Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

  “What makes you say that?” For a moment, he looked stricken, even guilty.

  “It’s just that you don’t have the air of a man who’s spent twelve years in medical school. No offense.”

  “In my prior life I was a medical corpsman. In the army.”

  “So you have some medical experience at least.”

  “Enough for what’s needed here. You’re fine, by the way. Right at thirty-one weeks.”

  How in the world could he know that by listening to my heart?

  “I need to see Sinead,” Fiona said.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I am happy to deliver a message to Mrs. Branigan, however.”

  Fiona narrowed her eyes. “You act like you’re our friend.”

  “I am your friend.”

  “But what you’re doing is a crime. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Is that your message?” He packed his bag efficiently and without looking at her. He didn’t have to meet her eyes, Fiona had seen what she needed to see.

  He doesn’t like doing this.

  “Wanting to do the right thing but being too weak to do it makes you as bad as the bitch who keeps us prisoners here.”

  “Get some rest,” Mac said, standing and snapping his doctor’s bag shut with a loud click.

  Fiona grabbed his arm. “You need to tell her that one of the women who is being raped—”

  “That is not what is happening,” he said firmly. “I highly suggest you and anyone else in this tent refrain from spreading those kinds of horror stories. You’ll just make it harder on everyone.”

  Fiona closed her eyes and swallowed back her anger.

  “One of the women being forcibly inseminated so that you and Sinead Branigan can sell the black market babies—”

  “Is that what you think this is?” His fists were clenched at his side. For a moment the silence between them allowed room for the sounds of children laughing and talking on the other side of the curtain. “Do I look like I’m getting rich?”

  “Then why are you doing this?” Fiona’s eyes filled with tears. “I have a family. A husband. Do ye not have a mother to be ashamed of you?”

  Mac tucked his bag under his arm and walked to the curtain opening.

  “Please continue to eat healthily,” he said crisply. “If there’s anything you need—”

  “The woman I’m talking about is mentally impaired,” Fiona said desperately. “Her name is Abby O’Connell.”

  “I’ll pass on your message,” he said. “Now, if there’s nothing else…” Mac nodded at the table next to the bed where a bottle of prenatal vitamins sat. “Take your vitamins, Fiona,” he said. “Think of your baby.”

  “You’re worse than her,” Fiona said. “Because you can see what you’re doing is wrong. And you do it anyway.”

  **********

  Later that afternoon, the pregnant women brought the children outside to play in the sunshine. Four little girls and five boys. Three of the children belonged to the women on the other side of the fence. Fiona squinted up at the lazily drifting clouds from her lawn chair. Someone had planted a small bed of purple flowers by the front door to the tent.

  As Fiona watched the clouds go by, free and unfettered, she counted the days since she’d seen Declan. She always made a point to remember the last words she’d said to him and the look on his face over his morning tea. She’d memorized the crinkles around his dark eyes as he laughed at something Ciara did. And she knew…she knew in her bones as she’d never truly known anything else, that she would see him again. In many ways, it was this knowing—this unknowable belief—that kept her strong for whatever the future had in store for her and Ciara.

  She glanced over at her daughter. Ciara, once so animated, now rarely moved. Fiona watched Ciara waddle to the blanket that had been spread out in the sun. Her toys were three wooden blocks and an old rag doll. Maybe all any of them really needed was a focus away from the reality they lived in.

  That was especially true for a lively three year child old. A lively three year old who’d seen her father dragged off in front of her and smashed unconscious to the ground. Ciara had stopped speaking the moment they’d arrived in this place.

  Fiona sat between Julie and Megan. As they were the three furthest along, the other women brought them cups of tea and minded the children. There wasn’t a single one of the other pregnant women who didn’t know this was all a sham. All one had to do was listen to the faint screams coming from the other side of the wall in the early evening and on and off throughout the night. Sometimes the lack of screaming was even worse—the nights when there wasn’t a sound…

  Fiona watched the children run beside the long line of freshly cut planks of the dividing wall. It had been up for a full week now. Every morning she watched Nuala place a hand on the wall, bow her head and say a prayer for her sister Abby who was enduring God knows what on the other side. Fiona knew Nuala prayed for conception for her sister although she had to know that was only a temporary reprieve, and one that would eventually lead to even greater pain. Fiona dropped a hand to her own abdomen.

  Can I stop them from taking this one? Can I somehow make it out of here with Ciara and this baby? We can’t wait forever, Declan. Please come soon. Please hurry.

  Why hadn’t he come? Where had they taken the men? There were rumors among the women in the camp about a men’s work farm nearby and that gave Fiona comfort. If Declan was near, she could be stronger a little longer. As soon as he managed his own escape he’d come for her and Ciara. If only she could hang on until he got there.

  “Will it hurt?” Megan asked from her seat between Fiona and Julie.

  “Will what hurt, petal?” Fiona asked. “The birthing, you mean? Aye.”

  “You know how I try to look at it?” Megan said. “I try to look at it as it’s their baby. They put it in me and made me grow it for them so it’s not really mine.”

  “That’s rubbish,” Julie said.

  “Jules, hold your wheest,” Fiona said crossly. “Let her do what she needs to get through it.”

  “I try to feel like she doesn’t belong to me,” Megan said. “Not really.”

  “You’ve decided it’s a girl?” Julie said. “Don’t tell me you’ve named her, too?”

  Megan looked at Julie and then Fiona. “Is that bad?”

  “Well, what do you think, ye daft bitch?” Julie said in exasperation. “They’re going to take ‘er from you!”

  “Jules, shut up!” Fiona said. “Isn’t it enough they torture us without doing it to ourselves? Leave her be.”

  They watched the children laughing and running along the fence line.

  “It only happened to me a few times,” Megan said. “The men.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it,” Fiona said uneasily.

  “I don’t remember it. Not really. At first they used to drug all of us. Later she decided that wasn’t good for the babies or whatever. But when I got pregnant…when they did it to me…I don’t remember it.”

  “When you were raped, you mean,” Julie said. “Well, I was the first of the new wave of undrugged victims so I can tell you the way you got pregnant was heaps better.”

  Nuala walked over to them, holding a toddler on her hip. Megan held her arms out and Nuala slid the child onto Megan’s lap.

  “Are you feeling all right then, Nuala?” Fiona asked as Nuala massaged the small of her back as if it pained her.

  “Aye,” Nuala said. “It helps to see the bairns at play.”

  Fiona heard a sniffle and looked to see Megan wiping her eyes. The child struggled to get down and Megan released her. They all watched as she toddled off to join the other children.

  “I’m going to miss you all so much,” Megan said.

  Fiona reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’ll make friends over there,” she said softly. It was a ridiculous thing to say.

  “Not like you.”

  “I’ll be there soon after you.”

&nb
sp; “Is it bad of me to be glad about that? No, don’t answer. I’m horrible.” She looked up at Nuala. “You’re not that far along, are you?”

  “Not quite four months.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Megan said. “You’ve got five full months before you have to go back. How long did it take you?”

  Nuala’s face flinched as if remembering the long months of nightly attacks. “Eight weeks,” she said.

  “I envy you,” Julie said. “You’re young and fertile. I’ll never conceive again.”

  “How…how did you manage?” Megan asked Nuala.

  Nuala knelt by Megan’s chair and held her hand. “You’ll be fine, so you will,” she said earnestly. “You can survive it and ye need to. Help is coming.” She nodded over at Fiona. “Fiona and I come from a place that will come looking for us. They won’t give up on us, no matter how long it takes.”

  “Your family?” Megan said.

  Fiona nodded, her eyes shining with tears. “Aye. Nuala’s right. They’ll come for us. And you can come with us. Ameriland is a wonderful place. We have electricity and soap and we all help each other.”

  “Sounds like fecking Disney Land,” Julie said. “Don’t be telling the lass lies. Just makes it harder when it never happens.”

  “It will happen,” Nuala said. “Which is why, Meggie, you need to put your head down and just get through this. Use the salve they provide and don’t fight it. When it comes down to the actual…event, I have a little trick that will help.”

  “A trick?” Megan said eagerly. “Tell me.”

  “It takes a bit of practice and so ye might want to start now. But basically ye learn to leave yer earthly body and don’t come back until the deed is done. And keep doing it every time until you’re up the spout again.”

  “What do you mean leave my body?”

  “I did that too,” Liddy said as she walked over, rubbing her belly. “It works.”

  “How?”

  “Imagine a place in your mind that you love more than anything,” Nuala said. “A garden or a beach, someplace that made you happy and felt safe to be there.”

  “Me mum’s house outside Ballydehob,” Megan said, her eyes staring out over the women’s shoulders as if envisioning the place. “The honeysuckle grew wild over the back wall. In summer, I’d sit out there with a lemonade and read for hours.”

  “That’s good. Picture it in your head—how you felt when you were there, the feel of the sun on your skin, the taste of the lemonade. Can you do that?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then when…it starts to happen, just find a spot on the ceiling and stare at that and will yourself to leave your body so that whatever’s happening to it, is not happening to you. You’re at yer mum’s. Far away.”

  An hour later, as the women and children waited in the tent for the dinner wagon to pull up, Fiona and Nuala were shampooing the little girls’ hair when Julie came over to them. Megan was playing a board game with Catriona and Gael and some of the other children. Their laughter filled the tent for the first time in days.

  Julie watched the children for a moment and then said to Nuala.

  “Did that leave yer body shite really work for you?” she asked quietly.

  “Not a bit of it,” Nuala said.

  “Ah, well,” Julie said sadly. “It was a pretty story and you eased the lass’s mind.”

  “At this point, that’s about all any of us can hope for,” Fiona said. “It was well done, Nuala.”

  Julie continued to watch the group playing by the front tent door.

  “Do you really think your people will come for you?”

  “Aye, they will,” Nuala said.

  “Even after all this time?”

  Fiona reached out to take Julie’s arm, coating it with soap and water. “You’re welcome to come with us, Jules. It’s lovely in Ameriland.”

  Julie stared at her for a moment.

  “Ah, well,” she said, pulling away, “if it’s fairy tales you’re selling, I think I’ll pass. Had me fill of lies and promises.” She walked to the door of the tent to await the dinner wagon.

  Chapter 15

  Mike could feel the dampness in his very bones. It leeched through his heavy denim jacket and settled in his joints and soft tissues. He swore out loud. He was too old for this shite. Would he ever get warm again? Or dry? He looked around the campsite. Carey slept sitting up by the tree with his head fallen forward onto his chest. Both Gavin and Jaz were already folding their bedding to go back on the horses.

  Mike rubbed his hands together. Even though it was nearly April, it was wet and cold in the mornings.

  “We’ll make a fire,” he said to Gavin.

  “I thought we were leaving straight away,” Gavin said frowning. “Aren’t we in a hurry?”

  “Sure, we need to get going,” Jaz said as she walked over to them. “Let’s shoot the bastard and take the Jeep. He said the mines were north of Dublin, didn’t he?”

  “Jaz, shut up,” Mike said, “and go find some kindling to start the fire.” He walked over to Carey and kicked his foot. “Oy. Wake up.”

  The young man shook his head and squinted up at Mike. “My arms…” he said. “They’re killing me.”

  “Why didn’t they take you to the work camps?” Mike asked.

  “Jimmy’s me cousin,” Carey said sullenly. “I need to piss.” Gavin walked over to stand with his father. Mike untied Carey’s hands as Jaz came into the clearing with sticks and branches in her arms. She dropped the kindling on the ground.

  “You’re letting him go?”

  “Do you know how to make a fire, lass?” Mike asked between gritted teeth.

  Jaz ran over to him. “He would’ve lined up with the rest of them to roger me, you know he would.”

  “I’m not letting him go. The fire, lass, please.”

  She watched as Carey and Gavin went into the woods.

  “All right,” Mike said tiredly. “I’ll be hearing your story now.”

  “I told you,” Jaz said as she began piling sticks on top of a pad of dry leaves. “I left the compound when the Guards came. I told me folks I needed to go find Tommy.”

  “Are the gypsies not planning on returning to the compound?”

  “Why would they?”

  “I don’t know. Help you look? Help us find the others?”

  She shook her head and looked up as Gavin and Carey returned. “The people in the compound aren’t our family. That’s all over now.”

  “What about Declan?”

  She shrugged. “He knew we were leaving. He made his choice.”

  Declan was a second cousin to Jaz. Mike considered telling her what happened to him but decided it didn’t matter. It sounded like the family had signed off on him anyway.

  “Where are they? The rest of the gypsies?”

  “They went to the coast but they won’t stay long.”

  “You don’t intend to connect back up with them?”

  Jaz held out her hand for Mike’s lighter, lit the leaves and sticks, then blew on the small flames to fan it into a larger fire. He squatted next to the fire, holding his hands out to its growing warmth.

  “My place is with Tommy,” she said simply. “I go where he goes.”

  “When you find him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “The thing is, Jaz, I need you to take the horses back to the compound.”

  “No way.”

  “Look, you can’t go to Dublin on your own. Do ye not see that, lass? You’ll just get…confronted again.”

  Jaz jumped to her feet. Her long dark hair swung around her shoulders like a cape. Her eyes snapped in fury.

  “I’m going to fecking Dublin! And so are you! What kind of leader are ye? You know where they are, you know they’re prisoners, and you won’t go?”

  “We’re going after the women—” Mike said.

  “No! We have to go to Dublin! If you don’t go with me, I’ll just go alone. It’s been four mont
hs! They need us!”

  Mike ran a hand across his face and looked over at Gavin. Carey was kneeling by the fire, his hands retied in front.

  “We can’t leave the horses here,” Gavin said. “And I sure as shite ain’t taking ‘em back.”

  “Could I be of help?” Carey asked.

  “Shut up,” Mike said.

  This is all bollocks. We can’t leave the horses, we can’t go back, we can’t leave Jaz, and we have a fecking prisoner for Chrissake. He stood and walked to the edge of the woods with his hands on his hips, trying to think. If they were to reroute—go to Dublin after the men first—at least they knew where they were. He glanced at Carey. Might as well use the wanker for some good. Carey could direct them to the place where they dropped off the captured men. That way they could rescue the compound men and then have the extra manpower to rescue the women.

  It wasn’t ideal but it was a plan.

  “Fine,” he said, coming back to the campfire. “There’s a pasture up where we first saw this lot. Gavin, you and Jaz take the tack and hide it in the forest. Hide it good. Everything except the bridles. Then ride the horses to the pasture. It’s spring. There should be plenty of new grass to last them until we get back.”

  Jaz jumped up and ran to Mike and threw her arms around his waist. “I knew you wouldn’t let them down!” she said. “Thank you, Mr. D.”

  “All right, lass,” he said gruffly. “Go tend to the horses. Looks like we’re going to Dublin.”

  **********

  They made good time in the Jeep. Mike estimated they’d get to Dublin before dark. Mike drove and Gavin sat in the back seat with the prisoner. Gavin didn’t complain about the new plan to go to Dublin. Tommy was a good mate of his and Mike imagined Gavin rather fancied the idea of swooping in and rescuing his pal. The only thing that mattered to Mike at this point was speed. Get to where the men were being held. Get them released. Get back on the trail of the compound women and Fiona.