by Dawn, M. K.
Descent of
Humanity
Book 2 in the Decay of Humanity Series
M.K. Dawn
Copyright © 2019 M.K. Dawn
All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
“Okay,” Britney yelled from the top of the stairs as she pulled her red hair into a loose bun and fluffed her thick bangs, “if we leave in the next five minutes, we won’t be late for church.” Then she added under her breath, “Again.”
The front door swung open and John, her husband of ten years, strolled toward the stairs still wearing his filthy work clothes. “You look nice, babe.”
Britney stuck a hand on her jutted hip. “What are you doin’? I thought you came in an hour ago to get dressed?” Her country accent always sounded more pronounced when irritated.
“I did.” He removed his grungy baseball cap and ran a hand through his even grungier dark, thinning hair. “But then I remembered I had to check on the calf in the back pen.”
She closed her eyes and let out a weighted breath, trying to slow her quickened pulse. “Can you please go get ready? Pastor Beachem asked me to hand out flyers this morning for the church festival next Saturday.”
“Screw ’em. I’m sure that busybody Susan will gladly step up to help.”
She groaned. “Yeah, and hold it over my head for the rest of my life.”
He gave her a light pat on the butt and jogged up the stairs. “A quick shower and I’ll be ready to go.”
“What? No!” Britney followed him, slower in her heels. “We don’t have time. Just throw on some clothes so we can leave.”
“I’ll be fast,” he hollered as he started the water.
Britney dropped her head back. “Lord, help me.”
As fast as John thought he was at getting ready, she could dry her hair, put on makeup and try on five different outfits before he got out of the shower. His excuse: being a six-foot-five hefty man meant he had a lot of area to clean, unlike her “bite-size self.”
At five-foot-four, she wasn’t exactly short, but compared to him….
She glanced at the grandfather clock as she headed downstairs to check on the kids—ten o’clock, and church started at ten thirty. The drive into town took thirty minutes. Longer if they got behind a slow driver, or God bless, a tractor.
“Hey, boys.” Her sons sat on the couch playing on their tablets, thankfully dressed. In wrinkled button-up shirts and scuffed boots, but at this point she’d take what she could get. “Where’s Molly?”
Blake, Molly’s twin brother, shrugged. “How should I know?”
“Watch your tone, kid.” And they said two-year-olds were bad. Five going on fifteen wore on her nerves faster than any age. So far. She remembered how mouthy she was as a teenager and dreaded when her kids reached those years.
“Carson?” Britney pressed her nine-year-old.
He didn’t bother looking up from his tablet. “She said something about her dress being itchy.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Two sets of hazel eyes gawked at her. Britney was a country girl through and through. She had her daddy’s mouth and little self-control over her tongue, a combination that earned her a lot of wayward glances from the uppity women in town. Not that she gave a rat’s ass what they thought.
“Umm,” Blake scolded with a big smile, “Mommy said a bad word.”
“Don’t judge me.” She shot them a little wink and went to check on Molly, who was probably in her room, rifling through the closet.
Britney left her heels at the bottom of the stairs and headed up.
Before dealing with Molly, she needed to check on the man-child she called a husband. “John, are you almost ready?”
“Yep.” At least he was out of the shower.
An audible groan left her lips when she entered Molly’s room. Dresses lay scattered on the floor, and in the middle of the mess stood a very pissed-off five-year-old. “I see you changed.”
“My dress was itchy.”
Britney wanted to say, “The same dress you wore and refused to take off the entire week before school?” but she opted for a more motherly approach. “So I’ve heard. Do you think you can put somethin’ else on? We’re late for church.”
“Can I wear my Brave dress?” Molly narrowed her hazel eyes.
While Britney had green eyes and John had blue, all their kids’ eyes matched those of Britney’s younger sister, Sloan. “Your Brave dress?”
“We’re twins. We have the same hair.”
At this point she could wear her pajamas, as long as she had clothes to cover her body. “Sure, honey.”
Molly cocked her head and, with a victorious smile, asked, “And the heels to match?”
“I’ll make you a deal.” Britney crouched in front of her fiery mini-me. “You can wear both if you can get them on by the time I count to sixty.”
Thirty seconds later, they headed down the stairs, Molly dressed with a bulging purse slung on her shoulder. They were in trouble with that one.
John waited for them with the front door open. “Ladies, you look lovely.”
Molly beamed and rushed outside. “Thanks, Daddy.”
Britney slipped her shoes on and did a quick sweep around the house. “Where are the boys?”
“In the truck.” John ushered her out and locked the door. “We’ve been waiting for the two of you.”
Britney shoved his arm and tried not to laugh. “You’re such an ass.”
John kissed her on the cheek. “You know you love me.”
***
The church bells donged as they entered town. Britney sank in her seat and groaned. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
John gave her a sideways glance. “What’s the big deal? You don’t care what those women think anyway.”
“No. But what they’ll say behind my back, that sh—” She peered back at her three snickering kids. “Crap drives me up the wall.”
John parked the car in front of the little white church. “I thought you loved gossip.”
“Not when it’s about me.” She helped the twins out of the truck while Carson climbed out of the driver side.
“Look.” John pointed as they rounded the truck. “We’re not the only ones late.”
“Good Lord.” Britney couldn’t believe who headed toward the church. “That can’t be the Anthonys.”
“You know any other elderly African American couple who attends our church?”
Britney swatted his arm. “Don’t say that.”
John cocked his head, genuinely confused. “What did I say?”
“Never mind.” Britney knew John meant no disrespect. “I can’t believe they’re here. Just last month he was on his deathbed.”
“Shh.” John grabbed her hand, and they hurried inside just before the door closed.
Nobody noticed the Campbell family as Britney shoved them in the last pew. The Anthonys being back was bigger news than their reoccurring tardiness. This week, at least.
Pastor Christopher Beachem silenced the room with his lanky arms. “Patty and Thomas Anthony. The Lord has heard our prayers. Welcome back. Come, sit up front. I insist.”
He waved them down the aisle, forcing Susan and her family to move a few rows back.
Britney snickered, though not loud enough for anyone but John to hear.
He shook his head, an amused grin splashed across his face.
Pastor Beachem strolled down the stairs and grasped each of the Anthonys’ hands. “It is so good to see you both back here, in the house of our Lord. And for Thomas to appear so healthy.”
“We are
so blessed.” Patty choked on the words and dabbed under her eyes with her white handkerchief. “God has answered our prayers. Thomas has been cured.”
The congregation gasped. Not six months ago, the doctor had diagnosed Thomas with stage-four pancreatic cancer.
“How is that possible?” Britney whispered in John’s ear.
“Cured?” Pastor Beachem’s eyes widened. “Praise the Lord Jesus.”
People applauded. Some wept.
Lost in her own thoughts, Britney didn’t do either. She wanted to know how. As much as she believed in God, breast cancer had taken her mother when she was sixteen. She had spent months in this very church, praying for a miracle that never came. Breast cancer had a pretty good survival rate. Pancreatic cancer did not.
Thomas twisted around and gave the group a small nod and wave.
Though he appeared significantly better than he did the last time she’d seen him, there was still something off about his appearance. His ebony skin, usually so rich with a healthy glow, lacked the luster that had been there before.
“His skin is different.” She kept her voice low so only John could hear. “Almost like there’s a hint of gray to his colorin’.”
“Brit,” John said in the stern tone he used when her mouth was getting the best of her.
“What?” Her eyes flickered over at the kids, who sat in the pew playing with the small cars the boys must have stuffed in their pockets, and the ponies Molly had in her purse. At least they were quiet. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean. I love Thomas. He and Patty were some of my parents’ closest friends.”
Pastor Beachem stood and silenced the congregation. “We prayed for a cure, and the Lord answered our prayers. Amen.”
“Amen,” they replied in unison.
The service continued till well past noon, when it usually let out at eleven thirty. They could thank Susan for that. As head of the fall festival committee, she wanted to make sure everything was in order for the following weekend. A conversation that could have waited until Monday evening when the committee met, but then Pastor Beachem wouldn’t have been there to hear all the “hard work” she’d put into making this festival the “best ever.” Unlike the festival Britney headed up last year, where half the town ended up with food poisoning. Like she had any control over the rancid turkey legs.
Not that Britney expected any less. She and Susan had been at each other’s throats since elementary school. Britney caught Susan kissing her boyfriend on the playground—and broke her nose. A little blip in her past she wasn’t exactly proud of, but it still brought a smile to her face.
By the time Pastor Beachem dismissed the service, the kids had all but lost their minds. Molly had said no less than thirty times in the last half hour she was starving, like Britney could do anything about it sitting in church. The boys couldn’t stay still to save their lives. Their quiet car play had turned into a monster truck rally halfway through Beachem’s second reading. Even though both Britney and John had scolded them through clenched teeth, they continued to get louder.
She had to hand it to the kids, as they knew what they could get away with and where. Church being one of them. God forbid she lost her temper in front of everybody. Like none of them ever yelled at their kids. Please. Some of them made her kids look like saints. Susan’s youngest—that boy sent shivers down Britney’s spine when he glanced her way.
They needed to get out of there before Britney’s debutante smile slipped and the snarky side of her let loose. Her sanity hung on by a thread, and her kids held the scissors.
Britney understood their restlessness; as an adult, she struggled to sit still for longer than an hour. That’s probably why ranching turned out to be a perfect fit. Not that she’d ever admit that to Sloan. After their father passed, Britney had to drop out of school and return home to take care of her younger sister and the farm he’d left behind. Not long after, Sloan left for college and never looked back. For years Britney resented her sister for leaving, but that dwindled after Carson was born. These days their relationship consisted of missed phone calls and postponed visits.
“So, Cracker Barrel for lunch?” John asked as they headed for the truck.
“Sure.” Brittney scanned the parking lot in search of Patty and Thomas. His recovery had kept her mind reeling the entire service. As happy as she was for him, the curious side of her needed to know how the doctors had healed him. Last she heard, there was nothing left to do for him but make the most of what little time he had left.
***
Cracker Barrel was packed. There were two churches in the small town of Myrefall, Montana: the First Baptist Church and their nondenominational church, Gracepoint. Both started at ten thirty and ran about an hour. Go over that hour mark and the congregations grew antsy, partially because no one wanted to be stuck on the waiting list for lunch.
Typical small-town USA, the Cracker Barrel was the only restaurant open on Sundays. It was a race to see which congregation would get their first. First Baptist won today.
“There’s a thirty-minute wait,” John said, coming back from the hostess stand. “Want to go home and eat there?”
“No.” Molly tugged on Britney’s dress and whined, “I’m starving.”
Britney brushed the fallen strands of hair out of her daughter’s eyes. “Let’s wait. By the time we get home and cook somethin’—”
“And I have to go to the bathroom,” Molly interrupted.
“Okay.” Britney watched the boys, who were eying the toy section of the country store attached to the restaurant. “Blake, Carson, you guys need to go to the bathroom too?”
Both shook their head.
Britney grabbed Molly’s hand and led her through the restaurant.
On the way back, they passed Patty and Thomas.
“Hello, dear,” Patty said with a tilt of her head. “How are you and your family doing?”
“Pretty good.” Britney smiled. “Just waitin’ for a table.”
“Join us,” Thomas offered. “We have plenty of room.”
Britney scanned the four empty seats, surprised they’d sit the couple at such a big table. “Well there are five of us. And we wouldn’t want to intrude. Are you expectin’ others to join you?”
“Makayla canceled. Again. That daughter of ours.” Patty tapped the tabletop with her index finger. “We’ll pull up another chair. It’s been ages. Go get John and the boys. You want to wait here with us, Molly?”
She nodded and slid in the chair next to Patty.
“I’ll be right back, kid.” Britney found John and the boys outside. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”
John checked his watch. “They called us already? It’s only been ten minutes.”
“Patty and Thomas invited us to sit with them.”
“Oh.” John hollered at the boys to come inside. “That was nice of them.”
“Guess they want to catch up. It’s been a while.”
Carson grabbed the sleeve of Blake’s shirt. “This way.”
They hurried off inside while Britney and John trailed not too far behind.
“Maybe”—John focused on the floor—“don’t mention him being better.”
“Why on Earth not?”
John cleared his throat. “You’re not the most tactful person in the world.”
“Ugh.” Britney’s mouth fell open. “You think I’m going to offend them?”
“It’s just….”
Britney scowled. “Just what?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing, dear.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t bring it up unless they do. Happy?”
“Yes.” He kissed the top of her head. “Looks like they’ve ordered drinks.”
She squeezed John’s hand as he pulled out her chair. “Thank you.”
Patty and Thomas smiled and greeted John as they sat.
“I ordered the kids chocolate milk,” Patty said, “and the both of you sweet tea. I hope that’s okay. I know
that’s what your mama always ordered.”
Britney sipped her drink. “That’s perfect. Mama loved her sweet tea. Said it was a southern thing.” Her mother was from Georgia. Britney had picked up on her mother’s drawl as a kid, which was why she now spoke with a southern twang.
“I’m hungry,” Molly growled. Again.
“We’re about to order.” Britney redirected Molly’s attention to the food listed on the kid’s menu. “Decide what you want.”
Thomas turned and lifted a finger. “Tammy, we’re ready.”
Tammy strolled over, the waitress’s voluptuous hips swaying, and pulled out her notepad. “Let’s start with the kids.”
Carson pointed at the menu. “Fried shrimp, please.”
Blake scrunched his nose and groaned. “I guess a hamburger.” John lifted an eyebrow and Blake added, “Please.”
Molly straightened and did her best adult impression. “I will take the mac and cheese, please.”
“Sweetie”—John patted her hand—“wouldn’t you like something other than mac and cheese? Something with meat?”
“But, Daddy,” Molly huffed, “I don’t like the other food. Only the mac and cheese.”
John looked to Britney for help, but this was a battle she didn’t feel like fighting. “It’s not worth it.”
“Fine.” John slumped in his chair. “I guess it’s mac and cheese for the princess.”
Molly beamed, and Britney had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Poor John. The boys he understood, but Molly? She tested his patience like no other.
The rest of the table ordered, and the waitress left, promising to be back in a few minutes to refill their drinks.
“You have to be wondering”—Patty grinned at Thomas—“how this all happened.”
Britney’s eyes danced to John. “I didn’t want to pry.”
Patty waved a dismissive hand. “The whole town has been talking about it since we got home a week ago. If it were bad news, I would be irate, but since my dear Thomas is all better, I don’t mind answering all their questions.”
Now that Britney had the go-ahead to talk about Thomas’s recovery, she wouldn’t hold back. “What I don’t understand is how they cured the cancer in such a short time. I knew you had been accepted into some sort of medical trial. Through NATO, right? But I heard from Makayla it wasn’t workin’.”