by Anna Oney
"Tom, Cooper," Emma said as she led them toward the table. "These are my cousins: Winston, Maddox, and Lyle."
"Nice to meet y'all," Lyle said.
"Likewise," Tom replied.
"Same here," Cooper added.
"Here." Winston smiled, waving a welcoming hand. "Have a seat. There's plenty of room."
"Thanks," they both replied as they sat down opposite the trio. "'Preciate it."
"Sorry if we got a little rough with y'all last night," Maddox said. He took a bite of his food, and then continued. "At the time, we thought y'all were looking to take what didn't belong to you."
"Understandable." Tom nodded. "No hard feelings."
"Y'all want some bacon?" Lyle asked as he rose from the table.
"Yes, please." Cooper replied, excited at the thought of eating.
Tom spotted the woman they'd been assigned by Doolie to stationed on the other side of the bar. Mrs. Maples was carving bacon from the belly of a wild hog that was strewn over the butcher block. Her curly, gray wisps of hair had been tamed by the large gardening hat on her head. The look plaguing her wrinkled face suggested she'd already reached her wit's end for the day.
"She's not so bad." Maddox grinned, noticing where Tom's attention had been drawn. "She's just—"
"Reeeal easy to piss off," Winston finished for him.
"Just do what she asks, and you'll be fine," Emma added. "Jane," she said to the girl who joined them at the table, "looks like Mrs. Maples is gonna need your help cleaning up."
"Really?" Jane said sarcastically, clearly annoyed as she looked Mrs. Maples's way.
"Did you come home last night?"
"No." She moaned, rolling her eyes.
"Then yes."
"But . . . but, Ian and I were—"
"Look at my face," Emma commanded. "Ask me if I care. Go ahead."
Timidly, Jane looked down at the table, and said, "Do you?"
"Nope."
"Em—"
"Why don't you go ahead and join her," Emma insisted, raising her mountaintop eyebrows. "She looks like she could use your help."
"Fine!" Jane exclaimed. She stormed from the table.
"You would've met Ian and his brothers last night," Emma whispered to Tom. "But they didn't show . . . as usual. Names are Matt and Ethan. You want to keep from trouble? Then stay away from them."
"That bad, huh?"
"Pretty much," she replied. "Ethan's got him a girlfriend, too. Olivia . . . we used to be friends. But you know how that goes."
Lyle rejoined them, passing down their plates as he gestured for them to dig in.
"What's up with her?" he asked, glancing toward Jane.
"She didn't come home again," Emma answered. "I don't know what to do about it."
"Just keep doing what you're doing," Winston said, nodding reassuringly. "She'll learn sooner or later."
"Well"—Maddox sighed— "y'all ready to start the day?"
"Yeah, yeah," Winston groaned. "Best get to it before Uncle Doolie catches us lolly-gagging around."
Begrudgingly, the cousins rose from the table. Before parting ways, they cackled together, and wished Tom and Cooper best of luck with the seemingly frazzled lady across the way.
"Cousin, I'll see you later," Maddox said before joining his brothers.
"See ya," she answered.
Mid-bite, Tom's gaze was pulled toward a gorgeous blond with hair down to her waist, sashaying through the hall. He didn't recognize her from the night before, but one look was enough to tell him she wasn't someone he needed to get involved with. Yes, she was pleasing to the eye, but even he knew beauty was only skin deep, and he craved something more.
"You're staring," Emma whispered, nudging his shoulder. "That's Farrah."
"Another cousin?" Grinning, he took her nod as confirmation. "How many cousins do you have?" he asked.
"Too many to count. You see them two youngsters over there wrestling with the dogs?"
"Yeah?"
"They're Winston's kids. Little Avery and Cason."
"And their mom?"
"Never made it home."
"He didn't go after her?"
"Well, he's got the kids. And Janice was working in Shreveport when it happened. There just wasn't a way."
"If I had kids, I couldn't leave them either. But it'd be hard leaving her out there like that."
"It has been." She sighed, and smiled at Lizzie and Claire sitting beside her. "It's been that way for everyone. All right, girls." She turned to face them. "Y'all ready?"
"I guess so." They shrugged pitifully.
"C'mon, get up," Emma said, swinging her legs over the bench.
"Hey," Tom interjected, grasping Emma's arm before she could rise. "Why'd you do it?"
"Do what?"
"You know what," he sternly replied, staring her down. "Why?"
"Because," she said, snatching her arm from him, "I like to think I'm a good person." She took the girls by the hand, and whistled for Jane to join them from the bar.
Tom stared after her as she led the girls from the hall, and he wondered how he could make amends. In the short amount of time they'd spent together, Tom had come to believe that saying sorry just wasn't going to cut it. Words weren't the answer; he was going to have to take action.
"Nice going." Cooper chuckled, breaking the silence.
"Didn't go so well, did it?"
Before Cooper could answer, the boards beneath them began to shudder as Mrs. Maples barged toward the table. Her pace was so quick that the wind whipped the hat from her head, and caused the cord to catch on her neck.
"Well, well, well," she said as she huffed and puffed, soon reaching them. "This is what I have to work with."
Chapter 5:
Emma
"What was that about?" Jane asked as they approached the goat pen.
"Oh, nothing," Emma muttered, reaching the gate. "Nothing."
People who had never been bullied, Emma believed, could never fully understand the scars left behind from it. Years after she'd graduated from school, there were times when vengeance was all Emma could think about—times she longed to make Tom feel as low as he'd made her feel. Emma had even dreamt once that she'd killed him, but not before humiliating him in front of their entire graduating class. When Emma had told her mother about the dream, she'd been quick to remind her that the best revenge was living well. It was then that Emma had realized those imprisoning thoughts were preventing her from meeting her full potential. Her hate, her insecurities, her doubt—they weren't hurting him at all. For all she knew, Tom had married a professional model and spent his time surfing in Hawaii—but in reality he had ended up worse off than she had.
Bringing Emma back to the present, Jane asked, "You sure about that?" She smirked. "Hmmm?"
Opening the gate, Emma looked back at her.
"Positive."
Emma kissed the girls' heads, and latched the gate closed, leaving them to their chores.
"Be careful with the eggs. And mind the turkeys' territory!" she shouted over her shoulder. "You know they can't stand y'all! See ya at lunch!"
"Say hi to Miss Mary for us!" Lizzie shouted back at her.
"Will do!"
All Mary Glenda Clery was to them was a sweet elderly lady, but to Emma, she was her beloved Great-Aunt Mary. She had never married, nor did she have any children of her own, so her nieces and nephews had taken on the roles. Back when she'd been able to, Mary had mended their clothes, and every year she had helped them put together their Halloween costumes.
Among Emma's family, Mary was known as the best storyteller, and she'd even taken up writing in her later years. But before any of her short stories could be published, she'd been diagnosed with lung cancer—three months before the solar flare had hit. Since that day, the family had been trying to conserve her pain medication, but with cancer, every day was a struggle.
Emma's duties, handed out by Doolie, consisted of tending to Mary's daily needs and helping t
o provide food for the people of Back Wood. She wasn't much of a shooter. Hitting a moving target had never been one of her strong points. But, to Doolie's elated surprise, she excelled at setting snares.
She had a routine. Every morning she woke before dawn, and snuck to the woods to set traps to ensnare her oblivious prey. On her best day, Emma had caught six rabbits. Ever since, Doolie had nailed the pelts to the side of her childhood home, displaying them as trophies.
With Mary, though, Emma believed "duty" was the wrong word. Emma cared for her, and the everyday things she did were done out of love. She didn't want Mary to feel alone during her last moments. For selfish reasons—to avoid future guilt—Emma wanted to do everything she could for Mary while her great-aunt was still here.
Clearing her parents' driveway, Emma merged onto the road and spotted Tom, who she had rudely parted with earlier. Mrs. Maples was leading him across the street. Cooper was behind them, struggling to match their strides.
Instead of risking another awkward conversation, Emma changed her route and darted toward the adjoining woods.
She managed to avoid being seen, and later emerged from the briar vines and brush without having been maimed or prodded. Stepping foot on the gravel of Aunt Mary's driveway, Emma glanced ahead and let loose a small sigh of relief as Mary's wind chimes beckoned her forward. The tops of the trees that were on either side of the driveway overlapped one another, shading the area. Emma's eyes were locked on Mary's red house with the navy-blue shutters and wraparound porch that provided a welcoming, cushioned swing and three rocking chairs. Before Mary had gotten sick, she had hired someone to repaint her home every year or so. Out of all the colors the house had been, the craziest ones Mary had picked were emerald green and her favorite shade of blinding yellow.
When Emma reached the porch, Stella came sprinting around the other side of the house.
"Hey, Stella," she said, reaching the top step. "What's up?" Taking the dip of her dog's snout to mean "nothing much," Emma shrugged.
"Same here," she said. Stella bolted toward the door, and then latched her paws to the screen and looked back at Emma, begging to be let inside. "You know she doesn't like dogs in the house," Emma said, prying Stella's paws from the door. "Go on. See if Momma and Daddy are done fighting. I'll see you later."
With Stella's leave, Emma eased herself through the door, and was startled to find Mary clinging to the wall as she struggled to make her way down the hall.
"Auntie!" Emma gasped, and ran to her side. "What are you doing?"
Grasping her great-niece's arm, Mary leaned her body against Emma's and smiled.
"There's a picture I wanted to see."
"Which one?"
"The one of us at the lake."
"All right," Emma said, grasping Mary's arm. "C'mon, it's a little farther down."
During that sunny afternoon, Mary had been teaching Emma and Griffin how to float on their backs. Shirley had captured the image from the edge of the sand, and Emma could still hear her shouting, "Look! Look over here! Smile!"
"That was a good day." Mary grinned, gazing at the photograph. "But I wish I hadn't worn that swimsuit."
"You were a fox."
"Yeah, yeah," she said. She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Help me back to the room, will you?"
"You want me to bring the picture? We can set it on the nightstand."
"No, no," she said. "I forgot how closely I resembled a busted can of biscuits."
"Would you stop it? You did not!"
As they passed by the circular mirror in the hall, Mary caught a glimpse of her reflection. She shook her head, seeming disgusted, and turned away.
"My skin is just about the shade of my favorite color," Mary groaned.
The pigmentation had started a week ago, and Emma refused to be the person to point it out. Whenever they took their little strolls through the house, she strategically avoided mirrors for her great-aunt's sake, and she even went so far as avoiding reflective surfaces. The day Emma had approached Mrs. Maples with her concerns, the community's doctor had been reluctant to explain that the discoloration was a sign of liver failure. Jaundice was something Emma had never heard of, which made sense, since she'd never known someone as ill as her Great-Aunt Mary.
"Hey," Mary said. "Did anybody ever tell you who you were named after?"
"Yeah," she replied as they passed through the doorway of Mary's bedroom. "Wasn't it your grandmother's grandmother?"
"Mm-hmm, that'd make her your triple-great-grandmother."
"It gets confusing after a while."
"Sure does," Mary agreed as they arrived at the foot of her bed. "Sure does. Hey, did I ever te—"
"Hold up, Auntie," Emma said, grunting as she helped her ease down onto the bed. "Lemme get you situated." She propped Mary up against the pillows, covered her great-aunt's varicose-veined legs with a homemade quilt, and climbed into bed. "Now," she said, "back to it."
"Her sisters," Mary continued, "Pasty and Bernice, were only fifteen and twelve at the time, and the youngest you were named after was just a couple of months old. Can't recall their parents' names." She paused for a moment. "Wish I could, though."
"Weren't they traveling from Tennessee?"
"In a worn-down wagon. Them were hard times."
Emma had heard the tale nearly a thousand times, but she'd never had the heart to turn down Mary's reminiscing. Back then, their family members had been low on food and desperate for water. During their travels, they'd come upon a Native American couple manning a wagon of their own. Drawing their relatives' interest was the barrel of water in their wagon and the dried meat hanging from what Emma imagined had resembled a clothesline. When the Clerys approached them for help, the Natives offered a trade. "Baby for water," the Natives had said. "Baby for water." Of course, they'd declined. The Natives hadn't been violent; they'd accepted the Clerys' answer and simply went on their way.
Many times Emma had pondered over the disappointment the Natives must have felt. The everlasting ache of being barren and childless, and the jealousy brought on from laying eyes on three young girls whom, to no fault of their own, the Natives would never call their children. They had been equipped with the nourishment Emma's family had needed, while her family had possessed the one thing that would have made them whole.
"Did all of them end up making it to Texas?" Emma asked. "After they were turned down?"
"Barely," she replied. "Barely. It's scary to think that if they hadn't, we wouldn't be here."
"Yeah, it is."
Chapter 6:
Tom & Cooper
"Up here is where you'll be sleeping," Mrs. Maples stated as she ushered the brothers up the stairs.
After arriving at the top, she halted before the first door on the right. It was covered with a sign that said "Do Not Enter" and a poster of Marvel's Wolverine. The veiny depiction of Hugh Jackman snarled at them as Mrs. Maples shoved against his sculpted chest and opened the door.
Plastered across the walls were posters of every superhero known to man, and a couple of drawings that had likely been created by the person to whom the room belonged. Two twin beds occupied the left and right sides of the room, along with separate sets of dressers.
"My boys were into comics." She shrugged. "Guess it's pretty obvious."
"Yeah," Tom replied. "Looks that way."
"You look to be my Jimmy's size," she said, looking Tom over. "He was big for his age. Feet always shot out from the end of the bed. His is the one on the left. You can go through his clothes if you want. See if any fit you. And you, young'un"—she turned her attention to Cooper—"you're free to do the same with my Joseph's things. He was round your age when he passed."
"How'd they die?" Cooper blurted out. He immediately received a smack on the shoulder from his older brother.
"Don't be asking her that," Tom scolded. "Damn."
"It's all right," she said. "Happened long before everything quit working. They were so excited that day. They went to se
e some movie they'd waited months for to be released." She paused, a sudden wave of tears clouding her sight. "Turns out a gunman had been waiting, too."
Stepping forward, Tom was cautious to embrace her, but he did so all the same. She resisted his affections at first, but gave in, and wrapped a trembling arm around him.
"I remember hearing about that," he said. "Terrible thing. It's a crazy world we live in."
"I'm sorry," Cooper whispered, joining them in the hug. "Sorry I asked."
"It would've come up sooner or later." She sniffled, parting from them. "If you're gonna be staying here, better it's out now rather than later when I don't feel like talking 'bout it."
"You're not as bad as everyone made you out to be," Cooper said, plopping himself on the edge of the bed.
"Cooper!" Tom shouted, looking apologetically in Mrs. Maples's direction. "Sorry."
"No one is as bad as folks make them out to be," she said, a grin forming at the edges of her mouth. "But just give it time. Y'all haven't done anything to piss me off yet."
Chapter 7:
Griffin
"Griffin! Griffin! Help me, boy!" Robert screamed, waking his grandson from much-needed sleep. "I fell outta the damn bed!"
Prying himself from the sheets, Griffin rushed down the hall that was covered in pictures from Christmases past and family get-togethers. He couldn't help but feel anger toward his relatives in the photos. None of them had come to rescue him. In the past his mother and sister had always been there to lend a helping hand, but now . . . nothing. When he'd needed them the most, they were nowhere to be found. Griffin was resentful for having to care for his ailing grandfather.
"Where are you?!"
"I'm coming, damn it!" Griffin exclaimed. Regretting his outburst, he stepped into the room, where he found Robert sprawled on the floor, trying to sit up. "What the hell happened?"
"I, I fell. You . . . you're gonna have to help me," he grunted. "I can't do it myself."