The Road: Sanctuary's Aggression Book 2

by Maira Dawn

  The Road

  Sanctuary’s Aggression 2

  Maira Dawn

  Contents

  Visit Maira Dawn

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  From the Author

  About the Author

  The Road © 2019 Maira Dawn

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ISBN:9781093668469

  All Rights Reserved

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  www.mairadawn.com

  To My Daughters,

  My pride and joy,

  being your mom is the best adventure of my life.

  Chapter One

  Need Help

  Skye laid back on the couch, enjoying the quiet. A quick glance at Jesse assured her he was safe and happy as he worked on his project. That is all she ever wanted for him.

  Yesterday‘s fight, when they rescued Jesse from his abusive father, had left her drained. The anxious months before that, worried about the AgFlu and the chaos it caused had taken its toll on her, but up here, on Dylan and Wade’s serene mountain, all those problems seemed so far away.

  Troubled, Skye turned the cell phone she held in her hand a couple times. Until I called my parents. Are they sick? Or is Dad telling me the truth—it’s only asthma and allergies?

  That worry persisted. Skye’s family lived in Ohio, five hours away, and it was her goal to take Jesse there. But her cousin, Tom, warned against it until he gave her the green light. He was checking with his fellow police officers on the conditions along the road before he would declare it safe for her and Jesse to travel. Tom planned to call back within two days.

  The phone went around again, before Skye held it out to the others. “Oh, hey. Does anyone want to use the cell phone? Believe it or not, I’ve got three bars.”

  Jesse shook his head but didn't look up from the model car kit Skye gave him this morning. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of a restored wooden coffee table with the pieces laid out before him as he and Dylan studied the instructions. Dylan sat across from Jesse. He leaned forward pointing to something on the paper. Dylan glanced at Skye.

  "Only person I care about is right here," Wade said, giving Dylan a pointed glance. He settled deeper into his chair and looked back at the book about house maintenance that engrossed him.

  Dylan took a moment to answer. Skye noticed his hesitation and walked over, extending the phone to him. "Do you have anyone you'd like to call?"

  He shrugged his right shoulder, reached for the cell phone and went outside. His muffled voice sounded for a couple of minutes. He got louder, then quieted.

  Dylan stormed back in, the easy-going guy helping Jesse, the one giving Skye words of encouragement was gone. This man’s jaw was tight, and there was a blue vein throbbing at his temple. The door slammed closed behind him, and everyone jumped.

  His footsteps thudded on the wood floor as he crossed the room to Skye and thrust his hand with the phone toward her. "Take it."

  "Is it not working now?"

  "Just take it," Dylan’s tone was flat, his control wearing thin.

  Skye frowned. “Do you need help?”

  "No, I do not."

  “Dylan.” She reached out a hand to him.

  He jerked away, pulling his arm out of reach. Grabbing his bow that leaned against the side of the couch, he slung it onto his back and stormed out of the cabin.

  Skye sighed. His anger sits just under the surface ready to burst at any time. Yesterday and now this? Skye looked down at the phone, turning it over a couple more times in her hand. She frowned as she let her thumb run over its smooth cover.

  Skye glanced at Jesse. He sat perfectly still; plastic car parts clutched in his hands with wide eyes glued to the door until he shifted his gaze to her. "I didn't do anything, did I?"

  "Oh, honey," Skye cleared a spot to sit on the floor beside him and smoothed Jesse's hair as she spoke. "Dylan wasn't angry at us. He left to cool down. It's okay."

  Skye turned to Wade. “What is that about?”

  “Pry his dad, he gets pretty touchy about him,” Wade said offhandedly and turned another page of his book. “He’ll stay out for a little while. Don't you worry, Jesse, hunting cools him right down.”

  Skye tipped her head. "His dad? I thought you said your dad passed away?"

  "Yeah, my dad's dead. Dylan's ain't." Earlier, when Wade told Skye their dad, Virgil, had contracted the AgFlu and died during the early onslaught of the disease, he never implied they were anything other than full brothers.

  “Please explain, Wade?”

  “Yeah, we got different dads.” He laughed, delighting at her irritation.

  Not in the mood for his teasing, Skye rolled her eyes and sighed. "Elaborate."

  "Well, I was born first, then my ma stepped out on my dad, and Dylan was born."

  Skye took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Patience, patience. "And was Dylan's birth father in the picture at all?"

  “Well…” Wade dragged out the word, “some. Seems Ma met his dad at a Powwow and nine months later, baby Dylan came along. Not that I minded, I was a bit lonely, anyway. His dad's Native American or part anyways. That's how Dylan knows the woods so well. His dad’s into all that.” Wade waved his hand.

  “Anyway,” Wade continued, “he said he didn’t know about Dylan til he was, oh around, twelve or thirteen. Said he came as soon as he did, but who knows? Dads haven't done too well by us. But on the other hand, mom's either. Ma never did tell Dylan he wasn't my dad’s.”

  Skye closed her eyes. That can’t be good. Her heart froze as she waited for the rest of the story.

  "Dylan found out one day when he was about ten. Dad was beatin on him real good and told him the reason he was such a thick-headed, scrawny idiot was cause he wasn't his blood. I'm cleaning that up some since Jesse’s here. It kinda messed up Dylan for a while. Couldn’t figure whether to be happy or sad about it, I reckon
."

  Skye imagined the thoughts that would go through a young boy's mind when given that kind of information in such a destructive way.

  "Then his own dad came along a coupla years later. He would take Dylan off, and they'd have a grand ole time. That would set my dad off, and Dylan got beat more. It was a messed-up time, and Ma couldn't handle all the fightin, so she told Dylan's dad he couldn't come around no more. So, he didn't for a while."

  Wade paused and looked out the window for a moment. "Ya know, it's bad enough havin the jacked-up dad I had, but for Dylan, it mighta been worse. At least, I knew what was going on."

  Each piece of Wade's story felt like another stone being handed to Skye. She recalled Dylan's earlier words. How he had dreamed every day of being saved when he was a boy. He must have looked to his birth father for that escape only to have him seem to abandon him. Tears came to her eyes.

  The pain and rage that man must carry. Skye turned and searched out the front window, wondering how long it usually took for him to come back.

  Chapter Two

  Ever

  Dylan didn’t want the third degree. He wanted left alone. The cabin suddenly felt crowded with two extra people. And the questions. He needed out.

  He trampled through the young forest as he headed toward the old growth. I just needed to know he was making it through this. The tangle of branches whipped back at him as he plunged through them. Tall grasses latched onto his shoes until the brush thinned and disappeared.

  Reaching his destination, Dylan found the fallen log, and with a weary sigh, sat down on its rough exterior. The back of his hand scratched by the thick, brown bark of the trunk as he leaned his bow against it. His chest expanded as far as it was able while he pulled the musty, earthy scent of the primeval forest. Its aroma as familiar to him as his own.

  Dylan’s breath became faster, both from exertion and emotion. He let his gaze rise from the leaf-strewn ground to the base of one of the ancient hardwoods. He continued all the way up the limbless trunk its crown, where green leaves, edges tinted brilliant yellow, sprang from heavy branches.

  A few consistent sounds came to Dylan in this part of the forest with a sort of muffled quality. The gentle wind rustled through the tops of the trees as the slight drafts teased at Dylan’s hair. Squirrels scolded each other across the forest floor, like two squabbling neighbors. Above him, a small flock of birds sang as they hopped from branch to branch.

  Quiet, peaceful, almost sacred, the time Dylan spent here was as close to a spiritual experience as he’d ever experienced. In this harmonious place he dared to hope there was more to existence than the dark way he came up in this world.

  Dylan closed his eyes soaking in the comfort and solace. He’d found this place as a boy, during a particularly difficult time in his life. It helped restore him then, and he continued to return time after time, drinking in the calm to ease his harassed soul.

  But now his troubled thoughts continued to plague him. What was I thinkin? How do I think I’m ever gonna have a normal family? Besides Wade, I can’t even get my blood to care about me.

  Dylan rubbed his aching chest with the heel of his palm. His shoulders sagged as he lowered his head to his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. Tears had deserted him long ago. Instead, his body quaked with sorrow.

  Today, even here, he could not find the hope he so desperately yearned for.

  Chapter Three

  Your Boy

  The tension left Skye’s shoulders when Dylan walked into the cabin two hours later, but little had changed with his attitude. He came back with no game and even less patience. Dylan met questions with a frozen stare and silence, so eventually, they stopped.

  Wade had said Dylan’s time in the woods usually calmed him, but not today. Everyone avoided him as much as they could in the tiny house, and still, by nightfall, he acted as surly as the autumn bear Wade accused him of being.

  Is this the best the man can do?

  Jesse’s gaze tracked Dylan when he moved around the room, and Skye didn’t like it. The boy was coming from a bad place, and the strain was disturbing him. Dylan knew that, yet he continued to act like this. She sighed. It was affecting them all.

  She threw a glance at Wade as he happily read his book. Well, maybe not him.

  Skye made up her mind. She needed to talk to Wade about the situation to get more insight on the matter, so she waited until he left the cabin and followed him out. “I get Dylan’s working through something, but the way he is acting...”

  “Yeah, he gets like this sometimes,” Wade said with a flip of his hand. Apparently, Dylan’s moods didn’t worry him much.

  Skye pursed her lips before saying, “He’s been either growling or oppressively silent, and it’s been going on most of the day. How long can this last?”

  “Oh, well now, I seen it go on for days. I wouldn’t bother Dylan if I were you,” he cautioned when he saw her glance toward the cabin. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Wade, this can’t continue. It isn’t a good atmosphere for Jesse, us, or even Dylan himself. I need to talk to him.”

  Wade scratched his jaw as he drew out his words. “Yeah, like I said I wouldn’t do that.”

  Skye studied Wade for a minute before kicking a little at the grass beneath her feet. “I’m a professional, this is what I do.” Her eyes softened as she looked through the window to see Dylan hunched forward on the recliner, forehead leaning against his fisted hands. The man was clearly unhappy. She bit her lip then said, “Someone will have to go into the bear’s den.”

  Wade sighed loudly. “Well, remember, I warned you.” He shook his head as he walked away.

  Skye gave Dylan as much time as she could, but once the atmosphere in the cabin was unmistakably oppressive, she became aware she needed to act. She smothered a sigh and headed over to the side of the room Dylan had taken over to work and teetered next to him on the edge of the couch. Her fingers clenched the soft material of the cushion as she scanned his gruff exterior.

  With a gentle voice, she said, “Dylan, can you tell me what happened?” A silent stare was all he gave her before he turned back to cleaning his gun.

  Okay, great. Good start there.

  “We don’t have to talk about anything in particular, but is there something we can do to help you get through this?” A low, exasperated sigh was her only answer.

  One of Skye’s eyebrows raised, and she clasped her hands together. Still nothing. I have literally never had a child patient act this way, and this right after his nice little speech to me too.

  She looked over at Jesse watching his gaze bounce between her and Dylan, his young face pinched and white.

  Skye couldn’t take Jesse looking so scared, and all her schooling left her. She tore her gaze from the boy and fired it at Dylan. “We need you to stop acting this way.”

  At last, Dylan spoke, “What are you talking about, woman?”

  Really? What am I talking about? She let out a slow breath to calm herself. “Please stop. This atmosphere isn’t good for any of us.”

  Dylan almost growled at her. “Do you think I actually give--“

  “Don’t even.” She shot a glance at Jesse before glaring at Dylan. Jesse had heard a lot of language in his life, but she didn’t want that for him anymore.

  “Fine!” Dylan roared, leaning in toward her, eyes blazing right back.

  Skye‘s calm demeanor gone, she was ram-rod straight with fists at her sides. “Fine!”

  His fierce stare held Skye‘s, reading her and answering her at the same time, but whether he was saying, “I am man, how dare you deny me” or “Wow, she is hysterical about this. I guess she really means it,” Skye wasn’t sure.

  Before she could say another word, Dylan rose from the couch, and again, grabbed his bow. This time he also stopped by the door to snap up one of the loaded packs that sat there. He threw it over his shoulder, and walked straight out of the cabin, into the darkened woods.

  Skye’s head
sank to her hands.

  “Oh man, you really did it now, didn’t ya?” Wade’s tone was sarcastic.

  She raised her wide-eyes to him. “Me? I did nothing. He’s the one acting juvenile.”

  “Told you it wouldn’t work,” he chided her.

  “Shut up!”

  Wade gave a big belly laugh. “Little Miss Hoity-toity puttin away your going to town manners. Now you’re learning.”

  After that, things went from bad to worse. Everyone was worried about Dylan being out in the dark and lonely night and that also made them short-tempered.

  Jesse was in charge of the fire this evening. The men had shown him how to keep the small blaze fed and make sure it didn’t die down too much overnight. But as they were getting ready for bed, Jesse added a log that was, in Wade’s opinion, too large. Wade barked at Jesse. The more Wade talked, the lower the boy slumped. “Don’t be so dumb, boy. You know that isn’t how to do that. I swear sometimes you are so stupid. You remind me...”

  Skye raced across the room to Jesse’s side and laid her arm on his shoulders, pulling him to her. “Stop! You stop that kind of talk right now!”

  Wade gave her a dismissive wave of his hand, “Ah, this boy has listened to a lot worse than that in his life.”