Melt (Book 8): Hold

by Pike, JJ

  Alistair nodded. “It is.”

  Richard continued. “You, Jacinta, saw a man being buried and his car being dumped?”

  She nodded along as he talked.

  “You did not tell anyone this because you didn’t believe it was your place.”

  “That’s right,” said Jacinta. “I’m no spreader of gossip. It’s not my way.”

  “Today, some soldiers told you Josephine Morgan is an FBI agent? This led you to talk to Alistair who told you of Arthur’s failed mission to uncover silver ingots at the Everlee property and you pieced it all together?”

  “100% accurate.”

  “If the Council would like to retire?”

  “What do we do about Jo?” Herb had managed to keep silent all this time, but he couldn’t let his damsel in distress suffer the rage of the crowd while the Council deliberated.

  “What do you suggest?” Alistair had kept his hands clean all this time. He didn’t plan on dirtying them with her punishment now. The train that would deliver her to justice had left the station. He only needed to let it run its course.

  “She should be consigned to the stocks,” said Herb, “and pelted with refuse.”

  Now there was one for the books. Alistair hadn’t seen that one coming. Not from Herb.

  “Richard?”

  Richard hung his head. “It’s fitting that she be restrained.” He scanned the crowd. “I trust that you are as committed to our cause as Jacinta appears to be.”

  Jacinta blushed as her comrades patted her and hugged her.

  “Mizz Morgan has been charged with serious crimes, but she has not yet been found either guilty or innocent.” Richard wheezed and sat back on his chair. “You are permitted to pelt her with soft materials. Nothing any harder than a de-stoned plum.”

  “What’s the point of that? Aren’t the stocks supposed to be a punishment?” It was the pimply youth whose name Alistair had not bothered to learn.

  “Josephine remains a prisoner, but not a convict,” said Alistair.

  “We’ve been hurt worse in our barracks. Oranges in a pillowcase, usually.”

  The soldiers—soon to be former soldiers and the newest Ridgers—laughed.

  “If she’s found guilty she will be punished accordingly. Until then, the people of Wolfjaw will express their extreme disappointment that she betrayed their trust by throwing—I’m guessing here, because we’re not food-wasters—dirty laundry at her.”

  “What’s the punishment if she’s found guilty?”

  It was the girl again. The one who’d been bold from the start.

  “Death. The punishment for murder is death.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Aggie wished she could sit down and rest. Or cry. Or sleep. Anything but deal with the billions of dogs who’d appeared on their property and this crazy woman who was waving her mother’s business card in her face. She’d never heard of any “Barb” but her story seemed legit. She’d been with Mom when Manhattan fell, then stayed behind to take care of the abandoned animals.

  “Alice is your mom? That’s cool. She said she had the best children on Earth. I can see why she thought that. You’re a very industrious young woman. You’ve been marked for success. The Lord works in mysterious ways; none more mysterious than yours. Am I right?” Barb had a vibe. It wasn’t scary or threatening, but she wasn’t all there. Aggie didn’t know what to make of her.

  Barb didn’t seem in the least perturbed that there was a blackened scar on the ground where their house used to be. She walked around the perimeter of the property, her dogs padding along behind her—from the gigantic ball of hair that was glued to her side all the way down to the prancing Chihuahua with a diamante collar who was bringing up the rear—and examined the scorched beams and the odd heap of unidentifiable trash.

  The fluffy dog who stayed close to her side let Reggie know that his attentions weren’t welcome. It was just a curl of the lip, but with lips that big and teeth to match, Reggie didn’t need to be told to back off a second time.

  “What do you think, KC?” said Barb. “Do you think we can plant ourselves here? I do. I think this will do nicely.”

  Aggie wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

  “Do you have a rake?”

  Aggie pointed down the hill towards the barn.

  “You don’t mind if we stay here, do you? Your mom said we could.”

  There was nowhere to stay. No house, no running water, no electricity. It was literally a pile of burnt wood on a patch of scorched earth. “We don’t have enough food to go around. I can’t feed you.”

  Barb smiled. “I would never take a meal out of someone else’s mouth. God will provide. He’s taken care of us thus far. KC’s a hunter. As are Jasper, Homer, Pringles, Woodgie, and Mitz.” She pointed the dogs out as she named them, but Aggie couldn’t follow which dog was which. “And look at us. We’re doing better than most of the people who shun us.”

  She didn’t look great—raggedy, worn out clothes, her hair held back in a scarf—but she didn’t look sick or desperate, like the soldiers.

  “All we need is a place that has been loved.”

  Okay, well, a certifiable fruitloop.

  “The ground has been suffused with feelings of the heart. Yes. This place has known many different kinds of love: burgers under the stars, hunting and fishing with your father, story times galore. You need to get that goat to Midge. It’ll make a difference in the coming weeks.”

  Aggie never thought about Mom telling strangers about their life. It was odd to hear how much she’d shared with Barb. But it was all there, the story of their life in the woods: cookouts, sing-alongs, the time she’d broken her arm falling out of a tree.

  “At the center of the universe is love, Agatha. That’s what you need to remember. Love will make or break what comes next. And it will be down to you. You won’t want to make the decision. It’s a terrible thing to hold a life in your hand.” She put her hand out and held Aggie’s for a second. “But you’re strong. You can shoulder it. Keep the faith and remember that love is the center of all things.” She turned back to the carnage. “And that’s all we need to grow a home. Love. This is perfect. We’re going to be very happy here.”

  Was she saying she was staying as in staying because everyone was leaving? Like, away. Like, for a long time. Like, um, can we spell n.u.c.l.e.a.r.f.a.l.l.o.u.t? And what about if the wind never turned and the fallout never came? They’d be back to rebuild.

  “Oh. You’re not coming back,” said Barb.

  She’d legit read Aggie’s mind. That wasn’t possible. She must have said something to make Barb believe they were coming back.

  “No. This land will be unlivable and, in any case, you’re going far from here. We’ll be fine. The dogs and I will make this our home. It’s all going to work out just fine. God has a plan.”

  Barb had her eyes closed and her head bowed. She hadn’t announced that she was going to pray, neither did it seem like a praying kind of time, but Aggie stood quietly—40 or more dogs doing the same—while the woman prayed over their former home.

  When she was done, Barb shook herself, gathered her cooler, and surveyed the surrounding trees. “I think we can find a beautiful spot for you here.” She stepped closer to Aggie. “Oh, I see you’re already digging. That’s good. Let me get some tools and help.”

  Aggie didn’t want help. Nor did she want to keep digging for silver when there was a crazy stranger about, but time wasn’t on her side. She was too tired to come up with a clever excuse to send Barb on her way and was still bashing her brain against the proverbial wall when Barb excused herself and walked down the hill towards the barn. She made no noise or gesture but the dogs moved with her en masse. Aggie lost count after 27 had streamed past her.

  “I don’t know, Reggie, what do you think? A few bricks short of a load?” Hahahahahaha. She was talking to her dog, just like Barb had talked to the big fluffy dog she called KC. But Reggie was different. He understood h
er. Hahahahahaha. Even better. She wasn’t as loony as Barb, but perhaps with a few years practice she could get there.

  Barb returned with a shovel and a rake under her arms. It was a clumsy return because she hadn’t put her cooler down. When she reached Aggie she hunted around for what she called “the perfect spot” and finally put the cooler to one side, rolled up her sleeves, and started digging.

  Now Aggie had to say something. “This is private.”

  “I know.” She continued to dig.

  Aggie had to laugh. What do you do when the person you’re talking to is totally oblivious? “Private means, um, something I want to do on my own.”

  “I shan’t tell a soul,” said Barb. “What’s down here will buffer you in the days to come.”

  A shiver ran down Aggie’s spine. She hadn’t told Barb why she was digging. She put her foot on the back of the shovel and pressed down hard. The two women worked in silence for about half an hour. The dogs, who took their cue from Barb, scattered and settled, though their attention was still centered around her. It was like being part of a doggie cult. Aggie couldn’t remember a stranger scene.

  Barb suddenly shot up, straight as a pole. “Oh, he makes it. Your brother. He makes it in the end. Thank the Lord.” She smiled and continued to dig.

  Aggie didn’t know how much longer she could spend digging. There was still so much to do. She’d started her day swearing she’d get everyone to safety but somehow allowed herself to get sidetracked. Her shovel hit a metal surface. No way.

  “You must dig around,” said Barb. “The box is large. Too large for you to carry alone, I fear. You’ll need a wagon, but you have one close by that will do the trick. If you’d like to collect it, I’ll stay here and keep digging.”

  It was one of those magician’s tricks, to guess at something vague—like having a wagon on site—but it was still creepy. And, in any case, if this was what she thought it was—if this box really did contain silver—there was no way Aggie wanted to go back to Betsy’s house to collect the wagon.

  They dug until they’d made a moat around the box, which was a massive four-by-four-by-four metal contraption that was too heavy for one person to lift. They had to dig a couple of feet either side of the box so they could both fit in the hole.

  There was a lot of grunting, sweating, heaving, and praying that Barb wouldn’t drop it on her foot but eventually the box was out of the ground.

  There was another box beneath it.

  What had her parents done? There was silver. Incredible. How had Dad kept that a secret from her? She would never have blabbed to anyone.

  “I know you don’t trust me,” said Barb, “and that’s fine. But how’s this? I’ll send KC with you, as a form of insurance so you know I won’t leave, and I’ll stay here with your boxes full of precious things.”

  Was she that attached to the big dog? Would she truly stay? Then again, Aggie hadn’t told her what was in the boxes. Get a grip, Agatha, no one spends an hour digging beside an abandoned plot of land for no reason. Barb had to know there was something valuable in there.

  Barb turned to her sidekick, talking to her as if she understood plain English. “KC, I want you to go with this young lady.” She paused. KC growled. “You will guard her as you would guard me.” She held up her hand. “I know you don’t want to go, but there’s something in it for you. At the end of her journey Agatha will find you a delicious treat. Trust me. You’ll get something none of the others will have.”

  Aggie couldn’t believe it when the dog loped from Barb’s side to hers. KC ignored Reggie who was bounding from foot to foot, yelling his head off. He was excited about the addition of so many doggie friends.

  “KC was left in an apartment,” said Barb. “She’s a show dog. A ‘Caucasian Ovcharka’ if I remember correctly. I’m going to need to find a brush for her coat. She’s used to being pampered…” She turned back to the hole in the ground and continued to dig. “Be careful of those girls. They’re not to be trusted. I’d keep them close until you’re ready to make your move. Once you’re clear of danger, you can let them go. You will need to make the right decision when the time comes, but I have faith in you, Agatha. You’ll choose aright.”

  Creepy, creepy, creepy. Barb hadn’t come from the direction that Hannah and Chloe were secured, but it certainly sounded like she knew that they existed.

  She didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t haul the silver back to the house without the wagon. She had to take a chance and leave Crazy Barb—Dog Lady and Self Appointed Oracle—with her parents’ silver.

  “Oh. You know what else? If they’re ready,” Barb smiled, “I’m a certified minister. I can perform the rites.” She didn’t explain herself and Aggie wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Run along. You have things to do and I have to water the dogs and work out who’s going to sleep where.”

  KC didn’t leave Aggie’s side on the journey back to the house, unlike Reggie who did the trip three times over, bounding forward and coming back, this time with a stick, that time with a pinecone, this time with his tongue hanging out, etc. etc.

  She passed Hannah and Chloe without a word. They shouted after her, telling her that they didn’t mean it and were sorry and were only doing what Alistair had ordered them to do. The last part was the most chilling. Chloe claimed her mother would be tortured if she didn’t make it back to Wolfjaw.

  Barb’s warning—prophesy?—was ringing in her ears. Don’t set them free until you’re clear of all danger.

  Betsy’s house was as alien to her as it had been when she’d first returned from the mines. There were soldiers all over the place, K&P’s chief scientist was in the kitchen talking about molecular biochemistry with someone via Skype, Betsy and Jim were in the guest room taking care of another little girl—a new one; not Midge, sorry Margaret, and not Bryony—and Sean was milling about the front yard looking like he had lost his way.

  “I was thinking I’d take the animals,” he said.

  “That would be fantastic.” Aggie hadn’t worked out how to get Floofy and Pippy to the mines. If he was willing to walk them there, she was more than happy to accept his help.

  “Can I ask you a question, Aggie?” Sean followed her as she made her way to Fran’s grave to collect the wagon.

  “You can ask. I don’t know if I’ll have an answer.”

  “Are your parents, like, super trad?”

  “Trad in what way?”

  Michael had filled Fran’s grave and covered the heap of dirt with flowers. She grabbed the handle of the wagon and hauled it back to the front of the house.

  “Like, do I need to ask permission?”

  Aggie smiled. It was cute. He was going to go the “trad” route and ask for Petra’s hand in marriage. Petra was going to like that a lot. “Go all in, brother.”

  Sean frowned.

  “What, like you’re not about to become my brother-in-law?”

  He blushed, nodding furiously.

  “Do it Petra-style. Big gestures, big emo, lots of words, and even bigger feelings.”

  “She’s the best. She’s like no one in my family. My folks don’t talk about anything. They’re all stitched and starched and tight-lipped. I love that she has it all on her sleeve, hanging out there, embracing whatever the world throws at her and really feeling it all the way.”

  It was a day for miracles, apparently. Petra had found someone who thought her “emo” self was the best thing since sliced bread.

  She stopped. Now that was creepy. Barb had told her she was a minister. Coincidence?

  She wanted to hug Sean and congratulate him, but instead she directed him to Floofy and Pippy, showed him how the quick-release knots worked, and started back down the track to her stash of impossible silver.

  Michael Rayton joined her. “Can I pick your brain for a moment?”

  There was a lot of brain picking going on. Not how she’d expected the end of the world to pan out, but whatev as Petra (who was about to be very, very, very
happy) would say.

  “What can I say to make your mom come and help us?”

  Aggie stopped. “Please don’t.”

  “We need her, Aggie. She’s the best at what she does. I’ve been feeding ideas to Baxter via your mother and she’s starting to listen to me.”

  “We never get her to ourselves.” Aggie wanted her mom to stay. Badly. As in, be that person Dad believed existed underneath all the prepping and paranoia. It would make him happy which, selfishly, would make her happy. Ever since that time she’d kept her mom at a distance, but if they were about to get pelted with radioactive isotopes and the rest of the country was going to melt into the ground, it was kinda time to put that all behind them and find a way to connect.

  Michael hadn’t dropped back. He was walking beside her, thinking of what else he could say to persuade her, no doubt. “She’s important.”

  “I know that. She’s important to us, too.”

  “I get it, Aggie, but sometimes there are things that are bigger than us as individuals.”

  Aggie was annoyed that he was trying to get to her mother by talking to her. It wasn’t fair. Why should she vote against her own interests? They needed Mom just as much as K&P needed her.

  “I never had what she had.” He wasn’t going to give up. “No family. No kids. The job doesn’t allow for that kind of stability. I lived all around the world, worked on interesting projects, did my best to keep the country safe.”

  Aggie snorted. That was a bit self-important. What had Michael Rayton done to keep the country safe?

  “They don’t believe me, but I’ve been working like crazy to try to solve this riddle. We have about a week, not more, perhaps less, to stop this from going global. Christine Baxter is a certified genius. No one doubts that. But she’s an emotional gnome. No offence to gnomes.” He was trying to be funny, get her engaged, make her respond. She didn’t need to. She knew what she wanted and what he wanted and they were opposites. She wanted Mom to stay with them.