by Anna Oney
As Emma observed the intruders, she took in every weapon they'd stolen. Beside her, Reed stared at the people he'd once called his own. When Reed's hands began to shake, Emma knew there was no way out of this, and she sensed he was aware of the odds himself.
"We're in a tight spot," he whispered. "Ain't we?"
Taking hold of his chin, Emma forced him to meet her gaze.
"I need you to do something for me," she said. She paused, removing her Aunt Mary's cross from her neck. "I need you to go back to the house and get them to the woods."
"You mean leave you here alone?"
"It's just like you said. This is my fault. Mine. I'm pushing forward alone," she stated, handing him the cross. "Give this to Darby. She'll see that it's given to my girls."
"You could've told me that before you dragged my ass all the way out here," he said. "What am I, huh? Your chauffeur?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess."
"Chauffeurs make sure you get home safely, too," he argued, grabbing her wrist. "Don't do this."
Resting her hand on top of his, she whispered, "I am home."
"I'll go. You're a woman. You ain't got no business." He cut his eyes toward his kin. "I'm not leavin' you here by yourself."
"Just because I'm a woman doesn't make my life more important than yours. It brings me just as much honor dying for you as it would you for me. Now, go. And keep them kids safe for me."
"How's a country girl in overalls gonna take down the devil?"
Looking back at her father's pain-stricken face, her eyes swelled with tears.
"With my daddy's charm," she replied.
"Take the gun at least."
"You're gonna need it when this is all over. Use it to protect them." Finalizing their debate, Emma offered her hand, and said, "Reed."
He shook her hand firmly and nodded. "Emma."
As Reed backed away from the field, Emma's ears perked up to Heskill's voice as he began to make a speech. Heskill had positioned himself directly before the crowd.
Every able-bodied man by his side readied their stolen weapons to fire as their leader broke the eerie silence.
"I'm gonna ask each of you a question. If you answer correctly, we'll allow you to get up and just walk on down the road," he said, motioning in the direction of the front gate. "If you're wrong, well, you won't be walkin' nowhere."
The first person he chose to ask was Emma's stubborn father. Raising his pistol, Heskill aimed at the middle of Doolie's chest.
"Is this your road, or is it ours?" he asked.
Emma's stomach dropped as the question spewed smugly from his mouth. She remembered Wakiza being asked something similar when his village was raided: "Is this the land of your people? Or is it ours?"
Anticipating her father's response, Emma began crawling closer.
Doolie courageously replied, "Seeing as how we built this place . . . yeah, I'd have to say it belongs to us." He paused, looking to the rest of Heskill's men. "Now, you thieving sons of bitches best move your asses on down the line. And y'all best do it quick before something bad happens to you."
Heskill stepped forward, and shoved the pistol against Doolie's forehead. Witnessing this, every neighbor began crying out for him to stop. It was then that Emma heard her mother's cry, and spotted her face among the rest of Back Wood's women. She was helping Mrs. Maples stand. Mrs. Maples was wounded, sporting a busted lip and an arm thrust into a sling constructed from a giving neighbor's shirt.
Something unknown drew Shirley's gaze to the field her daughter was crouched in. As soon as she found Emma huddled on the ground, she shifted her concern from Doolie to her daughter. As Shirley shook her head, Emma took the bow and emerged from the depths of the crops.
"HESKILL!" she screamed, struggling against the swelling in her throat.
Startled by her familiar voice, Heskill took the gun from Doolie's temple, and turned to face her.
"Hey there, Red." He smirked. "You know, for some strange reason, I honestly . . . I honestly believed you'd come back from the dead and bite me in the ass. And look now you're here, alive and—well, I wouldn't say well." He chuckled, glancing back at his men. "What's done happened to you?"
"Men. Men is what's happened to me. And them right there, you ain't touching."
"How are you gonna stop me? I mean, alls you got is two arrows and that, uh, that, uh, mini-ax there." He laughed. "I just don't see it happenin'."
"It's called a tomahawk, dumbass!"
"Tomahawk?!" he exclaimed, bellowing out an unsettling cackle. "You know somethin' I don't?"
"I know I'm sorry I couldn't help you then." Heskill's expression seemed to shift as though her apology had an impact on him. Emma stepped forward, and, taking advantage of the silence, she continued. "I had no idea what it was like to be you. I should've tried harder. I'm sorry. I am."
As Heskill clapped his hands in response, Emma was certain this was going to end badly. Doubting herself completely, she began regretting everything she had done, from leaving Back Wood to leading these fools here. Her thoughts were interrupted when Doolie's and Tom's voices overlapped each other's as they shouted out, "EMMA, NO! JUST GO!"
Shirley began fighting against the crowd. Emma knew her mother was trying her hardest to accomplish the very thing she had always believed a parent was meant to do: protect her children. Frantically, Shirley pointed toward the woods.
"Run, baby!" she screamed, trying to break through the crowd. "RUN!"
"Go on, Red," Heskill said. "Listen to them. Run back to them woods where you belong. You don't want to see what's gonna happen next."
"We all can change for the better. We all have a choice. Leave us be before you do something you're gonna regret!"
"This is survival." Heskill grinned. "Don't take it personal."
Emma's grip around the bow tightened. The coolness of the hatchet's blade lingered at a hole in her overalls. The pleas from her loved ones became muffled. Reaching behind her, Emma latched her fingers around one of the remaining arrows and pulled it from the quiver. The laughter at her expense had ceased. All of the men's jubilant expressions were rapidly replaced with perturbed ones.
Nocking the arrow in place, she silently prayed, Lord be with me.
Raising his hand, Heskill prepared to give his men the signal to fire, but a gust of wind whipped through the cornfield standing tall behind Emma. It swirled with such violence that they were forced to sway. Gazing ahead, Emma witnessed Heskill being blown backward and cowardly using her father's body to shield him from the fierceness of the wind. Miraculously, Emma was the only person able to withstand its harshness.
As the wind died down, the bitter smells of smoke, dirt, sweat, and blood ensnared Emma's nostrils. At a standstill, everyone remained silent as the scents of lost souls ran through every piece of their weathered clothing.
Emma gazed into the burning confusion sketched into her foes' eyes.
After standing, Heskill began to threateningly sway the pistol from Doolie's head to Tom's, grinning maliciously.
"Who will it be, Red?" he asked. "Who. Will. It. Be?"
"I have no say in who lives or dies in this world, and neither do you!" she shouted, lowering the bow. "The only person who does is the God watching over us. We're the few people—the few people He's chosen to survive. What do you think He'll do if we turn our backs on Him now?!" she cried, locking eyes with Darby's fiancé, Link, who was clutching at his side. "You'll be lost if you do this. Go back to where you came from!"
"But, you see," Heskill said, "that's not gonna work for me, 'cause you know where we came from."
"I've changed. I've learned not to hold grudges. I'm the furthest thing from you, because I've learned to forgive." Turning her attention to his men, Emma continued. "Do it for the sake of your souls. Not only for the sake of your own, but for the man's standing next to you. Don't hurt my people any more than you already have. Just go!"
"Powerful words. Such sweet words you're usin'
to try and save your people, Red," he said, pressing the barrel of the gun against the back of Tom's skull. "I'm guessin' if I shoot this one here, you won't be so sweet and forgivin' anymore. I'm guessin' you won't be much of anythin' at all."
"Please," she begged, "don't." Please, God, Emma prayed. Don't take him away from me now. Not now. Not now that I love him.
Losing hope, she looked to the clear blue sky when a howl coming from a distant plane erupted from all around them. It was then that Emma knew she wasn't alone. Remembering Wakiza's words brought an exultant smile to her face: "When you hear the howl of Ahanu, you will know we are with you."
Confirming the arrival of her dead ancestors was the harshness of the howling wind and the steady beat of drums. The moment had finally arrived. Again, Emma nocked the arrow in place and leaned forward, taking a deep breath. Praying for the strength to wield it, she bolted upright and was able to pull the trigger as far back as it could go. I ain't dead yet, she told herself. No, not yet. Aiming at Heskill's chest, she exhaled, releasing the arrow, but as it spiraled toward its destination, so did more than a dozen others—but theirs had a different course. Within seconds, most of the men clutching at their stolen weapons were lying dead on the dewy ground beneath them. However, Emma's arrow had only pierced Heskill in the shoulder, petrifying him.
His eyes burning with rage, Heskill placed his finger on the trigger. Taunting her, he grinned and took aim. Wavering where he stood, he glared at Emma.
"Fuck you," he whispered, before pulling the trigger.
But the bullet had missed her. The echoing bang of the gun surrounded them just as the tip of Emma's family's heirloom punctured through his back. Even though he'd been attacked from behind, Wakiza appeared standing directly before him. It broke completely free of Heskill's chest cavity, and her ancestor caught the spear before it hit the ground.
The tribe left three of Heskill's men standing. Once they'd watched their comrades fall, they dropped their weapons and surrendered.
If they truly wanted to be here, Emma thought, they would have been killed like the rest.
Once Back Wood's men were freed, they made sure the remaining invaders were bound.
Due to everything that had transpired, Emma felt her knees buckle, forcing her to collapse to the ground. She raised her chin, and she and Tom locked eyes across the way. Tom rose from the ground, and sprinted toward her. She struggled to her feet, and they collided and sank back down to the ground.
Pressing his lips to Emma's ear, Tom rocked her back and forth.
"Thank God. Thank God I got you back." Stroking her back, he said, "Hey, there's a bunch of half-naked Indians walking this way."
Embracing him, she rested her chin on his shoulder, and replied, "They saved us." Looking up, Emma's eyes lingered on Doolie's face, who was smiling at them both, but his smile faltered.
Something's wrong, she thought. Daddy?
As if he could hear Emma's thoughts, Doolie answered her question by slumping over on his side. It was then that Emma saw the blood trailing down the side of his shirt.
"Daddy! Nooo!" she screamed, tearing away from Tom. "No!"
"What?" Tom asked. "What is it? You hurt?"
Emma got up off her knees, and sprinted toward her father's side, where Wakiza was waiting.
"Where are your healers?" Wakiza asked, kneeling beside him. "He's been shot."
"Where's Mrs. Maples?" she asked, looking to Tom. "Where is she?!"
Wakiza lifted Doolie's shirt from his back, revealing a hole the size of a half-dollar coin that had left a crater in his spine. "If he lives," he said, "he will never walk again."
"Don't you say that." She sobbed. "Please, please, don't say that."
A few strides away, Shirley finished helping Mrs. Maples to her feet. When Emma's mother looked their way, her face became distorted. Sprinting toward them, Shirley nearly tripped over one of the deceased invader's legs. Tom rose to accompany her the rest of the way. By the time Shirley and Tom reached them, they found Emma cradling Doolie's head in her lap.
Down on her knees, Shirley took his hand.
"Is he gone?!" she cried.
"No," Wakiza answered. "Breathing is shallow. He needs a healer's touch."
"Forgive me, but"—she paused—"who is he?"
"He's . . . he's just a friend I found in the woods," Emma answered. "He says he needs a doctor."
"You can understand him?"
"Yes, Momma, I can," she replied, keeping pressure on the wound. "But don't ask me how."
"Are those his people?" Shirley asked, nodding toward the tribe. "Are they angels?"
"Something like that."
As they huddled around Emma's father, Tom helped Mrs. Maples to her knees. Wincing at the pain in her shoulder, she trailed her fingers to Doolie's wound.
"This is bad," she said. "I need the boy. Can someone fetch Cooper? I left him in the basement."
"I sent him to the woods," Emma replied, silently cursing herself.
"He's alive?" Tom asked, seeming relieved.
"Yes, he is."
"Shouldn't someone go get him?" Shirley said.
"There's no time." Mrs. Maples paused, keeping pressure on the wound. "Someone needs to get me my bag."
"I'll go," Emma said, rising from the ground. "Where is—" she began to ask, when she found a familiar face staring back at her. "Maddox?"
"Cousin, what the hell is going on?" he asked, readying his rifle. "Jane said—" He paused, looking from his uncle to her. "What's wrong with Uncle Doolie?"
"He's been shot," Emma replied, noticing Winston and the rest of the hunting party behind him. "Can you fetch Mrs. Maples's medical bag from her house? It's a reddish-brown color. I need to stay with him."
"Sure thing." Maddox nodded, bolting in the opposite direction. "Be back in a few!"
Winston didn't say a word. Draping his arm over Emma's shoulders, he pulled her close. He walked Emma over to where Doolie lay, and knelt with her.
"I should've been here. I knew this'd happen sooner or later," he said, weeping.
"It's too dangerous to remove the bullet," Mrs. Maples said. Concentrating, she bit down on her lip, and added, "The only thing I can do is try to—" She leaned forward to look more closely. "Damn it to hell!"
"What?" Shirley asked. "What is it?"
"I can't fix him, Shirley," she stated, staring at them as though she didn't want to point out an indisputable truth. "I can't stop the bleeding—not with the tools I have."
"We can try town then!" Emma exclaimed. "Try and find some supplies there. We can use their horses."
"There's no time for that." Removing her bloodstained hands from Doolie's back, she whispered, "He'll be dead before you even make it there."
"We have to try! He'd do it for any of us. We can't do this without him!" Emma yelled, as tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't do this without him!"
Emma attempted to stand, and Shirley embraced her, forcing her daughter to stay put. Pressing her mouth to her daughter's ear, she whispered, "It's done. There's nothing left to do but pray."
"Where the hell is that boy?!" Mrs. Maples shouted. "How hard is it to fin—"
"I'm here!" Maddox exclaimed, emerging over the hill. Out of breath, he handed over the bag. "I'm here. I'm here."
Tom pulled Maddox to the side, preventing him from joining his kin.
"We need to move them," he whispered. He motioned toward the three intruders who had been kept alive. "Somewhere we can keep them until we decide what to do."
"You can stash them away in my basement," Mrs. Maples interjected. "There's a lock for it in one of my kitchen drawers."
"That'll do just fine." Tom nodded, facing the rest of the neighbors. "Everybody grab a weapon and look alive! There may be more of them out there."
Struggling from the ground, a few feet away, Link clutched at his side and began limping toward them.
"Em . . . Emma." He winced in pain. "Darby and I were separated. Have you seen her?"<
br />
"She's with a group of others I sent to the woods," Emma replied, pointing toward the back barrier. "That way."
"Is she . . . is she okay?"
"She's fine. Go," Emma said, looking to Tom. "I locked one of them in Aunt Mary's closet."
"I'll take care of it."
"Be careful; he wasn't too happy when I left him."
"Will do. You'll be all right?" he asked, caressing Emma's jaw.
"I'll be fine."
Tom leaned forward, and kissed her forehead.
"I love you. I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Love you." With Tom's and Maddox's leave, Emma cradled Doolie's head as Shirley aided Mrs. Maples during the procedure. Emma found it strange witnessing them working so well together. These desperate times seemed to have wiped out their petty differences and annoyances they'd allowed to wedge a space between them.
"Can he feel anything?" Winston asked, tightening his grip on Doolie's hand. "Shouldn't he be—"
"He can't feel a thing. Not a thing."
"So what good is this gonna do? I thought you said he wasn't gonna make it?"
"It'll give y'all a chance to say your goodbyes. You want that, don'tcha?" she asked, wiping up the blood trailing down his back. "It's a right many folks've been stripped of. And I owe it to him."
Her boys, Emma thought. The shooting . . .
"If he doesn't come to," she said, solemnly locking eyes with Emma's distressed gaze, "then it's over."
Distraught, Emma failed to notice Wakiza kneeling beside her. The sensation of his cool hand resting upon her shoulder woke her momentarily from her somber state of mind. "He will be taken care of," he whispered, and the rest of Emma's family seemed to yearn to understand the words he'd spoken.
"I know. I know he will," she replied, choking back the tears. "It's just . . . it's just, he's my father, you know? And no matter how old I get, I'll always be a daddy's girl."
Chapter 40:
Emma
Within the second hour, they had taken back the community. Wakiza's people did what they could to help. The tribe tended to their wounds, helped mend fences, and filled each of them up to the brink with faith that there was a God looking out for them and that He hadn't given up on them yet.