The Indiana Apocalypse Series

by E A Lake

  “It was my letter, Quinn. I wrote it. That was my name at the bottom that you couldn’t read because of the blood.” Morgan paused and wiped her pale cheeks with the butt of each palm. “When I found out you didn’t have a memory, I died for a second time. There was no way I could bear losing you for a third time and have you deny me to my face. So, we decided to save the last piece of my heart and put Sara in my place. She seemed more likely. She’s easier to love.”

  I was moved by her story and admissions. But it didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t recall it, or her, or much of anything else still.

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember,” I said. “I’m truly sorry, Morgan.”

  She gave me a funny smile and stepped right in front of me.

  “You have no concept what sorrow really is,” she said, tipping her head forward onto my chest. I had no idea why, but I put arms around her at that point. “You could live a hundred lifetimes and not understand what I’ve been through. I found you, I lost you, I found you again, only to discover you were still lost to me.”

  “Thank you for being honest about it,” I said. “Even if it was difficult. Maybe when I get my memory back, things will be different.”

  I felt her laugh against my chest. “I don’t have any hope for that. I don’t have luck like that. I’m not counting on you ever remembering. It’s easier that way.”

  Another thought that had come to me earlier needed to be addressed.

  “I want to be straight on something,” I said, stepping away from her. “No more lies, no more holding back on the truth about any of this. I need you to be completely honest with me when I ask a question.”

  Four heads nodded, though I noticed Morgan and Sasha share a glance before either of them did.

  What else did they know about my past that they weren’t telling?

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  After dinner, Morgan and Sasha tried to escape to their bedroom, something about each of them not feeling well. Perhaps Sasha was still feeling the effects of her bug, but I knew Morgan was just fine.

  “Who was I in Pimento?” I said, loud enough to halt them in their tracks. “I want to know. I need to know.”

  “You were Quinn Reynolds, just in a different location,” Morgan replied, leading Sasha back to the couch by the hand.

  “Was I a killer?” I asked. “Like Shaklin claims I am?”

  Morgan shrugged and Sasha went to work on her cuticles. If she wasn’t careful, that poor woman was going to chew a finger off.

  “You protect people,” Morgan replied as if it were no big deal. “You don’t like people being hurt or taken advantage of.”

  I leaned forward in the wooden chair. “Have I really killed anyone?”

  “You killed Ramos Stanlard,” Morgan replied plainly. “I think you remember that.”

  “Have I killed before that?” I insisted. “To your knowledge?”

  Morgan sighed and pursed her lips. “We’ve heard you’re good with a gun. And when situations arise, you aren’t afraid to use it.”

  I sat back and shook my head. “And yet I showed up here without one.” That didn’t add up, not in my mind at least.

  “You must have lost it somewhere and we just haven’t come across it yet,” Sara answered with a smile. “Maybe it’ll turn up.”

  “I don’t ever remember handling a gun in my life,” I said, trying to recall anything that would help.

  How could I at one point in my life be a meek, mild-mannered businessman who got screwed out of millions of dollars and two years later turn into a one-man vigilante? It just didn’t make sense.

  “Do any of you remember me ever owning a gun?” I asked. Four heads shook. Some help they were.

  “Why’d my wife leave me?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “She got a better offer from another man, I heard,” Morgan replied quickly.

  I stared at her, wanting the truth. “Someone I knew?”

  “Can’t say, really,” she replied, glancing away from my gaze.

  “Can’t or won’t, Morgan,” I said a little too harshly. “There’s a difference there.”

  She rose from the couch and approached me. “Can’t say really.” Her answer was stern and told me she wanted to change the subject.

  “Was I involved with anyone else up in Pimento?” I asked, matching her tone. Maybe that was the issue.

  “Doubt it,” she replied even harsher. “But I guess I can’t say for sure.”

  I looked at the others and each of them returned me a blank stare. Why was it Morgan always seemed to be the one with the answers? Not that she was willing to share the truth with me it seemed.

  “If you don’t mind,” she continued. “I’d like to go lay down now before this headache does me in. Is that alright with you, boss?”

  For a woman who claimed to once love me, I got plenty of attitude from her.

  “I’ll be sleeping on the couch from now until we leave,” I replied. That made her grin and that was never good.

  “Until we leave,” she spewed, “you’ll be sleeping between me and Sasha, whether you like it or not. I’m not gonna have you get up in the middle of the night by yourself and stumble outside and get killed. Not now. We’re too close. Once we get back to Pimento, you can get yourself shot or hung or pitchforked to death for all I care. But you need to get us out of here first.”

  I opened my arms wide. If that was the way she wanted it, so be it. I was just thinking of her feelings…or lack thereof at that point. But I had a few more questions before we retired for the evening.

  “Is Belinda really my sister?”

  Morgan nearly split with laughter. “Don’t be stupid. Of course she is.”

  “And Shaklin was my business partner?”

  “And your best friend,” Morgan replied, shaking her head.

  “Who’s Three?” I asked quietly. “Why did I think I know her voice? Is she someone I knew, maybe someone from work?”

  “I suppose,” Morgan replied, reaching to stroke my cheek. “We should really trim your beard before we leave. You don’t want to look like some crazy man when you make your triumphant return to Pimento. Do you, Quinn?”

  She wasn’t being honest with me. Not about all of it at least. I had begun to believe Belinda was my actual sister. She acted the most loving and caring of all the people I’d met at that point.

  I wasn’t so sure Shaklin and I had ever been friends though. He didn’t seem the type of man a guy like Quinn Reynolds — at least the Quinn the women had been selling me on — would befriend. And as far as a business partner? Hell, that was so far-fetched, I wasn’t even sure any of the four even bought into that lie.

  What bugged me the most was the way Morgan, and the others for that matter, acted when I brought up Three. There was something more to her than what they were willing to admit to. In the end, though, she didn’t really matter. It was Shaklin I had to worry about. After what I’d seen of him and his men, I knew the face of my enemy.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Morgan and Liv never caught whatever bug that the rest of us did. With just two days until our planned escape, we were all relatively healthy. Even tiny Charolette was getting around better on her mending foot. All was well…or so I thought.

  A light rain fell as I watched the day guards make their rounds. I grinned as I noticed how miserable they looked. From time to time, they even sought shelter under the corner of the porch of Cabin Three, commiserating with one another. The team was getting sick of watching the women. That made me happy.

  Not only were they losing interest, they seemed to be growing resentful of their duties, resentful of being outside day and night. And best of all, resentful of Shaklin. More than once, I’d heard a pair of men wondering if Shaklin had lost his mind. He could replace the women in a heartbeat if something happened to them or someone tried to steal them away. Little did they know that moment was nearly upon them, five times over.

  Liv and I finalized the clothing f
or our nighttime run and she even took in the pants they’d found for me so I wouldn’t need a rope to keep them from falling to my feet with every step. The need for many other supplies was limited since we hoped to be in Pimento by morning. All we would leave with was literally the clothing on our backs and two canteens filled with water. Since we’d be eating before we left, the need for extra food was nil.

  A knock on the door chased me toward the bedroom as Liv went to see who it was. She smiled when she opened the door and I knew it was a friend, not a foe. But the friend, my sister, didn’t seem too happy.

  “There’s a problem,” Belinda said, hustling into the kitchen and dragging Liv by the hand. “Tony’s been all edge and pissy the last couple of days. He and Carla were talking this morning after breakfast. They still think you’re in the area and you might be up to something. They’ve heard rumors that you’re not in Pimento from travelers that have stopped by.”

  I stared at her for a moment before responding. She seemed nervous to me. “But they don’t know I’m here, right?” Belinda shook her head. “Do they think I’m alone?” She nodded. “What do they think I’m after? Revenge?”

  Belinda peeked at Liv. The younger woman gave her a small nod. “They think you’re after Morgan; coming to get her, Carla thinks. She knows you two were involved at one point.”

  “How would she know that?” I asked, stunned that one of Shaklin’s wives — aside from my own sister — would know anything about my past. A past I still couldn’t remember.

  “She was from that area,” Liv answered, stepping forward. “She must have known Morgan somehow. That’s what I figure.”

  “That area being Terre Haute,” I replied. Liv and Belinda both nodded. “But it’s a big city; even I remember that. At least I think I remember it.”

  “It is,” Belinda admitted, sharing an odd glance with Liv. I wondered what that was all about. “You all ran in the same circles, sort of. She knew you from before. That’s why she probably knew Morgan as well and heard about you two being involved.”

  Somehow Belinda didn’t sound very convincing. And Liv had chosen that moment to look way out the back window.

  “Is someone gonna tell me how I know Carla?” I demanded.

  “We got a bigger problem than her right now, Quinn,” Belinda continued. “Tony’s doubling the guards down here. He figures if you’re coming for Morgan, he can maybe catch you in the open.”

  Crap, that was a problem. “Why does he want me dead?” I asked.

  Belinda’s eyes snapped shut and she squeezed her temples tightly. “Because of your past together. He doesn’t trust a man like you.”

  “You mean a killer.” That only made Belinda scowl.

  “You two are too intertwined for his liking!” Belinda cried. “And there’s way too many variables at play here with the women and the wives. There’s just too much that Tony worries about. And you could make a really big mess of everything. And Tony doesn’t like messes.”

  “People know he treats his help likes slaves,” I said. “Don’t they?”

  “Yes and no,” Belinda snapped. “But as long as he’s decent to all of his neighbors, no one seems to mind. And since no one has ever escaped to tell about how things really are…well, you get the idea. If he loses Morgan to you, it could make his world messy. And—”

  “Tony doesn’t like messes,” I interjected. “What’s he gonna do to you once we’re all gone?”

  That made my sister and Liv both smile, leaving me totally confused again. Or maybe still.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  We sat at the table and each drank a cup of weak tea. Belinda told me what had been going on at the big house the last few weeks behind closed doors. She told me of her idea to help with the plan for the women’s escape once she knew I was near. And she spoke proudly of everything she’d done.

  “I chewed out Sara real good about three weeks back,” Belinda said with a large grin. “Right in front of Two and one of Tony’s main men. Then a few days after that, I tag-teamed with Three in chewing out Sasha something fierce. When Morgan got kicked in the face, I told Tony it was a good lesson for the little witch. And while Liv was filling in for Morgan, I made her cry every single day at the big house.”

  “It was all fake,” Liv added with a sly grin. “But I think One even felt a little bad for me by the third day.”

  “So, they all think you don’t like the women of Cabin Two?” I asked, sort of understanding the story.

  “The other night at dinner, I went into a tirade over the fact that I thought all nine of the helpers were absolutely worthless,” Belinda replied. “I brought up every single complaint I’d ever heard anyone say about them. I bet I went on for 10 straight minutes, slamming the table and shouting. They all think I despise every last woman down here.”

  Not bad, not bad at all. And since it had been going on for more than three weeks, it wasn’t like a last-minute change in attitude that someone might have picked up on. My sister was a smart lady.

  “After I delivered supplies earlier this week,” Belinda continued, “I went back to the house and told Tony that not one of these worthless women thanked me. I told him I was so mad, I could spit. He even came to their defense and said I needed to lighten up on them. I gave him the silent treatment for the rest of the day and he finally admitted I was right that night that these gals need to show better appreciation.”

  My lord, she’d woven a good yarn deep into the fabric of the ruse. And from what she observed, all the important players at the big house had bought it as gospel truth.

  “But what about me?” I asked, reaching to cover her hands with mine. “What’s going to happen to you when he finds out your brother was involved with the escape?”

  She looked at me sadly for a brief moment. When she peeked at Liv, both women broke into broad smiles.

  “No one is allowed to speak your name at the big house,” Liv announced proudly.

  “When the gals told me they wanted to send word to you,” Belinda added, “I knew I had to create some distance. So, I waited for the next time someone mentioned your name. Then I threw the biggest tantrum this farm has ever seen. I blasted everyone, told them if they ever mentioned the name of Quinn Reynolds again, I couldn’t be held responsible for what I did to them. You were no brother of mine anymore; you’re nothing more than a murdering scumbag. A worthless, hired killer.”

  Someone else might have been offended by such talk. Given Belinda said it all with a smile and seemed to revel in her creativity, I decided to let it slide and took no offense.

  “He and Three came back after those shots were fired the other day,” Belinda boasted. “She let your name slip and before I could even remember to act mad, she was after me, apologizing and all. After that, they whispered every time they wanted to talk about you.”

  She became serious and slid her chair closer to mine. “They think you’re dead to me, big brother. Every single one of them does. And I’ll keep my charade up for as long as I have to after you’re gone. I’ll even offer to lead the lynching party to find you once Tony figures out what you did. Your plan is as good as gold now. No one will suspect a thing.”

  That made me feel better. I’d been worried about what might happen to my sister after our escape, even though most of the time I felt no connection to her. But with her well-laid plan in place, I had peace of mind.

  However, the extra guards were going to be a problem. We needed to figure out just how much though.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  We awoke the next morning to light drizzle and fog. God, I loved that weather. The guards looked every bit as miserable as I’m sure they felt. Their rounds had become less frequent as every one of them was sick of being wet, and the torches were beginning to burn for only a few hours each night. The situation couldn’t have been any better.

  There were extra guards, but while two made rounds, the other pair either sought shelter under the porch on cabin one or three, or they snuck
away. According to Sara, they were most likely taking refuge in the bunkhouse, keeping warm by the cast iron stove. I didn’t care what they were doing, as long as their attention was elsewhere.

  I developed a false sense of security. We were going to get away from here and might not even need the planned diversion. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that no one would notice us missing until an hour after sunrise. By then we’d be in town or able to see the buildings in the distance. Shaklin and his men would never catch up to us.

  “If the rain and fog keep up, I’d consider that,” Morgan replied when I told her the new idea. “But I’d like to be sure they are kept busy for a while. If someone decides to come see us after sundown or Mr. Shaklin wants to see any of us before bedtime, they’re gonna know we’re gone.”

  I rolled my eyes at her concern. Why I expected that one to be anything but skeptical was beyond me.

  “And how often does that happen?” I asked in a mocking tone. “Like once every six years or so…if that often?”

  Morgan’s glare should have frightened me, but I was becoming used to it.

  “Pretty much once a month,” Sasha answered with a fair amount of certainty. “Sometimes it’s a lecture, sometimes to praise us, and sometimes just to tell us something that has happened outside of the farm. Usually he does that to point out how good we all have it here. Like any of us believe that load of garbage.”

  “It happens,” Morgan said, tapping my chest with a thin finger that felt like I was being poked with a nail. “So, don’t go getting all cocky and stupid on us right now. I hate it when you do that.”

  Her comment made me think. “Am I prone to over-confidence?”