by Christa Lynn
I know that’s not going to help her any, but I really can’t answer her question. People react to situations differently than others and there really isn’t a valid answer for that.
“It’s not fair.”
“Emma, none of this is fair. This is war, and we have to buck up and take control,” Kane whispers to her. “But that part of your life is over, at least, in the real world. We just have to get you to a point that the dreams don’t overtake your life.”
“And how do we do that, Kane? I’ve been here several weeks, and it’s not stopping. These dreams are bad, Kane, and the lack of sleep is killing me. I would almost rather be dead than—”
“No, Emma,” I chime in. “You are not better off dead,” I say and she glares at me. “I know that’s what you’re thinking, but you need to get that out of your mind sooner rather than later. Tomorrow, you and I will go to the shooting range and I’m going to teach you how to shoot, how to protect yourself. Once you’re stronger physically, we can work on your mind.”
She nods and looks to her bare feet, her toes curling around each other. “You aren't’ alone anymore, Emma. I’m here, Kane is here, his men …” I stop when her eyes crunch shut. I press my fingers under her chin and lift where she can see me. “Emma, those men in Brampton, they aren’t normal. They’re evil and callous, and they aren’t the norm.” I say this and I struggle to believe it myself, but in order to get her mind back where it needs to be, I have to say it. “Think back to before this all happened, did you have a family?”
She nods. “Yes, three brothers and my parents, of course.”
“Okay, were your brothers like this?”
She glares at me. “They were my little brothers,” she says. “The only grown man was my dad, and he was … my dad. He had a couple of creepy uncles, but I tried to stay away from them,” she says as her eyes cut away, focusing on an invisible spot on the wall.
“Tried? Oh, my God, this started for you long before Brampton. No wonder you’re skittish,” I say as I scoot her over and sit next to her in the arm chair she sits in. I lay my head on her shoulder and run my fingers through her curls, “Emma, please. Not all men are pigs, my dad was an amazing man as well as my brother. You just got dealt a raw deal, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you get past this,” I say as I look at the sofa, but Kane is gone. It’s just us two in the room. I can hear him in the other room, but he’s left us to talk privately.
“How can you be so sure?” she asks, and I pause, because I’m not so sure at this point.
“I think if Kane, or any of his men were like that, we’d both already know. Has anyone here touched you?”
She shakes her head.
“Good, then that’s a good sign. Some men like to prey on the vulnerable, and you’d be an easy target.” Her head jerks up to look me in the eyes, her bright blue eyes straining. “Easy, Emma. Once we get you trained to defend yourself, no man can ever hurt you again.”
She nods and leans her head against me, and we sit there like that quietly for a while. I hear her breathing even out and look at her porcelain skin—she’s sound asleep. I try and pry myself from the chair, but she stirs and her body leans against mine. She’s calm for the first time since I got here, so I close my eyes and relax as well. It’s been an exhausting day, and I’m not going to be any good to her, or anyone else if I don’t get some rest.
“Is she asleep?” Kane asks quietly from the doorway.
“Yeah, she is. Can you help me get her to her room?”
“I’ve got her,” he says as I crawl out from under her and he lifts her gently and with ease, cradling her like a baby. “Follow me, and I’ll show you to your room.”
I stand up and stretch then follow him up the stairs. He nudges a door open and walks in, gently laying Emma on her bed, before pulling a soft blanket over her body. She rolls over and curls up in the fetal position before exhaling a relaxing sigh. I stare at her for a moment and see such peace in her face, even though I know her mind and body are in turmoil.
“What happened to her?” I ask Kane as he quietly pulls the door shut. I know what she told me, but I want to see exactly how much Kane knows before I decide what to do.
“What do you mean? The same thing that happened to you, happened to her.”
“No, I mean before that,” I respond. “Did something happen to her before the war started?”
“I don’t know; she won’t talk about it. Every time I try and ask about her family, she clams up and shuts down. Something happened, and whatever did happen, was bad. Maybe she’ll feel comfortable talking to you one day.”
“Maybe.” I shrug as I follow him down the hall. He opens the door at the end of the hall and stands back for me to enter first. The room is plain, nothing fancy, but I didn’t expect it to be. White walls, a four-poster bed with two pillows and an old quilt that looks like it was handmade years ago. I smell cedar and cotton, like the old farm. I trace my fingers along the scalloped edges of the comforter, taking in the pale colors of pink, yellow and blue. Dolls are embroidered onto it that remind me of the old Holly Hobby dolls, full skirts trimmed in lace. The end table has a blue oil lamp that glows warmly, casting shadows on the walls. An old beat-up dresser sits against the wall, a few old knick-knacks on top, a feeble attempt at making the room look homey. The fact is, nothing about the world is homey, but at least I have a small piece of calm to come to. I sit down on the bed and rub the quilt with my hands behind me and kick my boots off, the cooler air soothing my aching feet.
“How’s your ankle?” Kane asks, disturbing the silence as he gets to his knees in front of me. I roll and flex my foot, feeling no pain.
“It’s good, doesn’t even hurt,” I say as I unwrap the bandage he wrapped around it earlier.
“Good, I was afraid it would swell without putting ice on it and elevating it.”
“How do you know all of this?” I ask, lying back and staring at the ceiling fan that obviously no longer works. Dust crests the edge of the blades, and I suddenly wish the subtle breeze from that fan would caress my face.
“After the bombs went off, and I was … left alone—” he sighs “—I hit the library and took every medical book I could find. Every engineering book, every electronics book—anything that I could read and learn to help get through this world. My best friend, Abe, went in search of what food he could find and Dale went after weapons. The books were the only thing that were easy to find, because, suddenly, no one cared about those. They were panicking that there would be no food, and they were scavenging for any type of weapon to use to protect what little they still had.”
“You said ‘left alone’, but then you mentioned Abe and Dale, so who left you alone?”
“My parents,” he said. “Mainly my father, but that’s neither here nor there.” He stood up and walked over to the dresser, opening the top drawer. “Good, Emma brought you some clothes,” he says as he hands me a thin, cotton nightgown. It is old and frayed, but looks well-loved
“Where did you find all of this?” I ask, my eyes panning the room.
“This was my aunt’s house; she passed away about a year before the war started. It was left abandoned as her kids were fighting over it. Then …”
“The bombs,” I say, watching his features soften.
“Yeah, well,” he says, standing up, his voice stronger than it was. “When my asshole father took off, I came here. He had always scared my aunt into thinking something was going to happen, so she prepared over the years. Some of this stuff was already here, but when I went through the house, I found years’ worth of vegetable seeds, flour, clothing for men and women, all sizes and all shapes. Shoes, towels, sheets—you name it, she had it. It reminded me of that old TV show Doomsday Preppers.”
“Do you think she knew something was going to happen, or was just scared that something would?”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m thankful that she did, or we wouldn’t be here. Anyway,” he says changing the subject, “you should be comfortable here.
That bed was mine as a little boy, so it’s pretty comfy. Sleep tight.”
“Kane?” I ask before he leaves.
“Yeah,” he says, turning back to me.
“Thank you,” I say. He nods in affirmation and leaves, the door clicking behind him, and I change clothes and climb into bed. I’m more comfortable than I’ve been in thirteen years, and I think maybe Kane isn’t so bad. I close my eyes and focus on the sounds coming from the slightly cracked window, sounds that remind me of home. Boards creaking, the foundation settling, wind in the rafters. It’s comforting, and as I close my eyes, my mind takes me home. I find myself back at thirteen years old on the farm and riding my Nelly.
“Whoa, girl, easy now. What’s got you so spooked?” I ask my dark-chocolate, Saddlebred horse as I pat her neck, whispering in her ear. “It’s okay girl, let’s go,” I say as I nudge her with my foot and pull back on the reigns, “Go, girl!” I say, and she busts out in a sprint and we head toward the open fields in the back of the property. Daddy left a few acres clear for me to ride in, with a few log fences for us to jump, but I prefer the trails and just a slow gallop. Nelly loves to run, though—she’s such a free spirit—so I get her up to top speed and we just run. My long black ponytail bouncing behind me and the wind and sun in my face.
I curl over to my side and open my eyes with a smile on my face for the first time in years. Then I look around the room and realize this isn’t home. Tomorrow, I go home.
Kane
I slam the shot glass on the old oak table and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, the home brewed moonshine sliding down my throat, burning as it goes down, before grabbing the old Mason jar and pouring another shot. Seeing Emma and Jo cuddled up in the chair made my heart hurt. Those two have been through so much, and I can’t seem to break through Emma’s barriers, but Jo is so much stronger. I hope Jo can help Emma, because at some point, Emma is going to have to fight. I also need to get back out and find more men so that we can give a legitimate fight back. I have a long way to go, but I need all the hands I can get, and Emma has been holding me back, but now that Jo’s here, I can focus on building my army.
She’s so needy and vulnerable. I can’t blame her, though, or hold anything against her. Brampton must be Hell on Earth for these young women, and I can’t wait to get my hands on the bastards that run that place. I have a feeling I know who it is, but getting to him is another story. I vow at this time to make sure that he meets his maker.
I toss another shot back, the liquor tingling as it travels down, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s dark in here, and Abe and Dale are on watch, but I can’t help but feel like something is off. I feel a presence in the house, one moving quietly and without notice. I push my chair back and stand up, grabbing my gun off the table as I do.
A shadow moves through the other room, and I quietly move to the doorway, gun drawn and aimed into the room. It’s then I see her; her black hair moving in sync with her lithe body. I watch her tip-toeing through the room, looking at all of the things still around left behind by my aunt. Her long fingers gently touch old photos and knick-knacks before picking up a small, ceramic, humming bird. It was something my dad brought her from one of his business trips, and it started a collection of the tiny birds. Aunt Peggy loved those birds, even had a feeder out back for them. She’d sit out there in her rocking chair just a few feet away and watch them with such a spark in her eyes.
Jo gently sets the bird down with a soft smile on her face before moving to the mantel over the fireplace where the others sit. She drags her finger along the thick oak shelf, admiring each one as she goes, before stopping in front of a family photo taken at a reunion about fifteen years ago, which was the last time the whole family was together here at the compound.
She picks it up and blows the dust off of the glass and holds it close to her face. I’m not sure how she sees it as it’s so dark in the house, so I quietly lean down and light the oil lamp on the table next to me. She jumps and almost drops the photo, but she catches it between her arm and her stomach before stepping back and looking my direction.
“Jesus, Kane. You scared the shit out of me,” she says, fear enveloping her face.
“Likewise, Jo,” I say, tucking the gun back in the waistband of my jeans. Her eyes follow my move and focus on my hand.
“Were you planning on shooting me?” She smirks as she sets the photo back on the mantle, staring at it.
“Around here, anything is possible,” I say as I move toward her, sharing her space as we look at the photo. I point to the boy on the bottom row, his messy brown hair and a mouthful of metal. “That’s me; I was fifteen,” I say. Then I point out my other family members, except my father.
“Is that one your father?” she asks.
“He was, yes,” I say before turning back. The look on my father’s face in that photo is evil and full of rage. He hated having his picture taken, but Aunt Peggy insisted, and no one said no to Aunt Peggy, I think as I laugh a little inside. She was a feisty woman, and took no shit from anyone. She died about a year after this picture was taken, and then the battle for her farm started. All of my family wanted this farm, but she left it to me, and no one understood why. She and I had a special relationship, and I had no idea that she had left the whole property to a then sixteen-year-old boy. It wasn’t until after the war that I figured it all out.
I sense that Jo wants more info on my snarky reply about my father, but she doesn’t ask. “What are you doing up?” I ask, sitting down in one of the cracked leather chairs.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she says as she continues to look around the room. I let her, as there’s nothing to hide here. I didn’t change much when I got here as I wanted to feel Aunt Peggy’s presence here, and so far, she’s stuck around. I swear I’ve seen her a few times in different parts of the house, mainly the basement where all of her hoarder supplies were. We all used to giggle at her, thinking Aunt Peggy was crazy, but once the war started I knew that she was the smartest one in the family. She hated her brother—my dad—but he adored her. She kept up a good front in public, but when I’d come spend the weekends with her, she’d tell me stories about them growing up. It was then I realized why that evil look was always in his eyes. He used to beat me to within an inch of my life if I fucked up, so I learned to be careful and not let him catch me doing anything. But it also led me to start working out and getting into sports so I could overcome him one day, which I did. He couldn’t handle it and left me and Mom behind. Eight months later, the war started, and I never saw him again.
Unlike Jo, I have no desire to find my family, what few cousins I kept in touch with, anyway. Abe and Dale are my best friends, have been since before the war, and that’s the only family I need. Mamma died of a broken heart three months after Dad left and thankfully never had to see what our country has become. I came here to live with Aunt Peggy after that, and I’ve not been back to my old house since. I have no desire to go back there—too many haunting memories. I’m not even sure if the old house even still stands. It was closer into town, so I expect the Heretics burned it at some point, like they did so many other homes. They left the ones that they thought could benefit them, but if there wasn’t anything there for them, they burned them so no one else could use them.
The Heretics are ruthless and aren’t afraid to die for what they believe in. Well, neither am I, and once my army gets big enough, we will take them down and take our country back. “Are you thirsty?” I ask Jo, thinking a little moonshine might lighten her up a little, help her go back to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow and she needs her rest.
“Actually, I am,” she says as I stand up.
“Follow me.” I turn to the kitchen, grabbing another small glass from the cupboard. I pour a small amount of the potent, clear liquid into the glass and set it in front of her, knowing she thinks it’s water. I know, I’m an asshole, but a little humor never hurt anyone.
She picks up the glass, and as it gets to
her face she coughs. “What the fuck is this?” she asks, her nose turned up, her eyes cutting at me.
“Drink it, it’ll help you relax.” I chuckle as I down my own glass, the alcohol now taking effect in my head.
“You’re kidding right?” she says as she sets the glass down.
“No, I’m not. I dare you to drink it.”
“Oh, what are we, four years old?”
“Not hardly, princess.”
She glares at me, and I know then I’ve crossed the line, but I don’t care. The moonshine now has my brain malfunctioning, and I can’t manage to give a shit.
“Princess?”
“Yes, my little Indian Princess,” I say over the rim of my glass as I chug back another shot. My filter has officially been turned off, and I decide to see how far I can go with her and if I can get her to relax just a little. She’s been through hell and back and she deserves to kick back just a little.
“Well, I’ll have you know I don’t back down from a challenge,” she says, her lips curling up and her eyes mischievous and glowing.
I nod my head at her fingers which are gripping the glass. She stares down at it, takes a deep breath before tossing back the whole glass, then chokes as the pure grain alcohol slides down throat. She coughs and shakes her head. “What was that?”
“Moonshine,” I say.
“Damn, Daddy used to make this shit, and I never understood what he was making.”
“Good man, your dad.” Which was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes gloss over, and I think she’s about to cry. “Have another one,” I say, filling her glass a little fuller than last time and doing what I can to take her mind off of her family.
She chugs it back and only sputters a little, the alcohol now numbing her throat. “Each shot gets easier,” I tell her as I fill it once again. She takes a deep breath and sits back, gathering her thoughts.
We sit and make small talk about our pasts, when the US was the US. It seems we both had pretty normal childhoods, with the exception of my crazy ass father, but I stay away from talking about him. Before I know it, Jo’s laughing, and it’s an amazing laugh. During our talk, I realize what an amazing woman she is, even after all she’s been through. I want to find out why Brampton let her go, as she could be a vital part of their world, but not tonight; tonight we get to know each other and I start gaining her trust. I can see she’s a strong woman on the outside, but I know her demons are battling her inside. As I stare at the now tipsy woman, I find I want to be the one to battle her demons for her. She’s been through enough in her life that it’s time someone take that burden from her. But not yet. Her white t-shirt leaves little to the imagination, but I need to tread lightly.
