“Hold still,” he commanded somewhat harshly, but when she looked up at him, her eyes so full of despair and sadness, he stopped. It dawned on him what was making her so frightened. “Look, honey,” he began with compassion. “I promised I wasn’t gonna hurt you and I mean it. But you’re too cold. If you don’t get some warmth you could get sick, you could get frostbite, a cold, or die a somethin’ far worse. I jist wanna help you.”
Understanding dawned in Tansy and she nodded her head. Her thoughts were becoming fuzzy; she needed his help to get back to the others. She made no protest when Clint pulled his jacket around her shaking frame, picked her up and held her firmly. He began to stride with purpose back through the halls.
“Wait, my pot,” Tansy wept out foggily, her frozen red hands attempting to grasp his stiff shirt.
Clint chuckled. “I’m thinkin’ I could go for some pot right ’bout now.”
“Mike’s drink,” Tansy implored, her thoughts still focused on her children, her desperate need to take care of them.
Her vision darkened, her thoughts grew muddled. Is it nighttime now? Mike will need me when it gets dark. A roaring noise invaded her thoughts like a pounding ocean. Are we at the beach on vacation? Shanie loves the beach, but sometimes she swims out too far. Where is Emmy? She burns if she gets too much sun. I feel so lazy; perhaps I could look in a little while. An odd sense of calm filled her, drawing her senses, encouraging her to follow on a flowing, rolling wave. She could see Shane beckoning in the distance; his smile encouraged her, her heart burst with joy as her mind reached for him, her hand stretched toward his. Oblivion claimed her.
“I’ll come back for your pot after I get you settled,” Clint promised.
With dismay he felt her body tremble and go limp. Stopping and raising his one arm higher, he lowered his ear to her nose and mouth listening for a breath. Feeling some semblance of relief, he felt a tiny puff of warm air against his cold cheek.
With easy strides, Clint went down the hall and made it to the basement stairs taking them two at a time until he entered the room. Emmy cried out. Shanie raced forward followed by an irate Chris.
“What the hell did you do to her?” Chris screamed.
When Tansy failed to return and the girls began exchanging fearful looks, Chris made a move to retrieve her, but Tansy hadn’t been the only one who had seen Cord’s evil looks. Marge refused to let her son leave. Clint had gone in search after hearing Mike’s distressed howls.
“Hey, easy buddy,” Cord cautioned; the boy held the rifle. Randy watched, his fists clenched as were Cord’s.
“I’m not your buddy,” Chris snapped at him and cast him a dirty look.
Randy narrowed his eyes at the boy’s insolence and took a threatening step toward him. He stilled at Cord’s raised hand. Cord looked at the boy but held his temper in check. There would be enough time to show the little bastard who was boss later.
“She got trapped outside and nearly froze to death,” Clint explained, setting an unconscious Tansy onto a blanket near the fire. He pulled her limp arms close to her chest and once more checked her breathing.
Marge crossed herself and offered up a prayer. Clint looked around, grabbed a blanket nearby and threw it over her; he took off one of Tansy’s boots and held her foot in his hands. Clint removed her sock and placed her foot inside his shirt onto his belly and began undoing her other boot. Hesitating just slightly, Cord came over and sat beside Clint to help.
Cord hadn’t been overly concerned the boy held the rifle, he didn’t care about the woman’s predicament, but he did understand his friend’s fondness for the child. It occurred to him, somewhat annoyingly, if the mother perished her children might follow. How could he have a new hierarchy with no one in it? The food offered them had an ulterior motive. He had seen where Clint’s thoughts had taken him and felt for once his friend was being intuitive.
Cord pondered the benefits of the woman’s life opposed to her demise. If the woman died the little one would succumb next, following her mother; Clint would be devastated once more. The two girls would be useless in their grief, unwilling and unable to listen to either promises of life or threats of death. He’d be left with an old dried up frightened woman and a defiant boy. Tansy’s existence was a boon, it remained attached steadfast to three lives.
The others sat back and watched, none ever having dealt with hypothermia. Clint looked up and took in Shanie’s terror-stricken face; he felt a moment’s empathy for the young girl.
“You go get my pack for me. The blue one.”
Shanie raced for the other side of the room, she returned just as fast, tossing the backpack to him. Clint grabbed it up opening the side pocket to produce a thermos with a metal cup. He dumped water into the cup and put it near the fire, handle side out. Clint cast an angry glance at Cord. Clint should’ve given the child his water, but Cord had told him the mother might not accept it seeing as he’d already fed them and they felt they owed him. Besides, Cord had promised him he wouldn’t cause any trouble, yet.
Clint removed a couple of sugar cubes from a watertight container and dropped them into the cup to dissolve. Michaela crept toward her mother but Clint commanded Emmy to hold her and keep her busy. He handed Emmy some of the sugar cubes and told her to let Michaela suck on them.
Clint removed the blanket he had thrown over Tansy and tossed it to the side. He took off the cold wet jacket he had wrapped around her and her own then placed a larger warmer dry jacket he’d removed from his blue pack on top of her. He wrapped it around her frozen small frame with a great deal of worry. Clint handed the wet jackets over to Marge and told her to find somewhere to dry them. Marge accepted, grateful to have something to do, and moved out of the way.
Clint knew if he had been alone with Tansy he would’ve stripped them both and he would have cuddled her unclad body. He doubted the others in her group would allow it and knew Cord and Randy would’ve just found it entertaining.
Clint retrieved the cup, the sugar cubes were dissolved, the water warmed. He lifted Tansy’s head and slapped very lightly at her pale cheeks.
“Hey,” Chris yelled, advancing.
Cord’s temper exploded, having enough of the boy’s interference. He sprang up and grabbed Chris by the arms so fast the boy dropped the rifle. It hit the floor hard, causing it to discharge accidently and a shot ricochet off the wall. Everyone dropped to the ground.
Cord jumped up and grasped Chris by the arms then smashed him into a nearby concrete wall.
“You stupid little prick. You could’ve killed someone,” Cord shouted into the boy’s stunned face.
“I...I didn’t mean to...”
“Put him down,” Shanie commanded. “Now.”
Cord smiled dangerously into Chris’ frightened face then remembering his promise to Clint, he let him slide back down the wall. Chris had been lifted off his feet high into the air and still he didn’t match the height of the huge man. Shaken, Chris stayed plastered to the wall, white-faced, while Cord sauntered away smiling to a chuckling Randy.
“You okay?” Shanie asked Chris. She was shaking, she hadn’t known what she was thinking to challenge such a man; she could’ve easily found herself suspended next to Chris. Cord was definitely not a man to piss off.
“I’m fine,” Chris mumbled and managed to peel away from the wall.
When Shanie returned to the fire Clint was rubbing his thumb over her mother’s cheek. Her head cradled in his arms.
“She needs to be awake. I can’t give her liquids when she’s unconscious or she’ll choke. She needs to be warmed up on the inside.”
He slapped at Tansy’s face, he couldn’t rouse her, he couldn’t get a response and he was starting to feel panicky. He shot Cord a distressed look, seeking his guidance and help as he often had in the past.
Cord realized from Clint’s look he wanted him to take over, freeing his hands from his previous commitment of not interfering or causing trouble.
“Give me the
kid,” Cord demanded of Emmy, indicating Michaela.
Distressed, Emmy looked at him like he’d grown another head and cuddled her sister closer.
Cord was running out of patience, he wasn’t used to people, female people especially, disobeying him.
“I said, give me the kid.” Cord reached over and took Michaela by the arms ripping her away from her sister. Michaela immediately offered a large howl of protest, punctuated and echoed by both of her irate sisters.
“Cord,” Clint said with frustration, he could only deal with one problem at a time; he needed Cord’s help. Cord usually ignored children; he’d hardly spared a glance at Bess, except to scowl at her when she cried.
Cord held the child and did nothing to calm her; it seemed to Clint he purposely antagonized her. Michaela shrieked at the top of her lungs, her little struggles in vain. Randy raced to grab Shanie who tried to come to her sister’s defense and wrapped an arm around her waist. Shanie struggled howling every foul expletive she’d ever heard, much to Randy’s amusement. He grabbed a flailing fist before it could connect with his nose as Shanie continued her tirade. Emmy sat with silent tears coursing down her cheeks, her gaze centered on Clint’s face, offering a silent plea for help.
Finally, to Clint’s relief, Tansy began to stir. It appeared to Clint that Cord’s methods, though heartless, were effective. As Tansy began to flail, Cord thrust the howling child at her equally howling sister. Randy released Shanie in time for her to catch Mike. Then laughed at the glaring face of the teenager who took Michaela to Emmy. Emmy handed the girl her rag doll to comfort the child. Emmy wrapped her once more in her arms, her knees drawn up.
Tansy woke disorientated, looking up into Clint’s relieved gaze. Her last thoughts had been of Shane, now he was gone. Realization returned, she found her daughters safe and sound, all looking upon her with worried expressions. Tansy realized her brush with the elements had almost proved fatal; she might have left her children alone to fend for themselves. Her tired body was too malnourished and exhausted to battle such extreme temperatures without caution. She’d need to remember that for the sake of her girls, they would fare little better under the circumstances.
They couldn’t possibly gather their things and leave until the storm passed. It was then she remembered her cast iron pot. The pot they boiled water in, cooked in, she needed to get it back. Tansy tried to rise but sank back down feeling lightheaded. Her eyes tried to focus then rested on Marge not too far from her, sitting or resting in a slouching position. Tansy blinked and wondered at the curious stare Marge returned, she seemed to be looking straight through her.
“Marge?”
At Tansy’s puzzled inquiry Clint looked over at the older woman and couldn’t help remembering he’d wondered at her inactivity during the confrontation involving her son, but dismissed it, he was too busy to ponder.
“Mom?” whispered Chris.
Chris crawled closer; he wondered at his mother’s lack of intervention and was nursing a wounded pride. He’d shot a scathing wounded glance to her silent figure after his confrontation with Cord but to his chagrin she ignored him. As he approached, he noticed Cord moving closer and met with indecision. Concern clashed with fear and won and Chris reached his mother’s side before anyone else.
“Mom?”
Marge’s eyes were wide but Chris received no response. His hand reached out to touch hers but stopped in midair. It was then he noticed a small trickle of blood, the flow now ceased, at her heart. Confused horror came to him as he looked up at Cord then back to his mother. Chris grabbed at his mother’s hand then grabbed her as she fell forward. The wall behind her was covered with her blood. Chris’ mouth opened and closed—a sinking feeling in his belly—he couldn’t be seeing what he was.
“Shhiiit,” Cord drawled. He looked down at Chris incredulous. “Christ kid, you offed your own mother.”
“I didn’t...It was an accident, it wasn’t supposed to...Mom?” Chris stammered, rising and backing away terrified. He was consumed with guilt and stood shaking uncontrollably. His eyes darted left then right. Everywhere he looked it seemed accusing faces plagued him. “No, no, please Mom? Mommy?” he whimpered, his fist rose to press against his mouth stilling his whimpers so he could focus on his thoughts. He was all alone now. He was lost in this terrible hell of a new world. Who would take care of him? What would he do? Where could he go? His fear intensified then boiled over into an irrational terror.
Abruptly Chris stilled and rage replaced the guilt. “It was you!” he screamed at Cord, his face contorted into an agony of hatred and uncontrollable rage.
Chris lunged, arms outstretched, his eyes furious. Cord had been waiting for this, expecting the confrontation. As Chris flew at Cord his feet tangled within the jackets Marge had dropped when shot, setting him off balance. Cord balled a massive fist aiming for the young man’s jaw, wanting to teach him a lesson, at this distance the boy would be tossed onto his ass and would be nursing an ache for a day or so. Instead, Chris propelled forward faster, lower. Cord slammed his knuckles into Chris’ temple at a closer range, before he could pull his punch. Felling him like a stone, snapping his neck to one side, an ominous crack resounded into the stunned silence. Shanie yelled, up instantly. Tansy cried out in panic for her but Clint grabbed at Shanie’s ankle and yanked her down. Clint rolled her over and looked into Shanie’s furious face.
“No,” Clint growled.
Shaking, breathing rapidly with shallow breaths, full of fear and trepidation, Emmy passed Michaela to her mother and crept toward Chris’ prone form. Her wide eyes darting a foreboding look from his still form to Cord’s intimidating stance.
Emmy sought for a pulse on Chris’ neck then switched to his wrist. She lay her head on his chest and tried to calm her pounding heart long enough to hear his. She sat back on her heels. Her trepid eyes traveled up the length of Cord’s muscular body to settle for a brief moment onto his face.
She looked so devastated, Cord found his gaze shifting with uneasy understanding. He was supposed to have hardly hit the boy’s jaw, a tap, not slam his fist into his head. Emmy’s hands came up to cover her face and she sobbed a heart-wrenching cry, slumping over the boy’s prone figure, grasping his body to hers. Her face buried into his jacket muffling her agonized sobs.
“What?” Shanie squealed. She looked at Emmy, her eyes blinking in her confusion, her body heaving with pent up emotion. “What?”
Giving Clint a kick, forcing him to release her, Shanie scrambled forward and reached Chris’ motionless body. She discovered for herself what Emmy determined; her playmate of fifteen years, her best friend and archenemy was dead. A boy she played innocent discoveries with when she was four. A boy she had raced through the woods with, daring him to catch her, wanting him to catch her, at age nine. A boy she kissed at the age of twelve, her first special kiss. A boy who told her at the mature age of seven he was going to marry her and with a wide toothy grin had stuck a plastic ring on her finger from a gum ball machine declaring his eternal love. Gone...stolen in less than a heartbeat. It had taken years to make those priceless memories.
Shanie’s father’s death and her friend’s death collided overwhelming her. She couldn’t take any more loss. Wasn’t it enough everything had been stolen from them: their father, their home, their familiar safe way of living, and now another life? The unfairness masked then covered any thought to her personal safety, she was too enraged. Shanie looked Cord directly in the eyes without fear. Absolute all-encompassing hatred crashed throughout her being, thundering into her soul. She’d been unable to seek vengeance on her father’s killer, Chris’ wouldn’t be so lucky to escape her wrath.
“How could you? How could you!”
Shanie was up and at Cord’s throat, followed by Emmy who sought to defend her sister, whose obvious burning anger displaced any rational thought of fear for her wellbeing.
“No. Cord...please don’t hurt them,” Tansy screamed, putting Michaela to her side and writhi
ng to free herself from Clint’s strong grasp, yanking on his arms, struggling wildly to reach her children.
When Shanie reached Cord, he grabbed her by the arms, spinning her and wrapped one arm around both of hers, pinning her back to his chest. He caught Emmy up similarly into his powerful embrace and lifted both of them into the air, feet flailing, both girls struggling. Shanie continued to scream her hatred of him and what she thought of his vile filth.
“Simmer down little girls or you might get hurt. I can hit real hard,” he warned unnecessarily. His grip tightened on Shanie until her breath caught and her screaming subsided.
She gasped for air then held still, her reasoning returned. Though her heart felt indestructible with anger she was powerless against someone so much larger. A physical confrontation wasn’t the best way to settle her outrage. It was best to bide her time.
Sensing the girl was returning to her senses, Cord loosened his firm grip. Cord dropped them down beside Tansy who was trying to struggle to her feet, trying to take in what was happening. Tansy felt strong arms tighten around her and she knew Clint wouldn’t let go, she was too weak to struggle anymore. With the safe return of her girls Tansy slumped in his embrace. She accepted the drink Clint held to her lips. It was warm and the water was sweet. Tansy soon had Michaela, who had once more crawled onto her lap, begging for a taste. Then Tansy remembered this all started because she needed water for them.
Was she responsible for the tragic chain of events leading to the destruction of two lives? She felt the blood drain from her face, her friend, a good one who had grown closer, was gone; a boy whose diapers she had changed ceased to exist in a moment. Could a man really hit once so powerfully as to kill someone? With a frightening thought she reminded herself Chris had been bigger than her and her girls, if he was felled with only one heated blow....
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