by A. R. Shaw
Sloane stared at the young man. “That would make sense. When I tried to get him to help me, he acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. I thought he was just scared.”
Sloane held out the warm bowl full of food to him. The man reached for it, gently accepting the offering, but he didn’t begin to eat right away.
“Maybe he’s not hungry?” Sloane said.
“Not likely. I didn’t get to feed him today.”
“Have you ever seen him eat the food you’ve brought to him?”
“No, I usually left it for him. There was always an empty container when I returned.”
“What did they do to him in there?”
“I don’t know. Time will tell,” Kent said and pulled several blankets from a nearby cupboard, making a pallet for him in the warmest part of the garage.
“He can stay here until it’s too cold at night. We can’t let him get sick,” Sloane said, and Kent suddenly looked at her. Sometimes she surprised him.
“We’ll see. I don’t trust him yet around the girls. We’ll observe things for now. Let’s let him settle in. I think easing him back into society is best. Keep the girls away for now. Too many people might freak him out.”
Kent led the man over to the makeshift sleeping area. “You can stay here,” he said, pointing to the door then. “Door will stay open.” Then he held out the clothing Sloane had brought. Kent held up several warm sweaters and pants in an attempt to convey they were for him. Looking at his bare filthy feet, Kent grabbed a pair of thermal socks and laid them on the top of the pile.
The young man looked down at the pile and for a second Kent thought he might cry.
“Those are going to be huge on him, but that’s all we have for now,” Sloane said.
He patted the young man on the side of the shoulder then, like a bro hug without the hugging.
Then he and Sloane walked out, leaving the door ajar. Kent’s last sight of the man was seeing him utterly confused, holding onto the warm bowl of food like a lifeline.
50
Wren
Later that night, Wren snuck out of the house undetected, or so she thought. Ace snuffled into her side right before she opened the front door. “Don’t do that, dude. You scared me,” she whispered.
Grabbing a water bottle, a sleeve of crackers and a jar of peanut butter, she snuck out and down the stairs. All along, she’d been testing her weight on those stairs carefully cataloging the squeaks. Though that didn’t matter; as she maneuvered the landmine, Ace plunged utterly without care past her. She stopped cold. Waited and listened for either Kent or her mother. Nothing happened. No alarms sounded. No rushing feet along the flooring inside. No sounds of safety off clicks. That’s not right. I could be a burglar.
She continued her ballet between the squeaks while Ace waited at the bottom of the steps. His eyes reflected the moonlight. His tongue lolled out one side, as if saying, “Beat-cha.”
“Goofy dog,” Wren said, patting him on the head on her way to the garage when her foot caught on something loose. She lifted it with the toe of her boot. It was an article of clothing. The prison gown. She kicked it as if it were a snake.
The cracked open door glowed with lamplight. She peeked through. His eyes were closed as he leaned up, sitting in the corner of the room. A navy-blue sweater they gave him hung like it belonged to a giant. His dreadlocked hair sprawled all over the sides. He’d put on pants and socks over the cuffs. He was after warmth.
When she looked back to his face, she startled to see that his eyes were wide open and on her.
“Hi…I was just checking on you. Do you need anything?”
That’s when Ace barged into the room suddenly, going right for him.
The man shrank into the corner of the room as the dog approached.
“No, Ace!”
The dog stopped. Sniffed him.
“It’s okay, Ace. He’s a friend.”
Ace growled. Sniffed closer to the intruder.
“No Ace, he’s okay.”
The dog didn’t seem so sure. He continued to emit a low growl and edged closer still, sniffing the man more and more. Just when Wren thought Ace was going to attack him, the man gently turned and held out his hand, palm down, for the dog to smell.
At first, Ace pulled back. Another threatening growl.
Wren held her breath.
Ace sniffed for a while. Decreasing growls and then finally a lick.
Then Wren remembered the peanut butter in her hands. “I should have thought of this before,” she said and urgently pulled out a cracker and swiped the edge through the creamy treat. She held it out to Ace, who sat straight up, ready for the uncommon gift. When she tossed it, he inhaled the whole thing with one gulp.
“You’re so greedy,” she said and made another one for him. The third one she offered to the man watching the display, his eyes transfixed on Wren.
“Here,” she said. “It’s good. It’ll make you feel better.”
He shook his head.
“I swear it’s all right. They won’t mind.”
He shook his head again to her outstretched offering.
“No? Okay,” she said and saw the empty bowl they’d brought him earlier. “Maybe you’re just full. It was hard for me to get used to…things again, too. It takes time,” she said and knelt down before him, petting Ace, who gladly accepted the peanut butter cracker on the man’s behalf.
The man lifted his hand hesitantly then. He looked at her and then used his hand to circle his own eyes and then slowly pointed to her.
Wren watched the whole surreal motion.
She leaned back on her heels then. Swallowing, she whispered, “Yes…he did that to me.”
“What did he do to you?” she said after a while, pointing at him.
He again raised his hand. Shaking, he pointed to his right ear. She couldn’t see them behind his hair and then…shaking more, he pointed to his lips.
“What?” Wren said. “What did he do to your mouth?”
She didn’t remember leaving the room, or running up the stairs, or Ace following her; she only remembered his lips parting.
“Wren! What is it!” Sloane was suddenly by her side in the house, shaking her. “Did you have a dream? What happened?”
“What’s going on?” Kent said, startled out of sleep by the commotion.
“Mom!” Wren cried. “They took…” She couldn’t get it out.
“What? Did that kid do something?” Kent grabbed the rifle and headed to the door.
“No…no! He didn’t do anything!” Wren screamed. “They…took part of his tongue. He can’t speak.”
“Who? You mean the young man in the garage? What were you doing out there? Wren?”
“Mom…they tortured him. They took his tongue.”
“You shouldn’t leave the house at night, Wren. What were you thinking?” Sloane said
“No one heard me,” Wren countered. “It’s not my fault,” she said and pulled away from her mother.
“I’ll go check on him,” Kent said as Wren went to her room.
51
Kent
It was a disturbing sight for Kent, let alone Wren. That night, he went down to the garage and asked the young man to open his mouth.
When he entered the room, he was attempting to pack some of the clothing and blankets in and around what he already had on. He was trying to leave.
Kent shook his head. “No, you don’t have to go. She’s just scared.” He pointed to his mouth. “Let me see.” The man shook his head. “I’m a doctor. Please, let me look.”
He opened his mouth once again.
“Jesus,” Kent said under his breath but tried to keep his horror from showing. It looked as if only the tip was gone but what was more concerning was the infection. It was a wonder the kid could eat at all. “Okay,” Kent said, motioning for him to close his mouth. He held up his hands then, letting him know he was going to touch him. At first the man backed away. “It’s okay. I
’m not going to hurt you.” Feeling under his neck, the first thing that struck him was the heat. He was on fire. Kent let out a frustrated breath. Then he lifted his dreadlocks to reveal his ears. First the left and then the right. Burn scabs.
“Okay…okay. I see what we’re dealing with,” he said, trying to maintain his composure. “How old are you?”
The young man watched him and seemed to understand the question. He held up first two fingers and then one.
“I see. You’re just a kid. Not much older than Wren. With a massive infection.” He handed him a water bottle then. “Drink this,” he said. “We have to get that fever down.” He helped lower the man to his pallet once again. In his weakened state, he couldn’t believe he had even that much energy. “I’ll be right back,” he said, holding up one finger. “Stay.”
Kent ran back upstairs and retrieved the fish antibiotics and fever reducers from their stash. Never in his life did he think he’d dispense medications meant for fish, but they were the same exact drugs humans used at a fraction of the cost and thankfully Sloane had the foresight to keep them on hand. He was a doctor and never knew you could get them online back in the old days from any aquatic pet store. An ounce of prevention…could save your ass in the apocalypse.
After he grabbed the one he needed, Sloane stopped him in the hallway with a questioning look. “You don’t want to know, babe. Believe me, Wren had a reason to be freaked out after what I’ve just seen. He’s really sick. We’ll get him better. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes…but you keep asking after the fact, Kent.”
“I know. But believe me…you would do this too.”
She nodded, and he grabbed a container of applesauce on his way out the door.
Back in the room, he didn’t even try to have the man swallow the drugs with water. Instead, he used the applesauce method. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to eat what you have, but I have to say, once this is healed…there’s a good chance you’ll talk again. I have no idea about your hearing but hopefully in time, it’ll return too. As for taste, I’m afraid sweet is gone but you should be able to taste salty on the sides of your remaining tongue and unfortunately, bitter is still intact. Speaking should be possible but difficult. You won’t be able to form any sounds requiring the missing tip of your tongue such as t or d. G may be difficult as well.”
He rambled on, unsure how much of the conversation the young man got. He just stared out beyond his shoulder.
While Kent watched him trying to slowly swallow the meds, he heard a noise behind him and turned. Ace nudged open the door and came to lie calmly by the kid’s side.
“You’re such a traitor,” Kent said, rubbing Ace’s side, “but I’ll let it go this time.”
The young man touched Ace’s side with trepidation. Ace leaned over and licked his hand.
“I guess that’s saying something,” Kent said and then asked, “Can you tell me your name?” He said it slowly. Deliberately. And a little louder than he would normally.
It was as if horrors passed the young man’s face. His eyes welled up.
“Wait. I don’t want to upset you. I know you’ve been through too much. Dammit, I bet that was something he tortured you for. Your name. Wasn’t it?”
He nodded. Overcome.
“It’s all right. You don’t need to answer.” Kent got up to leave, feeling like a complete insensitive jerk. When he reached for the door he heard...
“Ja-son.”
52
Sloane
“Where’s Ace?”
Kent poured himself a cup of instant coffee. They all looked as if they’d had little sleep.
“He was with me last night,” Wren said.
Clearing his throat, Kent said with a nod of his head, “He’s down with Jason. Seems Ace has a new friend.”
“Wait,” Nicole said. “Who’s Jason?”
“He’s the guy Kent and Mom are hosting in the garage,” Mae said.
“Mae.” Sloane said it like a warning. No other explanation needed.
“His name’s Jason? Is he okay?” Wren asked.
Sloane wasn’t sure of the concerned tone her daughter took over the young man they were trying to heal. She didn’t want her daughter getting close to anyone, let alone a damaged person.
“Wren, we need to keep our distance,” Sloane said.
“He’s got an infection going on. We’re going to keep an eye on him. I checked on him this morning. He’s sleeping well. The fever seems down. Look, I’m going to ask Boyd to come over here toward the house to keep an eye on him and you girls while we’re gone.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Sloane said to Kent.
“Why not?”
“Yeah,” Wren said.
“Because…he was involved,” Sloane said. “What if Jason freaks out and takes off? He’s not well.”
Sloane watched as Kent slid a hand down his handsome but tired face. “That’s a good point. We could take Jason with us,” Kent said.
“He’s not ready to people yet, I bet,” Mae said.
“That’s for sure,” Sloane agreed.
“Look, he has Ace with him. He’ll most likely sleep all day. Let’s just keep him here with the girls. Boyd’s down the road just in case.”
“I don’t like Boyd,” Wren said. “Why does he have to be here?”
Sloane could not disagree. Since Kent had made this decision she silently deferred to him.
“He’s here of his own free will. He feels he owes us a debt of gratitude. He’s kept watch for us. It was something he and the town agreed on.”
“There’s ‘a town’ now?” Wren asked.
“Yes,” Sloane said. “And today, we are going to teach them how to protect this place. We have a lot of work to do.”
As she and Kent left, they passed Boyd and relayed the status of their new ward.
“I know you saw who we have with us now. Can you tell me what happened to him?” Sloane asked.
Kent turned off the truck, knowing this would take a while longer than he was willing to idle. Gas was a dwindling commodity.
“I remember him,” Boyd said. “He, um…wouldn’t give the location of his family’s cache. The Lieutenant gave him notebooks and pens and demanded he write it down. He never would. It kept getting worse and worse.”
“The torture you delivered him to, you mean?” Sloane said.
Boyd swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell me, Boyd. What happened to your sister?”
“Sloane,” Kent stilled her questioning.
Boyd shook his head. “Please, ma’am.”
“Is she alive? Is she damaged? Like Wren? Like Jason?”
“Sloane,” Kent urged again.
“Look, they captured her. I went to the compound to trade everything we had and myself for my sister.”
Sloane swallowed. “Did it work? Is she alive?”
“Her name is Elsa and she’s only seven and I can’t find her. She walked out of camp that day, out the front gate, down the main road. No one has seen her since. I don’t know if she’s alive. I leave notes for her everywhere. She’s alone and I’m waiting for her. They wouldn’t even let me say goodbye. Tell her where to go. Nothing.”
Sloane watched as he broke down.
“She’s just a kid. I don’t know if she’s alive,” he repeated, sobbing. “I did what I had to do to save her and I don’t even know if she made it.”
Fuck, Sloane thought.
“Boyd…thank you for keeping an eye on our family. Honestly, I leave here each day a little more comforted knowing you’re here,” Kent said.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to your daughters.”
Sloane again thought, Fuck. “Does the town know? Are there any leads for Elsa’s location?”
“I’ve let everyone know who will talk to me. I’ve posted notes everywhere. I’m hoping she’ll show up. Maybe she’s just hanging out in one of the houses undetected. We’ll see,” Boyd said.
“Look, if you ever need to go check out a lead, just let us know. We’ll help,” Sloane said.
He stared at her quietly for a moment, as if not trusting his own voice again. “Thank you, ma’am.”
They drove on in silence then over the bumpy road. Kent said nothing. He did that when he was waiting for her to fill the quiet.
“She’s younger than the girls.”
Kent nodded. “And he traded everything he had, and himself, for her. He was as much a prisoner as you, Wren, Rose…”
“We have to stop this, Kent. We can’t afford to let anyone attack this town again.”
“That’s what we’re doing. That’s what I’ve been working for while I waited for you to heal. They’re coming, and we need to be ready.”
She nodded, gaining strength. She understood the challenge now. “We’ll be ready.”
53
Wren
Edging closer to the open door, Wren peered inside with one eye.
He lay on the pallet, his face toward the coming sunrise though he didn’t know it since his eyes were closed and Wren could tell he was still asleep.
“I’m sorry I ran from you,” Wren whispered, knowing he didn’t hear a thing, sleep or no sleep. Kent and her mother had left earlier. She’d ghosted down the stairs when she thought Mae and Nicole weren’t looking. She shouldn’t be there.
His sleeping breath came in quick gusts. Sweat glistened along his forehead as the beam of morning light infiltrated the dark space.
She opened the door a little farther without a sound and saw Ace’s furry head poke up.
“There you are,” she said and ruffled his fur as she knelt down by his side.
The dog rested his head again near Jason.
“Ace likes you; that’s a good sign. Kent’s a good person, too. He’ll make you well again. My mother, she is too.”
His breathing continued the quick cadence. His hand occasionally flinched.
