Scott Cooper was Arno Cooper’s son. He was also Jacob’s father, and most likely, the father of Serena’s unborn baby. She cupped her son’s sleeping head in her hand. His hair was silky-smooth and he smelled so damned good. She loved him so much. All that he was, all that he would grow up to be...would be of her and by her. His dark hair was the only suggestion of his father so far. Jess suspected Jacob would also be handsome, maybe have the same high cheekbones and dashing good looks. The devil himself couldn’t be better looking than Scott Cooper. But she knew, deep in her heart, that was where the resemblance would end. Jacob would be good and kind, she would make sure of that. She would raise her son to be the antithesis of his father.
And what of Scott Cooper? The father of her son? The father of Serena’s baby? She didn’t love her son any less, but she swore to herself, on that night, that she would find him someday. She would find Scott Cooper, maybe she’d even have to stand in line for the chance, but she would do her best to kill him. The thought made her smile. It was a good thing she was the only one awake, and that it was dark. The smile would have scared the shit out of the rest of the tent’s inhabitants. And with that vow firmly in place, she allowed sleep to steal her away.
Hello and Goodbye
“We said our goodbyes, though I pleaded with them to change their minds. I thought of how they had sent soldiers in search of Erin and me. We hadn’t even stolen a truck and they had hunted us. We warned them, but they didn’t listen, I really wish they had.” – Jess’s Journal
“Don’t go to Clinton. There’s nothing left there but bones and ash.” Her voice faltered, she liked Serena a lot. The kids got along great, and even Brad was an okay guy. “Come with us to Belton, I know if my home is there we could make a go of it. We have a little land, we’re even set up for raising crops and small feed animals.”
Serena looked interested, real interested, but Brad shook his head. “My family is here. They weren’t in the camp, so I figure they kept their heads low, they’ll be there. We’ll be fine and my Ma will be awful excited about a grandbaby.” He looked over at Serena and ran his hand down her back. “I hoping we have a boy. I want t’name him after my Gramps.”
Jess sighed. She’d done her best; they weren’t going to budge in their plans. She closed her eyes, willing away the certainty that these two would die. She wanted so much for things to go well for them. The cup of dandelion and chicory tea had gone cold. She emptied it onto the ground.
The snowstorm had been intense. During the night it had dumped six inches onto the ground and then continued to snow heavily through the morning. David gathered wood and they restarted the campfire so they could cook the two squirrels Quincy had managed to flush from their lairs. Because snow meant tracks, and tracks could mean problems for either party, they agreed to stay until it melted, which would probably be the next day considering how warm it had become after the snow stopped.
When Brad busied himself with gathering wood for the fire, and enlisted the help of the kids, Jess took the opportunity to talk more with Serena. She shared more of her own experiences, and begged Serena to change her mind and head towards Belton. “It’s the opposite direction of those soldiers and any fighting.”
Serena just shook her head, “You don’t know that it’s any better off than Clinton. You said yourself you haven’t been there in over a year and a half. For all you know, the entire town could be occupied by the Western Front or in ruins.” She grabbed Jess’s hand, “Stay with us, we’re stronger if we stay together, and I’m scared of being alone when the time comes to have my baby. You’ve been through it, and now you know all that herb stuff that you learned from the old Indian lady. Stay with us.” She looked so desperate that Jess nearly said yes, but stopped short.
“I can’t. I have to go home. I have to know if my parents are alive or dead.” Jess hugged the woman to her, “You will be okay, you know. No matter what...” She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the words she had to say, “I think Jacob and your baby have the same father.” She stared at the ground rather than meet Serena’s shocked gaze. “I look at Jacob and I’m sure of it. From what you’ve said about the timing of yours, I think maybe it’s the same way for you.” Serena wrenched her hand from Jess’s and started to turn away.
“Serena, wait, listen to me. I know this isn’t something you want to hear right now, but...an old man told me something I didn’t want to hear either, just a few weeks before Jacob was born. He said that Jacob was innocent, a child of God, and that he deserved my love. And he did, Serena, he did. I love him so much. I wanted him dead, I wanted to be dead rather than have him growing inside of me, but it all changed when he was born. I love him, completely, irrevocably, and I will until I die. It will be the same for you, Serena. No matter what, this baby is a part of you. Never forget that.”
Tears were welling in Serena’s eyes, “Oh Jess...I...” She searched for the words, as the tears slipped down her cheeks, took a deep breath and said bravely, “I’ll remember what you said. And if things don’t work out in Clinton, I’ll tell Brad I want to head for Belton. I don’t want our first hello to be a forever goodbye.”
The next morning, bright and early, the two groups parted ways. Both Serena and Jess waved goodbye with tears in their eyes. Then one group turned and headed east towards an empty, burnt town while the other headed west and then north towards the unknown.
Saving Grace
“We achieve inner health only through forgiveness - the forgiveness not only of others but also of ourselves” – Joshua Liebman
Grace Wilkes was looking forward to turning thirteen. Just three weeks more to the day. She secretly hoped for a surprise party but she knew how unlikely that was. Just Mom and Dad and Tommy and Vic. Mom had promised she could have a sweet sixteen party in a few years and it seemed that was the best she could hope for.
She slipped outside the house with Danny, a still feisty twelve year old border collie and headed for the creek. Tommy was on her these days to stay close to the house and always within sight. Mom and Dad too, after hearing some whispered accounts of goings on recently. Tommy had come home several times sick and scared, and would say nothing to her, just go straight to Dad and tell him quietly about what he’d seen when out with the militia.
Two weeks ago Mom had taken Grace aside and explained that sometimes bad men did things to girls, things she would understand when she was older. Grace knew what she was talking about immediately – on trips into town to the Trade Mart she had heard it from the other girls – rape, murder. She had walked carefully for days, spooking at the slightest sound, panicking if Danny ran too far from her. But everything was quiet, no one lurked in the woods, and her fears faded quickly.
She was just about to cross the outer road and see if the beavers were up and out of their den. She loved watching them and had even gotten Danny to stay silently by her side instead of barking and chasing after them. As she stepped out onto the road she could hear a truck gunning its way through. It was running loud and rough.
As it came into view from around the bend, Danny began to bark. It was not his “who goes there” bark, but instead was loud and defensive. A ridge had formed along his back and his teeth were bared as he growled and barked furiously. Grace was surprised by his ferocity. The only one who came this way was Maddie Austin or sometimes Thomas or James, come to visit her brothers. Maddie was two years older than Grace, but she was crazy for Tommy even though he had nearly eight years on her. There had been a time when Maddie and Grace had been closer, but lately, with no one going to school in town any longer and things still being in such upheaval, it had been weeks since Maddie had visited or Grace had been allowed to visit the Austins.
The truck was slowing and she tried to see inside the mud-streaked windows, wondering if James or Thomas had bought a fixer-upper. The truck stopped, its engine running loud and rough. Danny was in a complete frenzy by now, and Grace saw that there were two men inside the cab and two more in the ba
ck with a blond-haired girl. She was struggling when one of them, a dark-haired gorgeous looking one backhanded her, sending her head thumping solidly against the truck bed. He looked up, took in Grace and Danny, who was still barking frantically, and smiled. It was a terrifying smile. She stood rooted in place as Danny’s bark was cut short by the dark-haired man’s knife.
He threw it almost casually and it arced through the air, burying itself deep into Danny’s chest. One of the men from the cab grabbed her, throwing her in the cab, sliding in after her and closing the door before she could even think of fighting. A knife at her throat and she shrank against the man holding her. He smelled bad. Danny was on the ground yelping and thrashing, a knife buried deep in his chest, blood pooled from his fur.
“How many?” The man holding her asked.
“How many what?” she whispered, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. Danny had stopped making any noise, he jerked once more, then lay still.
“How many people at your house?” Riley gave her a shake to help her along.
“Just...just...my parents and my...my brothers.” Grace faltered, too terrified to lie. The man squeezed one of her small breasts painfully tight. “My two brothers, but...but...Vic is just ten.”
“Good girl.” He nodded to the man in the back, “We can take them.” At this, Eckhardt gunned the motor and the truck started back down the Outer Access road heading straight for the Wilkes farm.
It wasn’t far to go. When they stopped a few yards from the house, all four men jumped out, pulling the half-conscious girl from the back and Riley kept a tight and painful grip on Grace. There was no point in struggling, he was far too strong. Grace got a good look at the girl and realized it was Liza Perdue. She was the same age as Maddie Austin, but the two had never been close. Maddie was very much a girly girl and Liza was a tomboy who hung out with the boys and read science fiction.
Liza’s mouth was swollen and her nose was bleeding. On cue, she began to resist the good-lucking, dark-haired man holding her. He cuffed her again, pulled her close and whispered in her ear something that made her glance over at Grace and turn white as a ghost. Her resistance faded.
The group was mere feet away from the front door when it opened to the sight of Anthony Wilkes and a large shotgun in his hands. “You are going to put that down right now,” the dark-haired man holding Liza said.” He nodded to Riley, who put the knife back to Grace’s throat. “He won’t hesitate and you’ll lose your little girl.”
Anthony Wilkes didn’t move, and Cooper barked, “Riley, slit that girl’s throat if this stupid sonuvabitch doesn’t put down his shotgun in five seconds.” He paused for one heartbeat, “One...Two...Three.”
“Okay, okay, just don’t hurt her.” Anthony lowered his shotgun and placed it on the ground. At that very moment a shot rang out from the south. None of them had noticed Tommy Wilkes peering around the barn. He had been milking the cows when he heard the truck approach. The gunshot entered Oliver Riley’s right ear and blasted a chunk of bone and scalp into Scott Cooper’s face cutting him deep, and disrupting his hold on Liza. That first shot was followed quickly by a second that caught Derek Kimmel, standing directly behind Riley, square in his body mass and dropped him to the hardpacked earth instantly.
Liza twisted away from Cooper and grabbed Grace’s hand pulling her away, towards the left. There was nowhere to take cover, no shelter of any kind. Eckhardt took aim and shot Anthony center mass, dropping him in the doorway. Inside the house Grace could hear her mother scream.
Eckhardt turned towards the barn, firing off a shot randomly, and grabbing Cooper who was bleeding profusely from a deep cut in the side of his face. Cooper also shot blindly in the direction of the barn.
Tommy ducked back into the barn. Liza and Grace ran then, full out back towards the woods that Grace had been walking in only moments ago. Behind them, Cooper and Eckhardt stumbled back to the truck, intent on retreating.
It was Karen Wilkes who fired the fatal shot into Eckhardt’s back as he ran toward the truck. As Eckhardt slumped to the ground a second shot grazed Cooper’s side and neatly severed his right pinkie, effectively disarming him. He ran, started up the truck and whipped it around back the way they had come. A third shot shattered the back windshield, sending glass spraying in all directions. He gunned it and disappeared around the bend in the road.
Wes’s F150 screamed with power down the rough and bumpy road. To the right Chris could see flashing glimpses of Reelfoot Lake through the trees. Carrie was tucked in tight in the middle seat and Jeremy held on white-knuckled in the open back as they flew down the dirt and gravel road. They could hear gunfire ahead and to the right.
Sometimes time can move so slowly. The next few minutes, time went from flashes of light and gunshots ringing in ears to a slow protracted growl. Chris would remember that moment for a long time afterwards.
He remembered seeing the battered old truck come around the corner racing away from the Wilkes farm. He remembered turning and seeing the look on Wes’s face as he struggled to turn the wheel in time. What stood out most for Chris, the thing that haunted him for nights afterward, was the sight of the face of the man driving toward them.
Despite the injuries and the blood, he knew him. He knew just who he was.
In the half-second before impact, Chris Aaronson locked eyes with the man who had raped and killed his sister and brutalized countless other women. And then there was nothing, but glass and noise and pain.
It would be days before he woke up. And it would be months before he could walk without excruciating pain. His left ankle, which had healed relatively well since last spring, broke again, along with his lower left leg. Several ribs had cracked and he’d suffered a significant concussion. Wes and Carrie had sustained relatively small injuries as well and poor Jeremy had broken both legs in the resulting crash. It had taken all the medical know-how that Liza could sum up to ensure that the man ever walked again.
It had taken nearly half an hour for Liza, aided by Tommy Wilkes and his grieving stepmother, Karen Wilkes to reach the crash site on foot.
By the time they had arrived, Scott Cooper had disappeared.
March had come and gone and the land was beginning to warm again. Already Carrie and Liza had been out preparing the raised garden beds for planting. Chris sat on the porch in a comfortable rocking chair, his leg wrapped in a splint, one of Fenton’s walking sticks propped against the rocker. He jumped when Liza’s voice sounded next to his ear.
“Wow, you were really lost in thought. I said your name twice!” She smiled at him. Her face had healed quickly, the bruises from the beating she had taken faded from purple to green to yellow and then they were gone. She was still twitchy though, and jumped at sudden noise. She hadn’t gone for any walks alone either.
But Liza was tough, despite her youth, and she had only been punched and slapped. They hadn’t had time for anything else. Chris had worried about that and finally asked Carrie to make sure. Somehow the reassurance that there had not been any sexual violation of Liza or Grace made him feel a tiny bit better.
“You doing okay, Chris?” Liza’s smile faltered a bit. She put on a brave front, but it was just that, a brave front. It had been a close call, and she had survived, but Cooper was still out there. That stuck in the Perdue’s thoughts day after day.
Chris smiled back at his sister-in-law, “Yeah, I’m okay.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “When do I get to take this damn splint off?”
“Give it another week.”
She turned to go and Chris held onto her hand, “Are you okay, Liza?” He’d heard her cry out in the night several times in the past few weeks.
Liza stopped, looked at him, and smiled, “Yeah. I’m going to go see Grace Wilkes on Friday. Carl’s gonna come pick me up and drive me over there. Her mom’s had a bad time of it, losing Mr. Wilkes like she did. I told her we’d help her and Tommy and Vic get the ground ready for planting. If we all stick together...”
&nbs
p; Chris smiled, “We’ll all be better off.”
The sun was setting. Carrie and Joseph made their way from the barn, both armed. Carrie and Liza had spent several weeks with Joseph making sure he understood gun safety and proper stance as well as accuracy. As for Cooper, if he was smart, he had gone far, far from here. The militia was still keeping a sharp eye out and had recruited double the members it had had prior to the raiding party. But in case Cooper decided to come back for a visit or to get revenge, the Perdues, and the Aaronsons were ready for him.
Miles to the east, Scott Cooper walked. He was no longer handsome.
The bone shards from Riley’s skull had torn through his right cheek, shredding the skin. Then the impact from the collision had broken his nose and his jaw in two places. The fact that Cooper had survived the crash, ran away, and managed to get by with such injuries testified to his own dark will to live.
For now, Chris and Carrie, the Perdues and all of Tiptonville were safe.
Home
“My dad used to say, ‘Jess, never underestimate the power of the mind to delude itself.’ I never thought it could happen to me. I was “tough” and I was a “survivor” and all that. But really, that chick Pollyanna? She has nothing on me. I managed to delude myself for over a year. Maybe it kept me alive, maybe it gave me a purpose, but still, the truth, when I was finally faced with it, was devastating.” – Jess’s Journal
Thurman Banks watched the ragged group approach town. They came up Y, which was littered with burned out shells of homes. When the Western Front had torn through, the homes to the south had been obliterated. There were still one or two farms on the outskirts of town that were holdouts, but they were on their own, too spread out for the Belton Militia to protect. Until Y intersected with Main Street, there was practically nothing and no one to sound the alarm. Thurman dialed in the zoom on the high-powered binoculars, Farley had insisted that all of the police surveillance binoculars be assigned to militia members. They were mighty powerful, he’d been able to see the group clear as day for well over a mile and count their fingernails from a good half mile.
The Storm: War's End, #1 Page 30
