The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel

by Melissa Riddell

  I grip his hand back, and imagine my gaze probably holds the same emotion.

  “You sure you’re okay, Kat?” He twists toward his sister and inspects her face.

  “Uh-huh.” She nods, the candlelight highlighting her blondish-red hair. “Those were bad men, and Mrs. Morgan saved us. She’s a hero.” Her tone holds wonder and awe.

  I smile a little and try to see my mother through her eyes. I’d expected Mamma to be nervous, maybe even tearful, but no—it’s as if shooting at those men has given her an inner determination—a burning fire stripping away her anxiety.

  “Honey, please call me Sarah.” Mamma gives a hesitant grin. “And I reminded them we protect our own around here. Girls can be strong, too.”

  “I love you,” Daddy says and tucks her into the crook of his arm. He turns to Max, squinting his eyes. “Son, I know you’re probably itching to get back home—”

  “Yessir.”

  “—but you live awfully far away in the country to be biking in the dark. Plus, you’re exposed out there without any neighbors for help.” Daddy crosses a leg over a knee. “How far is your place, two or three miles?”

  “Two and half.” Max shrugs. “I can keep us safe.”

  Kat bites her bottom lip and glances to my dad, then to Max, a watery sheen in her eyes. “Max,” she whispers. “I don’t wanna go home in the dark.” Her index finger and thumb pluck at her eyebrow. “Can’t we stay here tonight?” She leans next to his upper arm and wraps her fingers around his bicep. “Please?” Her voice warbles, making her sound even younger.

  He takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it out. “Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Nonsense.” Standing, Mamma smooths her shirt. “You and Kat can use Sissy’s old room, if one of you doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor. I’ve got a mattress topper somewhere that’ll make a good pallet.”

  “I wanna sleep with Tilly.” Kat leans forward to peer at me, a pleading look in her eyes. “Can I?”

  My heart warms. “Absolutely. We can make it a girls night and play some board games.” I try to inject flippancy into my words, as if being threatened by those thugs and Mamma nearly taking their heads off was a routine occurrence. No big deal.

  “Yay.” Her wan face brightens. She turns to her brother. “You can play, too, but when it’s time to go to sleep, you have to go to your own bed. Boys don’t sleep with girls.”

  His eyes meet mine and scarlet flushes his cheeks.

  I glance away, embarrassment crawling up my neck as well.

  “I’ll play some games, but yeah, I don’t wanna sleep in the same room as girls.” He releases my hand and thumps her nose. “You two probably fart all night long.”

  She and I both let out a giggle—hers full of amusement, mine full of nervous relief.

  Daddy rises and inspects the windows, double-checking everything’s closed and latched. “Sounds like a fun time.” He flicks a corner of a curtain and stares at the dark yard. “I’ll keep an eye on things for a while, make sure we aren’t bothered again.”

  “I can take a turn watching, Mr. Morgan, if you’d like.”

  With a solemn nod, Daddy spreads out a hand. “Why don’t you come outside while I have a smoke break, Max. We’ll have a little talk, and maybe set up a sleep schedule so we can both get some rest tonight.”

  Max shoots upward and follows Daddy out the front door. After a couple of tries, he finally wedges the door closed.

  Guess the wood’s a little warped since Mamma took out part of the doorjamb.

  She breathes out and leans the back of her head against the couch.

  “You wanna play a game, Mamma?” I ask, while Kat takes her brother’s recently vacated spot.

  “No, y’all have fun. There’s a loaf of bread in the pantry that’s still good, and some peanut butter and jelly next to it if you get hungry later.” She massages the back of her neck. “I’m going to hit the hay. I’m utterly drained.”

  “Thanks for what you did back there.” I never knew my mother had it in her. She’s always hated guns, yet if it hadn’t been for her…

  Her emerald stare meets mine. “I’ll always protect my family.” She looks to the closed door. “I wish I knew how your sister’s doing. After tonight, I’m even more worried.”

  “She has Mark. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

  With a grunt, Mamma pushes herself to her feet. “True. He’s a good man.” Like an old woman, she trudges to the kitchen table, grabs a lit candle, and heads to her and Daddy’s bedroom. “Y’all try to have fun tonight.”

  “We will, Mrs. Morgan.” Kat’s eyebrows draw inward. “I mean Sarah. Thanks for letting us have a sleepover.”

  “You’re welcome, Kat. It’s nice to have two girls in my home again.” She glances over her shoulder with a tired smile. “Anytime you want to visit, you make that brother of yours bring you over.” With a quiet click, the bedroom door shuts.

  The low murmur of Max and Daddy speaking on the front porch reaches my ears, yet I can’t make out what they’re saying.

  “Well, come on.” I stand and pull her up with me. “Let’s go find something fun to do.”

  And hopefully, a game will take my mind off what happened tonight—and whatever lies ahead. I’d give anything to go back to a week ago, even if it meant staying in this po-dunk half-desert town.

  Chapter Twenty

  Morning light crawls across my face and I groan, blinking sleep from my eyes.

  Something jabs me in the stomach.

  “Oof.” Grimacing, I make out Kat’s tousled hair covering part of her pillow. “Hey, you’re a bed hog, little squirt.”

  She laughs and kicks off the covers, holding a hand to cover a yawn. “Well, you snore and drool.”

  “What?” I wipe my chin. “I do not.”

  Instead of answering, she points to my pillow, where a small wet circle stains the pillowcase, and giggles.

  Snorting, I push past her to the bathroom and use the toilet. When I’m done, I take the bucket of water sitting in the tub and pour half of it in the bowl, the pressure forcing everything to flush.

  Daddy mentioned we’ll have to quit doing this at some point because the sewage is flowing to the plant and not being treated. He’s worried the lines will eventually back up, which will not only be disgusting, but dangerous with noxious fumes and gasses in the pipes.

  Last night consisted of Monopoly between Kat and me, then Max joined us for a game of Clue. Afterwards, I think we were all drained. Max went to sleep in Sissy’s room and was supposed to relieve Daddy after four hours.

  When I finish in the bathroom, I show Kat how to pour the water to force the toilet to flush. I grab a new toothbrush from the medicine cabinet and point to where the toothpaste tube is located. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth, you little bed hog.”

  She sticks out her tongue.

  After that, I head out of the room.

  As soon as I step into the hall, I run smack dab into Max’s chest. I grab his arms to keep myself from falling.

  “Hey, Lookout.” He steadies me with a hand. “You sleepwalking?” He chuckles, the pitch high and happy. With a quick flick of his wrist, the stress ball leaves his hand and whacks me on the forehead.

  “Stop.” I try to catch it, but he snatches the ball from the air and grabs my hand.

  “Or what?” He presses closer and I back against the wall, staring up at his face.

  I gulp, and my heart flutters. For only sleeping a few hours, he looks rested and relaxed. Guess the stress ball works. Maybe I should get one. His bottom jaw’s covered with day-old stubble, the golden dawn light shining through the living room windows causing little glints of brown and red to sparkle when he turns his head.

  He’s kind of cute, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. “Or I’ll kick you in the damn nuts.” Swallowing again, I continue to hold his stare.

  His eyes flash, turning a lighter shade of blue
, and he gives a rakish grin.

  The tips of his fingers brush the back of my hand, and I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he brings my hand to his mouth and lightly brushes my knuckles with his lips. “Would you still kick me if I wanted to kiss you?”

  Frozen, I can only stand here, my focus on his warm breath caressing my flesh. He wants to kiss me? The room spins and blood pounds in my veins. Haven’t I always fantasized about being kissed? Suddenly, I’m terrified and thrilled at the same time. Does he like me? Do I like him?

  “Breakfast is ready,” Daddy booms.

  Both of us jump, and Max drops my hand and scampers away so fast I question what just happened.

  Daddy’s head pokes from the kitchen doorway, his gaze flashing from me to Max. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” There’s an ominous tone of warning in his words and I blush.

  Max smashes the ball into his fist and shakes his head. “Absolutely not, sir.” He doesn’t look at me.

  I can’t decide if I’m angry he’s not standing up to my dad, or if I’m amused by Daddy’s lame attempt at asserting his fatherly duty once again.

  Rolling my eyes, I push past both and head to the kitchen.

  Men are dumb, especially ocean-eyed males with nice faces who confuse me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It’s been three weeks since that night with Leonard and his crew. Three or four mornings a week, Daddy and I head to Max’s place and practice shooting.

  This morning, Mamma sent breakfast leftovers, canned goods, and water, as she does at least once or twice every week.

  Max’s eyes linger on the bag of groceries and he scowls, squinting at it like it’s a live snake. “Me and Kat are fine. We don’t need your charity.”

  “It’s not a handout, Max.” I shove the bag into his chest. “You guys are part of our family now, and we take care of one another.”

  His jaw clenches. “I appreciate this, I really do, but—”

  “Besides, you let us borrow your place to practice. It’s payment—not charity.” I blast him with a smile and steeple my hands together in front of my chest. “Please take it. For me?”

  Staring at my face, the frown disappears, and he exhales. “Fine. But I’m going to pay you back eventually.” He moves forward and wraps an arm around the reusable sack, his fingers brushing mine. For a moment, our fingertips linger together, and he stares into my eyes. His lips part, as if he’s about to say something, but then he clamps his mouth shut.

  He really does have a nice face. I’m not sure how I haven’t noticed it before.

  Daddy clears his throat.

  Max breaks away—a cherry-red flush climbing his neck—and trudges up the steps to disappear inside the darkened trailer.

  Kat sits on a log farther away to the side of the house, earmuffs covering her ears to protect them from the eventual noise of gunshots. “Are y’all going to shoot something or you gonna talk all day?”

  Daddy chuckles. “Squirt, you remind me of Sissy when she was about your age.”

  Oh, Sissy. I wish I knew how you were doing. What I wouldn’t give to see your shining face right now.

  When Callahan heard what happened with Leonard and his crew, it lit a fire under everyone’s asses. Most of the town pulled together, and with extra wood, scrap metal, and cars, built barricades at all the roads leading in and out of town.

  The next stage is erecting a wall around the perimeter, which will be more labor intensive, but nearly everyone agrees might be necessary if the power doesn’t come back.

  Max steps outside, and for the next hour, he and I take turns shooting cans, bottles, and whatever else we can find, increasing the distance every few minutes or so. I manage to hit the target four times out of ten, and Max hit his more times than not.

  “Hey, what’s that black stuff over there?” Kat stands tiptoe on her log and pulls off the earmuffs, her finger pointing to the north.

  Against the bright sun, grayish-black smoke billows into the air above the treetops. It’s hard to gauge how far away it is, maybe a couple of miles.

  Daddy shields his eyes with a hand and freezes. “I think it’s Larry Sutton’s ranch, or somewhere close.” His caresses his chin and stares at the ground, lost in thought.

  “Isn’t that where Callahan’s been getting its fresh beef?” The town has set up a type of barter system, and every Sunday and Wednesday, holds church services and then residents gather downtown and load tables with surplus stock. Mr. Sutton or one of his ranch hands brings milk, eggs, and beef at least once a week in exchange for fresh vegetables or whatever else he needs.

  “Yeah, Half-pint.” He flicks on the safety of his gun and slips it into its holster. “I need to get you back to town so I can check it out.”

  “Wait.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not a baby. I’m coming, too.”

  “No, it could be dangerous.” His tone is solid and no-nonsense, but I don’t care.

  “What’s the point of teaching me how to shoot if I’m coddled like a helpless kid?”

  “The point is to make sure you can defend yourself if the need ever arises.” With one hand, he sweeps the loose ammo scattered on the table back into its box. “Not to go out looking for trouble. I’m not letting my daughter—”

  “I’m going, and that’s that.” I mimic his movements, and after I’m sure the safety is secure, I stow my gun in my backpack. “We can stand here and argue about it all day, or we can go check it out and see if anyone needs help.”

  Daddy’s irises flash with irritation and he opens his mouth to argue.

  Max raises a hand. “Excuse me, sir, but Tilly’s right. If you want her to learn how to defend herself and survive, you need to stop treating her like she’s incapable of helping.” He lifts a shoulder and gives me a solemn stare. “She’s strong and smart. She can hold her own.” A secret grin transforms and softens his face. “Trust me, she’s pretty tough.”

  A flush of pleasure shoots to my toes, and if Daddy weren’t here, I’d probably hug Max. Instead, I offer him a small nod of thanks, then turn my attention to my dad.

  He glowers, raises his gaze to the sky, and mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “God help me.”

  Unable to keep it inside, a huge snort sneaks out of my mouth.

  Daddy gives Max a glare, then heads toward our parked bikes.

  “I want to go, too,” Max says, “But I can’t leave Kat alone.” He grabs my hand as I pass and squeezes. “Be careful, okay?”

  “Of course.” Some unbidden emotion rises in me, gratefulness, maybe? “See you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” Max nods and licks his lips, his stare skating over my face to rest on my mouth.

  Daddy throws a gaze over his shoulder. “Come on, move your ass. Let’s go.”

  Max’s fingers hastily drop my hand, and he motions for Kat to follow him into the trailer. Without another look back, he shuts the door, and I remember to breathe.

  One quick gaze to the north and the smoke is thicker and darker, as if it’s either spreading, getting hotter, or both.

  I sprint to my waiting bicycle, eager—yet anxious—to see what’s in flames.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Winded and gasping for breath, Daddy and I follow County Road 121, which leads in the general direction of the fire. Dust and small rocks fly from the force of our wheels.

  Daddy manages to light a cigarette and puffs it every minute or so, his eyes seeming to scour the countryside through the hazy cloud.

  “You’re blowing that nasty crap all over your youngest daughter. Thanks in advance for the lung cancer.”

  He sighs, flicks it ahead of the bike, and crushes it with his tire, smashing the rounded, orange-glowing tip.

  “Love you, too.” I smile. “What’re you going to do if things are still the same in a few months and there aren’t any more cigarettes left?”

  Along the bar ditches, weeds and sunflowers line mesquite- and barbed-w
ire fences. The squat, ugly trees give way to fields of hay. Scattered throughout are small patches of dying vegetation. Without electricity, there’s no way the owners can keep the fields irrigated, and the West Texas sun, now into June, will continue to beam its brutal heat and kill anything remotely green.

  “Quit, I guess.” Low and forlorn, it sounds like he’s been asked to give up his first-born child.

  I increase my speed and slide next to him, twisting my neck to watch his face. “Who knew it would only take an apocalypse to make you quit.”

  “You know, I bet your Mamma knows how to grow tobacco leaves…”

  “Don’t you dare.” I sway on my bike and refocus on the road, regaining my balance so I don’t end up flat on my back or thrown over the handlebars again.

  He lets out a loud guffaw. “I’m kidding, Half-pint.”

  Closer to the smoke, a sprawling earthen-colored stucco ranch house takes shape, its low-lying roof covering a huge wrap-around porch supported by oaken pillars.

  Farther to the side of the home, flames of orange and yellow crawl up the large barn built from gray sheet metal and weathered wood. Twenty or so horses neigh and whinny, their eyes rolling with fear. They gather as far from the inferno as possible, milling against a corner of the fence next to the road.

  “Shit.” Daddy’s face blanches, and he turns into a driveway with a welded arc above the opened gates. An S graces the middle of the gateway, and an L hangs from the bottom of the other letter. His tires bump over the cattle guard, creating a metallic bump-bump. “Follow me, let’s go see if we can do anything to help.”

  I’m right on his tail, trying to scan everywhere at once. How did the barn catch fire so early in the morning?

  A herd of longhorn cattle stand next to a stock tank a couple hundred feet away, seemingly unconcerned with the plight of the burning building. Their mouths move rhythmically while they chew cud, and their long, curved horns would be intimidating if their dull, brown eyes didn’t look so bored.