by L. L. Akers
Sarah ignored her question and stood, putting Sammi against Katie’s shoulder. “Start humming or she’ll wake when you walk.” She stepped away, into the kitchen, leaving Katie relieved that she at least seemed interested in some food.
Katie hummed and swayed as she walked Sammi to her nursery. The baby was light as a feather. The smell was worse the further she went into the hallway… so much worse she almost gagged again. She was having trouble humming, so strong was the urge to retch. She couldn’t believe Sarah could stand this.
She turned and whispered loudly over her shoulder. “Sarah, don’t you think we should put her down at my house? You two can stay there until we figure out what to do about this sewage smell.”
Sarah ignored her again, and crossed into the kitchen, where Katie heard the clink of a spoon against a bowl. Oh, well, I’ll let her eat in peace, she thought. I’ll get Sammi down and then talk to her.
She walked into Sammi’s room and approached the crib, a beautiful piece painted white with pink ribbons, and covered with a sheer canopy. She easily held the tiny bundle against her shoulder with one hand, while pulling back the one thin blanket with the other.
Katie jumped back in revulsion and almost screamed, catching herself just in time. She didn’t want to wake Sammi.
On top of the sheet, under the blankets, were a handful of tiny, white, fat worms, wiggling around desperately. Katie’s face screwed up in revulsion. What the—?
She hurried back into the kitchen. “Sarah, there’s worms in Sammi’s bed!”
Sarah looked at her blankly. “There are?”
“Yes! Where did those come from?”
Sarah’s reaction time was sluggish. Finally, she shrugged and took another bite of her stew while Katie stood staring at her in astonishment.
Good Lord, the woman is so exhausted she can’t formulate a thought. “Okay, I’ll lay her down on the couch for now, and I’ll strip her bed. Do you have a clean sheet?” Katie swayed in place with the baby in her arms, waiting.
After an unusually long delay, Sarah put her spoon down and went down the hall. Katie moved into the den. Sarah came back with a sheet and a pillow and mechanically made a pallet on the couch for the baby, tucked it into the back cushion and blocked it off with the pillow, and walked past Katie back into the kitchen.
Katie gently lay Sammi down and looked over her shoulder. It was too hot for these blankets. Not seeing Sarah, she pulled at the corner of the fuzzy blanket to unwrap Sammi, expecting to see the sleeping cherubic face, hopefully now healthy with some color in her cheeks—unlike the last time she’d had a good look at her, when she’d been so sick.
Nothing could have been further from that description.
Katie screamed, and jumped back, falling onto the carpet and scooting away from the horrific bundle, backward with her mouth gaping open. Even from across the room, she could see the fat white worms wriggling in and out of Sammi’s eyes—or what once was her eyes, but were now two dark holes in the sunken-in skeletal face.
Sammi looked like a ghoul; a Halloween doll meant to scare.
Katie struggled to her feet, bumped into the rocking chair and nearly fell again. She grabbed the door frame and lunged into the kitchen, away from the puddle of what was Sammi, in an awkward move, and found herself face to face with Sarah.
“What?” Sarah calmly asked.
Katie pointed to the den. “Sammi… she’s… she’s…”
Sarah walked past her. “You uncovered her. Don’t do that. She’s cold,” she said, sitting on the edge of the couch and rewrapping her baby, making quiet soothing noises.
A chill ran down Katie’s spine.
That baby was dead.
Tears streamed down Katie’s face, watching Sarah comfort her daughter, who was long past comforting. Had she starved to death? Or was she sick with something else and they hadn’t known?
They’d certainly never know now.
Thoughts raced through Katie’s mind. Where would they bury her? Would they need to embalm her or was it too late for that? Could Tucker make a casket? Should they ‘save’ her body and see if the power came on, in case the officials wanted to do an autopsy? Could they be arrested for burying a body—she caught herself—for burying Sammi?
She couldn’t think of that sweet baby girl as just a body.
Not yet.
Katie took a deep breath, and heaved it back out again. The smell, now explained, was even worse from opening the tiny bundle. She stepped forward anyway, and put her hand on Sarah’s shoulders. “Sarah.”
Sarah ignored her, and continued making hushing noises to Sammi.
“Sarah!” Katie said, louder now.
Sarah turned to her with an incredulous look. “Shh! You’ll wake her, Katie!”
“No, I won’t. She’s… gone…” Katie said, lowering her voice on the last word, saying it in nearly a whisper. “She’s gone, Sarah. Sammi’s not with us anymore,” she said, more firmly.
Sarah shook her head, confused, and looked back at Sammi. “What are you talking about? She’s right here,” she whispered loudly, pointing at Sammi. “Do you not see her?”
She glared at Katie, and then back to Sammi. She stopped to stare hard at her daughter.
Katie swallowed a lump in her own throat, and then squeezed her friend’s shoulder. She reached up to swipe at the river of tears now falling down Sarah’s cheeks. “I do. I see her. But she’s not in there. She’s dead, Sarah.”
15
The Farm
Grayson stretched and yawned, and then rolled over to pull Olivia in close, but she was gone. “Olivia?” he called out.
There was no answer.
He looked to the window to see the sun peeking through the blinds. It was barely daybreak. He jumped up and froze… his jaw was pulsing with pain from the bad tooth. Slowly, he slid his pants on, to go look for his wife. It was too early for her to be up, and it was too quiet if she was. But first, he slipped into their bathroom and found his painkillers. He was glad they’d kept them for preps even though he usually refused them. Between what she’d saved from her own prescriptions, and what he’d been prescribed and hadn’t used, they had a heaping full bottle…other than the ones Olivia had snuck him recently, against his will.
But now, she wouldn’t need to sneak. He was ready for some relief.
He picked up the bottle. It was too light. He opened it to find it empty.
What the hell?
He wandered through the house, and looked into the spare room to find Gabby and Jake gone, too. One look in Graysie’s room showed Puck bandaged up and resting quietly in Graysie’s bed. Ozzie lay curled up at the end of the bed near his feet, lifting his head off of Puck’s ankle only long enough to see if their visitor was a threat, and seeing his master, drowsily tucked it back down again.
Grayson noted the bottle of antibiotics on the side table. The first time Puck had been shot, they’d used all natural remedies, and he’d healed well without antibiotics. But this time, he wasn’t taking a chance. He cringed thinking of how awful the kid’s hand had looked.
But he looked peaceful now, and healthy; and not at all in pain.
He was a walking miracle.
Or a warrior.
The kid had half his finger shot off, and unless you saw his bandaged hand, you’d never know it. The boy was tougher than a pine knot, but Grayson still planned to take him to Tullymore to have Neva check the wound tomorrow. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Olivia—but hell, she didn’t trust herself. She was insisting someone else look at it, consumed with worry that she’d done something wrong.
Grayson moved on down the hall.
No one was on the couch or the floor; all the blankets were folded up in a neat pile.
No one in the kitchen.
He stepped through to the back porch, finding Gabby & Olivia pouring over a book, and Tina and Tarra walking off toward the woods. Upon hearing the screen door slam, they both turned and smiled at Grayson.
; Graysie stood on the step laughing at Jenny as she scratched around her ears and then stopped, causing Jenny to lean in, nuzzling her hand for more.
Jake and Elmer were nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Jake and Elmer?” he asked.
Gabby sadly shrugged her shoulders and looked down the gravel driveway. “Jake’s disappeared again. I have no idea where he’s been sneaking off to lately. He says he just has a lot on his mind and wants to be alone—a lot.”
“Have you noticed he doesn’t seem like he feels well a lot, too?”
“Yeah, but he denies it.”
Grayson rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and yawned. “What’s everybody else doing up? And where are they going?” He nodded toward the two women marching off, each carrying a backpack and a rifle slung over their shoulders, a pistol on their side, and in their hands a roll of fencing—swiped from his container.
Olivia squeezed Grayson’s arm and kissed his cheek. “Good morning!”
Hmm. She’s in a good mood. His hopes soared as his mind took off in a few possibilities for sneaking private time with his wife. His tooth ached, but she could take his mind off of it…
Puck was sleeping. He could tell everyone else to stay outside.
He watched her turn and pick up a steaming cup, smiling over it and delicately sipping.
Oh, coffee.
Or their new version of it.
Dammit. The smile was definitely for the choffee—Elmer’s new name for the chicory drink that mimicked coffee.
Olivia sighed in contentment, and spoke in a low, disapproving voice, so that the women couldn’t hear her. “Tina and Tarra are going after those hogs again. They said there’s signs of them under the treehouse out in the woods. You need to tell them to let the men do the hunting, Grayson. They’re gonna get hurt.”
“Pfft. Those girls are as, or more, qualified to hunt than any of us menfolk.”
Olivia harrumphed. “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Gabby and I are going foraging for more of those coffee roots, and some other stuff.”
Grayson barely suppressed a laugh, as Gabby waved her hands and shook her head with big eyes behind Olivia’s back. Elmer had pulled him aside and explained that Olivia had assumed what she’d tasted at his campfire was coffee roots, not hearing him when he clearly said it was chicory. He didn’t have the heart to tell her differently. He figured a life-long coffee drinker would know coffee came from beans—not roots—but maybe she was purposely convincing herself.
Grayson had let it go, fully expecting her sister, Gabby, to school her and remind her of this fact, but apparently Gabby, and everyone else, was letting it ride.
Whatever works.
Grayson nodded and sat down. “What else are you foraging for?”
Olivia perked up even more. “Dandelions for starters. We’re going to make Dandelion Tea, and maybe even some Dandelion Wine. But we can use the whole plant. We can use the leaves for tea, and then roast the roots to make a hot coffee-like drink, too, for a little variety. It’s less bitter and less acidic than real coffee. Or we can use the leaves for a fresh salad, or even cook them like spinach. Dandelion is packed with calcium and vitamins. We can even make dandelion bread, and cookies and jam.”
Grayson held his hand up. “Whoa. How about let’s just stick to tea and greens right now? One step at a time, please, honey. Dandelions grow nearly year-round here, so we can tackle the harder stuff later.”
Olivia pursed her lips, pouting at his lack of enthusiasm.
Grayson would have to talk to Elmer about putting pie-in-the-sky ideas to Olivia. Right now, he needed to keep her, and the rest of them, focused on the more important tasks.
She crossed her arms.
“What else you lookin’ for?”
“Prickly Pear Cactus. I know there’s some around. I’ve seen it somewhere. I read it tastes like green beans if you cook it over a fire. And clover. That’s edible. Maybe even some cattails—well, the cattail roots and hearts are what I’m after. The roots are starchy, but the hearts taste like cucumbers.”
“Olivia, you know we do still have some food, right?” he asked, now realizing this was about her trying to make up for the preps she was responsible for losing. “We actually have food to be picked right now, out in the garden. The garden that I need your help with.”
“I know. But we can always use more. We can have lots of variety,” she insisted.
He couldn’t argue with that. If nothing else, they could do some canning in jars with the pressure cooker over the grill. They could try to can the dandelion greens, just like collards, and maybe the prickly pear too. It wouldn’t hurt to try, and they had Mason jars and propane.
He nodded at his wife, looking her over. He tilted his head and looked at her side. “Where’s your gun? You’re not leaving here without a sidearm.”
“Gabby has one.”
His eyebrows furrowed.
Behind her, Gabby nodded her head, agreeing with Grayson.
“Go get your gun, honey,” he said.
Olivia blew out a breath. “Oh, come on, Grayson. I’ve already had this argument with Gabby. We may not even get off our property. I’ve walked this land hundreds of times and never needed a gun before. Y’all are being paranoid.”
Grayson shook his head. He was going to have to be firm on this.
Olivia wasn’t giving up either. “I’m even more nervous now around a gun, after what happened to Puck.” She paused, waiting for him to give in.
He didn’t budge. “That was a freak thing. No one is using that gun until Elmer is done taking it apart and putting it back together, and checks all our ammo. It was a hang fire. No one could have predicted that—well, no one other than Puck, obviously—because hang fires are more rare than hen’s teeth. Even so, usually there’s not that long of a lull between pulling the trigger and the gun going off. It would probably never happen again, but that gun’s been rotated out until we know more. But you need to get used to carrying your new Baby Desert Eagle anyway.”
When they’d found Elmer’s truck, he’d been relieved to see Trunk and his goons hadn’t found his secret hiding place that housed a set of twin Baby Desert Eagles. Elmer insisted Gabby and Olivia have his ‘Beagles,’ since they were twins too, and because he was a sentimental old fool with a soft heart for the women.
Grayson couldn’t help but be a bit jealous.
Olivia sighed. “Gabby has one of them. But I’m going to be squatting a lot. I tried it, and it’s uncomfortable on my hip. I feel like I’m gonna drop it.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re not going to drop it.” He matched Olivia’s sigh. “Look, I know that gun going off like that scared you. In all my life, I’ve never seen that happen before. There’s like a one in a bazillion chance of it ever happening again. Just keep your gun in your holster and tighten up your belt. Find a place on your hips where it feels natural.”
Accepting defeat, but not gracefully, she brushed past her husband. “It’ll never feel natural, Grayson. And I don’t ever want it to.” The screen door slammed behind her.
Grayson flinched and Gabby shrugged at her brother-in-law. “Sorry. I tried to tell her. She wouldn’t listen to me—yet.”
“From now on, Gabby, I don’t care if you have to throw her down and hog-tie her. She doesn’t leave this place without a gun. Nobody does.”
Gabby raised her eyebrows at his reprimand. “I know you’re aggravated, Grayson, but I didn’t have any intention of letting Olivia leave without a gun. We haven’t left yet. But you know as well as I do that Olivia has a one-track mind, and at that moment, it was focused on plants. Once she’d put her book away and was ready to go, I was going to remind her again of the gun rule. I know how to manage my own twin sister, brutha, and I’ve been doing it a lot longer that you have.” She winked at him. “We just hadn’t made it that far yet.”
Grayson hung his head. “Noted. Sorry. I know you handle her better than I do.”
She gave him a half-smile and a nod
, letting him know everything was fine between them.
“Please keep a close eye on her. I know Puck’s accident really spooked her.” He turned and followed his wife into the house. He was going to help her adjust her gun belt, and hopefully smooth things over with her before starting his own day.
Wasn’t no one happy when mama wasn’t happy.
16
The Farm
Gabby poked a long roasting fork into the flat cactus pad with one hand, and snipped it off with the other, using her Ka-bar knife, careful not to touch the sharp spine needles. She dropped it into the heavy canvas bag they’d brought and stood up, stretching, reminding herself that once they scraped off the needles, they needed to scorch them over a fire to get any pointy stragglers out; no one wanted a mouth full of these pokey things.
Along with the cactus pads, there was also the fruit of the prickly pear cactus, and the book said the fruit was filled with seeds that taste like a combination of kiwi and watermelon. The flowers could be used to make wine; but they weren’t gathering those today.
“Okay, I’ve got a Prickly Pear Cactus pad for each person at the table. We’ll stop at that for now. We don’t want to take them all when we don’t really need them… yet,” she rambled, expecting her sister to argue. These might come in real handy if ever they lost water, too. Not only were they good for eating, but they were filled with water and a juicy pulp.
No response from Olivia.
She looked around. “Olivia? Where are you?”
No answer.
Olivia had wandered off, yet again, with her nose in that Wild Foraging book, looking for other things to identify and harvest. Their bags were full now. They’d found plenty of the ‘coffee root’ that Elmer had described, actually drawing them a picture, and sending one from his pile with them—whispering to Gabby not to call it Chicory Root or Choffee when talking to Olivia—and they had six bags of dandelions with roots tied to their backpacks.
