“Thought we’d make a safe room,” he said.
“Shouldn’t that be lined with concrete, blast and bullet proof, with an iron door?”
“Stop with your attitude, it’s the best we can do in a wooden house. Of course, it won’t stop anyone getting in, if they really wanted to, but it will sure delay them.”
“I’m sorry, I’m on fucking edge here. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to hang on.”
“I know, Son, I know. Now, get to work. I want that window boarded up.”
Taylor had two windows in her bedroom. Leaning against the wall under one was an iron plate. Six holes were drilled along the sides; they matched six holes in the window frame. Dad had been busy.
I fixed it to the inside of her window and chuckled.
“I can’t believe you’re one of those Doomsday Preppers.”
He huffed as he continued to add additional bolts to the inside of her door.
“I’ve told your mom, if anything happens, she has to get in here and bolt this door.”
“Is she scared?”
“Yep, and that’s a good thing. Keeps us all on our toes if we’re scared.”
“Why are we blocking just one window?”
“Don’t need to let everyone know there’s something in this room being protected, now, do we?”
“How the fuck do you know all this shit?”
He lay down his drill and hammer, and it was only when he closed the door to check the bolts that I noticed he’d reinforced the inside with more wood.
“When your ass deep in shit, mud, blood, and body parts, and scared out of your wits knowing that if you’re caught, you hope your heart gives out real quick. When you know the torture you’re about to endure will last for hours, you learn a lot about survival.”
That was the most Dad had ever spoken about his time at war.
“What was it like?”
“I’ve seen, and done things, that I’ll never forget and have me on a path straight to hell, Son. There’s no redemption for me. I’ve killed, maimed, I’ve saved, and I lost my mind for a while.”
“Is that why you packed up and moved here?”
Mom had told me once that Dad was a city man, loved the buzz and the noise.
“Yes, I needed the quiet, the peace.”
“And now you’ve got all this,” I said.
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. For a seventy-five-year-old, he was still fit and agile. He was intelligent; always able to solve a problem, yet to look at him, in his jeans and checkered shirt, you’d think he was a simple, country man. He was a man who harbored many secrets, of that I was sure.
“You know what we did back then? We killed our own men. Injured men that we knew we couldn’t get to safety, killing them was kinder than leaving them behind. That can do something to a man’s mind.”
“I bet,” I said, not knowing what the appropriate response was.
“So, bring on the fake feds, the cult, and whoever, I got myself a little pent up aggression to release.” He chuckled and resumed his renovation.
“I know how to use my fists, but I don’t know if I really could kill someone,” I said.
“You could, anyone could if their life depended on it. You know, I won a shit ton of money on you once.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, one of your fights. You didn’t know I was there, of course, best thing I ever saw.”
Any further conversation was halted by the sound of a drill as he fixed the last bolt.
Thomas hadn’t returned by the time Mom, Dad, Taylor, and I sat for dinner. Neither had Zachary.
“Where’s Zach?” I asked.
“Working, saving souls,” Dad said, earning him a slap to the arm from Mom.
“I guess he’ll have to return home soon,” I said.
“Maybe, he’s doing his rounds,” Mom answered.
“Rounds?”
“He has to visit the parish in his care,” she said.
“Bit late to be doing that, isn’t it?”
She shrugged her shoulders as she plated some food for Taylor. Mom’s earlier demeanor had changed, again. Tension flowed from her. Her movements, her voice even, seemed forced, stilted. We kept up the pretense that everything was okay throughout dinner.
I picked Taylor up and despite her protests, carried her up to her bedroom. She sulked as I pulled her t-shirt over her head. She kicked her shorts across the room. I sensed a tantrum on its way.
“Teeth,” I said as she reached for her PJ’s. She stomped to the bathroom.
I would have chuckled had I not been stressed out. I followed her and leaned against the bathroom door. Normally she would try to hum a song or chat, but she kept her back to me, throwing her toothbrush in the sink when she was done.
“Rinse that, then put it in the mug,” I said, sternly.
Tears brimmed in her eyes but she jutted her chin out in defiance. When she’d walked back into the bedroom, I tried to help her climb into her PJ’s, but she was in a mood. She slapped my hands away and grunted her displeasure.
“Taylor, stop it. Tell me what’s bugging you,” I said.
“I want to go home.”
“We can’t just yet. Grandpa and Grandma will be upset, you don’t want to upset them do you?” I hated to result to blackmail but I was too tired for tantrums.
Taylor climbed onto the bed, angrily pulling the covers over her and turning her back to me.
“Baby girl, tell me what’s wrong. Why do you want to go home?”
“Because I do.”
I sighed. “Tomorrow, okay?” Hoping that when ‘tomorrow’ came she’d have forgotten. “Do you want me to read to you?”
“No.”
“No story?” She’d never gone to bed without either a conversation or a story.
She shook her head.
“Are you sad?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Want to tell me what you’re sad about?”
“I miss Mommy.”
In the beginning, she had begged for her mommy constantly, and as time had gone on it seemed to be something she said when upset.
“So do I, baby girl. Want a hug?” I sat on the bed beside her.
“No. I don’t want you, I want Mommy.”
I’d had the, ‘I hate you.’ I’d smiled at the, ‘I don’t like you,’ but those words cut through me. They wouldn’t have normally and I tried not to react.
“Okay, how about I just sit over here for a while.” I sat on the edge of the second bed.
I turned off the main light, leaving just the subtle glow of a wall light, and sat. Taylor didn’t speak but I could hear her sigh every now and again. I’d learned over the past months, sometimes she needed some space, a time out. Usually five minutes and she’d be climbing in my lap and putting her arms around my neck. Ten minutes passed and still she lay in silence. It took an hour before she finally fell asleep.
I could hear the call of a dog every now and again, I could imagine the men patrolling when a thought hit me. How would Lily get to me if we were under such guard?
That thought niggled me so much that I rose and quietly crept from Taylor’s room. I stood on the porch and lit a cigarette. A light glowed above me; I was putting myself on show. All I hoped was, it was to Lily and not some nutcase with a gun. But then, I reasoned, I wasn’t so good to them dead, they’d never know where the statements were. The thought gave me a little comfort, and I settled into a chair beside the front door.
Sam walked past and nodded. I couldn’t recall a time the man had ever spoken, maybe he was incapable of it. From what little I knew of him, he’d served alongside my dad, got fucked up, and became a drunk until Dad had rescued him. He’d been a ranch hand for as long as I could remember. Mom had offered him the loft but he’d chosen to sleep in the barn, among the horses. Even in the depths of winter, he could be found huddled in the hay. During times when he wasn’t really required, he’d disappear, only to reappear witho
ut a word as if he’d been called upon telepathically.
The night air was humid; my t-shirt was stuck to my back. I pulled it over my head and hung it across the railing of the porch. We were back to waiting.
A hand gently placed on my arm sent a cold shiver over my body. I jolted awake, not realizing I had fallen asleep on the porch.
“Gabriel,” I heard.
I blinked a few times before her face came into focus; she had crouched down beside me.
“Lily, where the fuck have you been?”
“Here, there.”
She leaned back on her heels. When I looked at her, she looked broken. Her hair was a tangled mess; dark circles framed her eyes, they displayed such sadness. Her cheeks were blotchy, as if they’d absorbed so many tears, and her lips slightly chapped.
“Here?”
“Plain sight, remember?” she said. Her voice broke as she caught a sob in her throat.
“I don’t understand.”
“I told you, Gabriel, I’ve been on the run for a long time. I know how to hide.”
“I know it all,” I said.
She gave me a small smile. “That I doubt, but hopefully you know enough.”
“Why did you run?”
“Because I didn’t want to get close to you, and I was. I’ve lied, I’ve deceived you, and I’ve told you the truth.”
“That makes fuck all sense.”
“Nothing makes sense in my life. It never has.”
“Enough with the cryptic shit, okay? I’m done with that. I’m tired and I just want this all over.”
She sighed. “It will never be over, Gabriel.”
“It will, if there is no more Father Samuel.”
“There will just be another, then another. You can’t rid the world of them all.”
“So what’s the answer, huh? Live like you do? Lie, cheat, steal.”
She winced at my words. “I haven’t stolen anything.”
“My gun. Give it back.”
“I didn’t take your gun.” She looked around, nervously.
“Brought them with you, have you?”
“Who?”
“The fake feds, your cult friends maybe.”
She blinked a few times, shook her head slightly as if not understanding.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do, everything about you is so fucked up. You tell me you’re telling the truth, and then admit to lies. Like my wife, I have no fucking idea who you are.”
She closed her eyes and lowered her head.
“Her name was Savannah, and what you know of her, the time you got with her, that was real. You’re the only person who got the real, the perfect.”
“And it’s all tarnished, Lily. Thanks to you and Sister Anna, it’s all tarnished.”
Maybe it was tiredness, maybe it was all the waiting for something to happen, for someone to come, but a bubble of anguish rose up in me so fast, I couldn’t stop it. A tear rolled down my cheek. She reached forward and brushed it away and I let her. I let her touch me. I let that knot in my stomach form, and I let my cock twitch in my pants. Why I was so fucking desperate, I had no idea. I disliked her; I wanted her.
I stood and grabbed her wrist, not dragging her to her feet but making it clear she was to follow me without argument. I led her to the barn; the only place I knew was empty of the patrols.
The moon filtered through the clear plastic panels in the roof, illuminating the walkway between stables and pens. I kept on walking until I came to the furthest end, to where the neatly stacked bales of hay were, to where the unlocked door of my dad’s office was, and to where I knew I could access a weapon if I had to.
“I’m not a bad person, Gabriel,” she whispered.
“But you came here to lie, to deceive me.”
“Yes, and for good reason.”
“You want the statements, maybe you want to bargain with them. Why, what are you hiding?”
I might as well have just shot her; such was her reaction. She clutched herself and folded slightly at the waist. A sob left her lips, yet she tried so hard to contain the emotion. She bit down on her lip, while tears flowed down her cheeks.
“What lengths would you go to, to protect your child?” she whispered. I froze at her words.
“I’d kill, man or woman, Lily, I’d kill.” I took a step toward her.
“I want the statements, Gabriel, so I can do exactly what you’ve just said, bargain with them. If there’s no evidence, then there’s no need to continue. We can all go back to normal. I have a child, like you, that needs protecting.”
“You have a child?”
“Yes, a beautiful boy, his name is Benedict.”
“And where is this Benedict?”
“Not far, it’s why I took your dad’s truck, I needed to see him.”
“Who is his father?”
She didn’t answer me at first. “Father Samuel is an old man, Gabriel, not capable of fathering a child now. But he has sons, many sons, who continue with his quest.”
Then it hit me. I recalled the words that had taken me by surprise.
Could you have impregnated her?
Impregnated. It was such a strange word to use; yet I hadn’t thought that at the time. It was also a word Lily had used. It was clinical, as if describing a laboratory experiment.
“Midley,” I said.
Her reaction told me all I needed to know. She screwed her eyes shut as if she was disgusted.
“Richard Midley. Father of my child, child of my father,” she whispered.
I reached out, I wasn’t conscious of where I was placing my hand, but it tightened around her throat. She made no attempt to stop me.
Words flowed through my head. Inbreeding; incest; abuse.
“When I’m dead, will you promise me one thing? Make sure my child doesn’t end up with him.”
When, not if, when. Her eyes were emotionless; she might as well already be dead. I guess, inside, she already was.
She placed one hand on the tattoo on my chest and for a moment we were silent.
“I fucking hate you,” I said, just before my mouth crashed down on hers.
I hated her for making me want her; I hated her for making me hate her. I hated her for making me feel so sorry for her that my heart ached.
Our teeth clashed, she bit my lip before allowing my tongue access. She moaned, louder as my hand tightened a little around her throat.
“You love that, don’t you,” I mumbled, breaking away.
“Pain is all I can feel,” she said.
I walked her backwards, skirting the hay bales until we were in the shadows and she was against the wall. I held her there as I fumbled with her jeans, popping the button, and lowering the zipper.
She used her free hand to help me lower them. I tore the skimpy panties from her body as she stepped out of her jeans. I slapped her hand away when she went to raise her t-shirt. I didn’t give a shit about her being naked; I wanted one part of her body only.
“I fucking hate you for being alive while my wife isn’t,” I mumbled into her neck, as my tongue trailed a path to her ear.
“I fucking hate you for looking and sounding like her,” I said, as I bit down on her earlobe and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure.
I undid my jeans, letting them fall, then cupped my hand under her ass and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my waist, tilted her hips to give me access, and with just a little guidance, I pushed inside her. Her pussy was wet, warm, and her scent had me spiraling. I fucked her hard. Whatever spell she weaved, I was caught, again.
She threw her head back, hitting the wooden wall behind her. I sunk my teeth into her shoulder to stifle a growl that rumbled from my chest. I wasn’t sure where the intensity came from; where the adrenalin that flooded my body had come from. All I knew was I needed to be buried deep inside her, and I wanted to hear her call out my name as she came.
My legs began to shake; my stomach knotted as the desire to
come intensified. I released my grip on her neck and slid my hand up her cheek, into her hair. I gripped and she drew in a sharp breath. Her legs tightened around my waist, letting me know she was close. My name echoed around the dusty barn as her body shook and she came. I gave in to my release.
I was panting hard, trying to drag enough air into my lungs to quell the nausea born of guilt that bubbled in my stomach. I shouldn’t want her; I didn’t even like her. I took a step back and she lowered her legs. Without a word I pulled up my jeans. I reached down to where hers were, picked them up, and handed them to her.
“Get dressed,” I said.
She went to speak and I held up my hand, I didn’t want to hear her voice. Was I being fair? No. But then nothing that had happened the past months had been fair.
“If you don’t have the statements, Lily, what’s the next best thing?”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. Ultimately, what, or who, does Father Samuel want?”
I watched her swallow hard before running her tongue over her lower lip and biting down.
“He won’t be caught, he’d kill himself before then. He’s mad, Gabriel. He believes he has his seat next to God; no man can take that away from him. But it isn’t him we’re all running from.” She chuckled bitterly.
I strode toward her so fast that she stumbled backwards. “Then who? Who the fuck are you running from?”
“His sons, all of them.” She stared me down.
“I give them the statements and my child has a chance to live,” she added.
“Where’s your child?” I asked.
“Safe, for now. Hidden, but I don't know for how long.”
“So all this was just to get the statements.”
“Tell me what to do, Gabriel. What choice did I have? That might have been my intent in the beginning, but not now.”
“What changed?”
“I met you. I had a taste of normal. Even if it was all in my head, all one-sided. For once in my life I had family. I could pretend you cared. Don’t tell me you don’t feel anything for me, you couldn’t make love to me if you didn’t.”
I took a step closer to her. “I didn’t make love to you, I fucked you, that’s all. And that was for my pleasure only. Don’t think for one moment there was anything more in that.”
Gabriel: A thriller (Standalone within the Divinus Pueri series) Page 18
