Born and Raised

by R A Doty

  “Why?” a voice yelled from the crowd. “What’s in it for him?”

  “Very good questions, which I myself have asked. His reasons have satisfied my curiosity, and I can only assume that you will trust in my judgment. Does any among you doubt me?” David waited for an answer. As if anyone would admit to doubting him. He studied the people standing before him, each shaking their heads in unison. “Then I will continue. This place he speaks of was once his home, but it has been taken from him by sinners.” The crowd gasped. “That’s right, my friends. Sinners. But we will help him get it back, and by doing so we will be greatly rewarded for our courage. I say courage, because it will not be handed over to us easily. We will have to fight for it, and some of us may be injured or, God forbid, killed.”

  “How do we know he’s telling the truth and not just lying to save himself?”

  David turned to Thomas. “We don’t.” He continued, staring at his face. “But I can promise you this: if he is, indeed, lying, his sin will cost him not only his life, but the life of his wife, who is waiting for his return.” David faced the crowd. “I wish I had more to tell you, but I don’t. That’s everything. If some of you wish to return to the safety of the church, now is the time to leave.”

  A young woman raised her hand. “I would like to stay, with your permission, David.”

  David, and everyone else, turned toward her.

  “All my little brother and I have are each other now that our parents are gone. If anything happened to me he would be alone in the world.”

  The statement angered David. “Are you and your brother not part of our family, now, sister Lucille?”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “Did we not provide you with shelter when you came to us?”

  The girl nodded. “You did, and we are grateful.”

  “Then would we not take care of brother Peter if anything should happen to you?”

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  David pointed to the church door. “Go then, if you must. We will talk more about it when I return.”

  “Thank you, David.” Lucille dropped her stick and rushed back to the church.

  David stared at his remaining followers. “Who else among you has no faith that God will watch over you in our quest?”

  Nobody dared to speak or so much as flinch.

  David walked forward, climbed three steps, and picked up the stick Lucille dropped. He held it high in the air. “Then let us go while the sun is still on our side.”

  The crowd roared with their weapons raised in the air. They followed as David, Thomas, and Nicolas walked down the center of the street toward the woods.

  HIS LEGS WERE WEAK and each step came with great effort, but that didn’t stop Thomas Steinberg from pushing forward through the trees. He had revenge on his mind, and all he could think about was what those bastards were doing to Monica. Those ungrateful bastards! It would give him great pleasure to see their throats slit right in front of him. After all he did for them, and this is how they repay him? He thought of the day he first met them—two pathetic teenagers with no place to live, babes in the woods without a clue of how to survive. I taught them everything, he thought—how to hunt, how to farm, how to raise livestock and butcher the meat. I even taught them how to milk a goddamned cow. Where would they be without me?

  Steinberg quickened his pace. A rush of adrenaline surged through his body as he thought of everything he did for Luke and Dan. Our parents were murdered trying to leave the city, he remembered them saying, standing outside the fence. We’ll do anything you ask, mister, if you’d just let us in. We’ll work hard and earn our keep. “Ungrateful bastards,” Thomas said, charging ahead. “I should have let the city dwellers kill you like they did your parents.” A smile crossed his face as he glanced at all the people walking beside him with weapons in their hands. “I guess it’s never too late.”

  And then he thought of Monica. How horrible it must be for her to be a sex-slave to those two idiots. How many times did they have their way with her, and what horrible things did they make her do? Those goddamned bastards!

  Poor Monica.

  “WHEN ARE THOSE STEAKS gonna be ready, Luke?” Monica asked, sitting at the kitchen table.

  Luke wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I only got two hands, Monica. You know you can mash the potatoes if you’re in a hurry.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not in that much of a hurry.”

  “Sure sounds like it to me,” Luke said under his breath.

  Monica turned to Colton, who was seated at the table beside her. “So tell me, Mr. North. Why are you so fascinated with my husband?”

  “Your husband’s a brilliant man, Mrs. Steinberg.”

  “Please, call me Monica. Mrs. Steinberg makes me sound like an old woman, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Colton said laughingly. “I suppose so.”

  “Now, what were you saying?” Monica asked.

  “I said your husband is really quite brilliant. He’s a leader in his field, and not many men or women will ever be able to achieve half of what he’s accomplished. After reading his notes, I’m just amazed by how far he’s come after losing his lab in the city.

  Monica took a sip from a glass of wine that sat on the table in front of her. “My husband is a slave to his work, Mr. North.” She took another sip, and then another before holding up the empty glass. “Luke, can you give me a refill?”

  Luke opened the oven and poked at one of four potatoes with a fork, trying to remove it. His arm accidentally touched the metal grate. “Ow! Dammit!” he shouted. “I’m kinda busy right now, Monica.”

  “Where’s Dan?”

  “He’s cleaning your bathroom, remember?”

  “He’s still working on that?”

  Dan entered the kitchen.

  “There’s my Danny boy,” Monica said. She held out her glass. “Can you give me a refill, Dan?”

  Dan took the glass and headed for the bottle of wine on the counter. “You want more, Cole?” he asked, glancing back at Colton.

  “No thanks, Dan. I’m all set for a while.”

  “You sure? We got a cellar full.”

  Colton waved his hand. “Not right now, but thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” Dan poured himself a glass of wine, and refilled Monica’s. He brought the two glasses to the table, and after placing Monica’s in front of her, sat next to Colton.”

  “Thanks, Dan,” Monica said.

  “No problemo.”

  “Did you ever kill a bear with your bow, Cole?” Dan asked.

  “Bears were extinct long before I got a bow.”

  “What about a moose, or a coyote? I know—a turkey. Have you ever killed a turkey with an arrow?”

  “I’m afraid not, Dan. Although I’d love to have the opportunity to try for one someday.” Colton barely remembered what a turkey tasted like. He briefly thought about the last Thanksgiving dinner he and his wife had shared. It had all the trimmings: sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, corn bread stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and his wife’s specialty, which just happened to be his favorite part of the meal, deviled eggs. What I wouldn’t do for a deviled egg right now, he thought, staring down at his half-empty glass of wine.

  “We got wild turkeys,” Dan said.

  Colton slowly raised his head. “There’s turkeys on the estate?”

  “Yup. Big-ass Toms, too. But they ain’t easy to catch. They got real good eyesight and they can hear you coming from a good quarter mile away. They roost in the trees around the gravel bank at night. Sometimes I go there and watch ‘em fly in the trees just before dark. The thunder of their wings ‘ll scare the shit outta ya if you accidentally sneak up on one. Damn near crapped my pants one time.”

  “You got turkeys,” Colton repeated.

  “Yeah we got turkeys, I said. I’ll take you to the gravel bank after dinner so you can see for yourself.”

  “I’ll be damne
d,” Colton said.

  “You gonna shoot one with your bow?” Dan asked.

  Colton smiled. “I’m sure gonna try if I get a chance. You got chickens on the estate?”

  “Yup,” Dan said.

  “Then I assume you got eggs?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “THAT WAS DELICIOUS, Luke,” Monica said. I wish I had known you could cook so well before. I would have had you in the kitchen with me.” She drank the rest of her wine and held the glass in the air, waiting for the last drop to fall into her mouth.

  “That was the best steak I’ve eaten in quite a while, Luke,” Colton said, wiping his beard with a napkin.”

  “Excellent, bro,” Dan said.

  Luke smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

  Monica pushed out her chair with her glass still in her hand. When she stood, she balanced herself against the table before walking toward the counter. “Anybody else want some more wine?” she asked, grabbing the bottle off the counter.

  “Don’t you think you had enough, Monica?” Luke said. “And haven’t you been drinking a lot lately?”

  “Oh, have I Luke? I’m sorry. Maybe that’s because my husband and son are missing, and they’re probably dead out there somewhere.” She raised her hand to her mouth at the thought, and then grabbed the bottle of wine.

  With the glass in one hand, and the bottle in the other, she bent over and rested her elbows on the counter top. She carefully watched the wine leave the bottle and fall into her glass. “Oops,” she said as the glass overflowed, spilling onto the counter. She staggered back to the table, set the glass down, and plopped in her chair. “You and my husband would have made a good team, Mr. Colton.” After taking a sip of the wine, she noticed Luke and Dan staring at her. “What?”

  Dan smiled. It was the first time he’d seen the wife of Thomas Steinberg acting more her age and not the age of a stuffy old prude. He knew it was the real Monica, and it was refreshing to see her finally escape. “How many glasses did you drink today, Monica?” he asked.

  Monica smiled and splayed out her hands. “I don’t know. Who’s counting?” She took another sip and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you ever meet my husband, Mr. North?”

  “No, unfortunately, I haven’t. I was hoping to, though. That’s why I came.”

  Monica pointed at Colton. “You should’ve come earlier, and he would have been here. You and him would have made a good team.” She drank the last of the wine, set the glass on the table, and lowered her head. The room became silent, and for a moment she forgot there was anyone else sitting at the table. She raised her head when Dan burped. “He was a good man.” She pointed to Luke and Dan. “I know you guys don’t think so, but he was. I remember him telling me how happy he was that you guys showed up when you did. Every day he would tell me how fast you guys learned. He was proud of you, you know—both of you. He said you were like his sons, now, and he was anxious to teach you all he could.”

  “He said that?” Luke asked.

  Monica nodded. “Remember when you accidentally cut your hand when he was showing you how to skin a deer or something?”

  “Yeah,” Luke said, staring at his hand. “It was a pig. He was teaching me how to gut a pig.”

  Monica continued. “He couldn’t sleep that night because he thought your hand would get infected and without anymore hospitals, he was afraid you might lose it if it got too bad.”

  Luke lowered his head. Sonnuvabitch. Why didn’t he ever show it?

  Monica looked at Dan. “Remember when he gave you that rifle for your birthday?”

  Dan nodded.

  “He made me promise never to tell you, but his father gave him that gun on his sixteenth birthday. He knew how much you loved to hunt, so he thought you would appreciate it more than he did.”

  A lump formed in Dan’s throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t move. He too, stared down at the table.

  Monica shook her head. “He was a good man, even if I’m the only one that knew it.” She turned to face Colton, her face reaching him before her eyes. “My son, Josh, tripped and hit his head on the coffee table when he was learning how to walk.”

  Colton stared at her, confused, wondering why she told him that.

  “That’s how he got the scar under his eye,” Monica continued. “He hit the table so hard, Tom and I were worried he may have gotten a con-cession.”

  Luke considered correcting her, but he knew she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning, anyway. He let her go on.

  “His eye swelled up and was black and blue for a week. I miss him so much, Mr. North. When will you be able to take me to find him?”

  There was much work to be done, and with the help of Thomas Steinberg’s journals, Colton was certain he could find a solution that would help the world’s food shortage. Would it hurt if he saved the world a few weeks later? It couldn’t possible get any worse, so what would be the harm in reuniting a mother with her son? “I’ll make a deal with you, Monica,” he said. “I’ll help you find your son if I can stay on the estate when we return and have full access to your husband’s lab and all his notes.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Shouldn’t we think about this just a little bit, Monica?” Luke said. “I mean, Colton seems like a nice enough guy, but we really don’t know him all that well yet.” He faced Colton. “No offense.”

  “Yeah,” Dan said. “How do we know he’s not some axe murderer?” Dan smiled at Colton. “Sorry, Cole.”

  Cole returned the smile.

  “I’m serious,” said Luke. “I didn’t agree with a lot of your husband’s rules, Monica, but his number one rule was never let any strangers in, and he did manage to keep all of us alive this long.”

  “We’re talking about finding Josh, Luke,” Monica said. “I’d be willing to risk my life for that.”

  “Luke’s right, Monica,” Colton said. He faced Luke. “If I brought Monica safely back with Josh, wouldn’t that be proof enough that I’m not an axe murderer?”

  Luke hesitated.

  “Of course it would,” Dan said. “Stop being an ass, Luke. If Tom thought that way when we needed a place to live we wouldn’t be here today.”

  “All right,“ Luke said. “But I’m still gonna sleep with my door locked if you don’t mind.”

  “Fair enough,” Colton said.

  Monica turned to Colton. “Can we leave to find Josh in the morning?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Thank you.” Monica pushed out her chair and tried to stand.

  Luke sprang to his feet and balanced her. “Where ya going?”

  “I wanna lie down for a while.”

  “Come on,” Luke said, holding her arm. “I’ll take you to your room.”

  Dan and Colton watched as Luke led Monica out of the kitchen. After a few minutes of silence, Dan turned to Colton.

  “You wanna see if we can find some turkeys, now?”

  “Absolutely,” Colton said.

  They rose from the table and left the kitchen.

  The empty wine bottle lay sideways on the counter in a puddle of red wine.

  DAN LED COLTON DOWN the road through the pasture to show him the gravel bank. Colton had a quiver of arrows strapped over his back and a bow in his hand. A pair of binoculars hung from Dan’s neck. The afternoon sun had already sucked every drop of moisture from the alfalfa and wildflowers, and their brittle stems crunched under Dan and Colton’s feet.

  “How many turkeys are on the estate?” Colton asked.

  “I’m not positive, but if I had to guess I’d say about fifty, or so.”

  “You really think there’s that many?”

  “We hardly ever hunt ’em, so their numbers keep growing. Once in a while they’ll fly over the fence, but they usually stay inside the compound. Rabies wiped out most of the ‘coons, so we don’t have to worry about them stealing the eggs anymore.”

  A small pond lay ahead in the middle of the
field, and just past the pond stood a large oak with a low branch running parallel to the ground. A turkey sat perched in the center of the branch, facing the opposite direction. Dan stopped quick and held out his arm to stop Colton.

  “Don’t move,” he said. He pointed to the tree. “See ‘im? That’s one of them big Toms I was telling you about. You think you can get ‘im from here?”

  Colton reached over his shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver. The bird twisted its head in his direction. Colton froze. The turkey turned on the branch and faced the two men. Colton slowly raised his bow and the bird stood up. When he loaded the arrow the turkey thundered to the air. “Dammit,” Colton said, lowering the bow.

  “It’s okay,” Dan said. “I know where he went. C’mon.”

  They walked around the pond and stood at the base of the oak, staring up into the branches. The tree was shaped like a giant mushroom, and its canopy of branches formed a shadow below, forty feet in diameter. Even without a breeze, the temperature under the tree was about ten degrees cooler.

  “The gravel bank is just over that hill,” Dan said, pointing to a rise in the field just ahead of them.

  They climbed to the top of the hill and stared down into a manmade hole in the earth, about a quarter mile long and half again as wide. Fifty years prior, the gravel was mined and sold to manufacture concrete. Weeds and saplings commandeered a rusted yellow backhoe at the far end, and a small forest of sumacs took root near the center, forming what looked like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

  “This is where me and Luke target practice,” Dan said.

  Colton studied the gravel bank. “How do you get down there?”

  Dan pointed along the perimeter. “There’s a road over there.” He turned to the wood-line on the other side of the bank. “Over there is where the turkeys roost at night. That’s where that Tom went.” He looked back at the road and stopped suddenly. “Shit!” He lifted the binoculars to his eyes.