The Jeep could only hold seven including Jaz. He and Gavin took one gun and made Jaz take the other one.
Right,” Mike said as they prepared to go. “They won’t expect you in a vehicle so mind you don’t do anything to call attention to yourselves. “Anybody tries to stop you…”
“We know, we know,” Jaz said. “We’re good now. We got ‘em back. Just like I knew we would.”
“You’re one of a kind, Jaz,” Mike said. “And young Tommy’s damn lucky to have you.”
“Sure, doesn’t he know it,” Jaz said, laughing as she nestled next to him in the front seat.
“We’ll catch up with you as we can,” he said. “Tell Sarah I’m coming.”
**********
Sarah watched John return from the back of the compound where the bodies were. He rounded the corner where a solitary horse chestnut tree stood, its branches filling out with green almost by the minute. John wore his handgun in his holster and carried a shovel over his shoulder. He and Regan had dragged the bodies—all but Archie’s—into the pigsty. They wouldn’t have to worry about feeding them for days or deal with some of the other issues that came from leaving corpses unburied.
They would bury Archie before lunchtime and then get ready to leave. The fog was long gone. They needed to be on their way. Hours ago.
A wave of exhaustion crept over Sarah and sat heavily on her shoulders. She heard Siobhan crying inside the cottage. It would be soon time to feed her again. She watched John come to her, his face lined with grief.
If anything good had come out of the hellacious ordeal of the last twenty-four hours, at least she and John were once again on the same page. He felt convinced he couldn’t leave her now and with Archie gone, well, now she agreed with him. Life sucked. But she needed him. She and Siobhan needed him.
Twelve days since Mike and Gavin left. No way they wouldn’t have come back by now. If they could. And all Sarah’s bravado before the baby was born that she’d go after him…well, that was nonsense. She couldn’t leave the baby.
John dropped the shovel on the porch, his eyes going to the gaping jagged hole where the van had smashed in the front gate.
“How’s the baby?” he asked.
Leave it to her sweet, kind boy to ask after the baby when his own heart was broken in a million pieces. She knew him. After what happened to his father three years earlier, John’s optimism was muted on the subject of people returning when they said they would.
“She’s good. You need to rest, John.”
John sat on the steps. “We need to leave as soon as we bury Archie,” he said. “I’m not even sure we should wait that long. Those guys will come back.”
Sarah saw that John had tried to cover up the bloodstains in the dirt where Archie had lain and died. Her heart grabbed to see it.
“Did I tell you I talked to Nana and Granddad over Christmas?” John asked.
“You did. I’m sure hearing from you was just about the best Christmas present you could’ve given them.”
“Did I also tell you what Granddad told me about why the US hadn’t reached out to help Ireland more?”
Sarah frowned. They’d all wondered why there was no US presence in Dublin and while it was generally accepted that the UK couldn’t be bothered to give Ireland a helping hand after everything it had been through, Sarah did wonder why the US hadn’t done more.
“No,” she said. “Is something going on?”
“He said he didn’t want us to worry so I didn’t mention it earlier but he seemed to think that bad things were happening in the States and that pretty soon they might cut off contact to…everywhere.”
“What does that mean?”
“Granddad said he feared there might be an overthrow of the government coming.”
“That’s ridiculous. I mean, there’s always been discontent and wild talk…”
“But Granddad said, combined with the recession—”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Sarah felt her anxiety creep down her neck. Were the folks okay? Was something really happening back home? She followed John’s gaze back to the open gate again and heard Siobhan crying.
**********
A few hours later, Sarah lay with the baby on the porch lounge. She couldn’t rest. Not when she knew any minute anybody out in the street could just walk into the compound. They didn’t even have to knock at the gate or make up a ruse. They were totally exposed and vulnerable now.
Siobhan had been restless all day and cried most of the time. Sarah had forgotten how tiny—and mercurial—newborns were. She wondered if she was somehow transferring her nervousness to the baby.
Sophia came out onto the porch for the fifth time in thirty minutes to check on Sarah. Obviously they were all anxious and feeling insecure.
“You all right, Sarah?” Sophia asked. She held a backpack in one hand that she was in the process of stuffing with jars of baby food. Amazingly, when Sarah had gone back to the States last year, she’d brought back a wide selection of baby items for the other women in the compound. For however long they last and could carry, they had disposable diapers and although Sarah was nursing, they also had formula and bottles, baby carriers and high chairs. Most of that would have to be left of course.
Will we ever come back? Is that even possible? If Mike finds all our people and comes back riding that big white horse like the hero I know he is, will I ever want to put my life back together here? Where Archie died? Where Regan blasted a killer in my hallway? Will I be able to get past all the impromptu graveyards here? All the loss?
“Sarah?” Sophia knelt by Sarah on the porch and touched little Siobhan’s cheek. “Shall I take her? She is fussy.”
“She’s fine. Are you almost done packing?”
“I am having to do all of it myself. Regan is off somewhere I do not know where.”
“She’s helping John with Archie,” Sarah said.
“Oh.”
Siobhan gave a sudden shudder and stopped crying as if the effort were just too much. Regan and John appeared from the back of the compound. They were walking quickly and the sight ramped up Sarah’s anxiety again. Sophia stood and faced them with her hands on her hips.
“There you are!” Sophia said. “I thought we were in a hurry.”
John came onto the porch and leaned down to give the baby a kiss on the forehead. His hands were filthy.
“Mom, Regan and I buried Archie. Please don’t be mad. We’ll come back and say words over his grave another day, I promise. But he wouldn’t want us to wait any longer.”
Sarah gasped. “You can’t be serious! It’s after four in the afternoon! Archie said the convent was a day’s walk at least.”
Regan tugged the backpack out of Sophia’s hands. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears. She’d been close to Archie. He was the only adult who hadn’t judged her.
“John’s right,” she said. “We need to bugger off. Now.”
“Do you know something?” Sarah said, her voice rising in fear. “Did…did you see something?”
“No, Mom. Unless you count two murderous invasions in three days as seeing something.”
“I hate to point out the obvious, John, but I just gave birth. I can’t handle a hike in the woods just yet. Especially with a screaming newborn.”
“Sophia,” John said, “your hands are clean. Take the baby. Regan made a sling for you to carry her. Go ahead and clean up, Regan, so we can spell each other with the baby on the road. Mom, just sit tight until we’re all packed up—about twenty minutes tops—and then we’ll leave.”
Sophia picked up Siobhan who immediately woke up and began to cry.
“John,” Sarah said firmly, “you’re overreacting and while I don’t blame you, you’ve lost a lot of people in a short amount of time—”
“I hope you’re not counting Mike and Gavin,” John said tersely, “because I still believe we’ll see them again.”
“I do, too!” Sophia said, juggling the baby
in an attempt to distract her. The cries became louder.
Sarah swung her feet out of the lounge and attempted to stand but was seized by a nauseating dizziness.
“Mom? You okay?”
Her stomach was knotted and lurching. When she opened her eyes, all three of them were staring at her with concern.
“You need to take it slow, Mom.”
Taking it slow wasn’t going to cut it. What John and the girls didn’t know was that Sarah was also bleeding.
“Go get ready,” she said. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
John and Regan went inside to wash up and finish packing while Sophia walked up and down the porch with the baby, crooning and talking to her. Sophia seemed afraid to leave the porch.
Sarah knew she couldn’t make them stay and she didn’t want to since that would put all of them in danger. But she couldn’t go. She just wasn’t up to it.
“One more day,” she said quietly to herself. “I need one more day before I can walk that far.”
Sophia came over to her. Her voice was tinged with fear.
“Didn’t you promise we’d never separate from family again? Didn’t you?”
“I can’t hold you all back.”
“And every single time we separated, it ended in disaster. Every single time!”
It started to rain and Sarah closed her eyes and leaned back onto the lounge chair. She saw Sophia glance down at her. A quick gasp from her meant she’d noticed the blood.
“John! Regan!” Sophia shouted, as she ran into the house. Siobhan screamed louder.
John came out, drying his hands on a towel.
“No wonder you nearly fainted,” he said. “Regan, grab some bandages. They’re in your old room in the chest.”
“Regan, no,” Sarah said gasping. “I’m still in charge, so I need you to listen to me. We have to do it my way. I’m sorry, John, but we do. Regan, go get the formula and two of the plastic baby bottles from the kitchen.”
Regan went inside the cottage.
“Mom, no.”
“John, I need you to take the baby and get as far away from this place as you can. It’s up to you, John. If Mike were here, he’d tell you the same thing.”
“The hell he would!”
“Do not argue with me, young man! I need to know you’re all safe! Do you want to explain to Mike why it was you waited and maybe the baby got hurt? You have to go now. I’ll follow when I can!”
She saw the hesitation and struggle in John’s eyes.
Regan returned with the can of formula. “Why do we need this?”
“It’s for Siobhan,” Sarah said.
“But why not just nurse her?”
“Because I’m not going with you.”
Chapter 45
Sinead cursed the fact that their lack of electronics meant she either needed to go knock on Mac’s door herself or tell one of the men to do it. But to do that first she needed to go find the bloody berks. Half the time they were sleeping off a drunk in their tent—not a place she enjoyed visiting—or they were pissing off the catwalk or laying about the cook tent eating all the food meant for the women.
The only time she could reliably find the bastards was when it was time to inseminate the women and half the time even then they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Mac of course was useless at keeping track of them or making them adhere to even the bare minimum of a schedule.
It was no wonder the whole business was going straight to shite. There would definitely need to be some changes made—and soon. The addition of Dr. Jamison White was a step in the right direction.
Unfortunately, it was highly likely that putting Mac on his bike might be another.
She left her building and stood for a moment looking across the courtyard to the pregnant women’s tent. It was a fair day but nobody was out enjoying the air. She sighed. She would have to make it a fecking edict. Irish women were as backward as barnyard animals. They wouldn’t do anything without being told to and half the time not even then…simple minded eejits every one of them.
She walked around the corner until she came to the first door on the back of her own building. It wasn’t large—just enough for four guest rooms. Two were hers and another on the front of the building where Dr. White would live and examine the women. Mac had the smallest room. But he was hardly ever in it because he was usually with her.
That was something else that needed to change, she thought as she rapped on his door.
He opened the door, his eyes wide with surprise.
“I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself,” Sinead said briskly. She stepped away from his apartment, forcing him to follow her and stand on the dirt walkway that led directly to the fence that hid the nonpregnant women’s tent. She didn’t want to give him any ideas by standing near him next to his bed.
That part of their relationship was over. The sooner he understood that, the better.
“I want to go to the compound this morning to collect the women you failed to bring back.”
Mac blinked at her as if he’d just awakened or was having trouble understanding her.
“You’ll need to get some of the men together,” she said. “We’ll bring both vehicles. With any luck, we’ll come back fully loaded.”
“Sinead—”
She held up a hand cutting him off.
“This isn’t a discussion, Mac. You’re obviously incapable of handling procurement on your own and so I’m forced to take over that as well as everything else in this place.”
She could see he was forcing himself not to argue and watching his internal battle filled her with disgust. He was a weakling and a coward to allow her to speak to him like this. How did she ever mistake him for a man?
“I’ll get the men,” he said, his voice low, his eyes on the ground.
“That’s just grand. What’s the status of the woman in labor?”
“She’s not in labor. It was just some spotting. She’s on bed rest.”
“If she loses the baby, I want her moved to the other side of the fence the same day. I’m tired of mollycoddling these women. Dr. White says women are more fertile immediately after they deliver.”
“That’s bullshite.”
“Be that as it may, those are my orders. We’ll take both vehicles. Go get the man you managed not to kill yesterday and two more from the insemination team—”
“We can’t do that! We’ll be leaving the women defenseless!”
“Exactly whom do you think we need to defend them from? Our guards are here to discourage curiosity from the village and to make sure the women don’t leave. Besides, Dr. White is arriving later today.”
“You promised he wouldn’t be left alone with the women.”
“Quit being such a pussy! He doesn’t want the preggos and I don’t care what he does with the others.”
“I’m telling you, Sinead, it’s too dangerous. What about the woman killed two nights ago when we were both away in Dublin?”
“I am done talking with you. We need to leave in one hour. I want all the women in that compound before they have a chance to run. They have a newly delivered mother. She’ll be in no shape to move any time soon. But we can’t drag our feet. Then we’ll move on to the convent since you obviously have an issue with it yourself.”
“Why do you hate the Catholics so much?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t care about Catholics at-tall.”
“Then why—”
“I lived there, Mac! I thought I made that clear. I know the witch who runs the convent—personally.”
“The head nun?”
“The Mother fecking Superior, aye. Would it surprise ye to know she tortured me? And not just me but other girls just like me?”
“Aye, it would.”
“Why? Because she’s a woman of God or some such shite?”
“I hate to see you like this, Sinead. I’m worried about ye, so I am.”
“Just worry about getting th
ree sober men with guns in the van. Tell the cook I won’t be needing dinner tonight.” She walked back to her apartment. With every step she took she was reminded of that summer in the convent, of that sadistic bitch’s face who ruined her life that terrible night that— Sinead pushed the images out of her head.
Enough! If the demons still needed to be excised at least she knew right where to go to do it.
*********
From her bed, Fiona could see Nuala’s two boys playing a game of cards; their faces were serious and unsmiling. Both were under ten but old enough to know they were prisoners. Old enough to know their mother often cried at night—as did the other women in the tent. They would be shipped to the work camp soon. Possibly in the next few months. No one spoke of it, especially not around Nuala, but everyone knew it. Fiona glanced at Ciara who sat next to Maeve. The two girls held hands.
How old would they be before they were next?
Anger surged in Fiona and she laid a hand on her belly to calm herself. Any kind of stress at all was detrimental to the baby at this point. She didn’t need to do a set of jumping jacks to endanger him. Just the stress of her anger might be enough.
Fiona hadn’t needed that idiot Dr. Mac to tell her she needed to stay in bed until the baby was born. She well knew every trip to the latrine, every hour she sat up, or even moved from side to side in bed was a risk to the pregnancy. She’d come so close to losing it. Now she went to bed each night with fervent prayers of thanks on her lips that she still had him, Declan’s baby, inside her.
Her mind fluttered back to the terrible moment when she nearly lost him—the moment she heard that Bridget had died and left little Maeve an orphan.
Poor little Maeve. Poor Bridget. To have died at the hands of a murdering rapist and never to see her baby girl even once before she left this wretched world…
Fiona squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will away the image. It won’t help. Stop thinking! None of it helps.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Nuala was by her bed.
“How are ye, Fi?” Nuala asked with worried eyes.
Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6 Page 72