“She’s right,” Desirée added, feeling comfortable enough now to rattle her vibrant voice off. “All shapes and sizes of men. Fat, skinny, short, tall…even ones with beards and ones without beards. But like Kenzie said, not a single woman anywhere. It was weird, Mom. It was like they left all their wives, girlfriends, sisters, and female chums at home so they could go out and do guy things.”
Jesseca lifted a brow. “What’s that all about?”
“I haven’t the faintest,” Michelle replied. “But it definitely sounds like takers to me. From what we’ve seen of them, the entire faction is predominated by males.”
Rejoining them, Alex took a seat in a lotus position between her mother and Michelle. “They’re bringing loads of stuff from everyone’s houses to the Masons’,” she said. “Food and everything. But they’re moving everyone’s guns and ammunition to the cabin for some reason.”
“There’s people in my house?” Michelle asked.
Alex nodded her head. “Several.”
Michelle started to look and feel ill upon hearing the news of strange men in her home. She had spent the majority of her life being a clean freak and could only imagine what the inside of her home away from home looked and probably smelled like.
Alex glanced at her sisters. “There was something else though, something weird. Something that made us wonder.”
“Made you wonder about what?” Jesseca pondered.
Mack adjusted her posture. “Everyone was eating.”
Jesseca’s forehead crinkled as she grew puzzled. “Okay, got it. They were eating…that’s very astute.” She rubbed her hands together. “Can you explain why that was of note?”
“It was how they were eating, Mom,” added Alex. “They were stuffing their faces. Like they hadn’t eaten anything decent in years. Almost like they were starving to death.”
Mack jumped in again. “Yeah, and they were eating stuff uncooked, too…even the rice and pasta and dehydrated stuff—like it was a gourmet dinner at a five-star restaurant.” With a giggle, she glanced to Michelle, who was sending her a peculiar stare. “Oh…I’ve never been to one, but I’ve read about them…in books.”
“They were drinking too,” Alex continued. “Some of them were walking around with those airplane bottles of liquor you showed me, Michelle.”
“Fantastic,” Michelle groaned, rolling her eyes. “That’s just marvelous. The private stash has now become public. I guess water is too lowbrow for them.”
Alex shook her head. “No, some of them were drinking water, too. Just not all of them.”
Jesseca sniggered. “Well, maybe that’ll solve the problem for you, Michelle. If they drink poisoned water from the creek or cook food with it—boom. Dead.”
“Not likely. We disposed of all the questionable water the day we declared it poisoned. All the reservoirs in the valley were refilled with rain-barrel water and treated with a purifying solution we made with pool shock. The only way they’ll poison themselves is if they drink straight from Trout Run, and even that won’t kill them overnight, and we don’t have time to wait.” Michelle sighed, glancing at the sky’s waning daylight. “We have to do something about this now.”
Jesseca put her hand to her chin and fell into a state of deep consideration. She gently rubbed heads with Desirée while taking turns casting thoughtful looks at her other two most prized possessions. “Girls, you said the men you saw looked really hungry…”
All three young women nodded their heads with ebullience
Jess smiled at them. “Okay. But exactly how hungry?” She paused, holding up a finger. “Let’s pretend we’re in school for a minute,” she began. “This evening, we’re in English class and I handed each of you a pop quiz about adjectives. Which adjective best describes their hunger?”
Mack lunged forward with bright eyes and a cheeky grin. “Voracious! On the verge of being gluttonous!”
Jess’s smile grew larger. “Superb. Both great adjectives, Mack.” Jess tapped Desirée’s head. “Dizzy?”
“They looked famished to me,” Desirée said, giggling her answer. “At least to me. My adjective is famished.”
“Another fantastic modifier,” Jess said, giving her a squeeze, then turned to eye Alex.
Alex hesitated before speaking, fidgeting with her hair. “Insatiable. Like hungry enough to eat the crotch out of a low-flying duck.”
Alex’s sisters doubled over laughing, both with palms covering their mouths. Alex, Jess and Michelle joined in with heartwarming laughs of their own, and the gravity of the dilemma dissipated for the moment.
“I don’t know where she gets these things,” Jess said, her face awash with color from her laughing spell. “So, Michelle, in your previous run-ins with these…takers, did they come just to steal food? Or has it been other things?”
“We never gave much thought to it,” Michelle replied, her joyous tone returning to normal. “And we never asked them, either. When people show up in your backyard with guns attempting to kill you, details don’t matter much, do they?”
“No, they sure don’t,” Jess agreed. “But if these kinsmen are this desperate for a bite to eat, maybe we can use it against them.”
Jesseca ran her fingers through the plants growing on the ground nearby amidst the scrub and sporadic grass. “It’s funny, you know. Hardly anyone pays much attention to the edibles we walk past and step on every day. Right here, right beneath my fingertips, there’s plantain. Not the fruit you can fry up or make pancakes with, but the herb that grows almost everywhere like a common weed. The one with incredible medicinal properties, the one that, if cooked right, tastes like spinach and pairs perfectly with a portion of well-cooked meat.”
Jesseca separated one of the plant’s broad leaves and held it aloft for Michelle to see. “How long do you think it’s been since these chaps have enjoyed a healthy salad fresh from the garden…or maybe some freshly dried homegrown seasoning?”
“Seasoning?” Michelle asked, her interest piqued.
Jesseca nodded with a sly grin. “Sure. Adds the right amount of flavor to any dish. But the seasoning we’re going to need to solve this problem is of a particularly toxic variety, and as I’ve already shown you, it’s a variety I happen to cultivate…in droves.”
Chapter 16
Mason residence
Trout Run Valley
Thursday, December 2nd
When Grace awoke again, she sat up rapidly in a panic, unable to discern if she was dreaming, while not remembering having fallen asleep.
She studied her surroundings again, only to find that nothing had changed. The sick were still lying in their cots and were still being tended to. Kim Mason had been joined by Kristen Perry, and the two women were busily administering medications and distributing portions of food and water to them and others nearby.
Another man whom Grace didn’t recognize had joined them, along with the burly strange-talking one, and he was similarly armed. He paced slowly behind Kim and Kristen while they made their rounds, watching them and closely scrutinizing their movements.
Grace lifted an arm and touched her forehead with the back side of her hand. She couldn’t tell if she still had a fever, but her stomach still hurt, and she was beyond the point of being incredibly thirsty.
As Grace went to slide herself from her cot, Kim noticed her and excused herself to dash over. “Hey there, pretty girl. I see you finally decided to join us again. How are you feeling?”
Grace steadied herself, looking a bit woozy. “I don’t know…nauseated, I guess. Just sick to my stomach, but not really sick, if that makes any sense. Did I pass out again?”
A faint smile spread across Kim’s face as she took a seat. “No. You just fell asleep rather suddenly.” She placed the back of her hand to Grace’s head, followed by her temples. “Your fever’s gone, though. Looks like you’re in the clear.”
Grace smiled. Ever since the point of getting sick, she’d been worried she’d somehow been poisoned. She guessed
she must’ve drank or eaten something that had given her the same symptoms as the others who had fallen ill. Knowing that the initial symptoms were flulike and she didn’t appear to have them was reassuring.
Kim placed her hands in her lap. “I think it’s safe to say that whatever’s ailing you is nothing like what the others have.”
Grace pointed to a glass of water sitting on a bedside table, and Kim handed it to her. She then took several large gulps. “Are they getting any better?”
Kim let out a faint sigh. “I wish I knew the answer to that. I wish I knew the answer to a lot of things right about now. We’ve been doing all we can for them, but our hands are tied. At first, they were getting all the antibiotics we had, but due to recent events…it hasn’t exactly been that easy.”
“What are you talking about?”
Kim lowered her voice to a whisper. “They aren’t allowing us to use the medicine we had. These gentlemen have taken possession of just about everything—food, medicine, weapons—and haven’t exactly been allowing us any freedom of movement.”
“I’m confused, Kim…what does that mean?” Grace asked, cocking her head to the side angrily. “What exactly do these pricks want from us? We’re giving them everything else…are they really taking what little medication we need to help the sick, too? If that’s the case…I’m sorry…that’s freakin’ bullshit.”
Kim tapped her finger on Grace’s thigh with enough force to get her attention. “Keep your voice down. These men, whoever they are, are still letting us have some of the meds, but not all of them. They’ve just taken the pick of the litter.” Kim turned away, hesitating. “And like you…I just wish I knew why.”
“Has Michelle come back yet?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace put her hand on Kim’s shoulder. “Do they still have Megan?”
Kim didn’t respond.
“Jesus. I guess so,” said Grace. She began gritting her teeth and found herself in a stare down with the man who had been inspecting everything Kristen had been doing, no matter how innocuous. Grace rolled her eyes and huffed. “You know, Kim, we can’t just sit here and take this shit. Somebody has to take the lead and try talking to these people. Maybe we can negotiate with them, who knows…but we’ll never know unless one of us takes a stand.”
As Kim reached out and pled with her not to do anything rash or stupid, Grace rose and strolled directly to the man guarding Kristen.
Kim reluctantly followed.
The man’s brows angled inward as he looked upon Grace curiously. His skin was unclean and even in the dimness of candlelight, it was easy to distinguish that one of his eyes was a different shade of brown than the other.
At the point his lips parted to crack a sardonic grin, he displayed a single front tooth broken in half beside another nearly blackened with rot. “What the blue fuck is this?” his voice thundered. “Is somebody feelin’ better?”
The nausea Grace was experiencing was instantly exacerbated after catching a whiff of the man’s putrid breath. She hesitated long enough to will away her urge to upchuck, assuming doing so would serve as an ill-advised method of making a first impression. “I am feeling better, thanks for asking. But I would be feeling incredible if I knew exactly what was going on around here. Namely, who you people are and what exactly it is you want so badly.”
The man chuckled. “First off, I don’t give a two-headed frog’s shit how you feel. And it’s not my job to pass along information for you, to or from anyone else. I’m not a mailman, and I’m not no liaison. I’m here to guard you and keep you girls from getting yourselves in trouble. That’s all, nothing else. So get your skinny, loudmouthed ass back over there on that cot where you came from and sit there until I tell you it’s okay to get back up.”
Grace took a step back, folding her arms. “Sheesh, you’re bossy. How am I supposed to respond? How about…‘your wish is my command, sir’. How’s that?”
“Exactly like that—’cept it ain’t no wish.”
Grace pointed her finger at the man, nearly making contact with his slightly crooked nose. She spoke with added bitterness etched in her tone. “Well, let me tell you something, you foul-mouthed, shit-breathed, Ted Nugent-looking son of a destitute whore, nobody comes into our valley and treats us like this. I won’t allow it. And I don’t give a damn who you are, I want you to take me to whoever oversees this swarm of merry men. Right now.”
One of the man’s eyebrows lifted to its apex. He sucked his teeth while taking a step backward from Grace, and then pulled out a weighted-knuckle leather glove from his jacket pocket and began sliding it onto his fingers. “You know…I’m a patient man, but the last time some little bitch spoke to me in that tone of voice, I broke her fucking jaw,” he said. “You know how hard it is to fix a broken jaw these days? Let me tell you, it’s damn near impossible.”
He wiggled his gloved fingers and licked his lips while staring at Grace so angrily his eyes watered. “Needless to say, that bitch don’t say much anymore. And you’re about to find out what that’s like.”
As the man drew back and Grace ducked for cover, Kim Mason jumped in between them, expecting to be struck. “Please don’t! Please don’t hit her! She’s…she’s with child.”
The man released the tension in his arm and lowered it slightly. “Shit, you say?”
“No, it’s true. She’s still in her first trimester, and any stress or injury she endures can harm the baby.” Kim looked up and, noticing the man was no longer in a position to strike, started to back away.
Grace was completely blown away. Her eyes were as wide as a twenty-lane highway.
“This true?” the man inquired. “You gotta baby in your belly, girl?”
Grace’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Kim, finally finding the man’s gruesome stare. Maybe Kim was trying to tell her something without telling her something. Maybe it was time to put some of her acting skills to effective use. “Yes, that’s correct. Woe is me, my…fiancé and I are indeed expecting a little tot, our first.” She hesitated, not knowing exactly where to go with this. “I am indeed with child, and I’m sorry, but I guess that explains why I’m so…forward. I didn’t mean to anger you.”
The man gulped. “Anger me? You were about a second away from losin’ more than half your teeth.” He paused, removing the glove from his hand. “I honestly don’t know what you women are thinkin’ these days. Acting so damn independent, thinkin’ you can say whatever the hell you want to whoever you want. Birthin’ kids, raising kids and shit. Personally, I think it’s a good thing for y’all to get a good smack every so often. Helps remind you where your place is.” He paused again, producing a wicked grin. “So, which one of these old boys ’round here is daddy? Maybe I’ll go smack him around instead.”
“Well, none of them.”
“Oh? Where is he, then?”
“He’s…not here…” Grace grieved, trailing off.
“Not here? Where’d he run off to?”
Grace turned her head away and quickly drudged up some tears. “He left. The bastard…left me. I told him not to go, but he went anyway. Told me I had no right to tell him what to do. He just up and left me with the others. Left me here all by my lonesome to fend for myself and our child.”
Kim began to back away even farther now, seeing that Grace’s surprise act appeared capable of managing the situation.
The man stuffed the weighted glove back in his pocket and wiped his greasy hair with the same hand before returning it to the rifle. “Ain’t that a bitch. Guess that makes you a statistic now, doesn’t it, single mom?” He rubbed his chin a moment. “Well, since it wouldn’t be right to beat on you, maybe I can find somethin’ else you need.” He reached out and grabbed hold of Grace’s arm in a not so gentle fashion. “Come on, single mom. You wanted to see the man in charge. Let’s go see the man.”
Chapter 17
Allegany County, Maryland
Sunday, December 5th. Present day
/> Santa led Lauren alongside a succession of military-style cargo vehicles until they came upon one painted in dull desert camouflage, bearing a 6x6 wheel configuration with tires nearly as tall as she was.
Lauren reached out to get a feel for the tread’s ruggedness. “Where did you guys get all these trucks?”
“The M1083s? Some of them were handouts from local armories. Others, we tactically acquired.”
“Tactically acquired?” Lauren queried through a giggle.
“Yeah, don’t ask. And don’t lose sleep over it, either,” Santa said jovially. “Nobody died—no one important anyway. Wait here.” He held up a finger and pulled himself up and into the back of the vehicle through an opening in the cargo tarp.
Lauren listened while Santa rustled around inside the truck bed, trying to pick up on the tune he was whistling. For a moment, it almost sounded like ‘Jingle Bells’.
“There we go! I think I found just what you need.”
Lauren’s eyes met with Santa’s where his head had jutted outside the tarp. He tossed her a wadded, mixed bundle of clothing. She untangled the bundle and pulled a pair of ACU fatigue pants up to her waist, noticing the inseam fell way beyond the length of her legs.
“Yeah…yeah! That’s the ticket,” Santa said. “Try them on for size. Let’s see how good they fit.”
“I think they might be a little long.”
Santa pulled his cover off and scratched at his head. “There’s some drawstrings in there along the waistband, and some Velcro, hook-and-loop-type stuff, too. You should be able to tighten it up a bit to make it work.”
Lauren dropped the pants to the ground and examined the matching ACU blouse that accompanied them, also finding it to be several sizes too large for her person. “Santa, look. I appreciate this, I really do. The clothes I’m wearing could probably walk all by themselves by now, but—”
Divided We Stand Page 17