Bad timing all around.
Trey got his legs tangled up in the gap between the steering wheel and front seat, and consequently couldn’t move. Norman suddenly found himself in the direct path of the flipping fire truck.
Samuel was too far away to help either brother. The truck tipped over on its side, trapping his two siblings under its massive weight. Then the only sound was their agonizing screams.
Suddenly, the freaked Samuel had his hands wrapped around the door frame of the overturned fire truck—as if he could actually pull it off his brothers and let them to roll to freedom.
Oddly enough, that was exactly what happened.
Trey and Norman were clearly so stunned that they actually stopped screaming. Samuel had lifted the cabin almost a foot off the ground and was so shocked that he almost dropped it back onto Trey and Norman. But Samuel could see they had the desperate fortitude and presence of mind to crawl to safety.
Once they were out from under the fire truck, Samuel let go and stepped away. As the truck crashed, causing the ground to rumble like an aftershock, Samuel stood dead still, staring in disbelief at what he’d just done.
This can’t be, he thought.
But then, The Strangers appearing one day out of nowhere and destroying the world shouldn’t have happened either.
Miraculously, his brothers weren’t much the worse for wear (Trey had to nurse a couple of broken ribs for a few months and both incurred bruises the size, shape, and color of eggplants) and they stared at Samuel in awestruck disbelief.
Norman found his voice first; and babbled away.
“It’s the Four M’s! The Four M’s!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Trey, clutching his aching side.
“The Four Musketeers! The game we used to play? Only this time it’s real!”
Norman went on about mock battles staged in their youth, alternately fighting and saving each other. But now, Secundo had actually rescued them—preventing Trey and Quattro from suffering the fate of a crushing death.
Suddenly The Oaf was no longer.
He was renamed Secundo.
Secundo the Strong.
Aurora stared at the burnt blond man kneeling beside her.
“That’s where the names came from? A childhood game?”
“Primo thought it was a good idea. New world. New start. I just sort of went along.”
Aurora was trying to size up Secundo. She sensed there was a lot more to this last statement. Being an only child from a family whose sole dysfunction was its abnormal ability to actually function, she wasn’t really familiar with the intricacies of sibling rivalry. But it was obviously tense between these two surviving brothers. Primo was the alpha dog and Secundo, even though almost twice the size, seemed to be the dedicated follower.
At least till now.
“You always do what Primo says?”
Secundo straightened, his scabbed muscles starting to twitch. “Only when I agree with him.”
Oh-oh, thought Aurora. From the snip-snap way Secundo responded, she knew she’d hit a sore spot.
“What’s going on over here?”
Primo approached from behind his brother. Half his black beard was gone, and replaced by crimson-crusted scabs. His face looked like it was rimmed with a string of black widow spiders’ underbellies.
“Nothing,” Secundo quickly answered.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Primo continued to glare. Aurora tried to scooch backwards, but the stone marker she was bound to prevented her from doing so. “What were you two talking about?”
“I was telling her about my Gift,” Secundo offered up.
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“We were just making conversation.”
“You’re not supposed to be chit-chatting! She’s here for one reason only—to lead us to Joad!”
Aurora had been watching the argument between the siblings with growing interest. The tension was beyond palpable—Aurora felt that if it were up to Secundo, he would have abandoned the vendetta a long time ago.
“She already told us where to go.”
“You ever consider she’s been playing us? That even occur to you?”
“Why would she?”
“Because they’re her friends.”
Then came what Aurora had been dreading.
Primo focused his attention on her.
“Is that what you’re doing? Playing us?”
Aurora shook her head adamantly. “I told you what you wanted to know. And you still went and burned down my home.”
Primo inched closer. “All the more reason for you to lead us in the wrong direction.”
“I wouldn’t do that… .” she implored.
“I don’t believe you,” Primo sneered.
“That’s your choice.”
Primo slapped her across the face. Hard.
“I told you what would happen if you lied to me,” he seethed.
He wound up and this time slugged her. Aurora moaned in pain and was surprised her head didn’t snap off like a china doll. She felt blood dripping from her nose and figured the bastard had broken it.
“Primo! Stop it!”
Primo whirled on his sibling. “Stay out of this!”
Aurora noticed Secundo hadn’t moved. She took this as a blessed sign, knowing full well he could have already joined in the fun. She decided to take a desperate chance, one she knew might be her last.
“Is that how you get your kicks? Beating up helpless women?”
Primo fumed, his fury immediately notching up a few degrees. Aurora would soon know if this were a good or fatal thing.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” Primo dropped to the ground and grabbed her restraints. “Helpless? Let’s see what you’ve got!”
Within seconds, he untied her and once she brought up her hands to defend herself, Primo was all over Aurora. He plowed a fist into her stomach, which sent her sprawling backwards.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed.
She frantically tried to claw at his mangled face, but he swiped her hands away. Another fist nearly knocked her out and made it impossible to fend him off as he ripped her blouse and climbed on top of her. Aurora continued to kick, fight, and scream to no avail. An evil grin lit up Primo’s crimson-scabbed Jack-o’-lantern face as he reached lower to dig under her skirt.
“Stop!”
Suddenly, Primo was no longer on top of her. He had been picked up by Secundo as if an eagle had swooped to grab a mangy squirrel, and hurled it thirty feet through the air. Aurora saw Primo come crashing down on one of the stone markers, opening a nasty gash in his already mutilated head.
Secundo leaned down. “You going to be okay?”
Aurora barely mustered an ever-so-grateful nod. Her voice came out garbled because her mouth was filled with blood.
“Th-thanks.”
Secundo nodded back and re-tied her restraints. Then, he walked over to his semiconscious brother.
Two thoughts went through her head.
Secundo was even stronger than she’d imagined.
And she’d played that way too close for comfort. The next time Primo got his hands on her, he would kill her. After doing God Knows What first.
The discussion had been long and heated.
It didn’t start that way. He had to wait for Primo to gather his wits about him—he’d hit his head really hard against the marker. Secundo tried to lead him to a nearby stream to wash out the wound, but Primo began fighting again. Secundo subdued his weakened brother in no time flat. They sat by the fire for quite a while, and Secundo was happy to give Primo time, figuring he was dealing with his wounded pride.
Wrong.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Primo said after what must have been fifteen minutes of silence. Secundo could feel the malevolence dripping off his sibling’s tongue.
“That’s not why we brought her along,” Secundo said, trying to reason with him, even thoug
h he knew it was pointless.
“Since when do you decide what we do and don’t do? When the hell did that start?”
“It hasn’t, Primo. I’m just saying Aurora hasn’t done anything to us. She told you what you wanted… .”
“Aurora, huh? What’s that about? You getting sweet on her?”
Primo actually leered at him. Secundo wondered if the head-knock on the marker had twisted a few screws loose.
“No. I’m not sweet on her.”
And so it went. Secundo struggled to get Primo back on track—and away from what had happened with Aurora. It took some time. It was only when Secundo brought up the Husky and the pool, where the argument started hours ago, that Primo seemed to refocus his energies.
“You heard what—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—the dog said,” Secundo reminded him. “We’re supposed to concentrate on Joad.”
Primo’s face darkened with rage.
“Joad.”
“You have any idea what’s so important about the guy?” asked Secundo.
Primo shook his head. “But I’m going to find out—right before I kill him.” He looked past Secundo to the east, where the skies were beginning to darken. “Tomorrow we finish this.”
By keeping Primo’s mind strictly on catching up with Joad, Secundo was able to distract him from Aurora. But when they lay down by the campfire, he couldn’t be sure that would hold during the night. Seeing Primo’s vicious attack on the woman deeply troubled him.
Before The Seventh Day, his brother hadn’t been a saint by any means. He was with a different woman every time they got together, which was fairly often—at least before Secundo (then Samuel) had been convicted for the murder of his wife, Darleen. Secundo wouldn’t make the mistake of calling his brother a gentleman, but he’d never seen him lay a hand on a member of the opposite sex. He did know there was an inner rage burning inside Primo, which had only grown since the departure of The Strangers. His violent outbursts had gotten even worse more recently, and though Secundo knew this was mainly because of their fallen brothers, he was seeing something else in Primo for the first time and it scared the shit out of him.
Evil.
The word just popped into his head. Secundo had done his fair share of things he wasn’t proud of since escaping Ol’ Sparky—but he felt they were out of survival or loyalty to his siblings, and hopefully not some shared bad seed.
For that reason, he waited until Primo fell asleep to get up and take the short walk back to the field.
Aurora was wide awake. Secundo thought she might have been expecting him. There was dried blood on her face, and her blouse was still ripped open.
“Thanks again for what you did earlier,” she whispered.
Secundo nodded slightly and looked over at the campsite. He didn’t spot any movement from Primo. He turned back and started to unbutton his shirt.
Aurora let out a frightened-sounding moan. “No. Please …”
Secundo brought a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”
He knelt and began to undo the restraints. Then, he handed her his shirt.
“Put this around you.”
He saw the astonished but grateful look on her face. Secundo averted his eyes as she slipped off her blouse and put on the massive shirt. When she was finished, he turned back around and kept his voice low.
“Think you can ride one of those horses?”
“I’ll learn.”
“Good.”
He told her she’d have to crawl past the sleeping Primo to get where the horses were tied up. Secundo couldn’t risk bringing one over. It would wake his brother.
“Why are you doing this?” Aurora asked.
“Because you’re not part of this.”
“But I am. Doc’s my friend. And the others are good people.”
“Maybe so. But I’m warning you—stay away from Nemo. It’s going to get real nasty there.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to go,” Aurora said.
Secundo’s eyes drifted back to the campfire. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I love my brother. He isn’t a good man. But he’s the only family I have left.” He turned back, weariness spreading over his face. “Your friends killed the rest of it.”
Aurora lowered her eyes. Secundo reached out and gently raised her head.
“Give me ten minutes, then go.”
Aurora was no more than twenty feet from the campfire when she saw Primo stir. She dropped to the ground and lay motionless.
“What was that?” Primo mumbled.
Holding her breath, Aurora kept watching. Secundo’s silhouette rose, framed against the campfire. She saw him gently nudge Primo’s shoulder.
“Thunder. Go back to sleep.”
Secundo stayed up on his elbow and slowly raised his hand in the air, as if to say, hold on. Aurora breathed easier when Primo rolled to face the dwindling fire. Seconds stretched to agonizing minutes as she waited. Finally, Secundo motioned for her to keep going.
Aurora crawled into the next field, where she knew the horses were tethered. She got up and sprinted for the mount farthest from the campsite.
The jet-black horse was tied to one of the grave markers dotting the vast field. A full moon glistened, shedding colored light off the aurora borealis onto the steed’s ebony coat, illuminating the uneven rows of tombstones, most still awaiting names.
The horse was tethered to a noticeably different marker. Whereas the rest were dull gray, this one was painted black with white etched letters. It wasn’t a gravestone per se; just a demarcation of where a man died years before with a host of others:
G. A. CUSTER
BVT MAJ GEN LT COL 7th US CALVARY
FELL HERE JUNE 25, 1876
Primo had said he found it ironic. Aurora thought it just plain sad.
She got on the horse and glanced at the one-time battlefield.
There was another last stand approaching—this time in Nemo. Aurora wasn’t going to heed Secundo’s advice. She understood he was torn between loyalty to his brother and what he knew in his heart was right.
Aurora had no such qualms.
Her friends were in Nemo, and she was going to be right by their side.
She headed east, leaving the remnants of Little Big Horn in the dust.
37
Joad stood over his wife’s grave for a long time.
He was aware that Laura, Fixer, and Sayers were waiting across the barren garden, probably wondering what to say or do for a man who’d just been dealt the cruelest of blows. He wasn’t surprised nothing was forthcoming; there wasn’t anything for them to offer.
Joad raised his head to look at the apple tree. It was truly wondrous, the only living thing in the garden. And in some ways, this was the deepest wound of all.
Becky was down on her hands and knees, digging in the dirt. Joad had tried to help, but as always she refused it, smiling up at him sweetly, then motioning over her shoulder at the white church behind them.
“You do your work inside. I’ll do mine out here.”
“They’re not exclusive, you know,” Joad said.
“I think it’s good having separation of church and state of the garden.”
Joad let go a genuine laugh. “Cute. Been working on that one for a while, huh?”
“I’m here all week.”
Joad bent down and threw his arms around her.
“I wish I was going to be,” he lamented.
“Me too,” Becky replied. “But we talked about this.”
“Two months. It’ll seem like a year.”
“For me as well. But it’s so great you’re going. You’ll do so much good.”
“And the idea of you coming along …”
“… would be fantastic, except for returning to find this place in ruins.” She ran her hands through his scruffy hair. “You know I’m right.”
“I suppose.” He kissed her on the lips; it was definitely more than chaste.
When they finally broke
apart, she was giggling. “Why, Reverend. What will the congregants think?”
“That I’m the luckiest preacher in the whole world.”
“Tell that to everyone over there and maybe it’ll inspire them to do good work. That way, I won’t have to lend my husband out so long next time.”
“Duly noted and done,” Joad said.
He hugged her tight, then straightened up. Becky grabbed a packet of apple seeds and slit open the top. She started to hold them over the hole she had dug. Then, she looked up and offered Joad the package.
“Want to do the honors?” she asked.
Joad shook his head. “Church? State of the garden, remember?”
She let loose the smile he had fallen for the moment they met, and poured the apple seeds into the open hole. He watched her cover them with soil and then water.
“I wonder how big it’ll be by the time I get back.”
“You’ll be lucky if you even see a sprout,” Becky said.
“Guess it’ll be a while before apple pie.”
“I’ll have to come up with an alternative for dessert.” By way of emphasizing her point, she stood and kissed him again.
Then, she handed him another packet of apple seeds.
“What are these for?” he asked.
“So you can plant the next one when you come back to me.”
How right she had been. In ruins was putting it mildly.
As for the apple seeds, seven years had produced much more than a sprout. It felt like a punch line to the worst joke ever that they’d grown to literal fruition while everything else surrounding the tree had died—the flora, the vegetables, and the woman who had planted them with such love and care.
Joad pulled out the long-kept packet of apple seeds. He stared at them in his open palm, his eyes remarkably clear. At least another minute passed without him budging, but he felt the rage building inside.
He hurled the packet deep into the garden.
Joad turned and strode past the tacit trio and into the devastated church. He walked right through the narthex without giving it a glance, and directly into the sanctuary.
The Seventh Day Page 30