Troop of Shadows

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  “I’m paraphrasing Marilyn when I say we’re creating a societal archetype here and now. We’re shaping our future and we’re choosing the path of decency and compassion. It’s not about being the world’s police or trying to save everyone. That’s not realistic, and I think we’re all smart enough to know that. And this isn’t just a rescue mission either. After hearing what is happening in Hays, there’s no question that the situation there is a ticking time bomb and we need to eradicate it before it gets worse. Now. Before that gang becomes stronger and bigger.”

  “Steven, what exactly are you proposing?” Marilyn asked, her plain face set in an expression of careful neutrality.

  He took a deep breath. “First we need to confirm Lisa’s information and see for ourselves that things are as grim as we believe them to be. If they are, once we release the captives, I propose we blow those fucking apes to kingdom come.”

  ###

  Steven noticed Tung held back from the rest of the departing crowd which had begun to meander down the driveway and toward their homes. It was close to midnight. The moon glowed in the night sky like a white-hot sickle, beckoning the stars to come closer...closer...so it might slice them into minutiae and punish their luminous challenge.

  “You ever consider running for mayor?” Tung’s smile seemed genuine as he stood next to Steven and watched the last of the stragglers disperse in one direction or the other.

  “After this little infraction, I don’t think that will be an option,” he replied, feeling exhaustion kick in. He’d managed to convince every person at the meeting to join him in the dangerous undertaking.

  “Well, if the job opens up, I’m just saying you might think about it. You have a way with people, you know. Getting them to do what you want.” The words, delivered without rancor, still carried a sting.

  “I’m not a manipulator. I didn’t sugarcoat anything, and I outlined all the risks.”

  “Agreed. I don’t mean to sound adversarial, just stating a fact. Not everyone has that talent.”

  “Talent? I don’t know about that, but I’m happy to have their backing. My son and I can’t get this thing done on our own.”

  Tung rubbed the stubble on his chin and gazed at the electric moon.

  There was something else the man wanted to say, and he was too valuable to risk offending with an abrupt dismissal. If he were right, and Steven did have a way with people, it was a newsflash to him. He’d always considered himself awkward in social situations, and public speaking was something to get through, not a task he relished.

  “I realize these men in Hays are despicable. I get that. But is it your place...our place...to kill them because we’ve decided that’s what’s best for everyone else? What if people from a town thirty miles on the other side of Liberty decide that we’re the bad guys? Is it appropriate for them to eradicate us based on their perception? Morality is subjective. If we do this thing, we’re murderers. We believe we’re justified in the act of murder, but we’re still murderers. Are you okay with that?”

  Steven followed the man’s gaze toward the night sky. A lone whippoorwill serenaded anyone who might still be awake. Whip or WILL. Whip or WILL. Whip or WILL.

  He pondered the question for a long minute before he answered. “Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

  Tung nodded, then extended his hand for the second time that evening. “Okey dokey, then. See you tomorrow.” His smile was friendly, but the Sphinx eyes gave away nothing.

  Chapter 39

  New Mexico

  Pablo’s Journal, Entry #389

  What now? Just wait here all day for that door to open so I will be told what I already know? Without proper medical attention, it’s not possible that Maddie could survive brain trauma. She needs skilled surgeons and state-of-the-art equipment and medicine and machines that beep and monitors that display a heartbeat and nurses that scurry about with confident expressions and magnetic imaging coffins that can pinpoint the location of the bullet and show the swelling that’s happening in her skull. As much as I admire Amelia, I have no delusions that her midwife skills can rise to the challenge.

  I should be in there, holding her hand, breathing every breath with her, savoring every microscopic movement of her face or her fingers or her eyelashes. Why did I allow myself to be thrown out? Why did that strange little girl remain?

  What the hell am I doing scribbling in this fucking journal instead of charging into that room? Something about her voice. Something about the expression on her face. What was it? I never got the sense that Amelia wasn’t what she presented herself to be, yet it was almost as if a mask — benevolent and genial, but nevertheless a mask — slipped away and revealed someone who was still Amelia, but also something else. Or perhaps something more.

  Two dogs and one tabby kitten sprawled on the rug at Pablo’s feet. He lifted his pen from the notebook and gazed at their indifferent slumber.

  “Bruno, you will miss her. Not as much as me, but you will miss her.”

  The German shepherd’s ears twitched but the eyes didn’t open. Whatever his human was babbling about could wait until after his nap.

  Pablo leaned back against the cushions of a well-worn sofa. There was a hole in his chest...an abyss so vast it couldn’t possibly fit within the confines of his physical body...black and bottomless...full of despair and expanding by the minute.

  He couldn’t go on. Not without Maddie. For the first time in his life, he entertained thoughts of suicide. They weren’t full-blown nor well-articulated thoughts; but they were spawning, stirring to life in the fertile soil that separates consciousness and sub-consciousness. Insidious, poisonous fungi of possibilities.

  His eyes flew open. The sound of the bedroom door behind him set his heart racing. Don’t look. Don’t look. When you see the face of the woman with the old soul eyes, you will know that your Maddie is gone.

  “Pablo.” Amelia’s voice. It was back to normal. The odd quality from before was gone.

  “Pablo.” Softer now. Kind, compassionate. The voice of a doctor delivering news of cancer. “Do you plan on sitting there all day or would you like to come say hello to your sweetheart?”

  He leaped to his feet when he heard the smile in the voice, before the words’ significance even registered.

  The next moment he stood beside Maddie’s bed. Her eyes were closed. A white bandage encircled her head and hair stuck out at spikey angles; none of the clumps were more than an inch long. Her chest was still rising and falling. He felt a kittenish squeeze of his fingers.

  Then the exquisite smile.

  “Hello there, Poet Fellow.”

  “Hello there, Angel Girl.”

  “Not very angelic at the moment, I’m afraid. I hope you like pixies.” A weak hand touched the reddish gold stubble. Her eyes were still closed but the smile remained.

  “You’re more beautiful than ever. All that hair detracted from your perfect face.” He intended a white lie, but realized it was true. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a mob of tiny construction workers are jackhammering my skull. Meh. I’ve felt worse.” The eyelash canopy fluttered open. “You look like crap. What happened to you?”

  “I almost lost the love of my life.”

  “Well, you didn’t. At least not today. I think I’ll sleep now. Love you, Pablo.”

  “Love you, Maddie.”

  He lingered long after she’d fallen asleep, watching the rise and fall, rise and fall, of the powder blue sheet. A few minutes or perhaps an hour later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Let her rest,” Amelia whispered.

  He sighed, kissed the pale, freckled cheek, and closed the door behind him.

  Jessie was curled up on the floor with the sleeping animals, but she watched him enter the room. Amelia sat on the sofa.

  “How did you do it? I’m no expert, but I know that people don’t survive a head shot without proper medical attention.”

  “It seems they do.”

  “Will sh
e live?”

  “Yes. I’m certain of it.”

  “How is that possible? What did you do in there? Is the bullet still in her head?”

  “No. It went through, which is probably what saved her. The exit hole allowed a release from some of the pressure. Also, I suspect it was small. A .22 caliber, perhaps.”

  “How will she be...later?”

  “You mean did she suffer any brain damage? Impossible to say now. Her speech is fine. There might be some loss of motor skills. We’ll know more soon.”

  Sea-green eyes and brown eyes watched him with benign interest.

  A thought, forged during the wretched chaos earlier, surfaced like a bubble in a tar pit. “Why did you allow Jessie to stay in the room?”

  Amelia held his gaze for a long minute. She would make an excellent poker player, he thought. Despite the stoic expression, he could tell something important was going on between those gray-streaked braids. When she spoke, some instinct told him that whatever she’d been pondering — words weighed, some chosen, some discarded — it hadn’t gone in his favor. He wasn’t going to get the full truth.

  “I thought she should begin to learn some of what I know. What better way than a hands-on lesson?”

  It was a plausible explanation, and probably even true. But there was more. He began to ask another question, when a youthful brown straight-fingered hand cut him off.

  “She’s alive, dear. Be happy. Sometimes it’s best for us not to know all the answers. Not to solve all the mysteries. Then there will always be a bit of magic in the world. I think that’s rather wonderful, don’t you?”

  As their gazes remained locked, something passed between them; a heightened awareness, or perhaps some sort of collective consciousness. He knew he shouldn’t press her. Maddie was alive and according to Amelia would remain so.

  He took a deep breath and conceded the staring contest.

  “When can she be moved? We’re not safe here. The people who did this could be close. We must get out of Albuquerque as soon as possible.”

  “Let’s see how she is by morning. I think we could leave then if her vital signs stay strong through the night.”

  Pablo shook his head. “That’s crazy, you know.”

  An indulgent smile. “I know it sounds that way.”

  He mirrored her smile. “I’ll move the car. We shouldn’t advertise our location. We’ll take shifts standing watch through the night. I don’t need a lot of sleep, but I’ll need some.”

  She nodded. “Bring that tequila when you come back. I think we could both use some.”

  ###

  “Good grief, Pablo. Quit being a grandma. You’re making me crazy,” Maddie said from the back seat of the Highlander the next morning. Amelia had changed the dressing before they left and declared her satisfaction at what she saw.

  They’d been on the road for an hour, driving slower and more carefully than he’d ever driven in his life. Every bump, every pothole, summoned a wave of anxiety when he considered what the jarring might do. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were closed but her color was good. Actually, she looked amazing, despite the bandage.

  He’d heard of bizarre accidents involving head trauma and their subsequent miraculous recoveries: the construction worker who didn’t realize he’d shot a four-inch nail into his skull until six days later, or the man who walked into a London emergency room with a knife sticking out of his head. Both men had not only survived, they’d suffered no lasting ill effects from their injuries.

  Maddie was alive. Rather querulous, but alive. It was a miracle, and he would just leave it at that. Now it was time to focus on getting them to Oklahoma.

  Jessie and her kitten seemed content to take Maddie’s place in the front seat. He could feel those unsettling eyes on him from time to time. Would he ever get used to this creature? She still didn’t speak much. Only an occasional hand-cupped whisper to Maddie or Amelia. Was she averse to him specifically, or men in general?

  Two quiet hours later they were through the snarled, dead traffic of Albuquerque and approaching the town of Santa Rosa, which proclaimed a population of 2,802. The two women were asleep in the back. Pablo was pondering whether to wake them and try for more gas on their way through, when a lilting, elfin voice floated from the passenger seat.

  I can see the end of the story

  I know where my future must be

  It’s not about money or glory

  It’s a place to live honest and free

  You don’t have to bring your possessions

  All that you need will be there

  Forget all your former transgressions

  Abandon your sometime despair

  Arizona in the rearview mirror

  Every passing mile takes me nearer

  I swear I can already hear her

  That sweet angel’s whispers of love

  He kept his eyes on the road, afraid that reacting with too much enthusiasm might scare the child back into silence. He could feel the sea-green eyes on him again and he hazarded a glance. A tiny grin played about the corners of her mouth. There was also a sense of expectancy.

  “Jessie, that was beautiful. You knew all the words, too. Good job. Can you sing the rest of it?”

  A quick bob of the dark head.

  If I said I was certain she’s waiting

  You’d know I was lying for sure

  But I feel all my sorrows abating

  I can sense that our love will endure

  So I packed up this rusty old Chevy

  I gave my two weeks to the Man

  My heart no longer feels heavy

  The best of life finally began

  Arizona in the rearview mirror

  Every passing mile takes me nearer

  I swear I can already hear her

  That sweet angel’s whispers of love

  He marveled at her perfect pitch and that she’d remembered every word without hesitation. This must have been the first time she’d sung their improvised song out loud, yet she knew it better than he did. He winced at the cheesiness of it. Maddie had told him to stop being an insufferable Poindexter and go with the flow. Songs didn’t have to be sublime poetry set to music. They just needed to be heartfelt and catchy. Hearing it now, he realized the truth of her words. The ethereal voice imbued it with a poignancy the adults had failed to achieve in their rendition.

  Too bad the world had ended. It just might have been a hit on the country music charts.

  When she finished her solo performance, they’d reached the outskirts of Santa Rosa, home of the famous Blue Hole, according to the highway signage for the past ten miles. He had learned more than he ever wanted to know about the artesian well which measured eighty feet in depth, boasted crystal clear waters, and proclaimed itself, ironically, to be the SCUBA diving capital of the Desert Southwest. At a constant temperature of sixty-one degrees, they wouldn’t be doing any diving today.

  He felt a tug on his shirt sleeve as another Blue Hole billboard loomed fifty yards ahead.

  “What is it, Jessie?”

  She pointed at the sign. Pablo knew instantly what she wanted, and decided to use the opportunity to draw the child out.

  “What? What are you pointing at? That telephone pole?”

  A frustrated head shake while a stern finger jabbed in the direction of the billboard.

  “Is there a coyote? Oh, I think I see it. Out there, off to the right.”

  An exasperated breath blew wisps of dark hair up from the brow.

  “It’s not a coyote? What then? What is it you want to tell me?”

  When she spoke, her non-whispering speaking voice was as melodious as the singing version. “I wish we could go there. It looks very pretty.” Her head tilted to one side, and for once, the green eyes beseeched rather than contemplated.

  There would be no denying that precious face anything; certainly nothing as simple as a quick visit to the Blue Hole.

  “We’ll make a side trip. It’s
only a few miles off the highway. But we can’t stay for long. Just a few minutes and then we have to go. Deal?”

  She nodded.

  “You have to say it.”

  “Deal.”

  “Let’s shake on it then.”

  When he grasped her small hand in his, it felt warm. Hot, actually.

  “Do you feel okay? Your hand is hot. Let me feel your forehead.” He pressed the back of his hand to her head. It felt normal.

  “I feel fine. I don’t feel sick at all. Are we still going to the Blue Hole?”

  “We shook on it, didn’t we?”

  He’d only seen the shy half-grin since they’d found the child back at the Circle K, so when she regaled him with a full-blown smile, he was unprepared for the transformation.

  The small body and face hadn’t caught up with the adult incisors, which was a bit disconcerting; but with the expression of sheer joy (the Blue Hole!), Pablo got a glimpse of the future young woman. Soon she would grow into those enormous eyes and largish teeth and cast off all remnants of Female Gollum forever.

  She was going to be breathtaking.

  With the sudden realization, concerns of a fatherly nature began to formulate. How would he keep all the randy young boys away from this beautiful girl when she reached puberty? An image flashed through his mind: he stood at the front door of a farmhouse, shotgun in hand, watching a line of boy-filled cars snake up their driveway.

  He sighed. “Let’s go to the Blue Hole!”

  Her squeal woke up the occupants of the back seat.

  Good thing there aren’t many boys left in the world.

  Chapter 40