“Where do we go from here?”
Chapter 30: (Morgan)
My heart breaks. At least it feels as if it does—as if it sits in the grasp of an angry beast, its grip growing tighter, claws digging deeper, leaving my heart twisted and shredded. It’s devastating, the pain so crushing I can barely stand against the weight of it all. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers. I think of my Aunt Virginia, of her warm smile and kind words and innate ability to see the good in others. I think of Ted and the son he leaves behind—of TJ. having to move forward from today without a father. I think of Heath, of his determination to distance himself from his family’s legacy and prove himself to us. It’s not right that they are gone. All we’ve ever wanted was peace, yet violence and conflict seem intent that we should never find it.
“Where do we go from here?”
I look toward the flaming house, unable to meet her eye. I don’t have an answer for her. Never have I felt so lost, so hopeless as I do now. We’ve accomplished so much since we arrived here. Tears and sweat and blood. We gave everything we had to make a future for ourselves. Now it feels as if that future is lost, gone, turned to ash the same as that which falls around us. I can’t see the way forward.
“Look at me,” she says.
I force myself to meet her eyes, a fire of a different sort burning inside those depths. She takes my hand and lays it against her chest, the gentle beat of her heart drumming against my fingers.
“We’re still here, Morgan,” she says. “As long as our hearts still beat, there is reason to hope.”
It’s as if my own heart thrums to life inside my chest, her words a salve on the wounds left by the beast which gripped it. They will never heal entirely. Tonight has left scars that will forever be a part of me, a reminder of what was lost. But I need look no further than the girl before me to know how much there is still to fight for. All is not yet lost. Not even close.
I cup the nape of her neck and draw her closer, kissing her softly atop the forehead. My arms wrap around her once more, the warmth of her body dispelling the cold that has settled over me.
“You’re my reason,” I whisper against her ear.
A circus of emotions greets us as we join the others. Grief and anger, joy and relief. There are tears of mourning, tears of gratitude. Half of the hostages have been reunited with Animals who fought beside Frank, their elation completely at odds with their counterparts. A young girl kneels in the snow beside one of the fallen Animals, her deep sobs punctuated with a single word: “Papa.” A rail-thin woman kneels feet from the girl, silent tears trailing down her face as she holds the hand of another of the fallen.
For so long I couldn’t think of the Animals without hate filling my heart. Given our history, it was impossible not to. Since I was taken, things have changed. They are not the bloodthirsty villains I painted them as. At least not all of them. They are people, flawed and broken just like the rest of us. Cut them they bleed. Take away their loved ones, they mourn. Ransom their loved ones and they are yours to command. Is it so outlandish to think we might have done the same in their position? Witnessing their teary reunions and grieving vigils, I don’t feel any of that old hate rise to the surface. But not all feel as I do.
The family makes no attempt to mask their contempt, wearing it as boldly as the blood frozen upon the snow. I understand it, the anger, the rage every bit a part of me as it is them. I’m just not sure these people warrant it. They backed Frank, risking their lives in doing so. Regardless of their reasons, the fact remains that had they not acted, more of my family would be dead right now. That doesn’t make them friends, but it seems foolish to assume them enemies.
My eyes move toward the barn, and all other thoughts are pushed from my mind. I was a child when my grandmother died. I have no true memories of her, only vague impressions: a warm smile, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, a gentle hand in mine as we strolled to parts unknown. I remember nothing of the funeral, not the songs that were played or the words that were spoken. I only remember after, walking past my parent’s bedroom and hearing the muffled sobs through the gap in the door. I remember the fear that swelled inside me as I witnessed my mother breakdown, face buried in her hands, body shaking and chest heaving as she struggled to draw breath. I remember her suddenly looking up, her eyes snapping to me as if she sensed my presence. Her face was twisted in pain, eyes puffy and swollen. I remember her reaching out and pulling me into her arms, only realizing I was crying once nestled safely in her embrace. She rocked me and held me and whispered soft words until I fell asleep. When I woke, the tears were gone, but that image of my mother remained. That’s what I remember most of all.
The moment I meet my mother’s eyes I am transported back to that day, her face a mirror image of the face I saw all those years ago. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, whispering soft words as she once did for me. It’s all I can do but not breakdown myself, memories of my aunt flowing hot and fast as the tears trailing down my face: camping trips at Navajo Lake, when she and Uncle Joe would steal me and my cousins away for weekends full of sunshine and aquatic fun; catching me and Vince sharing a joint one Thanksgiving, the fear I felt when she pried it from my fingers and then the shock when she took two puffs before passing it along to Vince, her finger pressed to her lips as she winked and walked away; the smile she greeted me with whenever I stopped to visit, and the question that always followed: “So, how is my favorite nephew today?”
I’ll never see that smile again. Never hear that voice. It’s one thing to know a person you love is gone. It’s quite another to kneel beside their still body, to hold their hand and feel nothing but cold emptiness where once there was warmth and life. Overwhelmed, I have to look away, my eyes landing on Lauren kneeling beside her sister’s sleeping form. I feel my stomach clench. The girl came too close to death this morning. Lauren told me she couldn’t believe what Virginia had done—that she would sacrifice herself to protect Grace. She doesn’t know my aunt as I do. She wouldn’t have even needed to think twice about it.
“I don’t even remember the last words she spoke to me,” I say.
My mother lays her hand on the back of my neck, drawing my attention. Looking into her eyes, I know what my own must look like, the pain and heartbreak we share greater than our shape and color.
“The words don’t matter, my son. What matters is the love that filled them.”
My chest tightens at that. She’s right of course. There is power in words, but more powerful still is the feeling they leave you with. Death may have stolen her smile, her laugh, her voice, but the love I felt for them survives. So long as I remember her, honor her, they will never leave me.
I wipe my face gruffly and take a deep, shuddering breath. Heavy as my heart is, there are matters that must be resolved. Leaving Grace in my mother’s care, Lauren and I make our way to the others. Things have only grown tenser. Richard and Frank are locked in an argument, the family and the Animals around them facing one another with cold stares. There’s no pushing, no shouting. But the air is charged, taut as a rubber band stretched to its limit. It won’t take much for it to break.
“There is no we,” I hear Richard say as we come within earshot. “There is us and you.”
“Nevertheless, we are in the same boat,” Frank says. “I know Barr. His brother was the only thing keeping him in check, the only shred of humanity he had left in him. Now that he’s dead, none of us are safe. He’ll never rest until he finds us.”
“We’ll be ready for him,” Richard says.
Frank laughs, no humor at all in the sound. “Trust me, you won’t be.”
Richard sneers as well as Barr ever has. “Trust you?” he asks. “Why the hell would I trust you?”
“Because without him, most of us would be either dead or worse right now,” I say, finally joining them. “We at least owe it to him to hear what he has to say.”
I expect Richard to scoff, to roll his eyes and call me a biased fool.
But he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he stares at me for a long moment, his face deep in thought. Then he nods. “Fine,” he says, turning once more to Frank. “What exactly is it you propose?”
“An alliance,” he says. Cries of protest sound from the family, but Frank barrels forward. “I understand your misgivings. Given your past with the gang, I wouldn’t expect anything less. But they want our blood as much as they want yours. More even. We betrayed them...please believe me when I say you don’t want to know the things they do to traitors. Even if we captured every single one of you and delivered you to his doorstep, Barr would never forgive what we did. There’s no going back.”
“And that’s supposed to comfort us?” Richard asks. “That you wouldn’t sell us out to the Animals because you couldn’t get away with it?”
“No,” Frank says. “I’m merely making it clear that whatever ties we had to them are completely severed.”
“Even so, you’re not addressing the biggest issue,” Leon says, stepping up beside Richard. “I’ve known you over half my life, Frank. I trust you, trust your family. But how the hell am I supposed to trust them?” He gestures to the Animals who stand behind him. “They’ve already proven the lengths they would go to survive. How can we be sure they wouldn't betray us if the opportunity arose?”
“How can we be sure of anything in this life?” Val argues. “You look at us, and all you see are the things we’ve done, the blood on our hands. I won’t make excuses for either. There’s no taking them back. But all any of us have tried to do is protect our families. And the simple truth is that on our own, none of us have a chance. Making this work is our best shot at keeping our families alive. Why would we want to mess that up?”
Her argument doesn’t sway the family, but it does give them pause—makes them consider the proposal instead of dismissing it outright. There is still skepticism. I feel it myself. But this Barr is a special sort of beast. I believe Frank when he says he will not rest until he finds us. Boss himself died laughing, warning me of his brother’s vengeance. If he does find us, my family can’t hope to stand against the full might of the Animals. Not alone.
“Even if we agreed, we don’t have the resources to spare,” Richard says. He gestures to the smoldering house. “Most of what we had was in there. Unless you have a stockpile of supplies hidden somewhere, we won’t have nearly enough to go around.”
“We might.” All of us, family and Animals alike turn toward the voice. Lylette makes to move forward but Byron sets his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
“Lylette, no,” he says.
She shrugs his hand off her. “Why are we here?” she challenges. “Why risk our lives if we’re going to balk at the first real chance we have to make a difference?”
“We’re talking about close to forty people,” Byron says. “And when you consider the situation...they’d never approve it.”
“Are you on the council?” she asks. “No? Then how can you be sure of anything? They sent us out to make these contacts. We need to at least bring it to their attention.”
It all comes rushing back to me: their ranch, the whole reason for recruiting. I had completely forgotten with everything that’s happened. Since we first met Lylette, the community she spoke of intrigued me. The idea that we could be part of something bigger, that we could work together to create a future for ourselves is something I’ve dreamed about. Yesterday I was cautiously hopeful, reassured with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, we still had a place to call our own. Now, I have no such reassurances. If they don’t take us in, I don’t know what we’ll do.
“Whose attention?” Richard asks, breaking the silence. “Who are you people?”
Byron breaks his staredown with Lylette and turns toward Richard. “We’re recruiters,” he says. “Tasked with finding others to join our community.”
“Really informational,” Richard scoffs. “Care to elaborate further?”
“No, I don’t,” he says.
“Byron, we had an agreement only yesterday,” I say. “Can’t we—”
“No, Morgan!” he snaps. “Whatever you’re about to ask, we can’t! It doesn’t matter what we agreed to, things have changed. Yesterday might as well have been another lifetime.”
His voice is harsh and cold, effectively shutting the door on any plea I might have made. Lylette, however, is not so easily dissuaded.
“You don’t speak for me,” she says. “Let us make that perfectly clear. And if you refuse to take them to the council, then I will.”
Byron’s eyes widen and narrow in the span of a blink, his surprise quickly giving way to anger. He stands rigid, his entire face flushed.
“You would really risk everything we have for them!” He points to Frank. “He’s the one who led the attack on us! Gary, dead. Cathy, dead. Tony? I can only pray he escaped. Do you forget your friends so easily? Do their deaths mean nothing to you?”
Lylette doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, it’s as if Byron’s words have frozen her in place. Only her eyes give her away. There’s undeniable hurt, betrayal even. But it’s the anger that shines the brightest. I can feel it emanate through the air, not in rolling waves of heat, but an icy coldness that stretches and spreads from her to Byron. I can tell the moment it hits him, the way his stony mask fissures and cracks with unease.
“I forget nothing.” She doesn’t scream, doesn’t even raise her voice, yet the power behind her words is unmistakable. “They were my family before they were yours. I’ll never forget them. But they died believing in something. They knew our only chance at a future lied in finding others. The world’s too brutal for us not to. I’m not doing anything for them. I’m doing it for us. All of us: everyone who would help build a future the others died believing in.”
As she finishes, Frank takes the opportunity to press his own luck.
“I won’t insult you by claiming I only did what I did to protect my daughters,” he says. “It was still a choice, one I will own up to. But you should know that the Animals have been aware of your operation for some time.”
Byron and Lylette share a startled look, neither able to mask their fear at this mention. “What do you know?” Byron asks.
“Nothing concrete,” he says. “They know you’re recruiting within in the town. They know you have resources: supplies, livestock, access to clean water. What they don’t know are your numbers or location, though that’s not from lack of trying. They’ve had scouts searching for you for weeks. I’ll give you credit, you do some stealthy work. But eventually, you slipped up. A scout tracked two of you back to that house two nights ago. He stayed, casing the place. When he saw you leave the next night in two’s and three’s he reported it back. Boss ordered a strike team right away. And well, you know how that turned out.”
Lylette curses. “You’re absolutely sure they don’t know of our location?” she asks.
“Positive,” Frank says. “Boss would have moved on the place if he knew. That’s why he was so desperate for information. You are a threat to the little kingdom he’s built.”
“You mean the kingdom you built?” Byron asks. “We may not have the resources the Animals have, but even we’ve heard of El Matador! You’re as responsible for what the Animals have become as much as anyone.”
The truth hits Frank hard. I know the guilt and self-hate inside of him. I saw it firsthand as he broke down inside the Doubletree, confessing to all the vile things he was forced to do while under Boss’s control. I see it rise in his eyes now, his shame as easy to see as Byron’s scorn.
“You’re right,” Frank says. “I’ve done things that can never be forgiven, sins I will one day have to answer for. I don’t expect to ever be absolved of the things I’ve done, but I will make it my life’s work to undo the damage I’ve caused.”
He takes a step closer to Byron who takes a step back and half raises his gun.
“I know this all means very little coming from me, but consider this: if I meant you or your p
eople harm, would I be here now?” This gives Byron pause. “I had your people in my custody, had the tools to make them spill their darkest secrets. Believe me, if I wanted to find your location, I would have. Setting your people free, coming here and doing what I did, it was a choice that can never be taken back. I don’t expect you to like us, but it’s as the old saying goes: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And make no mistake, the Animals are very much your enemy.
“If you take us to your people, I will place myself entirely at their mercy. I will tell them every shred of information the Animals have on you. I’ll feed them anything they need to know on their operation: supplies, people, tactics, anything. If they ask me to help secure your land in case of an event like tonight, I will. If they ask me to lead an attack on the Animals directly, I will. If they ask me to leave, and never come back, I will. Anything they need, I will do it.”
Neither moves or speaks for the longest time, their focus entirely on each other’s eyes. I can all but feel the tension between them, the sort of charge that fills the air in the moments before lightning strikes. Not the raw, kinetic energy of the strike itself, but it’s potential—the sense of what might come. Byron’s the first to break the stare, shifting his gaze from Frank to Lylette. She stares back at him, an unspoken dialogue held between them. Finally, he nods.
“So be it,” he says. “You may accompany us to our settlement, but I make no promises. Our council will be informed of what has happened, and they will make the final decision. I want your word on the lives of those you love that you will abide but whatever they decide.”
His eyes move from Frank to Richard to me. All of us accept.
A Cruel and Violent Storm Page 34
