dirty bag."

  "Doesn't really matter, does it?"

  Fastening the fabric over Emma's eyes, Reed replied, "No, I guess it doesn't."

  Again, he wrapped one arm around her waist and used the other to grasp the reins. He gave Brute a light kick, and they were off.

  Emma knew that when they reached their destination, it would be the end. Oddly, it didn't have the effect on Emma that she'd thought it would. She'd imagined herself being distraught and losing control over her emotions. Through the journey, Emma was able to keep her composure, but remaining calm caused her to question her sanity.

  They traveled at a reasonable pace. Not once did Emma feel herself slipping from the side of the horse. She felt secure enough for Reed to remove his arm from her side, but his grip never wavered. No wonder his boy likes giving hugs at inappropriate times, she thought. Aiden gets it from his dad.

  They rode in silence for what seemed like hours. It wasn't until Brute came to a complete stop that Emma's heart began racing. She felt the weight on Brute's back shift as Reed dismounted, and then she felt Reed's fingers digging into her waist as he pulled her down.

  "We're already here?" Emma asked, hoping there was more land to cover.

  "We're here."

  Peering through the red fabric, she could barely see the outline of Reed's form. When she heard the pistol being pulled from his holster, fear finally settled in. Closing her eyes, Emma expected the gun to go off. Instead, she felt Reed brush past her shoulder toward what Emma assumed to be the side of his horse, where she remembered seeing a saddlebag. Noises of him shuffling through his possessions and emerging with what he'd been searching for intrigued her.

  Unexpectedly, Reed removed the ropes binding her wrists, and commanded, "Hold out your hands."

  "Why, what for?"

  "Because I said so. Hold. Out. Your. Hands."

  Reluctantly, Emma did as she was told, and was startled by Reed pulling her forward. She could feel his warm breath glide over her cheeks, so she knew they stood face-to-face. Reed smelled like sweat and dirt mixed with an incense of pine. The scent of a real man, in Emma's opinion.

  She felt as though the person on the opposite side of the bandanna was staring into her soul. For a brief moment, Emma sensed he was going to kiss her. But instead, he took a deep breath and opened her palm, placing an object in the center of it. Emma found that it had the same rough and gritty texture as the canvas bag he'd used to shield her sight a day earlier.

  "What is it?" she asked. "I don't want to play games. If you're gonna shoot me, then shoot me."

  "I'm not gonna shoot you, you idiot." He chuckled, removing the bandanna from her face. "I'm lettin' you go."

  Sifting through the bag she held, Emma's fingers grasped the familiar handle of the spear tip. Triumphantly, Emma pulled the artifact from its cover. Turning it over, she met Reed's gaze and asked, "Won't you get in trouble for this?"

  "I wanted to give you more," he replied, "but all your other stuff had already been claimed."

  "What'll happen if they find out?"

  "They can either kiss my ass or hold my hand. It really don't matter to me."

  "What about Aiden? Is this the spot he was talking about?"

  "There isn't a spot."

  "So what about all the people?"

  "I let them go."

  "Does your son know all this?"

  "He has his ideas. As innocent as he is, if I were to tell him the truth, he'd be fillin' everyone's ears with how brave his father is for lettin' them go. You know," he paused, "I've always been told never to grow tired of doin' the thing that makes you valuable. But bein' my dad's henchman isn't what I want my purpose to be. It's not somethin' I want my boy to 'member me as either."

  "Your father," she whispered, shocked. "This'll make him mad for sure."

  "What Heskill doesn't know," he said, "won't hurt him."

  "I won't forget this."

  "I know you won't. And all I want in return is one of them hugs I've been seein' passed around. I think I deserve—"

  Reed didn't have the chance to finish his thought, as Emma circled her arms around him. At first he seemed reluctant to hug her back, but he did so tightly all the same.

  "Sorry I couldn't give you more," he whispered, running his hand over her curls.

  "You gave me my life back," she replied, loosening her grip, "and I'm grateful."

  "Well, I think it's about time I was on my way."

  "Me too. I've got a hell of a lot of ground to cover."

  Mounting his horse, Reed said, "Most people who've experienced a setback like this wouldn't make it out there two days."

  "I'm not most people."

  "No, it seems you ain't." He grinned, patting Brute's neck. "You think you're gonna be all right?"

  "I've always been able to find my way in the woods. It's the outside world where I've never had a sense of direction."

  "I believe it." Reed chuckled, taking the reins. For a moment, he gazed into the distance ahead of them, and then up at the clear blue sky. Handing Emma his revolver, he said, "As soon as I'm gone, you better hightail it off the road. You hear me?"

  Gripping the weapon, she asked, "You sure?"

  "You need it more than I do. Probably, oh, 'bout four rounds left."

  "Thank you, Reed."

  "One more thing." He spat at the ground. Using his fingers, Reed wiped the spittle from the bottom of his chin, and said, "I've found that you can't justify killin' in the Lord's eyes, but you can in your own and ask for forgiveness later. The key to survivin' in this world is never hesitatin', no matter what."

  Smiling up at him, Emma squinted due to the sun shining above, and replied, "Yes, sir."

  "Sir? Don't you call me—ah, hell! There ain't no use arguin' 'bout it!" With that, he rode off in the direction they'd come. Before vanishing from sight, he shouted, "Take care of yourself, Bank Lady!"

  Left alone to finish what she'd started, she whispered back at him, "See you around."

  Turning the spear tip over in her hands, Emma almost failed to notice her invisible stranger's footprints reappear. Since the artifact had been returned to her, she felt it made sense for the prints to as well. With her friend's presence offering support, Emma began walking back into the cover of the woods when she
noticed an extra pair of prints beside the others.

  Kneeling before them, Emma investigated the new indentations. Seeing that they weren't human footprints, she thought, I've never noticed these before. When she made out four distinctive sets of paws, Emma immediately cried, "No, no, no! Stella, no! She's gone."

  Resting her trembling hands on what she believed to be her dog's prints, Emma thought, Who else would bother following me in the afterlife? She shook uncontrollably, and tears began to form. Emotionally drained and alone, Emma sat there and pondered, Somehow, in death, they've found one another.

  "C'mon now," she said, "don't let it break you."

  There was nothing Emma could do to bring her dog back. Emma had failed her. Now that Stella was gone, Emma believed the pit bull, too, would serve as a guardian angel. Because of Emma's faith, she was certain of this. People who believed in nothing but themselves would never understand, but Emma knew the pawprints belonged to her companion. The same way God had sent the invisible stranger to her, He had sent Stella back to help keep watch over her.

  Wiping the tears from her face, Emma shook off what remained of her sudden outburst and stood up. Revolver and spear tip in hand, she mustered some courage. Turning on her heel, Emma strolled back into the cover of the woods and thought, Sorry, Stella.

  ***

  The massive display of potholes back on the road pointed out where Emma was. She knew if she continued heading north, within a day or so, she should arrive at Pete's house. Doolie had told her not to go for him if it was too difficult to do so. But now it would be beneficial. If Emma reached his house safely, she could replenish her supplies and gain a companion for her journey. I can make it to Pete, Emma assured herself. I have to.

  She stayed covered by the tree line, but close enough to the road so she'd be able to spot Pete's house when she reached it. Soon, her stomach began to growl. The jerky Emma ingested earlier had proved to not be enough to tame the hungry dragon within. By the fourth hour, the rumbling in her tummy turned into an aching.