Melt (Book 8): Hold

by Pike, JJ

  Once again Jacinta made the arrangements as Richard and Alistair removed themselves from the throng.

  “We don’t have enough evidence to pass sentence.” Richard finally accepted the chair Jacinta’s people had provided. “We only have your word that she works for the FBI. I take it you know something you haven’t shared?”

  “I do,” said Alistair.

  “May I ask what it is? If it needs to be in camera, I can swear you in privately and you can tell me what you need to tell me off the record.”

  Alistair held up his hand and took the oath. He needed to tread carefully. What he was about to tell Richard didn’t put him in the best light.

  “Take your time. This will remain between us.”

  Jacinta arrived with Richard’s inhaler. A couple of puffs of Albuterol and he was breathing far easier.

  “Should I stay or go, boss?” Jacinta was on her toes, ready to pivot, eager to do what she was told.

  “Stay,” said Alistair. “I’m going to need you to give testimony, too.”

  Jacinta took her place behind Alistair.

  “When we were out on the road—where we met Josephine and the soldiers—we rounded up some very sick men.”

  Richard nodded.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Alistair. He was talking about sick men to a sick man. What came next had to be phrased in such a way that Richard didn’t take umbrage.

  “They have this plague we’ve been hearing about.”

  “It’s bad,” said Jacinta. “Their flesh is rotting. You would not want to go near them, sir. I saw them up close. They smell like the inside of a one-hundred-year-old sewage pipe. The necrosis has eaten holes in their flesh. It’s like nothing you could even imagine.”

  “How is this connected to Mizz Morgan?”

  “The soldiers told Jacinta that Josephine was FBI. That’s our source. They have no reason to lie.”

  “Hearsay?” Richard wasn’t impressed. He was going to let her slip away.

  “She has been working against us all this time. I just know it.”

  “I believe you, Alistair, but the law is the law. We have only hearsay.”

  “I know something.” Jacinta waited.

  “Go on,” said Richard.

  “I need to be off the record. You can’t swear me in yet. I need to tell you this, then you can tell me how to tell you this, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, but I’m eager to hear what you have to say.”

  “Josephine Morgan murdered Arthur Foss.”

  “Our Arthur?” Alistair had his hands on Jacinta’s arms. He hadn’t meant to reach out to her, but the shock had catapulted him out of his usual reticence.

  “Yes. Our Arthur.”

  Jacinta regarded Josephine Morgan as her rival, he knew that, but she’d never lie. She wasn’t the type.

  “She killed him and buried his body above the quarry behind her house.”

  Both men hung on Jacinta’s every word.

  “I didn’t see her pull the trigger, but I saw her bury him with my own eyes.” She waited.

  No one spoke for several minutes.

  “Can you help me give testimony?” Jacinta looked directly to Alistair for help.

  “All I ask is that you not lie under oath,” said Richard and took himself off so they could talk privately.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Aggie had her foot down on the gas, but Hedwig was still ahead of her, crashing through the countryside like she was on a mission from hell. Which she kind of was.

  Aggie hit the button on the side of her walkie-talkie. “Hedwig, come in. Over.”

  “What’s up, doc?” She wasn’t going to observe walkie-talkie protocol. Worse things had happened.

  “Jim and Sean are about half a mile to our east. I left them by a large oak. Jim was tuckered out. Would you go and pick them up and take them to the mines?”

  “Can do.”

  One of the great things about Hedwig—and there were a lot of great things about her—was that she always said yes. Need to track down a van of missing meds? Send Hedwig. Need to pick up a couple of hitchhikers? Send Hedwig. Got someone who you want bumped off? Man, that had been a fun conversation, if a bit out there. Aggie was happy she’d managed to make a friend as the world burned.

  Her radio crackled. “Agg? Jim says no.”

  “What does that mean, over?”

  “He wants to go back and get Betsy. He says he won’t budge. He thought she’d be at the mines by now.”

  There was no point fighting. Jim would walk back to be with Betsy if he needed to. “Okay. Well. I guess that means we both go?”

  “Roger-dodger. Get in old codger. I’ll take you to your…” Hedwig paused. “There’s no rhyming word for wife. So just get in. Put your seatbelt on and well go find Betsy-boo. Betsy the Boo-boo healer. Betsy…”

  “Hedwig?” Aggie had to shout to be heard. “Turn off your radio. I don’t need the entire trip to be narrated.”

  “Roger that, boss lady.” Hedwig shut down her walkie-talkie and Aggie was left to concentrate on not getting stuck in a ditch or knocking her teeth out when she banged her head against the roof.

  The trip between the mines and Betsy’s place seemed to be getting shorter. Wasn’t that always the way? As soon as she saw the trees to the north of Betsy and Jim’s, she radioed Hedwig. “Humans ahead, over.” She stopped the Humvee. Had she brought binoculars? No. Of course not. Hedwig had made sure she had weapons, but they weren’t properly outfitted. She’d been running on empty for so long she barely knew how she was operating. Higher functioning: planning, remembering supplies, thinking things through all the way? That was a crapshoot. She needed to tell Mom to deprive her trainees of sleep for days on end before testing them.

  “They’re all wearing the same colors.”

  Aggie squinted. Hedwig was right. They were all in green.

  “Pigs.”

  “You stay where you are. I’ll approach. Over.”

  “Nah. Let’s go together. If they’re armed you don’t want to go it alone. And, in any case, you’re a girl. Don’t walk into the enemy’s den alone. Ever.”

  The van pulled up alongside her. Jim and Sean both had their weapons drawn and ready. Driving and ducking behind the steering wheel was a real challenge and Aggie bumped the van with the Humvee a couple of times.

  The men in the trees didn’t run. They were definitely in uniform, but they seemed totally un-soldier-like. They were hanging out. They were close enough to Betsy’s place that they had to know the house was there. What were they doing out here?

  Hedwig rolled down her window and leaned out. “Coming through. Stand back. I don’t want to mow you down. I’ll do it, but I don’t want to.” She had the lungs of an opera singer and the projection of a megaphone. The soldiers—tatty, unkempt, and covered in scabs—moved and allowed them to pass.

  They had the disease.

  Aggie kept her window rolled up.

  The woods around Betsy’s place weren’t conducive to a smooth ride. If it hadn’t been for the fact that there were moldy soldiers littered about the place she might have gotten out and walked. She pushed on, eventually arriving at the house. It was as crowded as it had been empty.

  Holy cow, Mom’s colleague, Michael Rayton was out by the back porch. How had that happened? She parked the Humvee a few hundred feet from the garage and jogged towards him. “I didn’t expect to see you again.” It was the truth even if it was too blunt.

  Michael laughed. “How are you doing, Agatha?”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “In the house.” He went back to whatever he was doing with a set of paper napkins and a pencil. Some kind of calculations.

  Hedwig pulled into the driveway. Jim was out of the van like greased lightning, calling for Betsy. Hedwig went right for Floofy and Pippy, checked their water, headed to the barn. She was going to make sure they were fed. Would have been Aggie’s job, but Hedwig was on it.
/>   Aggie marveled at the setup in Betsy’s front room. They’d gone to town, turning the place into a field command center. She hovered behind a guy with a huge set of earphones on, worried she shouldn’t interrupt him.

  “Are you looking for your mother?” Betsy was in the doorway to the guest room.

  Aggie nodded.

  Betsy didn’t look right. What had changed? Her eyes were kind of googly and her hands were wrapped in plastic. “She’s in the attic.”

  Aggie took the stairs three at a time, but she hadn’t made it to the top before Jim found Betsy. That wail of despair wasn’t a sound she wanted to hear again anytime soon.

  “Mom?” She shouted up the ladder to the attic. “Are you up there?”

  “Aggie?” Alice poked her head through the opening in the ceiling, just like Petra had a few hours earlier. “I’m just getting some supplies. Come and give me a hand.”

  “Mom, I need you to come down here.” She didn’t want to shout about Midge and Paul. She had to tell her mother face to face.

  Alice appeared, a sewing machine tucked under one arm. She talked as she descended the tricky stairs. “I’m going to need your help with this, Agatha. There are bolts of fabric up there. I want you to go through them and sort the cotton from the non-cotton and bring them down.” She landed with a thump and put the sewing machine to one side. “But first I need to tell you something.”

  “It’s going to have to wait, Mom. They need you.”

  Alice’s face was drained of all color in an instant.

  “They’re okay. Everyone’s alive.” That much was true, but the rest had to be said or she’d feel weird. “Midge had another seizure. She can’t see.”

  Alice gasped and took a couple of steps back, her hand searching for something to keep her upright.

  “Doctor Fred—you haven’t met him, he’s a pediatrician, it would take too long to explain—he’s with her. He says it might be temporary, but he doesn’t know for sure.”

  Alice was breathing heavily.

  Aggie waited until she was sure her mother wasn’t going to hyperventilate and pass out. “Have a seat.” She guided her mother to the little wicker chair by the side of the dresser. It was ornamental, but it was going to have to do. “Paul had a heart attack.”

  The noise that came out of her mother made Aggie’s hair stand on end. No exaggeration, she was overrun with the follicles on the back of her neck doing something she was pretty sure no follicles were supposed to do. Alice was still groaning, her head in her hands. All she could say was “Paul. Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul.”

  “He’s alive. They resuscitated him. But now they’re doing surgery because his stitches came undone.”

  Alice was still wailing.

  Aggie had no idea if she’d heard what she just said. “Mom?” She touched her mother lightly on the shoulder. She might as well have been a live electrical cable for the effect she produced.

  Alice shot to her feet, eyes ablaze. “I have to go to them. I’ve always had to go. You’re right.” She turned and grabbed the sewing machine. “Then we’ll leave.” She handed it to Aggie.

  Aggie had no choice but to accept the old black-and-gold leaden clunker. It weighed an absolute ton.

  “I’m going to draw you a map. You are to show it to no one. Go there. Collect our silver. Bring it—along with the fabric and the sewing machine—to the mines. We’re going to bind it to our clothes so we have something to barter with on our journey.”

  Alice wasn’t right in the head. What was she talking about, “silver”?

  “I’m going to them as soon as I can find a vehicle. I’ll come back for you.”

  Aggie watched her mother move around Betsy’s house on autopilot. She’d seen it before. Back then. Alice Everlee had lost her marbles and there was nothing to do but wait until she found them again. Aggie allowed her mother to draw a map, give her the same mad instructions a second time, kiss her and tell her that she loved her and was proud of her and was sorry for all the pain she’d caused her, then climb into the Humvee and leave. At no point did Aggie feel like her mother was in control of what she was doing.

  Aggie was left hugging a sewing machine outside a house that had become a barracks with nothing to do but get on with it.

  “She said she’d leave.” It was Michael Rayton again. Had he been listening in? Not that any of it made any sense. “Your mother was determined to make it back to you. She even blew us off which, I don’t mind admitting, shocked me. I thought Alice Everlee would go down with the ship. No offense. It’s not that she doesn’t love you guys. It’s just that she’s driven by such a profound need to make the world a better place. I’m not often shocked, but this is one of those times.” He took the sewing machine from Aggie. “Sorry. You’re probably not the right person to say that to. My apologies.”

  Aggie shrugged. He’d only said what they all thought. Mom was a workaholic. She’d always cared more about saving the world that being with her family. Luckily, she had Dad, so it had worked out okay for her.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” Michael was sheepish, hesitant.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Will you help me bury Fran?”

  OMG. They hadn’t even buried Fran yet? What had they been doing all this time? “Sure I will.”

  Together they walked to the field behind the well. Fran was wrapped in a sleeping bag which seemed disrespectful. She wasn’t “sleeping”, she was dead. Then again, with all the brains she’d been losing it might have been a good way to protect people from more gore.

  They lifted her out of the little wagon—her body was changing, going stiff; it wasn’t a pleasant sensation carrying a dead woman—and walked her towards the hole in the ground. Michael directed her to put Fran down, then he jumped in the grave, put both his arms under the sleeping bag, and lifted her in. He was gentle, careful not to let her sleeping bag touch the sides of the grave. He didn’t jostle her or drop her. When he climbed out he took a couple of minutes to compose himself. Aggie wasn’t sure if he was going to pray, so she did. Fran hadn’t deserved whatever had driven her to suicide. The world was hard and cruel, but she had friends and people who cared about her.

  “Thanks,” said Michael. “I’ll take care of the rest.” He picked up a spade and started to fill the grave.

  Aggie had her mom’s map in her pocket. Was she supposed to go and hunt down this fictitious silver? You know, she might be Looney Tunes but I’m going to do this for her so she can see that we love her. She didn’t want her mother to go the same way as Fran.

  The map directed her to the back of their cabin. The cabin that was nothing more than a black patch of earth. It was tough even thinking about it and now she had to go there.

  She went to the porch, collected her rifle—ha! See! I learn from my mistakes, even when I’m about to pass out from exhaustion!—helped herself to another carton of orange juice and a granola bar and set off in search of silver. Boy, if only Margaret had been around. This would have been her dream come true. Here we have a map. Yes, it’s a pirate’s horde. Yes, Mom drew it. Yes we get to go and dig up treasure. Why not? The world had tilted off its axis. They might as well enjoy the downhill run.

  Mom’s dogs were lounging near the edge of Betsy’s property. She whistled and Reggie came running, but the other one, Maggie-loo-the-impossibly-friendly-pitbull stayed where she was, watching and waiting for her new bestie.

  Aggie and Reggie plodded into the woods. They hadn’t gone more than a few feet beyond the tree line before he took off. Aggie wasn’t too worried. He’d stayed alive all this time. All she’d done was fed and watered him. And saved him from the lunachicks who’d tied him to a tree and would have let him starve if she hadn’t heard him going all berserker.

  He was barking in the near distance. It wasn’t his agitated bark. He’d reverted to his “happy to see you” voice. Aggie slid behind a tree. Reggie might love everyone but she wasn’t as much of a fan of humans as he seemed to be. She went from
tree to tree as quietly as she could. Reggie wasn’t barking, but she could hear voices.

  It took her twice as long to cover the distance because she was determined not to be caught unawares, but when she finally found Jo’s dog she discovered there was no need for stealth.

  “Holy mackerel.” That about summed it up. Hannah and Chloe, the “stealthy sneak thieves” who’d stripped their stocks bare, were tied to a pole that had been tied to a tree. They’d obviously been trying to escape, the scuff marks all around their feet made that abundantly clear, but Aggie recognized the knots. Her mother had caught them and made them her prisoners. There was no way they were going anywhere.

  “Howdy, ladies.” She couldn’t help but smile. “How’s things?”

  Chloe had angry, red welts down her face. She’d been in a battle and come out of it the worse for wear. Hannah wasn’t beaten up in the same way, but she was madder than a bluebottle bashing into a window on a summer’s day.

  “I’d love to stop and chat, but I have places to be.”

  “Untie us.” Hannah was the one to break the silence.

  “Like you untied me? I don’t think so.”

  “We were only following orders.”

  Aggie laughed so hard she almost peed herself. “You just lost. You know that, right? That argument is done. Over. Kaput. And I use ‘kaput’ very deliberately.” She petted Reggie’s lovely head. He had led her right to them and deserved a massage. “And you know what else? When my mother gets back I’ll be sure to let her know how you offered me the best hospitality Wolfjaw Ridge had to offer.” She didn’t have to finish the thought. They’d met Alice. They knew she was a badass and not to be messed with. She might not win any “mother of the year” awards, but she’d knock it out of the park if she ever got to compete in any “warrior” categories.

  “Look…” Chloe had lost a tooth. That had to burn. It might hurt, but the ding to her pride was going to be immeasurable, unless they had dentists who could do reconstructive surgery at Wolfjaw and Aggie was certain they did not in their little hick town. “We did you wrong. We get that. But Alistair doesn’t take no for an answer. If you don’t do what he wants you to do someone’s going to get it.”