Promised Land

by Brandon Dean

  I dragged Willard into the shed by his arms and pulled him over to a vertical support post in the back of the shed. “You got any rope in here?” I asked.

  Hazel felt around in the dark for a moment and walked over to hand me a piece of rope about six feet in length. “Is this enough?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it should work,” I replied. I fed the rope through a small opening between the post and the wall. I propped Willard upright, with his back leaning against the post and his hands behind him as I tied the remaining rope around his wrists.

  “Think that’ll hold him?” Hazel asked from the doorway.

  “For as long as we need it to, it should. We need him gone as soon as possible.” I closed the shed door behind us, and we headed back to the house.

  Once inside, we all assembled ourselves at the breakfast table, trying to work through a plan.

  “What if we just leave him in there? Out of sight, out of mind,” Mom suggested.

  “Oh, Amelia, that’s a little cruel, don’t you think?” Beverly tutted. “Maybe he just needs some understanding and kindness.”

  “He came in here and ate all of our biscuits and tried to murder Clint in the backyard. I don’t think he gets any second chances,” Hazel argued.

  “Yeah, all due respect, Beverly, I don’t think that’s such a good way to go about this,” I said. “It was a big enough mistake, me bringing him here in the first place.” I looked over at Mom, holding a sleeping Violet, her tiny snores sounding like a cat’s purr. “There’s too much at risk now, especially with the baby. I can’t let anything happen to any of you. I’m sorry.”

  Beverly reached across the table to lay her hand on mine. “You have a big heart, Clint. That’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know he would be dangerous.”

  “Thanks, Beverly. But it still doesn’t help figure out what we’re going to do with him,” I said, pausing for a moment before going on. “What if we tie him to a tree in the woods?”

  Everyone at the table looked at me, dumbfounded.

  “What’s the difference in him being in the shed versus the woods?” Mom asked.

  “We lead him outside, put a blindfold on him so he doesn’t know where we are, and we tie him to a tree somewhere far away from here. Not so tight that he can’t eventually get loose, but enough to buy us time to get back home.”

  We all sat quietly in thought, considering the idea.

  “Sounds like as good a plan as any,” Hazel said at last.

  Beverly and Mom both nodded. “You be careful, okay? Do you need me to go with you?” Mom asked.

  “No, no. Dad wouldn’t have wanted to put you in danger like that. Heck, he’d probably be disappointed that I let it get this far,” I said.

  “No, he’d be proud of you for being brave,” Mom said, giving me a warm smile.

  “There’s something else we should think about,” I said nervously.

  “What is it, dear?” Beverly asked.

  “Through all that garbage Willard was spouting, he was right about at least one thing,” I said. “Beverly, do we really know if Art and Gabe are coming back?”

  Hazel looked at me with sadness in her eyes, but I could tell she understood the reality of what I was saying.

  Beverly reached a trembling hand to pick up her teacup and took a small, unsteady sip. “That’s something I’ve tried not to think about,” she said as her voice cracked slightly.

  “We’re starting to run low on food. It’s getting warmer outside, and the snow is practically gone. If we try, I know we can make it to Cincinnati.”

  Mom gave me an anxious look, then looked down at Violet’s tiny form. “I think . . . I think he’s right,” she said as Beverly got up from her chair and walked to the kitchen window, its curtains pulled back to allow the sunlight in.

  “It’s a scary thought,” Beverly said. “I’ve been in this house for thirty-four years.”

  I stood from the table and walked up beside Beverly. “I know you’ve been here a long time. But you just said it—‘this house.’ That’s all it is now. A house. A home is a place where you can be safe, a place where you don’t have to worry. What happens if someone else like Willard comes out of those woods? What if next time we aren’t so lucky? Or worse, what if that person comes out with a swastika stitched on their sleeve?”

  Beverly turned to face me. “When do we leave?” she asked gravely.

  “In the morning, if that’s okay,” I said, turning to look at Hazel and Mom.

  Everyone agreed, nodding silently.

  “Okay, I think we need to get everything packed. We have a long journey ahead of us. Pack light; if we don’t need it, don’t take it. I figure if we only stop to eat and sleep, we can get there in five days on foot. If we keep our heads down and keep pushing forward, we’ll be fine,” I said.

  Mom took Violet upstairs, and Beverly followed behind, the three of them going to get packed and ready.

  Hazel stood from the table and approached me. “So, this is it, huh?”

  “Yeah, this is it,” I replied.

  “I’m gonna miss this place,” she said.

  “Me, too, but we need to be somewhere safe. Today was a perfect example of what the world is really like now,” I replied.

  “I don’t like the way the world is now,” Hazel said.

  “I know you don’t; I feel the same way. But I need you to trust me. I need all of you to trust that this is the best thing we can do at this point.”

  Hazel took my hands gently, locking her fingers in between mine. She stood on the tips of her toes to get enough height to give me a peck on the cheek. “Of course I trust you,” she said.

  I smiled at her. “Think it’s time we go out there and take care of our friend.”

  Chapter 13

  I hope he’s awake,” Hazel said as we headed toward the shed, armed with her grandfather’s rifle.

  “Really? You hope that jerk is awake?” I asked.

  “That guy’s heavier than he looks. But of course, since you’re a big, strong man and all, you probably didn’t notice,” Hazel joked.

  “And don’t you forget it!” I laughed.

  “This thing loaded?” Hazel asked as she examined the gun.

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t need to be. He can’t do much to us with his hands tied behind his back. Wait here in the doorway and keep an eye on him,” I said to Hazel as I opened the door to the shed.

  When the door was open, I could see Willard raise his head. “Oh, it’s you. What the hell do you want, huh? Come back to finish me off?”

  I walked over to him and crouched down to his eye level. “I already told you,” I said. “I’m not going to kill you. Not everyone resorts to violence, you know.”

  Willard fixed a beady glare on me. “Still believe in that crazy Cincinnati pipe dream, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, dreaming is all we got left. Maybe you’ll learn to dream one of these days,” I said, knowing that it was landing on deaf ears.

  Willard scoffed. “I’d rather die a real man than live on stupid dreams,” he replied.

  “That’s your call. But we’re going to go get our lives back,” I said, looking to the doorway to make sure Hazel was still keeping watch.

  “Where’d you learn this load of shit?” he asked.

  “The Bible. And it’s not a load of shit.”

  Willard laughed. “You know why Adam and Eve betrayed God in the Garden of Eden?” Willard asked. “It’s because forbidden fruits taste better. You see, every day—hell, every second—that passes, ignorant people like you dive deeper and deeper down into this lake of fire we live in now, and one of these days, you’ll drown. You all will. And people like me, who took that forbidden fruit off that forbidden tree? We’ll still be breathing. Your morals, your values will be your downfall. And you’re going to wish
you’d taken care of me when you had the chance. Because I’ll be back. And I will make you suffer.”

  I looked down at the ground, having so much to say. Instead, I bit my tongue. “Are you finished?” I asked.

  “I’ll never be finished—not until you are. Not until you feel loss like I have,” Willard sneered.

  “If only you knew,” I said.

  “Just you wait, you’ll see. Your God and your heaven have been replaced by a Führer and a Reich. You disgust me, you all do. This isn’t your American dream, but, like it or not, this is the American way now. And there’s no place for weaklings like you.”

  I stood. “Keep the sights on him,” I instructed Hazel, nodding at the gun she held. I untied Willard, and he stood.

  “This ain’t over, boy,” he said.

  “Yes, it is. Move.”

  “Oh, look at you! You know how to use that thing?” he asked Hazel while I tied his hands together behind his back.

  “I don’t think you want to find out, jackass,” she replied, clutching the rifle tightly.

  “It don’t matter, not really. You’ll be handling a lot of guns soon enough, anyway. Them German boys need to get their barrels polished somehow,” Willard replied, rasping out a laugh.

  I growled in anger as I tightened the rope enough to leave a mark around his wrists.

  “What’s the matter? I make you mad?” Willard taunted.

  “Walk!” I demanded, shoving Willard forward with my open hand.

  “You’ll be sorry, I promise you,” Willard growled. He walked ahead of us into the woods, several hundred feet away from the house.

  “Stop!” I demanded. He ignored me as he kept trekking forward. “I said stop!”

  Willard turned to me slowly. “What?” he asked angrily.

  I pulled out an old handkerchief from my back pocket.

  “What? You gonna gag me? Blindfold me?” he asked.

  “The second one, though they both sound pretty nice right now,” I replied.

  “Can’t believe it. A couple of kids, pushing me around like a goddamn dog,” Willard muttered.

  I walked over to Willard to blindfold him, with Hazel at the ready on the sidelines. “I’m gonna put this on you, and we’re gonna keep walking,” I said as I wrapped the handkerchief around his head and tied the knot.

  What happened next was something I should’ve seen coming. Willard thrust his shoulder into my midsection and sprinted off in the other direction, through the woods.

  Hazel raised the gun to take aim, then lowered it again when he was out of sight. “Think he’ll come back?” she asked.

  I clutched my midsection, inhaling deeply to refill my lungs with air. When I’d recovered enough to speak, I responded. “I don’t think so. We gave him a chance. If he comes back, we’ll have to shoot,” I said.

  “Are you sure we’d have to do that?” she asked.

  “If it means keeping you or any of the others safe, then yes.”

  When we arrived back at the house, Hazel and I both went up to our rooms. I figured I didn’t need to weigh myself down with too much clothing, especially because they’d only slow our progress. I skimmed through the closet to find a set of thick flannels, which would be more than sufficient for the weather.

  I stuffed the old, now-moldy duffel with canned food from the pantry and left enough room in the bag for water. I went outside to the well, raising and lowering a wooden bucket manually by rope to fill empty containers with water that had melted from the iced-over reservoir, noticing that something about the water didn’t taste right to me—too earthy. But water was water, and it was something we had to have. I hoped they’d have a better substitute in Cincinnati.

  When I was done, I went inside and upstairs to Beverly’s room and knocked on the frame of the open door. “Do you need any help?” I asked.

  “No, no, I think I have it under control, young man,” Beverly replied, pausing for a moment. “Come here,” she said, gently patting the bed next to where she sat. “There’s something I want to give you.” Her voice was quiet as she touched the wedding ring on her left ring finger and then slid it off. Before I could comprehend what she was doing, she presented it to me on her open palm. “I want you to have this.”

  “But Beverly—why?” I asked.

  “I see the way you look at her, Clint, and I see the way she looks at you,” she said with a smile. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

  I laughed. “A little early to ask for her hand, isn’t it? We’re just kids, after all.”

  “Just kids?” Beverley shook her head. “The way I’ve watched you both grow in the last month alone proves you’re not just kids. The way you talk to each other, I can tell you’re both happy. Besides, time isn’t guaranteed. You know that as well as I do. The day Art and Gabe left, I expected to see them again; I even set them a spot on the table, just like always. Time is a luxury more than anything.”

  I looked down at the ring I now held in my hand. “Think she’ll say yes?”

  “I know she will,” Beverly replied. “Time, you may or may not have it to spare. So let the ones you love know what’s really on your mind.”

  “Thanks, Beverly,” I said, wrapping her in a hug.

  “You don’t have to call me Beverly, by the way. Call me Mamaw,” she insisted with a warm smile.

  “Okay, Mamaw.”

  “Do you know who Emily Dickinson is?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she’s a writer, isn’t she?”

  Beverly nodded with a surprised grin. “Why, yes. Well, a poet to be more specific. I’ve been thinking of some of her words for the last few hours. All the hope and how an idea is pushing us forward.” Beverly paused with a look of focus and concentration. “I believe it goes something like this: ‘Hope is the thing with feathers / That perches in the soul / And sings the tune without the words / And never stops, at all.’”

  “What’s it mean?” I asked.

  “It means whatever you want it to mean. To me, it means that, no matter how dark things seem, how cold the world is, how hurt we may feel, hope will always see us through,” she said.

  I grinned. “I think I like that meaning,” I said. “I think I’m going to see if the others need my help.”

  Beverly nodded.

  I rose from the bed and walked to the doorway.

  “Clint,” Beverly said as I was leaving.

  I turned around. “Yes?”

  “I love you,” she said with a smile.

  “I love you, too, Mamaw,” I said back.

  I headed down the hallway, into the room that Mom and Violet shared.

  “Shh! I just put this fussy little butterball to sleep,” Mom said in a whisper.

  I walked over to them. “Is there anything you need help with?” I asked quietly.

  “No, I’m all done,” she said.

  “What about diapers?” I asked.

  “If by ‘diapers’ you mean cut-up pieces of bedding, then yes, already taken care of.”

  “Good. Are you scared?” I asked.

  “Of course I am,” she replied. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

  “I hear you. I’m scared, too. I guess we got a little too comfortable and cozy here. Wasn’t until today that we had a real wake-up call,” I said.

  Mom smiled at me, her face full of pride. “You’ve changed so much.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “You aren’t the same boy that slept until noon and hated going to school. You’re not even really a boy anymore. You’re a man, and you remind me so much of your father. Always keep the values he taught you, Clint. He would be so proud,” she said.

  I could feel my eyes welling up. “I sure hope so. He wanted me to take care of you two,” I said, wiping away a stray tear from my face.

  “And yo
u’re doing a great job,” Mom said. “There isn’t anyone else I’d trust more than you. I’m just sorry you had to grow up like this. Didn’t really have time to ease into it, huh?”

  “I guess not, but that’s behind us now. We’re going to go back out into the world and fight for the good things,” I said, hoping I sounded strong.

  “And when we get there,” Mom said, “Violet’s going to need a little friend. Maybe once things settle down, you and Hazel can help out with that.”

  I laughed. “Funny you should say that,” I said, pulling the ring Beverly had given me from my pocket. “Beverly’s thinking along those lines, too.”

  Mom gasped. “What a coincidence,” she said wryly.

  “You two have been talking about this when we aren’t around, huh?” I asked.

  Mom smiled. “You got me.”

  Violet’s brow began to twitch as her bottom lip puckered, and she let out an ear-piercing cry.

  “I guess she’s hungry again!” Mom exclaimed.

  “Okay,” I said, turning to leave. “I’ll see you later.”

  I walked to the end of the hallway, making one final stop at Hazel’s room. “Knock, knock,” I said, peeking in.

  “Hey, there, wise guy,” Hazel said with a smile. “So, what should I wear tomorrow?” she asked, standing in front of her closet.

  “Anything you want. I’m sure you’ll be a knockout in whatever you choose.”

  “Thanks. But, you know, first impressions are everything. When you don’t make a good first impression, next thing you know, you’re getting hit in the head with a frying pan and being left in the woods, tied to a tree,” she said, winking at me.

  “Oh, of course!” I replied with a laugh.

  Hazel turned to face me, serious now. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I said.

  “You really think we’ll make it to Promised Land?” Hazel asked.

  “Promised Land?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m calling it—well, that’s how I imagine it, at least. A place where everyone can move on, where everyone can be happy.” Hazel placed her hand on my cheek. “Where we can be happy—together.” She straightened to give me a kiss, then walked over to her bed and sat down with a sigh. “You really think we’ll make it?” she asked as I took a seat next to her.