Sharon moved to his side, her hand on his shoulders. The tension was tight in his face; he was worried. The call had upset him. Her husband being upset was never a good thing. “Tell me what you need,” she said softly.
“I need all those little baby clothes you bought when you thought little Nate was little Natalie. Small clothes for a lady, feminine items, my special first aid kit, two pints of O-neg, an IV bag, antibiotics and nail polish, hair coloring, and eyeshadow as a start,” he said, blowing out a loud air of exasperation.
“On it,” she said moving quickly to the closet. “This sounds bad.”
“It is worse than that. My thinking was right. Jimmy Don picked the bride to be up alright, but he never delivered Harley’s little lady. He kept her, and she escaped and ended up on Zeke’s door last night,” he said to Sharon, whose mouth dropped wide open. “Yeah, she delivered the baby and is at death’s door. The roads will be out for nearly a month, so we have to get her healthy and the new happy family off this mountain. I’m going to need your help.”
Sharon didn’t ask any more questions. She knew what Gabriel had done for her to create a new life. This was her opportunity to repay the good deed and protect this poor woman by getting her off the mountain from the Macklemores.
“Car or ATV?”
“ATV so pack the bag right,” he said.
FRESH LOGS WERE ADDED to the fire, warming up the main room of the cabin. An old laundry basket which still served to hold loads of damp laundry for the clothesline had become the little’s one’s bed. The small rounded tub his mother used to wash her delicates was scrubbed clean and removed from any harsh residues as he sat before the fire, washing her tiny body.
Warm droplets of water ran across her tiny head while her little eyes tried to focus on his face. Carefully he washed away the layers of amniotic fluid which had cradled her body in the womb. He paid extra attention to washing around the navel, ensuring he did not get the cord wet. Using a soft voice, he spoke to his little angel.
“I know you can’t see me yet, but you can hear my voice,” he said to her. “I am Ezekiel. Just as the prophet didn’t abandon Shadrach, Meshach, or Abednego by revealing an ugly truth, as long as I live, I shall never reveal the truth of your birth circumstance to you.”
Swaddling her in a fresh homemade diaper crafted from a cut up tee shirt, he was washing the dirty nappies as soon as she soiled them, trying to keep her little bottom dry. He vacillated between changing her diapers and her mother’s. The lady still had not awakened and Zeke was starting to get a bit worried. One more day in her current state and recovery may not come to her traumatized body.
As soon as the baby went to sleep, he gave the lady another douse of diesel-fueled treatment to her scalp, armpit, and crotch just make sure all the critters were dead. The house stunk to high heaven, but with a newborn and constant rain, he didn’t have much choice.
“Lady, if you are listening to me, I need you to fight. If you fight, I will fight with you, but right now, I’m doing all the work here and it kind of sucks,” he said to her limp body.
The baby had begun to cry again, and he brought her over once more to her mother to feed. There was no way to tell how much milk she was getting if she were receiving any at all, but she slept afterward, so it must have been enough to sustain her.
“I can’t keep calling you baby, so I am going to name you Michelle Marie,” he said touching her nose. “Do you like that name?”
Michelle Marie gave him the smallest of smiles and the shackles which had been holding his heart strapped down to his sternum broke loose. You are adorable. His finger touched the tip of her itty-bitty nose and he fought the urge to place a kiss on it. Oh hell, why not? His lips went to her forehead, kissing the soft skin, whispering assurances to her to bring a modicum of comfort to the baby.
“Regardless of how much time we have together, Michelle, you shall spend each day covered in love,” he said, taking her small hand to his lips. “I need to give your Mama some more ice chips, then I need to feed myself before we start story time.”
He made himself a heaping bowl of stew, heating it in a small pot on the potbellied stove while he laid her down to rest in her bed. Outside on the porch, he checked the generator, topping it off with more fuel before coming back into the cabin. Sitting in the chair, he watched Michelle sleep as he ate the stew, trying to decide which book he would read first. Mary Neary, his mother and retired high school English teacher, always kept literature books on the shelves. Since there was no television in the cabin, she would pick a classic novel and read to her three sons, Ezekiel, Gabriel, and Isiah. Tonight, with his new family, he would continue the tradition.
“My family,” he said with a laugh as he washed his bowl in the sink. He may not have been a prophet, but a higher power got him in that car to start driving to Georgia. He had no doubts in his mind that he’d arrived just in time for her. Whoever she was had a strong connection to the Man upstairs because her prayer was answered.
Now he only had to wait for Gabriel and Isiah to do their parts. In the meantime, he would do his and a little lady needed a story. Tonight, they would start with Treasure Island, one of his favorite novels. He pulled the book from the shelf, dusted it off, and washed his hands before picking up Michelle. Another log was added to the fire as he took a seat, opening the pages, hearing the cracking of the spine and smelling the vanilla in the old sheets.
“Chapter One,” he said to the little angel sleeping in his arms.
Day Three – A Man Comes a Calling
ZEKE WOKE WITH A START at 3 am, lying still, listening to the sounds of the night. A small squeak came from Michelle who slept in her basket on the nightstand next to the bed. At least he thought she was sleep until he looked into the bed in the dim light. Her little eyes were open, looking back at him.
“You must be wet,” he said, checking her nappy. She was soaked through but amazingly did not complain. It would be time for her feeding soon, and he’d progressed last night from ice chips for her mother to forcing chicken broth between her dry cracked lips. It was the only nutrition she was getting until he could get her to sit up and strengthen her body.
In the distance, the faint hum of a small engine was heard, the sound getting closer each second. Instinctually he reached for his service weapon with one hand and Michelle with the other. “Come on, darling, time for a feeding,” he said picking her up, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head.
“Come on SheNanay, time to feed the baby,” he said, checking her forehead. The temperature had faded last night, much to his relief. He raised her arm, nestling Michelle in the crook, placing her tiny mouth on the nip, as she sucked greedily. “Good girl.”
Stepping lightly, he made his way to the front window, peering out, searching for light. The sound of the small engine grew louder, then stopped. Whoever was in the motorized vehicle had reached the intended destination – his cabin. If they weren’t at the front door then the interloper was at the rear. Stealthily, he moved through the main room, grabbing the corner of the blanket; pulling on the end, he covered mother and child. Bending low, he crouched under the window, raising up slowly and peering under the curtain to find a body standing at the door.
Zeke nearly stumbled backward at the shock of someone standing on the porch, but he cocked his weapon, ready for a fight. Wait. Diapers. Was he holding diapers? He got to his feet and opened the door, seeing Man standing there.
“Jesus on the cross, Man! It’s three in the morning,” Zeke mumbled.
“Yes, and it’s still raining too, Mr. Observant,” Man said, stepping through the door, shoving the bag of diapers in his arms. “Hold this while I get the rest of my gear.”
Zeke, grateful for diapers, found himself grinning like the village idiot as Man left and returned with a small suitcase filled with clothing for mother and child. A black bag was slung across his back, messenger style as he looked about the place, taking in the neat cabin.
“I h
ave to work quickly and get back before the light breaks over the ridge. Add two more logs to the fire to warm it up in here. You may have to take the baby in the back room because I need the space hot,” he told him.
“What are you planning to do? Her fever is gone,” Zeke said.
“I need her body defenses to kick in so I can get all of this to work. We are going to jump-start her system and if all goes well, in about six hours, she is going to be awake and hungry as hell,” he said.
“Well, that would be nice,” Zeke said. “It would be nice to know who she is.”
“Aisha Miller, but it doesn’t matter who she was. Aisha Miller is dead. By the time the roads open, you and your wife and three-month-old daughter are coming down off this mountain, heading back to DC for dinner with your family, but first, we have work to do,” he said.
“My what?” Zeke asked, his eyes wide, holding a pink pair of panties in one hand a bottle full of baby formula in the other hand.
“Wife. She needs a new name so we can get a birth certificate for the baby and new driver’s license, credit cards, bank accounts, et al set up,” he said, moving to the couch. He pulled back the blanket to take a good look at her and the baby. “Cute kid; take her off the teat.”
Man removed the bag from his back, setting it on the floor. He opened it slowly, first taking out a pair of latex gloves and putting them on. Man asked for a garbage bag when he lifted the covers to see the ad hoc diaper the mother wore. Unfastening the fabric, he accepted the garbage bag Zeke handed him, pulling the towel and soiled shop rags from her body, chunking them in the trash bag. The woman, Ms. Aisha Miller, lay uncovered, exposed.
“Hey! Hey!” Zeke said as he watched Man raise her leg. “Cover her up, that’s just rude.”
“It would be rude of me to let her die. Which is more important to you, protecting her modesty or me doing what is needed?”
“I don’t want her to die, but you don’t need to be looking at her twinkle spot either!” Zeke said.
Man squinted his eyes, looking at Zeke suspiciously, wanting to know, “What the fuck is a twinkle spot?”
“Down there,” Zeke said, almost blushing.
“Is that what you call it? It’s a vagina, dude. Big boys call them vaginas,” Man told him.
“As far as these two are concerned in their current states of helplessness, it is a twinkle spot. I don’t want her to wake up and see both of us standing her gawking at her this way,” Zeke said.
“We are not gawking; besides, I’m married,” Man said, reaching into his bag to pull out a catheter and urine collector.
“Yes, that may be, but you are not married to her,” Zeke said defensively.
Man ignored him and added a Betadine solution to the tip along with a light lubricant, raised her knee, and inserted the tip into the urinary meatus. Gently pushing, his eyes on the bag as a cloudy yellow liquid filled the bag.
“Just as I thought,” he said.
“Thought what? What’s wrong?”
“We have to jump-start her body,” he said. “If she is to survive. She is probably full of infection, which means that you need to give the little lady a bottle. Those have all be cleaned and sterilized. The one in your hand should be warm and ready for her to take right now.”
Zeke didn’t argue with him but did as instructed. Michelle was also wet again. He ripped open the package of diapers, pulling out the tiny little butt-covering.
“Add some ointment to her bottom first to prevent the diaper from chaffing her skin,” Man told him as he pulled out the two bags of blood and the IV.
Methodically, he checked her arms, but she was too dehydrated to locate a good vein. He would have to go deep into her arm. He swathed the center of her arm, in the joint, feeling, searching for a vein, locating one, and inserting the IV. He clamped the stand to the back of the sofa. He started a slow drip as he pulled back the shirt Zeke had placed on her, digging into her hip.
“What are you doing now? Wait, is that blood? Where in the hell did you get two bags of blood?”
“I keep a lot of things in my line of work,” Man said, locating the femoral artery. He swathed the section with an alcohol swab and inserted the needle. The first bag of blood hung on the same pole as the IV. Next, he searched for a vein. The second bag of blood he injected into a vein.
“Hold up, you are pumping in two pints into an artery and a vein! Are you trying to kill her?” Zeke yelled.
“Nope, her heart is going to work for her like a dialysis machine. It will pump blood through her body along with the IV bag, basically negating the bad blood, hydrating and cleansing her all in one. She will have some energy, but she is going to have to work to build up some muscles,” he said.
“She ran all the way here from wherever he kept her, so that tells me she kept her muscles in pretty damned good condition,” Zeke said. “She told me it was a Macklemore.”
“More than likely Jimmy Don,” he said. “Harley, that’s who she was supposed to marry through some mail order bride service, sent Jimmy Don to pick her up. It went to shit from there. There is a missing person’s report out on her, but I’m going to make sure she turns up dead,” Man said.
“I don’t even want to know how to plan to make that happen,” Zeke said watching him work like an old pro.
“It’s best you don’t.”
“What about her family, friends, I know someone is looking for her,” Zeke said softly.
Man didn’t answer. He still had work to do, and he redressed her like a small doll, in fresh underwear, using women’s pads, cutting a split down the middle to accommodate the catheter. Changing the large shirt of Zeke’s to a more feminine nightgown, he rested her head against the pillow. Taking a bottle of peroxide from his bag, he soaked a cotton ball, opened her mouth, and placed it against her teeth.
“Hopefully, this will start to break down a good deal of that plaque and tartar, but I included a cleaning kit in there to get the yucky stuff off her teeth. You will need to do this every night to get down to the enamel again. This is important, Zeke,” he told him. “Her teeth must look like she gets them cleaned every six months, or that will be the first clue when they see her.”
“When who sees her?”
“The Sheriff and Jimmy Don,” he said. “As soon as the roads open, they are coming to me first, then you. He and his guard dogs will be looking for her. She has to look like she is your woman, is well taken care of, and have no reaction when she sees him. If she does, they will kill all three of you.”
“The Sheriff will condone killing a federal agent?”
“Zeke, this is a different world in these mountains. These men have their own sets of rules, most of which they make up as they go along. Loads of women have disappeared on this mountain, some live, some wish they were dead. How she survived will make a great novel, that is if she’s right in the head,” Man said.
“She seemed pretty sane when she came through the door,” Zeke said.
He soaked two more cotton balls in the peroxide, wiping them over her the remaining hair on her head. As he worked, Man told him about the make-up and nail polish in the bag. Zeke didn’t hear much of what he said as he watched color come into her cheeks. Dear Jesus, it was working.
“I’m at a loss, Man. Dirty Sheriffs, human traffickers. What have I stumbled into here?” Zeke asked.
“You were sent to save your new wife and daughter,” Man said. “The baby is drinking a growth formula. She is going to get a lot bigger in the next two weeks so she can look older. I’ll be back in the morning with a car seat to put in your vehicle, so leave it unlocked.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“I will stay until the blood is all gone in the bags, then the rest is up to you and her, but you need to get really chummy with her as soon as she opens her eyes,” he said.
“I understand,” Zeke said. He knew that the moment she woke up, they would have very little time to become accustomed to being man and wife. “I need wedding rin
gs.”
“In the bag,” Man said. “I need names and an anniversary date.”
“June 12th,” he said off the top of his head. “Tameka SheNanay Neary was a June bride. Michelle Marie Neary was born three months ago in Washington DC. SheNanay and I have been married for five years.”
The bags were nearly empty. Man’s face held no expression as he watched this Neary brother hold Michelle, gently patting her back for a burp.
“The peroxide in her hair?” Zeke asked.
“It will lighten it without any harsh chemicals,” he said. “Tameka SheNanay?” She is going to be so pissed at you.”
“Yeah, it will either lighten the mood or be a point of contention in my marriage,” he said, looking at her. She was quite attractive and again her fate was being decided for her by a man she didn’t even know. A man who was about to marry her, adopt her child, and hope that she didn’t try to kill him when she found out.
“Tomorrow, after you make her up real pretty, I need a photo for her new license,” he said.
The blood bags were empty as Man removed them from the hooks, pulling out the needles and placing large bandages over the punctures in her skin. “Keep an eye on the bag and change the IV bag when it gets empty; she needs at least one more to get her upright.”
“Thank you,” Zeke said.
“In about a week or so, come over for dinner. Sharon would love the company,” he said. “Use your ATV, take the back trail to the old fish pond, come up the hill, but stay on the path. Don’t wander off the path.”
“Man,” he said to his back. “You said the Sheriff’s in these parts are dirty. I thought your father used to be Sheriff up here.”
“Yeah, it’s true. That’s how I know these fuckers are ten times worse than he ever was; be safe. See you in a few days with a resupply,” Man said, stepping through the back door into the dark rainy morning.
The cabin, now ridiculously warm, felt claustrophobic to him. His bedroom was a few degrees cooler so he took the baby and headed back to bed. Zeke stopped for a moment to check on Mom who now wore a pair of pink panties and a nightgown.
On a Rainy Night in Georgia Page 3
