Jack did a quick mental check of his body, and wiggled each limb, finger, and toe a bit. “I think that’s it. I’m sure I’ll feel it a little more tomorrow, but I’m fine.”
Right then they heard the door to the kitchen slam closed, and they all turned to see Charlie jogging his way over. “What the hell is going on?” he asked, looking from the drooping corpse at the middle of the cliff face, then to Jack, then back to the body.
Everyone looked at him, but before they could explain, a loud snap was heard from behind them. The small, old trunk that was holding the body had cracked more at its base from the weight and had sunk its angle down considerably. As they all watched, the body slowly began to slide its way down until the whole brunt of it reached the end causing the wood to finally break all the way free. They watched in captivation as the whole display fell right to the ground a few feet away from them.
“Woo!” Wyatt yelled as he ran over to the unnaturally positioned deadman on the ground and yanked his knife from its head. “Problem solved!” he shouted as he wiped the blade clean on his pants.
Rae frowned at him. Antonia just turned away, and headed back into the house. Richy started laughing, and Jack couldn’t help but let a few laughs out too. It made the whole thing just seem lighter.
“Alright,” Richy said to Wyatt as he walked up to him. “Since you’re already up, you can help drag our three new visitors out of here.”
Mac grabbed Jack by the shoulder. “Come on, you still gotta get that cleaned.” She pointed to his hand and started for the house.
Jack took a step with her then turned back to Wyatt who was standing over the other two bodies by the garage. “Hey.” Wyatt turned to him as Jack unclipped the knives holster from his belt, and tossed it to him. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” he said, pointing to the other body.
Jack turned back towards the house to see Cara was still waiting for him just a few steps away. As the two walked to the kitchen door they passed Charlie.
“Seriously. What the fuck?” he asked, still staring from the cliff to the ground.
“Jumpers,” Cara grinned as she clapped him on the shoulder and they headed inside.
✽✽✽
The fleshy, rounded tips of his toes wiggled through his now even more tattered socks. The end of his big one poked out the farthest. The calloused pad that crept up to his nail was scraped. Fine cuts from the sharp slate sliced him as he had scrambled to anchor himself back on to the wall lined themselves up in the hard skin, but didn’t make it down deep enough to draw blood.
“Here,” Mac said to Jack as she wrung out a wash cloth into the sink. The drops splashed back down into the basin where she had plugged the drain and poured half a pitcher’s worth of water into it. She handed it to him and he looked dumbfounded as to what he was supposed to do with it. She bent down and opened the cabinet that sat underneath, pulling out a little plastic box she placed on the counter. She went to reach back in for something else when she saw his eyes flickering around in confusion as he searched for clues as to what she wanted him to do with the cloth.
“Wipe your face off.” She pointed to his forehead then turned her attention back to under the sink.
He pivoted on the closed toilet seat he was sitting on, and faced the mirror on the wall. The man Jack saw looking back at him made his stomach turn over. He hadn’t looked like that version of himself in well over a year and a half. His eyes were wide with alert pupils, his face dirty with sweaty dust and flecks of debris from off the wall. But the swipe of blood, though his own, was what really brought him back. He stared frozen at his own reflection until the sound of Mac closing the cabinet door made him blink.
He shot his hands up with the damp cloth and began to scrub at his face. Mac placed a dark brown plastic bottle onto the counter top. She stood with her back to the mirror, leaning on the grey marble of the vanity. Finally she turned to Jack, his skin red and irritated from the unnecessary vigorous scrubbing from the washcloth.
“Wash your hands in there.” She pointed to the clean water she had poured in the sink when they first walked in.
Jack looked down at his hands, the cream colored washcloth was now rust colored with dirt and blood. He sunk it down into the water with his hands. Immediately little plumes of red rose from his sliced palm, and he whirled them around as he gently brushed the cloth against the cuts. For the first time since it happened he started to feel the sting of the cuts. Mac held out a tattered and stained hand towel to him.
“It’s clean,” she smirked. “You’re not the only one who’s ever gotten hurt around here. This just seems to have become the designated towel for it.”
He took it from her and started to pat his hurt hand dry. “Thanks.”
“Let me take a look at it,” she reached over and grabbed his hand, turning it over so his palm was up.
“You going to stitch me up?” he joked.
She was bent down, closely inspecting his cuts, and didn’t look up as she turned his hand slightly from one side to the other into the light from the window. “No, the cuts aren’t deep. That’s not the concern.” She held his hand in one of hers as she reached over with her other to opened the box she had placed out when they got in there. She started shuffling around in its contents until she pulled out a pair of metal tweezers. “All you need out here,” she said as she bent his fingers back to stretch open the wounds on his palm, making him grimace. “Is something as small as this,” she continued as she carefully placed the tip of the tweezers into one opening, and pulled out a tiny fragment. “Or this,” as she pulled out another from a different spot. “To kill you.”
She wiped them both onto the used washcloth, and Jack looked over at them as Mac went back to rummaging through the first aid kit. One piece looked like a skinny splinter of wood, and the other was a chip of slate from off the rocks. He hadn’t even noticed or felt them in his hand.
Mac stopped rummaging through the supplies in the box and reached over to grab the hand towel. She took the brown plastic bottle and flipped its white cap open. “Even if they weren’t in there, I’ve seen people get sick and die from much smaller scrapes. The infection creeps in and there’s nothing you can do.”
She took his hand, little red beads still rising up in the deeper parts and laid it palm up onto the towel. Carefully, she held the bottle over his wounds and drop by drop splashed the liquid conservatively into the cuts. It bubbled up immediately on contact and Jack felt the slight sting of the peroxide. Mac snapped the bottle shut, and put it back underneath the sink along with the first aid box. As she sat back up, she took a corner of the towel and gently dabbed the excess off and dried it again. Jack was puzzled by her next move. She pulled back her sleeve, then brought her hand up to her mouth, and started to bite at the handkerchief knotted around her wrist. He flashed back to the memory of her wearing it when she had washed up in the showers the day they first met. When she had loosened the knot, she used her other hand to untie it, and she unwound it from her wrist. Underneath was a black leather dog collar dotted with metal spikes.
He let out a small laugh. “Didn’t think you were the punk rock type.”
She pulled her sleeve back over the collar and shook the handkerchief out to open it up. “It was a friend’s,” she replied, not looking up at him as she took his hand again.
That response made his smile fade at once. He understood the strange mementos that people had started accumulating now. The oddest things seemed to become so important and invaluable. He didn’t say anything else about it.
“Don’t worry,” she said, looking up at him from under her eyebrows as her face was still bent down to look at his hand. “This is clean too. Well, clean enough,” she joked, a small lift of the corner of her mouth showed him she wasn’t bothered by his comment. She started to wrap the bandana over his cuts and back around again, then tied it tight against the wounds. “You can get some gauze and antibiotic ointment back at your place in your fully stocked nurse’s office. They
barely have enough gauze left here to make it around your hand anyway, and I’m not going to take it from them. Just try and keep it covered and clean as best you can until then.” She let go of his hand and stood up.
Cara walked in holding Jack’s boots. “I figured you might need these,” she teased, as she swung them slightly in front of him.
He grabbed them and started shoving his poor excuse for socked feet in. It was easy enough to tie them back up. He only felt a bit of pain as he pulled the laces tight. His feet actually seemed more sore than his hand from the basically barefoot climb he just did.
“So…” Cara leaned against the door jam as Mac started to collect the used towel and cloth. “He gonna live?”
“From this?” she asked, looking at Cara. “Probably, but I don’t make any promises.” She then pushed down the stopper by the faucet with a little punch allowing the bloodied water to drain and walked out.
Cara looked at Jack and raised her eyebrows at him, patted him on the shoulder then turned, waving her hand back for him to follow her to breakfast.
CHAPTER 14
Meet the Browns
The fried eggs Antonia made for them sat heavy, but incredibly comforting in their stomachs. It was another dish they took for granted before all this happened. Now it was almost a delicacy. Each of them moved slow on full bellies as they gathered the few possessions they had brought with them, getting ready to start the hike back to the Block. Mac walked over and dropped her pack at her feet.
“Charlie, Wyatt’s out back. He has a few more questions about your garden and your land.”
“Ok,” he said, shooting a look to Cara. “I’ll head there now.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cara said, slapping her knees as she rose up off the couch and jammed her refilled water bottle into her jacket pocket.
Jack was zipping up the hoodie he wore for an extra layer under his jacket. He reached down to grab the small backpack that had held the Block’s offerings. He slung it over one shoulder, barely even feeling it on his back now that it was empty.
“Robin Hood,” Mac said as she reached over and took the pack off him. “Richy wants to talk to you. He’s out behind the barn waiting.” She folded up the kids back pack and shoved it into her own, then looked up at him still standing there. “He’s not going to be there forever. I’m sure he wants to go get some sleep,” she said sternly, telling him to get moving.
“Uh, sure,” he said, unable to hide his confusion and apprehension. He headed for the side door in the kitchen, and looked back to see Mac had walked to the table where Antonia was with Emma who was still working on her scrabbled eggs. Evie had her back to him now. The door closed softly behind him. He looked out at the stretch of land to the far side of the barn and started making his was down the deck steps.
The huffs and whinnie’s of the horses could be heard out of the barn’s large open doors as he walked around to the back. He realized half way down its length he had surprisingly underestimated the actual size of it. As he reached the end, he slowed his step and rounded the corner.
Richy sat on top of an old hay bale that was sitting next to a few more stacks of them. When he saw Jack he rubbed his face to wake up a little and smiled at him.
“Alright then, should we get started?” he asked giving a little jump off of the hay.
Jack looked back at him blankly and Richy gave him a toothy grin as he turned back to the rectangle blocks of straw and reached up, pulling a compound bow from the top of a tower of three bales.
Jack let out a guffaw. His face went from nervous to comical as he raised an eyebrows.
“I hear you could use a quick lesson,” Richy chuckled.
“Yeah, I bet you did,” Jack sighed with a smile as he craned his head back around the side of the barn to see if he could catch a glimpse of Mac back at the house, but it was a too far away.
“Ok then. Let’s do it.” Richy slapped him on the shoulder and started walking away from the bales.
Jack followed and when they were about ten yards away, he turned to see a target made from old magazine pages pinned to the center of the stacks of hay.
“Let’s start by seeing what you know so far,” Richy said, and handed the bow to Jack. Jack just started laughing.
✽✽✽
Mac let a grin pull at one corner of her mouth as she watched Jack round the corner out of sight at the back of the barn as she looked out the window over the kitchen sink.
“I’m assuming you wouldn’t be doing all of this if they didn’t have a chance, right?” Antonia asked, as she picked Emma up out of her seat and set her on the floor where she tore off running at Evie.
“Their chance is this. That’s why I’m doing it,” she answered flatly as she picked Emma up and placed her on the kitchen island where she started to stack a few small plastic bowls.
Antonia walked up to the spot at the island across from her, and looked at her thoughtfully. “Evangeline.” At the sound of her full name she looked up away from Emma and back at Antonia. “I am not particularly happy about sending my boys off to the unknown place of an unknown group, but I also know you are aware of this. And you don’t take that lightly. So, I know that you think this is not only going to be saving lives, but that it’s necessary too. And that it’s safe for my sons.”
“It wasn’t my idea to have them come out there. That was Wyatt. But I can tell you there’s no danger waiting for them at this place. The Block.” she took a slow breath as she looked down at the marble of the countertop. “But I can’t promise a safe journey for them. I can’t do that for anyone, as much as I’d like to.” She looked back up to Antonia. “I tried to convince him to just write it down or not worry about what to give them, because anything will help at this point, but you know Wyatt. And you know Nico. They are both good people who want to help other good people. And they will never let each other go off and do that alone.”
“Yes,” Antonia said with a little catch in her throat. “I am very proud of that,” she stated, looking Evie in the eye. “But it doesn’t take away my fear.”
She nodded her head in understanding. “I mapped them the best route, the safest, and quickest, and best for the horses. I wanted to come back and go with them, but, Wyatt told me no.” Evie gave her a little smile.
Antonia took a deep breath and straightened up. “Well I guess that’s that then,” she said, making a silly face at Emma who giggled and went back to playing. Antonia turned to head to her room in the back when Evie spoke.
“Toni.” She turned to see an even more serious face on Evie. “Do you still have the bag I brought with Emma?”
Antonia took a moment to collect herself, being thrown by the question. Evie only spoke of that time once and that was when it all was brought to her doorstep originally.
“Yes, I believe I put it in the back of my closet. You told me to keep it for her, right?” she asked, not sure where this was going.
“Yeah, I did. I’m just pretty sure there’s something in there I need to get.” Evie pulled the little girl a little closer to her unconsciously.
“Ok, follow me.” She gave a nod of her head and a supportive smile.
Evie picked Emma off the counter and placed her little feet on the tiled floor. She looked at Antonia walking down the hallway and then back at Evie.
Evie gave her a little grin. “Come on,” she said to her as she widened her eyes in excitement. “Let’s get her!”
Emma was off running as fast as her little legs could take her down the hall. Evie followed, watching her go. The little girl barreled into the half open door making an extremely loud bang in the quiet calm of the house.
“Rooooooooar,” she bellowed at Antonia who was kneeling in her large, walk-in closet. A small but beautiful circular stained glass window lit the space with soft colors at the far wall. Toni clutched her chest at the noise and let out a few quick statements of exclamation in Italian as the little girl ran to her and fell into her lap.
Evi
e softly laughed as she sat down on the rugged floor of the closet, leaning against the door frame. She looked into it, at the little bed they had crafted for Emma. A small long box made from wooden crates they had in their downstairs pantry meant to hold produce. They had connected two at first, opening a long side on both to create a crib when she was a baby. It was lined with a sheet folded over on itself, and the blanket Evie had brought her in. The rough planks that made up the sides were wrapped around with other scraps from sheets and towels. Now as she got bigger, Nico had extended it into a bed-sized space by adding four more off it as a square extension, leaving the sides up on the outside except for the end which he left open so she could get out. The soft pink blanket with purple flowers and butterflies on it still laid in there.
Antonia slid out a brown leather purse from behind a few shoe boxes and a pile of blankets. “Here it is,” she said softly as she placed it in front of Evie, and she set to stroking Emma’s hair as she waited to see what Evie could possibly need from it.
Slowly she pulled it onto her lap and unzipped it. Deep inside was the usual mix of tissues, a wallet, chapstick, and pens. Evie put her hand inside, and dug to the bottom, feeling around for what she was looking for. From the top of the purse the wallet fell out and opened up, exposing a few credit cards and a check book which slid out at the fall. Emma scooted off Antonia’s lap and bent down into a tiny squat to examine it. She started to pull out the bank card and some change fell out. She exclaimed in delight at the round, shiny things, and started pulling out anything else removable in the wallet, tossing them to the ground. None of which was more change, so she wasn’t interested in any of it. Until she pulled out a photo.
“Dis?” she asked Evie as she pointed to the photograph her little hand was waving around in her face.
“Come here, Little Beast,” Evie said as she lifted her up just enough to sit her on her lap. She gently plucked the photo from her, and held it in front of them. They gazed at the couple on the glossy paper.
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