The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel

by Melissa Riddell

  Daddy steps to my side and places both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, but this is the way things are from now on. I don’t have the luxury of babying you.”

  “Whatever.” Shrugging from his grip, I stalk to where Max crouches to the snare and I help him finalize the setup, ignoring my father.

  An hour later, Daddy sends Max and me to check the five snares he and I set. The first three are empty, but the fourth holds a terrified Jackrabbit.

  Its long ears flatten as we approach. Desperately, it pulls at the noose around its leg, both legs thumping the hard, dry ground.

  Our breath fogs the air, and several snowflakes drift from the gray, cloud filled sky.

  I shiver, but not just from the cold—the rabbit lets out a horrible scream.

  Max pulls out the gloves and slides them on. His serious stare focuses on mine. “Ready?”

  “No.” The little animal’s eyes roll in their sockets and I choke. “I can’t do this, Max. I can’t kill a defenseless creature.”

  “Tilly.” He lets out a breath and stares in the direction we came, as if ensuring himself Daddy’s nowhere close. “If you hold it,” his chin jerks toward the rabbit, “then I’ll kill him and tell your dad you did it, okay?”

  “But the poor little thing will still die.” I can hear the panic in my voice. A tear creeps along my cheek. “Please, let’s let it go.”

  “We can’t. There’s not much meat left. Mr. Sutton won’t have any fresh beef for the market for a while. Your dad’s right—we have to do this. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I’d enjoy starving a whole lot less. Plus, it’s not just for us—it’s for your mom and Kat.” He pulls me to his chest and strokes my hair. “It’ll be all right. Close your eyes, okay?”

  He’s right, I know, but it still sucks. “Okay.” I take the proffered gloves and slide them on, then lower myself to the ground.

  The rabbit shies away, his scream louder.

  “Shh. It’s okay, little guy.” My voice is low and soothing. It’s not okay, but I don’t know what else to do. I move a thick-gloved hand and stroke his fur.

  He trembles, but between my words and touch, seems to settle a tiny bit.

  Slipping my other hand under his belly, I grip him and stand.

  Max pulls out my dad’s hunting knife.

  I bite my lip and hold back a sob. Through my tears, the little rabbit struggles, his legs giving my hands powerful kicks.

  “Close your eyes, Lookout.” Max’s face is gentle.

  “Please? Can’t we just let him go?” I pull the animal closer, even though I know he could bite me. “Look at him. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “Close your eyes.” Patient and gentle, Max uses the other hand to cup my cheek. “It’ll be over soon.”

  Dragging deep breaths, I squeeze my eyes shut.

  The rabbit’s screams echo against the thin, bare mesquite trees and occasional boulders. It builds to a screech.

  I want to let him go, to cover my ears with my hands, to run and hide. Instead, I stand there and help end its life.

  Abruptly, silence fills the air.

  Max’s fingers pry my hands from the warm little body and the weight of the rabbit disappears.

  I turn, not wanting to see its bloody carcass.

  “Sometimes I hate this world.” I’m unable to hold in my pain, and sobs wrack my chest.

  Max tries to hug me, but I push him away. “Leave me alone. You’re as bad as Daddy.”

  “Tilly, I’m sorry. I—”

  “Shut up.” With quick, angry jerks, I wipe my eyes and stalk toward my ride. Toeing the kickstand, I jump on my bike.

  “Half-pint, stop.” Daddy heads for me, but I ignore him.

  “Tilly, hang on a minute.” Max catches me and throws an arm around my waist, as if he can hold me in place.

  “I hate both of you.”

  Surprise and hurt flashes in Max’s eyes, but I don’t care. I’m sickened I played a part in that animal’s death. All I want to do is lay in my bed and cry.

  The smell of coppery blood follows me all the way home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Someone gently knocks on my bedroom door, but I roll over and cover my head with three layers of blankets.

  Since I’ve shut and locked myself inside, the heat from the wood stove doesn’t radiate to my room, and every breath causes a poof of steam to escape.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to shut that poor rabbit’s screams from my head. I’d thought I could do it—kill something so I could live, but I was wrong.

  Knock-knock.

  “Go away.” I throw an extra pillow at the door.

  The knob rattles, but the barrier doesn’t open.

  “Half-pint, unlock the door and let me in. We need to talk.”

  “I don’t wanna to talk to you.” Muffled, my words are low and pained. “Why don’t you go back out there and torture more helpless animals?”

  “I get it, I really do. Making your first kill is horrible, but you’ve got to look at the bigger picture.” He shakes the knob again. “This is survival. It’s not like we’re killing animals for sport, and every piece is being used, whether it’s the fur, the bones, or the meat.”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s a great comfort to the animal.” I sit upright and glare at the wooden door.

  “Someday, you’ll understand. Survival is simple—it’s what you’re willing to do to live. If you can’t take another life to save yours or those you love, then you’re not a true survivor. I’m sorry you’re angry with me right now, but someday you’ll get it.” His footsteps pad the hall.

  I lean against the headboard and stare at the ceiling. I hope I never understand killing.

  The knob rattles again. “Lookout, can I come in?”

  Instead of answering, I throw off the covers, stride across the junk on my floor, and unlock the door with a click.

  As it swings open, I turn and head toward the bed, but Max lays a hand on my shoulder and I stop, staring out the window into the bare backyard. Dark, heavy gray clouds block out the sunlight, and snow continues to fall, dusting the windowsill and the frozen yard with a light sheen of white.

  “Do you still hate me?”

  I pull my shoulders inward and swallow a sob. “I don’t know.”

  Max moves in front of me. “I’m sorry.” Pulling me into his chest, he wraps his arms around my back and holds me close.

  My hands clutch his shirt, and the tears start. I bury my face and cry, shame and sadness wracking my body.

  “Shh.” Max moves to the bed and sits with me still grabbing at his chest. “It’s okay.”

  “I-I don’t hate you.” My words hiccup from my mouth. “Or m-my dad. I can’t s-stand the thought of killing things that can’t fight back.”

  “I know, but he’s right.”

  Moving back a few inches, I stare into his face. “How can you say that?”

  He absently swipes the bangs from his eyes. His hair has gotten so long he sometimes ties it at the nape of his neck. “We have to eat, Tilly, which means doing things we don’t like to do.” His fingers massage my neck. “But it doesn’t mean we have to enjoy it.”

  I nod and stare at my lap. The round shape of his stress ball in my pocket catches my attention. Leaning back a bit farther, I fish it from my jeans and hold it out to him.

  A quick smile flashes across his face, and he plucks it from my fingers. “I still owe you that tickle.”

  “Maybe next time,” I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

  He presses a tender kiss to my forehead and stands. The loss of his body heat and comfort cause a small ache to open in my heart. “It’s a date, then.”

  My eyes snap to his. Is he interested in me like a girlfriend? I want to ask, but I’m too sad and confused to press it farther. Later, I’ll ask him later.

  “You helping your mom with the Thanksgiving Feast tomorrow?” He stops at the door and glances over his shoulder, an eyebrow quirked
.

  “Yeah, but she won’t let me do any cooking. I’m supposed to serve.”

  “Whew. I’ve experienced your culinary skills and trust me—she made the right call.”

  “Asshole.” I throw a random book his direction and he ducks with lazy grace.

  “See you tomorrow, Tilly.” With a soft click, the door shuts behind him.

  “Bye, Max,” I whisper, grateful for his quiet comfort, and already feeling a bit better.

  Maybe they’re right, but like Max said, it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy what needs to be done to survive.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Downtown Callahan is transformed. Four long rows of tables line the streets, and hundreds of people mill about, either talking, prepping food at the serving section, or kids chasing one another in games of tag, bobbing for apples, or jump rope.

  The weather is warmer than yesterday, and most of the light snow is melting or completely gone, leaving mushy, muddy dirt or yellow grass in its wake.

  I stand behind the serving table and ladle a scoop of mashed potatoes onto a plate, handing it off to the next person, while a line of people shuffle before me and my fellow volunteers.

  Callahan is covered in pecan trees, and this year’s crop overflowed with the tasty nuts. This surplus is a boon for our community, and because of it, there are pies, muffins, and many other foods featuring some sort of pecan derivative.

  Daddy and several of the other guys, including Max, shot three deer and scouted out a flock of wild turkeys, managing to bag two, which makes this Thanksgiving a true throwback to the pilgrims.

  I try not to think about what it means to eat meat now. Before the world went dark, I never gave two shits about the food I ate, but since the rabbit incident yesterday, my feelings are mixed. I’m still pissed at my dad and Max and I’m not sure how to overcome it.

  That look of helplessness in the animal’s eyes, and the feeling of lifelessness—I never want to feel that again.

  A chipped, yellow plate flashes into my view, pulling me from my thoughts. “Can I get two helpings of potatoes, Miss?” Gray-blue eyes sparkle, and Max gives a wink.

  “Nope. Rules are rules.” I take the dish and spoon some food onto it.

  “But, Lookout, I thought you liked me.” He pushes his bottom lip out in a mock pout.

  “Not enough to get a tongue-lashing by Mamma.” I hand it back.

  He stares at the small white mound, then back at me. “Seriously? How’s a man supposed to survive on such a small portion?”

  “I think you’ll do just fine. If you’re still hungry, why don’t you go murder something else to eat?” I flick him an irritated stare, trying to remember he helped me yesterday, and it’s not his fault—it’s no one’s fault, not really. Still, that anger burns inside my chest.

  I take Kat’s plate and give her a spoonful of potatoes. Glancing to my right, I confirm mom’s still busy chatting with a neighbor, so I throw another half-serving on Kat’s plate.

  “Hey, so not fair,” Max says, his eyes bouncing from me to Kat.

  I wiggle my eyebrows at Kat. “Us girls gotta stick together, right Kat?” Once I hand the plate to her waiting palms, I tug the necklace out from under my shirt.

  Her eyes shine with pleasure. “Right, Tilly.” She turns to Max. “Can we bob for apples after this? It looks fun.”

  “You’re really gonna do me this way?” Max squints his eyes at me. “Wait until I get you alone, Lookout.”

  “Only in your dreams, troublemaker.” I try not to let him see how intrigued I am by his words by yawning. Even though I’m still irritated with him, I can’t deny there’s something special between us. He gives me so many openings to explore beyond that weird kiss the night Hank died, yet I find myself nervous and second-guessing everything he says, and I don’t know why.

  Because you’re scared to connect with him, to fall for him, to love him in that way, says that niggling voice in the back of my head.

  With one last, heated glance, he moves away and nods his head to Kat, assuring her he’ll take her to all the games and activities if she finishes her meal.

  A slight tremble courses through my hands replaying his words and hungry stare, and it’s all I can do to focus on my task for the next fifteen minutes.

  Mamma and I are finally relieved by other volunteers and we join Daddy, Max, and Kat at the table to enjoy the meal.

  Mayor Andy steps to a makeshift podium and raises his hands, and most of the chattering quietens. “I want to thank this community,” he says, smiling. “This has been a trying few months. Never in a thousand years would I have believed we’d be where we are today.”

  Several people at our table nod to one another.

  Max sits on my left, his plate empty, rolling his stress ball back and forth against the splintery wooden picnic table, his eyes on the mayor.

  “But because our town is filled with so many selfless residents, we’ve not only survived this catastrophe, we’ve thrived.” He paces to the other side of the podium and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “We haven’t been without our share of pain and loss, though. All of you, at some point or another, have had to deal with this new way of life. I’m so thankful for each of you. Because we’ve learned to work together, our families are safe, our city is safe, and our future is safe.”

  Hmm. That’s a bold statement. “We have no idea what’s going to happen in the future.”

  Under the table, Max slides his hand to mine and grips it. “I know, but he’s trying to keep a positive outlook, and probably hoping he gets voted in again next year.”

  I wrap my fingers into the spaces between his, enjoying the way his skin feels next to mine.

  The mayor continues his spiel, and several rounds of claps follow the speech, but I’m too distracted to pay much attention. My glance keeps dipping to where Max’s hand joins mine.

  He continues to focus on the mayor, tipping the ball back and forth with his fingers. His long, brown hair flutters in the cool breeze, and a few strands fall into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. My stare lingers on his profile, on his lips, and that memory from several months ago, when he tricked me into a kiss, surfaces again.

  At the time, I hadn’t felt anything but shock and anger for his duplicity, but what if he were to kiss me now, when everything’s stable? Would it still be a cold kiss, or would he awaken something inside and stoke those smoldering embers to life?

  He cuts his eyes to the side, as if he can feel my stare.

  Quickly, I turn my head and cough, jerking my hand from his.

  “What’s going on with you?” he asks, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Are you still pissed at me for that rabbit?”

  “Nothing’s going on, and yes, but…” I stir the creamed corn on my plate and take a bite, the food frigid from the outdoor air. “Forget it. I guess you were just being a great friend and trying to help me.” With a napkin, I wipe the corner of my mouth and don’t meet his eyes.

  “Friend?” He grunts and tosses his silverware across the table with a rattle. “Is that all I am to you?” The words are a whisper, and I don’t think he knows I heard them.

  He’s my closest friend, and maybe he wants more, yet I don’t know how to cross that barrier. I feel so inexperienced when it comes to relationships.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I shift my focus to the cooling food in front of me, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

  “You sure?” He lets out a long, tired sigh. “You looked like you wanted to ask me something.”

  I swallow. Might as well take the plunge. “You remember that night when Hank died?”

  “How can I forget?” He angles his torso to look me in the face, keeping his voice low so only he and I can hear.

  “Well, I was thinking about…” Am I really going to bring up that kiss?

  “About what?” Intent and focused, his eyes are like two shining beacons.

  “If you felt anything when we—”

  “Oh my God,”
a high-pitched voice shrieks, cutting off my sentence.

  Mayor Andy finishes his speech, and everyone claps, drowning out the girl’s exclamation.

  “Max Jacobsen. I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you so much.” Emory flounces to Max and throws her arms around his neck. When her eyes cut to me, she sneers, then turns her perfect lips into a mocking smile. She kisses his cheek.

  He pushes her away. “What’re you doing, Emory?”

  “What do you mean? I’m visiting with a very good friend. Can’t I do that, babe?”

  “You broke up with me and I haven’t heard from you since.”

  “That was a mistake.” She strokes his cheek and leans in, practically throwing herself at him. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes search her perfect face, and he scrunches his brows together, as if trying to decide if she’s telling the truth or not.

  “I know you stole your ring back, and you had every right.” She gestures to the table, her attention still on Max. “After everything that’s happened, I realize what a total bitch I’ve been. You were the best thing to ever happen to me. Please give me another chance.”

  Max’s face smooths, and he looks torn with indecision.

  Sickness rises in my stomach. Don’t believe her, Max, she’s as fake as they come.

  “I know you missed me, too.” She tugs on his hand, pulling him to stand, stroking his cheek. “What do you say we get out of here and leave all this trash,” those doll-like eyes flicker to me, “where it belongs.”

  My back stiffens and I struggle inside. I want to shout obscenities and pull her by the hair, but I also want to slap Max for the stupid, goofy grin forming on his face. How could I have ever thought he’d be interested in me, especially with someone like her around? I’m nothing more to him than a friend—a lookout until something better came along.

  Not giving him a chance to respond, I grab his sister’s forearm. “Come on, Kat, let’s go play some games. It looks like your brother’s going to have his hands full for a while.” With that, I stomp toward the activity area, practically dragging the little girl in my wake.