by Anna Oney
Once everyone had arrived, Emma commanded Back Wood's new acquaintances to stay visible. Due to the harshness lingering in Emma's voice from being strangled, Aiden's grip around his father's hand remained impenetrable.
Stepping to the front, Emma could feel her ears burning. Public speaking had never been her forte. Taking a deep breath, she channeled her father's strength.
"We have some decisions to make. Before anyone says anything, y'all need to know that the three people standing behind me stood up against the man in charge," she said.
"How come we ain't seen them?" a neighbor seated in the far corner asked. "If they came to help, then why didn't they?"
"They did. When Heskill came to us, they saw what he was planning to do, and they helped some of our people escape."
"Emma," Tom whispered beside her. "What are you—"
"They aided Darby and me against a man who held a knife to Cooper's throat. This one right here shot down two of them and rescued a friend of mine," Emma stated, motioning toward Reed. "They're good people, people who deserve a chance. This older gentleman," she said, bringing Ross forward, "is Tom and Cooper's father. Just the same as the rest of us, they were separated months ago. By the grace of God, they've found one another again."
"If they helped us, I don't have a problem with them," Mrs. Maples interjected. "But what about the others taking up space in my basement?"
"Today's the day we decide what kind of people we want to be," Emma continued, scanning the crowd. "Is executing these boys something we're willing to ask forgiveness for later, or . . . or are we feeling merciful?"
"What would Doolie do?!" Mrs. Carol shouted. "Huh, what would he do with them?!"
Remembering some of the last words Doolie spoke—"I couldn't kill that boy, Ethan. I just couldn't do it"—Emma said, "I believe he would've given them another chance." She paused as her sight was thwarted toward the far corner, where Shirley stood shaking her head, but Emma chose to continue anyway. "Besides, they wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me." Taking advantage of their stunned silence, she explained, "I left here almost a week ago. I didn't want anybody to know, because, well, I wasn't up for hearing the opinions of others. I guess I get that from Daddy."
"Where'd you go?" Andy asked.
"I left to find my brother," Emma replied as she noticed her mother's eyes filling with tears.
"And did you?" Shirley asked as her chin began to quiver.
"No, Momma, I did not."
"Emma, baby!" she cried. "It's okay."
"No it's not. It was stupid of me to leave. So if y'all want someone to blame, blame me."
"How are you to blame?" Mrs. Carol asked.
"Because I-I was captured by the people trying to take this place. The man standing behind me set me free. But one of the others found my trail in the woods and tracked it here." Nothing followed but the soft chirps of crickets surrounding the dance hall. "So, like I said, if you want someone to blame, if that'll make you feel better, blame me. No one else is at fault. But I think . . . I think I've already paid it back. I've paid it back with my daddy's life."
"It's not just on you," Maddox said, working his way through the crowd. "We left the road defenseless."
"Lesson learned the hard way," Winston said, joining the meeting. "It's not all on you, cousin. We weren't here either. And we all could've done something different. Our weapons, for instance—from now on they don't need to be kept in one place."
"What's done is done," Mrs. Maples added. "It's done, but let's get back to them boys. You really think Doolie would've given them another chance?"
"Ye—"
"They don't deserve a second chance!" a disgruntled neighbor exclaimed.
"ENOUGH!" Emma shouted. "Enough! If they don't deserve one, then neither do I! And if you won't listen to me, then someone needs to . . . to—Doolie's gone, and if you won't listen to me, then someone else needs to volunteer! Someone needs to step up and be the leader."
"A Clery should do it," Andy interjected, rising from the table.
"It doesn't have to be me. There are plenty of Clerys, and believe me, I'm up for any suggestions."
"Yeah," he said. "But there's only one Emma."
"Andy, I—"
"Before you stepped out from that field, I found myself praying to a God I didn't believe in," he said, making his way through the crowd. "But seeing them arrows fly wasn't what made me believe. I felt something—something I can't explain. A warmth." He reached Emma. "Someone was telling me, 'Fear not. Fear not, for I am with you.'" After he spoke, everyone's hearts, which had been plagued with hatred, seemed to be filled with hope. "This spirit told me to follow you."
I've been so mean to you, she thought. I'm so sorry.
Grasping his hand, Emma began to cry.
"Thank you, Andy, but you can say all you want—that if I hadn't shown up when I did, you'd all be dead. But the truth is, this would've never happened if I'd stayed put."
Maddox cut in.
"It would've happened sooner or later. And sooner or later, it'll happen again."
Nodding in agreement, Andy stated, "We forgive you, Emma, even though there's nothing to forgive. Let it go." Turning to face their neighbors, he shouted, "This is Doolie's daughter! So why shouldn't we listen to her? Emma, go on."
"Thank you, Andy." She paused, bringing their guests to the front of the group. Motioning toward Cooper, who was sitting next to Mrs. Maples at the picnic table, she said, "Seeing as how Ross has a blood connection with two members of the road, I'm not gonna be the person responsible for separating them a second time." Grasping Aiden's shoulder, she added, "This is Aiden and his father, Reed. And they're gonna return to what remains of their people."
"What?!" the majority of the neighbors exclaimed.
"Women and children are all that's left. And we're gonna figure out a way we can survive with them without spilling more blood." Turning to face Reed, Emma instructed, "Go back to the rest of your group. Go back to them and explain what's happened here."
"They're expectin' to see their men returnin'," Reed replied. "They'll be lost."
"If it's true what you say, then I'm sure they'll need someone like you around. When you arrive, tell them we let you live and that you've been asked to make a list of all the skills and supplies they possess."
"What for?"
"If we're going to exist together, then there's gonna be some kind of trading line set up. That's how it was done in the old days, so maybe we can get something like that started again."
"You'd be willin' to do that?"
"For now." Emma paused, sternly looking him in the eye. "I am. But don't tell them who I am. I want them to see it for themselves."
"Wait," Tom interrupted. "You're going with them?"
"Not yet. It'll be a while before that happens."
"What about them three boys?" Reed asked, bringing Aiden closer to him.
"That'll depend on them," she replied. "Return in one week. That should give you enough time. Don't leave anything out."
Dipping his hat, Reed replied, "Yes, ma'am."
"Go on, now," Emma commanded. "Like I said, we'll be expecting you in a week."
Chapter 42:
Emma
It was strange. Emma couldn't explain it, but when Doolie took his last breaths, she only cried one tear. No matter the opinion of the community, the moment she exited from his tent, Emma knew Back Wood was a Clery's responsibility: her responsibility. Like a king passing his throne to his heir, Doolie had passed along his legacy to Emma.
Now, the safety and survival of Back Wood's people rested upon her shoulders, so with their leave, Emma prayed Reed would uphold his end of the bargain. If not, they would be calling her bluff, and as the new leader, Emma would be forced to take action. She was still not certain what action that would be. She believed these East Texans weren't destined to become a band of cutthroats. Emma wanted them to be kind and merciful, but this was the so-called apocalypse they were attempting to s
urvive, not a mythical land filled with prancing unicorns and helpful strangers.
Soon after their departure, Tom left Emma's side to escort Cooper and his father to Mrs. Maples's house. Shirley gave Emma a swift goodnight kiss on the cheek, and so did the girls. Eleanor, Marion, and the rest of Emma's new friends were shown to Mary's house, where they would attempt to get a decent night's rest. Nell hobbled along the way, but with the help of his wife and daughter, he made do.
Alone, Emma began climbing the hill toward her secluded cabin. As she walked, Emma expected to feel the sensation of Stella's scratchy tongue licking her fingers. She's gone, she thought. She's never coming back.
Emma arrived at the steps of her home, gazing at the entrance, when memories of Roland's fingers digging into her flesh forced her to flinch involuntarily. Shaking her head, Emma thought, It's done. It's over.
"He's dead," she whispered.
Emma hadn't suffered the same as Pete, but she knew the recollections of her past—which she would most certainly like to forget—would always creep their way back in.
It was a strange feeling, being inside the comfort and familiarity of her own room. She prayed she would feel relieved, but that wasn't the case. Doolie had built her this cabin so she would always have a place to be, so Emma would always feel safe—but her experiences were preventing that feeling of security from resurfacing.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, a vision of Roland unclasping her overalls clouded Emma's thoughts. The image of his hands beginning to unbutton her shirt had Emma struggling to catch her breath.
He's not here. He can't get to me.
Pacing the room, Emma's eyes darted from left to right when suddenly they landed upon her Aunt Mary's letter on the nightstand. Snatching it from the table, Emma slid down to the floor and ripped open the envelope. A tracing of Mary's hand lay beautifully displayed over her words. Emma was certain Mary had done this so Emma would feel as though she were still able to touch her.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, Emma composed herself and began reading the letter.
To my favorite niece,
You owe it to yourself to love that boy, and to let him love you in return. I can imagine you reading this now, thinking, "What boy?!" But you know full well what boy I'm talking about, so you can stop that act right now. No matter the pain he's caused you, no matter the pain you've caused him, in the end, your greatest ally in this world is forgiveness. Forgive each other, sugar, and never give up. Have the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know when you can't change something. And forgive your past mistakes because life is too short.
I have a feeling I won't be here when you return, so keep this letter close, and when you crave my presence—that is, if you ever do—press my palm to your cheek and whisper, "My Aunt Mary loves me," because I always will.
Love, Mary
Clutching at the letter, Emma reached for the edge of Mary's homemade quilt dangling from the mattress. She dragged it to the floor, and covered herself with her aunt's fine stitching. Pressing Mary's letter to her cheek, Emma whispered, "My Aunt Mary loves me."
Surrounded by grief, Emma began reciting the names of the people she believed she had failed.
"Griffin, Daddy, Pete, Stella, Mary. Griffin, Daddy, Pete, Stella, Mary." She succumbed to exhaustion and the number of tragedies that had befallen her as she lay on her side. As her eyelids grew heavier, their names faded from her lips.
Enclosed in darkness, something was weighing Emma down. She attempted to stand, but found it impossible to do so. Her efforts were futile; it felt as though a boulder was resting on her chest.
Emma reached out, and her wrist was grasped by an arm littered with unsettling tattoos. As the disturbing image—of a woman whose neck and wrists were slit, lying in a pool of her own blood—became clearer, so did the face of the man who had chosen this wicked design.
"You should've let me kill you," Roland snarled. "You and I both know it would've been for the best."
"Why'd you lie to me, Emma?" Doolie's voice whispered from beside her. "If you'd taken the boy with you like we agreed, this would've never happened."
Raising her head from the ground, Emma's last goodbyes to her Aunt Mary were replayed above.
"See you later," a recording of Emma's voice said.
"No, I'll be seeing you," Mary replied. "You'll never see me again."
"You're a murderer!" Pete's voice screamed, overlapping theirs. "You killed those people!"
While Emma searched for their faces, the musky scent of her brother washed over her.
"I wish you could've found me, sis!" Griffin's voice cried. "I couldn't do it by myself. I needed your help."
"Griffin!" She wept, struggling against the invisible force pinning her down. "Griffin!" As she screamed his name, the stench of rotting corpses engulfed the air. It was then that Emma heard someone approaching from behind.
Defenseless, Emma tried prying herself from the darkness until a large boot stomped on her forearm. The sight of Roland's boot digging into her flesh rendered her motionless. He towered over her, and as Emma watched, the imprint of the woman's blood on his arm began seeping from her wounds. Slowly, the blood trickled down his arm, dousing Emma's face. The bitterness traveled through her lip's crevices.
Roland tilted his head.
"You should've stayed dead," he whispered.
"You're the one who's dead!" she screamed. "I killed you!"
"You've killed more people than me." He smirked. "Your list is longer than mine. I mean, just look at it."
Following his gaze, the room was illuminated by a kerosene lantern hanging from above. The unseen force was finally exposed. The corpses of all the people Emma had failed were piled high over her chest.
Taking in the appearance of their rotting flesh, Emma found Stella resting on top. She reached for her dog, but stopped when each of the bodies raised their bloodied, solemn faces.
"You're no good, no good, no goooood," they all whimpered in unison.
"NOOOOO!" Emma screamed, jolting herself awake.
Noises of someone climbing the steps of her cabin surfaced. Emma stood up, and grasped the stock of the hatchet at her side. As she crept toward the door, whoever was outside seemed to have come to a halt.
She raised her weapon to attack, and the door was thrust open, knocking her to the floor. The force of the door shoving her backward left her struggling to stand. Rising to her knees, Emma attempted to collect herself when a hand latched its fingers around her arm. Snatching away from their grasp, Emma locked her eyes onto what she believed was a blurry image of an unsettling tattoo staining her assailant's forearm.
"Emma," a man's voice whispered.
"No!" She shouted, swinging the hatchet. "Get away from me!"
"Emma!" he screamed. "It's me!"
"I know it's you!" she exclaimed, thrusting herself upon him.
As he prevented Emma's hand from swinging the weapon a second time, the man dug his fingers deeper into her wrist. Grabbing hold of her chin, he forced Emma to look at his face, revealing Tom beneath her.
Dropping the hatchet, she cried, "Oh no! No, no, no, no, what's wrong with me? I'm sorry." Backing away from him, she said, "I wish I could be better for you, Tom. I really wish I could."
"Baby, stop. You've been through a lot. Now, stop. Come here," he said, offering his hand. "Come here."
"Something's wrong with me."
"It's post-traumatic stress."
"But I, I almost, I almost—"
"It's okay. Calm down."
"No, it's not! I need to be left alone. Stay clear of me."
"No, you don't," he replied, embracing her. As Emma rested her cheek upon his chest, he glided his fingers down her spine.
"I'm never leaving you alone."
"I . . . I'm no good." She wept. "I'll only end up hurting you in the long run."
"I'll end up hurting you, too," he said, brushing his lips across her forehead. "Nobody's perfect."
/> "You should leave me."
"A few seconds ago, when you nearly cracked my skull open . . . believe me," he said, chuckling, "I wanted to get my ass as far away from you as I possibly could. But when you love someone as much as I love you, you never leave."
"Love," she scoffed. "Love for you is sticking to the girl who nearly killed you."
"That's right. Now, c'mon, let's call it a night."
They were too exhausted to bother with changing their clothes, so they climbed into bed and resumed the last sleeping position they'd taken on the road. Up until recently, Emma had never slept with anyone in the same bed before. It was a first, but definitely something she could live with. Lying peacefully entangled in his arms, it wasn't difficult for Emma to decipher when he fell asleep because of the grip faltering around her waist.
For most of the night, Emma lay wide awake, pondering their troublesome days to come. When she did happen to close her eyes, she was immediately jolted awake by Tom pulling her closer. Swinging his hairy leg over her thigh, he proceeded to burrow his nose in the curls draped over the back of her neck. Fully aware of her annoyances with the human species, Emma thought for sure his sporadic movements would've pushed her over the edge. But that wasn't the case at all. In fact, Emma welcomed the reminder that she wasn't alone when she believed she very well should have been.
When Tom became settled, Emma took his hand from her waist. Pressing her lips to his knuckles, she whispered, "Thank you, Lord," before falling fast asleep.
The next morning, Emma woke to numerous cock-a-doodle-doos from their obnoxious and overbearing rooster. Shut up, shut up, shut up! she pleaded, internally. Please shut up! Despite the animal's calls, Tom remained undisturbed. If ever there was a day I deserved to sleep in, she thought, it's today. Though sadly, once her eyes were pried open, there was no closing them again.
Lifting the massive arm from her stomach, Emma rolled over to face him. After running her fingers through his messy hair, Emma rose from the mattress when a familiar pain shot through her ankle. Slinging the covers from her feet, Emma realized the sheet beneath it was doused in blood. Donning her flip-flops, she rushed out the back door and noticed the sun clearing the pasture. By the time she reached Mrs. Maples's porch, half of Back Wood's inhabitants had already begun their day.
