by N. C. Reed
“When I got him there, the medic took a look, and shook his head at me, just like they do in the movies. I asked him what he meant, since the guy had been okay just a few minutes before.”
“Turns out I may have stopped the external bleeding, but all the while I was carrying him he was bleeding out on the inside. The medic told me I did everything just right, exactly the way I was supposed to. So I asked him, if I did so much right, how come he died?” Roland turned to look at James then.
“He told me that sometimes it’s just your time. That no matter what you do, it’s never enough. I did everything I’d been trained to do, James. I did it exactly like I had been taught. And it didn’t mean a damn thing. He still died.”
“Sometimes, no matter what you do, it will never be enough,” he finished quietly, leaning back. “You showed real courage yesterday, James. Courage that many a grown man twice your age wouldn’t have had in the same situation. That’s not failure. That’s never failure.” Roland grew quiet then, not knowing if he’d helped or hurt. Finally, James spoke again.
“I just feel so. . .useless,” he admitted. “There should have been something I could have done differently. Maybe stayed to help them get the children inside.”
“I told you to get Ralph and gather blankets and cushions in the inner hallway,” Roland pointed out. “Did you do it?”
“Yes,” James nodded.
“Then how could you have done all that and still helped Maria?” Roland asked. “I should have told you to help her. I didn’t. I was trying to cover everything at once, and if I had planned for emergencies like yesterday I wouldn’t have needed to. Everyone would have known where to go, and what to do.”
“That failure rests with me, James,” he said forcefully. “I’m the one who failed. I let her down. I let you down. I let everyone down. I can’t fix what happened yesterday, but I promise that I’ll do my best never to let it happen again.”
“I’ll help,” James nodded. Roland smiled, and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I know you will. And that’s part of what keeps me going. Knowing that you, Maria, Ralph, the girls, are all willing to help. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, James. Without you watching over them while I was out gathering stuff, I couldn’t have left them alone for that long.”
“So don’t feel like a failure, James. Feel proud of what you’ve accomplished. You’ve done a man’s work and make no mistake of that. You’re a man, now, no matter how old you are. And I’m proud to know you.” James’ face grew red at that, but his eyes seemed to have recaptured some of the light that Roland had always seen there.
“Thanks, Roland,” he nodded.
“Thank you, James.”
The two sat together in companionable silence after that. No more words were needed.
-
Roland was working on organizing their little ‘armory’ room when Maria tracked him down.
“Roland, have you spoken with Andrea?” she asked, frowning.
“Briefly, this morning,” Roland replied, taking the chance to sit down on an ammo crate. His back was killing him. “Well, I spoke to her a few minutes when she got here, too. Why?”
“She said you had offered to let her stay here so long as she worked. Is that true?”
“Yeah,” Roland nodded. “I mean if they need to. But we don’t have any room for dead beats. Every one of us is working. She wants to stay, she works. I mean, that’s okay with you, isn’t it? That she earns her way?”
“Of course,” Maria nodded. “But. . .is she in charge now?”
“In charge of what?” Roland asked, puzzled.
“She is in the kitchen giving orders like she’s our new boss,” Maria explained, frowning. “It’s not. . .I mean, Deena, Terri and I have been doing this a while. We really don’t need her help. Or her supervision. And she’s using too much food.”
“I don’t understand,” Roland shook his head. “Too much food for what?”
“We have things figured pretty well,” Maria explained. “We have very little left over each night, and that’s on purpose. We plan our meals days in advance, and figure down to almost the exact amount of everything. We can’t afford to be wasteful, you know. Andrea is cooking, or wants us to cook, far more than we normally do. There will be waste, and we cannot afford to waste anything.”
Roland sighed, standing up. He winced sharply, and Maria noticed.
“You lied to me,” she accused. “You said your back was better.”
“It is better,” Roland insisted. “It’s just not well. Still hurts, and probably will for a few days. And whether it hurts or not, I got work to do too. Which at the moment seems to be straightening Andrea out. You go on back, and I’ll just sorta amble in about five minutes from now and casually ask why you’re cooking so much.”
“That’ll keep her from thinking you’re telling on her,” he added with a wink. Maria flushed at that, and started to object.
“Maria, you’re in charge,” Roland said bluntly, cutting her off. “Period. You have been doing an excellent job and I don’t intend for that to change. I told her she’d have to work, not take charge. I’ll take care of it such a way that it keeps you clear of things. I want you to be able to focus on the kids, and keeping things running. There’s no one I trust more with their welfare than you.”
Blushing slightly at his praise, Maria nodded, her objection forgotten. After a brief smile, she went on her way.
Roland sighed again, wondering why he couldn’t seem to catch a break. He was almost out the door when Gran’s warning came back to him.
Was Andrea the blonde woman he had to look out for? She didn’t really fit the description, he decided, after considering for a moment. Andrea wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t all that attractive, either. And her hair, while sort of dishwater blonde, certainly wouldn’t qualify as ‘sunny’.
No, he decided, Andrea was just another person in the mix of things. And right now, she was mixing things up. That had to stop.
He limped toward the kitchen, muttering to himself the whole way.
-
Things were tense in the kitchen to say the least.
“I told you to put more flour in there, Terri,” Andrea ordered. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because this is how we always do it,” Terri replied, fighting to keep her composure. “We don’t have a lot of food, Andrea. We have to stretch what we do have until our garden starts producing.”
“We figure the food based on how many people we are feeding,” Maria explained again, sighing. “So much of each item, times the mouths we have eating. It has worked very well for us these past weeks. Please just let us do our job.”
“If I’m going to run things around here, we’re going to do them my way,” Andrea shot back. “Understand?”
“Who said you were running things, anyway?” Deena asked, seeing Roland appear in the door behind her.
“Roland did, that’s who,” Andrea smirked.
“He did?” Roland asked from behind her. The smirk died on her lips as she whirled around.
“Roland, you startled me!” she exclaimed, smiling. “How is your back?”
“My back is fine,” Roland told her flatly. “Let’s get back to the part where I put you in charge. I’m a little fuzzy on that part.” Roland had meant to just ease in, say a few choice words, and then let things work out on their own. Catching Andrea in a lie changed that.
“Well, I assumed that’s what you meant,” Andrea smiled at him. “I mean; these girls are just...”
“Doing a damn fine job,” Roland finished, frowning. “I think, if you’ll recall our conversation, I said you’d have to work. Not supervise. None of these girls need supervision. They’ve kept us fed when all there was to eat was oatmeal and junk food, and when we didn’t have enough water to wet our mouths. They can handle things here just fine. If you really want to help, and I assure you, you do, then go and watch the children for them. Ralph is watching them now, so all you ha
ve to do is help him.”
Andrea started to object, but Roland cut her off.
“I really, really don’t want to hear you talk for a while, lady,” he said darkly. “You’ve already told one lie, and that’s all you get with me. Now you can either get with the program or see your way down the road. Be glad to give you food and water for three days, and a ride anywhere you want to go. You decide. Matter of fact, I just decided for you. Be thinking about where you want to go. We’ll leave right after lunch.”
“Oh, and Ralph can watch the children just fine. All you have to do is see to your own children. Now go do that, and leave these ladies to their work.”
Andrea’s face lost her smile, and suddenly she looked venomous. Without a word, she stalked out of the room, leaving them in peace. Roland watched her go, shaking his head.
“Sorry about that, ladies,” he apologized. “I didn’t tell her she was in charge of anything. I more or less told her she’d be working in the garden, and she agreed.”
“Thank you, Roland,!” Deena and Terri said together. Roland laughed at that.
“Gracias, Roland,” Maria nodded her agreement. “But beware. You have made an enemy of that one.”
“Story of my life,” Roland shrugged. “Women just naturally hate me.”
“Not me!” Deena and Terri chorused again, making Roland laugh again. This time he stopped short, wincing in pain.
“Don’t make me laugh girls, it hurts,” he grinned, albeit painfully.
“Sorry,” both girls said at once, and then giggled. Roland left before he hurt himself again. Once out of the kitchen, he had a thought he didn’t like. He used his radio to call James.
“James, where are you, bud?”
“I’m on the roof, Roland,” James replied.
“Okay, keep an eye out. If Andrea goes out to the garden, call me at once.”
“Will do.”
“Jesse, you up?”
“Right here, boss man,” Jesse replied. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he continued, reading Roland’s mind.
“You do that. Her and her young’uns are leavin’ right after lunch. I’ll explain later.”
“Copy that,” Jesse replied.
Feeling slightly better, Roland started back to the armory. He realized he’d left the door open. That was careless, something he never was. His back was hurting, and he was frustrated by what Maria had told him. That was still no excuse.
He reached the open door to find Andrea inside, trying to load a rifle. Roland drew his pistol, and aimed it right at her.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing? And for your sake, it had better be awfully good.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Andrea froze, seeing the pistol aimed at her.
“Now would be a good time to start explaining,” Roland warned.
“You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” she said dejectedly and tossed the rifle down onto a duffle bag.
“Probably not, but you can try me,” Roland told her. His pistol never wavered.
“Can we do this somewhere sitting down?” she asked.
“We can do it right here, or I can shoot you,” Roland shook his head. “And just so you know, I’m leaning real hard toward shooting you. You try to stir up trouble, you try to turn us against each other, and all when we’ve been nothing but nice to you. We buried a child yesterday that we lost in the storm, so when you and your two kids showed up, it hit a soft spot.”
“They aren’t my kids,” Andrea told him flatly. “I don’t have any children. I have a sister, named Megan. And right now, the Reverend Turnbow is. . .entertaining her at his home, waiting for me to wreak havoc on your little commune, here. I either do what he wants, or my sister is in dire trouble. It isn’t personal.”
“I assure you its personal,” Roland seethed. “If you had just asked for help, we’d have given it to you, just like when we did when you fed us that cock and bull story about the storm. If those kids aren’t yours then whose are they?”
“How do I know?” Andrea sighed. “He just gave ‘em to me, and told me to pretend they were mine. Since he’s literally holding a gun to my sister’s head, I didn’t bother to ask,” she finished bitterly. “So, go ahead and shoot me. At least if you shoot me, maybe he’ll let her go. Or at least not send her away to somebody he wants to impress.”
Roland was at a loss. He wanted to feel sorry for her, in a way, but flatly refused to do so. She had betrayed their trust.
“So what were you going to do with that rifle?” he asked.
“Go get my sister,” was the surprising reply. “I knew I’d screwed up already, and I knew Turnbow would know before long, so I thought maybe if I just took one of your guns and shot his ass I could get her back.” She looked at him a moment, and then abruptly sat down on the floor.
“I’m exhausted,” she shrugged. “I haven’t slept in three days to amount to anything. And I’m sure you don’t care. But whatever reserves I had are gone. I’ve got to sit down.”
“Not in here you don’t,” Roland shook his head. “Get up and come out of there. And do it slow, because I’m prone to scaring easy. I might do something you’ll regret.” The woman did so, moving slowly. She doubted Roland had ever been afraid in his life, but she took his meaning.
Roland pushed her down the hallway to an empty room, and forced her inside. Taking a seat, he sat near the door, indicating she could take a seat anywhere else. He reached for his radio.
“Jesse, you up?”
“You bet,” Jesse answered. “Say, I can’t find ...”
“Don’t worry about it,” Roland cut him off. “Just go get Maria and meet me in room one-oh-seven. And get a move on.”
“Roger that.” Jesse didn’t ask questions. Roland released his radio, and looked at Andrea, if that was her name, again.
“Now. What do I do with you?”
-
Andrea was safely locked away in her new ‘room’, with James on guard duty. Andrea had taken one look at the dead-eyed teenager and knew he’d kill her without a thought. He might be a kid but the eyes didn’t lie.
Meanwhile Jesse, Roland and Maria were having a meeting.
“You believe her?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t know,” Roland shrugged. “She sounded truthful, but then she sounded truthful yesterday, too.”
“I believe it is possible she is being truthful,” Maria offered. She had been silent until now.
“Mind sharin’ why?” Jesse asked, interested.
“She was in a hurry,” Maria explained. “If her intention was to create a place for herself here, she should have taken more time. One cannot step into a situation such as ours and expect to be accepted right away. Not well enough to try what she did, anyway. This one is smarter than she lets on. She would know how to create a rift between us, and do so over time, unless she was pressured.”
“Well, that does make sense, of a sort,” Jesse nodded, looking back to Roland. “So what do we do with her? Or about her?”
“I don’t know,” Roland admitted. “I need to know what Turnbow’s endgame is. And I don’t. Does he even have the girl? No way to verify that. What does he expect to gain from getting us into some kinda uproar around here? Can’t know that either. There’s just too much we don’t know,” he shook his head.
“She has admitted the children aren’t hers,” Maria pointed out. “If we force her out, then we should allow them to stay with us.”
“We will, but be prepared for Turnbow to use that against us,” Roland warned. “He’ll try and make it look like we stole her kids, and probably stole the others, too. To use ‘em, or make money off ‘em.” Maria’s face furrowed in disgust.
“I know, I know,” Roland held off her retort. “I’m just tellin’ you what he’s likely to do, that’s all. That man does have a power fixation like I ain’t never seen in a man claimin’ to be a preacher. I don’t know what he’s got in mind, but I don’t aim to let him get it. Period. Not when it comes to
these kids, anyway.”
“But that still leaves the question what do we do,” he finished lamely. “All I can think of to do is try to sneak into this town of theirs and see if the girl’s really there. If she is, maybe we can spring her.”
“No,” Jesse shook his head adamantly. “No way. For any number of reasons. First, you ain’t a hundred percent. Second, this might just be the play all along, gettin’ you to come ridin’ in playing hero, and wind up ambushed. Third, this ain’t our problem, it’s hers. Like you said, if she had just asked for help, explained the situation, then maybe we could have helped.”
“Ro’, we can’t trust that woman, or nothing she says. You know it as well as I do,” he finished.
“I don’t want to set idle by and see her sister wind up in Turnbow’s tender care. Or someone else’s, for that matter. Andrea said something about Turnbow shipping her off. I don’t like the sound of that at all. Not even a little.”
“Nor do I,” Maria agreed. “But Jesse is correct, Roland. We cannot risk it. Any of us in Turnbow’s hands is a lever to use against the rest. And we can’t afford to lose even one person. You know that.”
Roland weighed their words, finally nodding.
“I think you’re right,” he sighed. “Much as I want to help, I don’t see how we can. And I don’t know what to do about her, either. I mean we could kill’er, I guess, but that seems harsh considering the circumstances. Provided she ain’t lying again, of course,” he added.
“You know, maybe that ain’t a bad idea,” Jesse mused. “No, I mean. . .I mean I don’t mean actually killing her,” he held up his hands to stave off protests. “I meant just act like we had. But that won’t help her sister any, if we do that.”
“So what, then?” Roland asked. “Let her stay on here, acting like she’s still doing the job he wants her to do? That could backfire, big time.”
“Why do we not call the Sheriff?” Maria asked. “We should let him handle this. It is his job, after all. He was quick enough to come here when he thought things were out of hand.”
“Now that’s the first good idea any of us has had today,” Jesse nodded firmly. “Call Wilson and turn the whole thing over to him. Let him deal.”