Born (The Born Trilogy Book 1)

by Tara Brown

  Anna looks down into the hole. “Just try to help a little, okay? You’re heavy.”

  "I know."

  I glance at Anna and wait for her to come help. She doesn't move, just looks back at me expectantly, making me frown. “I'm not pulling him up alone."

  She laughs softly. It feels weird for me. I don’t know when I last heard someone laugh.

  She gets up and walks to me with her eyes darting to my gun and the rope. She swallows hard and I realize neither of us trusts the other. She eyeballs me as much as I do her. We each take the rope in our hands. I wrap it around my hand and she does the same.

  "Ready?"

  She nods just as he calls up from the hole, “Ready."

  I wiggle and dig my feet in. “One, two, three."

  We plant our feet and pull hard. Her neck strains against the pull. My neck is straining too.

  It is the hardest thing I've ever done. Just how big is he?

  A huge hand reaches up out of the hole and claws at the dirt. Anna drops the rope and runs to it. Another huge hand pops up and digs in. She reaches down into the hole and pulls on his arms. I try not to gasp as a massive man crawls from the hole. He's thinner than he should be. His frame towers over Anna.

  He smiles at me. “Thanks. I never thought I would get out of there. I honestly didn’t think you would help us. You are the hardest-working girl I have ever seen. You just work all day long, no playing or laughing or joking."

  My heart stings a bit at his judgment of me and what I have become.

  He isn’t what I expected either. His dark shaggy hair hangs around his forehead at eye level. His blue eyes sparkle up through his bangs, even in the faint moonlight. His smile is pained, but he is kind looking. He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You okay?”

  I shake my head at the smile crossing his lips. “What?"

  He laughs. They laugh a lot. I don’t see why. I don’t see what there is to laugh about.

  "My name is Jake, and this is my sister, Anna.” He stands on one leg, resting his arm over Anna's shoulders, holding his hurt leg in the air. I can see shiny blood dripping down the outside of the pants. The break must be bad if it broke the skin. I wince. I think I read somewhere that the infection could get into his bones if they are broken like that.

  "You'll need that set and cleaned so it doesn’t kill you.” I pick up my gun and point at his hanging leg.

  "You can do that?"

  I nod my answer and point to the cabin. “I can do it from my porch."

  "What's your name?” he asks.

  I shake my head and point the gun. They start walking but the weight of him is crushing her small frame. They hobble along, him groaning and her moaning. Frustrated at the sight and the pace, I sigh. “I will help you. I think I'm stronger than her.” I don’t trust them, but the faster I help him, the faster they can leave. I hold my gun with one hand and let him collapse on the other side. She moves ahead, staying with Leo up front where I can shoot her if she moves funny.

  A thousand possible outcomes are drifting through my mind. Each one ends with me shooting her and kicking him in the broken leg. “I want you both gone as soon as this is bandaged.”

  “We will be. We honestly don’t mean any harm to you. I know you can’t believe that, but it’s the truth. We don’t hurt other people.”

  I glance up at him as his warmth crashes onto me as he clutches my shoulder. “Not yet.”

  He gives me a sad face, like he pities me. They are the strangest people I have ever encountered. I think he might be the tallest. I have never wondered if I am short, but he makes me feel tiny.

  It’s weird being around a guy my age and not shooting him. It’s weird being close. I can smell him all around me. He smells different, not like the trees and the forest or Leo. He smells like my dad maybe a little. Leo walks closer to Anna and nuzzles her, encouraging her to start walking.

  "Traitor,” I whisper.

  Jake laughs again. “She's really good with animals. It's the only friggin’ reason we are still alive."

  I don't know what that means. I can’t help but wonder if she’s going to try to eat my wolf. She doesn't look like the kind of kid who hugs and pets her food before eating it. I'm not sure there are even kids who do that.

  I have to keep telling myself that if Leo likes them, it’s safe to assume I have no reason not to. Leo has never liked anyone but me, and I think he made a good choice liking me. It doesn’t make me trust them, just tolerate them.

  We walk the short bit back to my cabin in silence. Jake tries making conversation, but I just listen—not to him, but to everything around us. This isn’t how I want to die, and I don't know how much noise they've made thus far. He doesn’t seem to have a clue how to be quiet. His sister is the opposite. She listens like I do.

  I feel considerably better when I smell the fire of my cabin and see my front door.

  "How did you find this place?” he asks when I open the door and point to the chairs out front. “Have a seat.”

  Leo and I enter the house alone and close the door behind us. I turn the lock, leaving them outside. I put my finger to my lips and creep in with my rifle raised. I never locked the door when we left, like a fool. Another rule I've broken.

  I clear each of the two rooms and the bathroom and check the closets before turning the small lantern on, creating a tiny warm orange glow.

  Then I stand in the middle of the living room, not sure what to do. Do I run the risk of cleaning his wounds on the porch where he will make a boatload of noise, or do I bring him in? Do I leave her out there alone in the dark?

  I want to keep the door closed, but I have started this and the faster I end it, the faster they’re gone.

  Instead of using common sense, I abandon my common sense completely and open the door. Leo goes out onto the porch to her, and I help him inside, leaving her and Leo out there.

  Jake hops along the couch and sits down, grimacing in pain. My house feels exposed. No one has ever been here before.

  I’m lost in my feelings, like the cold hate has fully given up on me and run off. “Anna, come inside and help me. He’s going to scream like a little girl.”

  She nods and closes the door behind her. Leo sniffs the wounded leg and finds himself a comfy spot to lie and observe.

  "Jake, you're going to be okay, right?” Anna kneels in front of him and looks back at me. She has the most fearful look in her eyes.

  I lock the door and close the curtains completely but I still feel vulnerable. Her worried eyes stalking me make me feel worse.

  I nod. “He'll be fine. Let me take a look.” I bring the lantern and sit on the floor beside her. “Go sit by the fire and warm up. There is a turkey stew on top. Get a bowl and eat.” She doesn’t have to be asked twice. I don’t want to share with them, but I don’t want her to hover while I take my first look. Besides, it’s what Granny would have done. My whole childhood was spent at the counter with my friends. She fed everyone. She let them in and hugged them like they were family. Helping Anna and Jake makes me feel like I have a little of Granny inside of me.

  Jake lays his head back on the couch and looks like he might fall asleep at any second. I grimace, knowing he will be wide awake the moment I touch the break. I pat his leg softly. “You can't scream, okay?"

  He lifts his head and smiles bitterly. “I screamed like a little girl when I fell in the damned hole. I knew it was there too, that’s the worst part. I’ve been avoiding it the whole time we’ve been here."

  I take a breath and put my trembling fingers to his button on his jeans and undo it. My fingers won’t stop shaking, probably because I have not touched anyone in ten years. It's been Leo and me for eight. He's all I've touched. The infection scares the hell out of me.

  He grins. “Don’t I get any stew before you try to take my pants off?"

  I glare at him. “No, you'll throw up, and we don’t waste food here.” I don’t appreciate the awkward joke. “Unless you want to take your own pants off
.”

  He shakes his head, gripping the couch with his massive hands. “No, that’s cool. You can do it. This way I can die knowing a girl took my pants off.”

  I sigh and unzip the pants and start to gently pull them down.

  "I would probably be enjoying this if it weren’t for the unbearable pain. I need to get injured more often."

  I stop pulling his pants off and contemplate committing several acts of violence.

  Anna groans, “Stop being an ass.” She gives him a look and then me. “You just have to know that he makes jokes when he’s scared. He’s not a pervert, I swear.”

  I swallow and realize I just get mean when I’m scared. Probably because I don’t know any jokes.

  His stomach flexes, revealing muscles like I have never seen before. His hip bones stick out a little too much, but otherwise his body is strong. He looks like the men on the cover of Granny's romance novels, but skinnier.

  I start to slide the jeans down his hairy legs just below his grey underwear that I try not to notice. They get half way down when his waistband gets caught on the break, making me grimace and him cry out. He bleats like the mountain goats I have hunted, making me think it’s real bad.

  My eyes have seen disgusting things in my life, and as I grope around his thigh for the break, I prepare for my hands to feel the worst thing ever.

  Fortunately, there is no break but a large piece of wood has pierced his leg. I don’t think it's hit the big artery in his leg. His blood loss is nowhere what it could be if that had been pierced. I wonder about removing the stick and what damage will be caused. I don’t actually know where the artery is, I just know there is one—a major one. “Your leg isn’t broken."

  He looks down at me. “What? I felt the bone sticking out and I heard the snap."

  "It's a stick, not bone. A stick must have stabbed into you when you fell on it. I need some things. I'm going to have to cut the pants off, and I don’t have any pants that will fit."

  Anna speaks with a mouthful, “I can sew them."

  I nod. “Okay. Just don’t look down at this, Jake. Just lie back and give me a minute to get everything I need. Don’t touch it. Your hands are dirty."

  He makes a sound as he lays his head back. His body is still trembling, probably from the pain. I grab my gun and walk to my bathroom to sit on the earth-friendly toilet my grandpa had installed because my grandma refused to use the outhouse any longer. It runs when the weather is good, but in the winter it's useless.

  I sit in the dark, gripping my gun and thinking about what in the hell I am going to do. I stare at my filthy hands. Even in the dark, I can see the dirt. I could cause an infection, and he would die from that. I could pull the stick out, rupturing his artery, and he could die from that. I don’t know exactly where the artery is. I wish I'd read more of the books on the subject. They got so boring, reading all that first aid crap, especially since Granny had all those romance novels.

  I don't know what my options are, but the thought of him dying bothers me for some very strange reason.

  I slap myself in the forehead and force my head to rearrange its priorities and thoughts.

  They are not my problem. Anna and Jake are not my people.

  I am not responsible if he lives or dies. I just need them gone.

  I should have left him in the hole and let them die out there. But Leo liked them, and without her brother that girl would suffer a fate far worse than death. She’s young. Young girls either hide or get taken or worse.

  I think about my family and the years of life experience that have brought me to this moment and nod. If anyone can help him, it’s me. I can do it. Then I get rid of them, and it’ll be like it never happened. The cold hate whispers something to me and I pause, taking it all in. They can’t ever leave. They know where my cabin is. I have to let him die and kill her.

  It’s my only choice.

  I can rupture the artery and let him bleed out, and when she’s panicking, I will shoot her in the back.

  He’s weak and she’s small. I’m doing them a favor really.

  I light the bathroom candle and stand to see my reflection in the mirror. I am a ghostly girl in the muted light of the candle. My mother's bracelet and necklace glisten in the dark light. I forgot I put them on when I got home. I lightly touch the metal. I wish she were here. Not her in particular, just any adult. I don’t want to do what I'm about to do. I grab my medical kit and take a deep breath.

  But on the exhale I see the person who is most like my conscience—my granny. She would scowl at me and say that killing the good people only helps to create more imbalance of evil and good on the earth. I am standing at the crossroads of the coward’s path and the path of the brave. If it were my life in Anna’s hands, she and Jake would save me. I know that. I can see it in their eyes and hear it in their laugh.

  I am a lot of things, with or without the cold hate, but cold-blooded killer of the innocent I am not. If I let him die and murder her, I would be no different than the others.

  I look into my eyes and know the choice I am making means I am letting them in. I see that, and as much as I fear it and the change it brings, I don’t have any choice. It’s take them in or kill them, and I don’t want to be that girl.

  I nod at myself once, like we are agreeing to the same secret, me and my reflection, and leave the bathroom. Gripping my tools, I walk to the kitchen and pour a pot of water and place it on the counter. “Boil this now."

  Anna hops up and grabs it. She stokes the fire and puts the pot on it. I am glad I don't have to tell her how to do it. She is capable. I like her for that. I don’t know how I would cope with her being an imbecile like her brother.

  I grab the whiskey from the cupboard and crack the bottle. I've never opened it. I pour some on my hands. It stings a little but I scrub my hands and pour more on. I dry my hands with a towel from my fresh laundry pile. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t remember ever going to the doctor, and in survival camp we always washed with alcohol and river water. I don’t have a river, just a well.

  I drink a swig of the whiskey and carry it to my couch. My throat is burning. I grab a thick blanket and put it under his leg. He moans slightly. He was falling asleep, or passing out. I take the scissors and will my hands to be steady. I cut the fabric away quickly, trying to stay along the seam to make it easier to sew back together. I pull the pants off completely and pass them to Anna. “The sewing kit is in the bathroom."

  I turn back and look around his leg at the stick. It is about half an inch thick and looks to be flaking slightly. This might be a problem. It has gone in and broken off. It's gone in deep. I grimace as I touch the opening of the cut.

  I walk to my tool bag, grab a wrench, and pour the whiskey over it and my hands again. I drink another swig. The fire is inside my belly now.

  Anna returns with the sewing kit and looks at his leg. “At least the stick went in to the side. I think the big artery is on the inside."

  I nod and pass her the whiskey. “He's going to scream when I do this. You need to put a pillow over his face and hold him down. I will need that boiled water the minute it's ready."

  She takes a drink of the whiskey and nods as she puts it back beside me. “Okay."

  I drop to my knees and place the old wrench around the nub of the stick. I tighten it so the bark makes a very slight crunching noise. I look at the blanket I have ready and take a deep breath. Anna goes around to the back of the couch holding a pillow and wraps her arms around her brother.

  I try not to think about what I'm about to do.

  "One, two, three.” I pull the stick hard and fast, ripping it from his leg. He jerks as hard as he can, kicking me in the face with his other foot. I am suddenly on my back on the floor.

  He screams but his sister and the pillow muffle it.

  I see stars for a moment but find my way back to him. I pick the whiskey back up and pour it all over his wound. He screams again, ripping the pillow off his face, and shov
ing his sister off of him. “HOLY SON OF A—! WARN ME NEXT TIME!” He looks at me like he could rip my head off. He scares me for a moment and then starts to tremble as a tear leaks from each of his dark-blue eyes. They make a single line on either side of his face.

  I whisper. “I'm going to do it again."

  Another tear slips from his left eye but he nods. His jaw trembles slightly from the pain and his body is tensing.

  I stare at the wound as blood rushes out. The flow is lazy. I don’t think it’s the artery. I sigh. At least that won't kill him, I don’t think. I pour more alcohol and mop up the blood and liquor and push a towel against the wound. My breaths are spurting from me as I wait at least till his body's natural clotting starts working.

  When I look down at the wound again, blood is dripping onto my hands. I touch my fingers to my face. My nose is bleeding heavily. I grab the other towel beside me and push it against my face. Leo nudges me to check and see if I’m okay. I rub my elbow against his fur to try to soothe him. He never attacked them, even when Jake kicked me in the face. He leaves me and nestles up beside the fire again.

  I pull back the towel and give Jake a sympathetic look, an attempt at one anyway.

  He nods. He knows what I want.

  “Get on your belly, okay?”

  He rolls onto his stomach, making blood rush from the open wound. I dump the whiskey inside of the wound, flushing out as much of the wood pieces as I can.

  Anna brings me the boiled water in a bowl. When it’s cool I do the same thing, flushing the wood from him.

  When I’m done I spread antibiotic ointment all over the wound and start sewing it up. He has stopped tensing and jerking, either from exhaustion or because he has passed out from the pain.

  Either way, I find my stitches are easier to do.

  Anna washes his pants in the bathroom and hangs them on the line above the fire. She gives me a look in the firelight that makes me miss my family. “Thank you. I know you didn’t want to help us, but I am so grateful.”

  I nod and wrap the wound in bandages, gauze, and tape until it looks like a cast almost. Then I sit, covered in my blood and his, and lean against Leo. He nips at me and licks, telling me it’s bedtime. But I don’t think I can sleep with them here.