Footsteps sounded upstairs.
They both looked in that direction.
The footsteps grew nearer.
The woman took a step forward, prompting Naomi to take a step back. Naomi nearly tripped.
“Careful,” the woman whispered and started to move forward again.
Naomi’s only option was to keep backing up. Her back eventually hit against the far wall and moved to the side so a tall shelf was between them and the stairs.
More footsteps moved overhead.
Dust fell from the basement ceiling and onto Naomi’s crown.
The footsteps stopped. They were much closer to the bathroom than the basement door.
The woman locked her venom green eyes with Naomi. “You’re going to let me take the gun now.”
She loosened up her grip on Naomi’s hands. For the first time, the strain on Naomi’s wrist was bearable. The woman let go suddenly and snatched the gun out of Naomi’s hands before she had time to react. In the same motion, the woman pulled back the weapon as if holding a rock and slammed the side of it against Naomi’s head.
Naomi’s entire world turned sideways.
She hit the cold floor.
Spots filled her vision.
Excruciating pain exploded across her skull.
A weak gasp of pain escaped her lips as tears rolled out of her eyes.
The woman squatted down next to her and spoke with a polite whisper. “Stay quiet or I’ll hurt your friends.”
She patted Naomi on the cheek as if she was good dog, then bolted for her lantern and escaped up the stairs.
Naomi curled up on the floor, clutching her damaged head with both hands.
The door shut.
The light vanished.
9
Tracker
After minutes of crippling pain, Naomi forced herself to rise. She gasped in agony just from the simple motion. She managed to put herself in an upright position before letting her head hang low. Her hands rested on her thighs, her palms aimed at the sky. Pain throbbed her skull. Eyes clenched shut, she brushed her fingers against the tender flesh. The simple touch made her want to vomit. She felt for blood. None. That was good.
She grabbed aimlessly until she found the lip of a nearby shelf and used it to get to her shaking feet. In the dark, it was hard to tell how concussed she was from the head bashing. She kept her hands on the shelf, accidentally knocking over a few cans before moving towards where the stairs might be. She kept her eyes closed, knowing that it wouldn’t do much good to look around in an unfamiliar basement. She wanted nothing more than to just sink back to the floor and cry. She visualized her Trinity’s face. Her smile. Knowing that the sadistic woman could be going to her room right now drove Naomi to keep moving forward. After knocking her shoulder against a support beam, Naomi eventually found the stairs.
She got to her hands and knees and started to climb.
Another wave of pain hit her.
Her body rested against the steps. She didn’t want to yell in case that thief was still in the house.
She needed to warn other quietly, but first she needed rest. Just as she about to let herself drift, her second wind hit her. The pain was no less, but she was able to crawl up the stairs. After an intrepid trip, she reached the top of the steps and felt the door until she found the knob. With both hands, she twisted it. She suddenly lost balance and her body fell forward.
Face first, she spilled out into the hall. She rested her cheek on the hardwood for a moment before putting both hands on the floor and pushing herself up. She remembered that she placed her lantern just outside of the basement door. She grabbed it and twisted the knob. The light activated.
Naomi cringed. She used her other hand to grab the doorknob and pull herself up. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she noticed a figure in the hallway.
Dressed in heavy sweater and thick sweatpants, Conner eyed her with suspicious anger. “What are you doing down here?”
Naomi glanced up at him with bloodshot eyes. She raised up her shaking hand and pointed toward the way of the front door. “Thief.”
Conner hesitated. He noticed the fresh bruise on the side of her head, and his angry demeanor shifted to worry.
“Dean! Dean!” he yelled out before running to the bunks.
Naomi rested her back against the basement door.
After a moment, hurried footsteps neared the hall. Naomi expected to see Dean or Conner, but saw Allen with his assault rifle.
He looked at Naomi disapprovingly before seeing her pain. His stoic mask faltered. Her rushed to her. “What happened?”
“Woman… was in the basement,” Naomi explained.
Alarmed, Allen went to open the door.
Naomi quickly explained. “Ran away.”
Allen slung his rifle behind him, allowing the shoulder strap to take the weight of the firearm while he lent Naomi a shoulder. He bought her to the living room couch and headed back to the hallway.
Conner and Dean quickly appeared at the front door. Conner held a pistol. “Are you sure you haven’t seen it?” he asked Dean.
Dean checked the rounds in his magnum revolver. “How should I know? It's your shotgun.”
Hasty feet moved down the steps as Calvin appeared, holding a pistol of his own. He faced off against Dean and Conner. His wide eyes looked past them and to Naomi, disabled on the couch. Then he hardened his gaze and tightened his grip on the pistol. Becoming rigid, he poised himself to aim at the Ryan brothers. Dean quickly drew out his magnum.
Naomi wanted to tell them it was all a big misunderstanding, but her voice was lost behind a cry of pain. Her skull squeezed her brain. She had to shut her eyes and silently begged for the agony to end.
Allen returned.
Calvin saw that he wasn’t shooting the Ryans and furrowed his brows in confusion.
Allen looked the men. “We split up and look for the intruder.”
Conner nodded firmly. “And if we find her?”
“Bring her back. Dead or alive,” Allen said.
Conner opened the front door. Dean was the first one to go, followed by Conner and lastly Allen. Calvin watched them go and then rushed to Naomi’s side. He got on one knee. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”
“Concussion,” Naomi whispered.
Allen brushed back her hair, looking at the place where the stranger had smacked her.
“Oh, Naomi,” he said dreadfully. “What happened?”’
Naomi didn’t remember her response.
Though the lantern glowed bright, the world turned dim.
Then dark.
Then black.
Daylight caused Naomi’s eyelids to flutter. She opened her vision to the barred and curtain-closed window with a glow of daylight behind it.
She glanced around the room with couches and a fireplace. Alarm struck her. She forced herself to sit up, causing a massive wave of pain and dizziness to roll over her. She blinked a few times, finding her bearings. It took her a moment before she realized she was in Allen’s living room.
Cathleen entered the room. Her long luscious hair was in a bun. She wore a heavy coat and scarf. Her hands clenched a number of chopped logs. She carried them to the fireplace, opened the cage, and put the bundle inside. Naomi sat up so her back slouched against the back cushion of the couch.
After feeding the flame, Cathleen stood up, brushing off the bark and dirt from her torso.
With rich brown hair and brown eyes, she looked beautiful for her age. Her skin had color. Her lips were naked but naturally colored. Since the night she got out of Philly, she hadn’t looked this healthy. The sickness must’ve passed.
“How long have I been out?” Naomi asked.
“Almost a full day,” Cathleen explained.
“Is Allen here?”
Cathleen shook her head. “All of the boys are out.” She headed for the door. “You should get some rest.”
Naomi tried to stand but was overwhelmed by vertigo. She sat back
down. “Out where?”
“Looking for the thief,” Cathleen said. “They tried last night, but it was too dark. They left this morning at daybreak.”
“Calvin with them?”
“I said all the boys,” Cathleen replied. “Please. Sleep.”
Cathleen left.
Naomi rubbed her forehead. After a moment, she pushed against the armrest and got to her feet. Her jelly-like legs found balance.
Relying on the wall for support, Naomi turned into the hallways with the clocks at the far end. She squinted at one.
It was nearly 4 p.m. The Ryans were supposed to be moved out of the house eight hours ago. Perhaps Allen had a change of heart.
Naomi went to the kitchen and was pleased to see the Rover keys were still on the hook near the sink. Naomi took the keys, not planning to keep them close until she could trust the Ryans again.
On her way back to the living room, the front door’s doorknob wobbled.
Naomi froze.
The door opened.
Tracking in snow with his long ankle boots, Dean stepped inside. His eyes had dark circles. Naturally, he looked perturbed. Conner followed, looking just as tired. Finally, Allen and Calvin entered. Calvin shut the door behind him.
“Dining room, five minutes,” Allen said as the Ryans went to the Bunks.
Conner and Dean briefly acknowledged Naomi before leaving her sight.
Calvin ran up to Naomi and embraced her with a much needed hug. He smelled of sweat and dirt. Naomi hugged him back. They stayed like that for a while, not talking. She was just happy to be held. She rested her head against his shoulder and shut her eyes.
Calvin spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Pistol-whipped,” Naomi replied.
“That’s not the right context for that word,” Calvin squeezed her tight before letting go. “I was worried it was going to be much worse.”
“If the woman wanted to kill me, she could’ve,” Naomi said, replaying the events in the basement in her head. “Did you find her?”
Calvin shook his head. “She’s good, and there’s a lot of woods to cover. The only one who knows how to really track a person in the woods is your brother.”
Naomi looked down at her dirty socks. “He’s not the only one.”
Calvin went to ask a question. Allen’s booming voice cut them off. “Naomi, Calvin!”
They followed the call to the dining room.
Allen stood at the table’s head with his palms planted on the tabletop. Leaning against Calvin, Naomi found a seat at her normal place. Allen eyed Naomi with a neutral expression. Was he angry, disappointed, concerned? Naomi had no way of knowing behind his hardened face.
“You didn’t see anything last night.” Allen wasn’t asking a question. He was making a demand.
Naomi eyed him, choosing her words rightly. “I saw enough.”
Allen didn’t take his gaze off Naomi. Her answer hadn’t pleased him.
Coughing, Trinity stepped into the room. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes had deep circles. She took a seat next to Naomi and rested against her shoulders. Naomi went from being the one getting support to the one giving it. That was the reality of parenthood.
Trinity sniffed.
The Ryan family entered a moment later. They wore frowns but were in generally good health. Without a word, they went to the other end of the table. Looking particularly pissed-off, Conner took a seat at the opposite head. Dean stood behind his seat but didn’t look at anyone. Cathleen sat in her normal uptight demeanor. Becca seemed worried and wouldn’t met Trinity’s eyes.
The two families lingered in silence. Allen broke it with his booming voice. “Last night, an unknown person broke into our home, threatened our security, and stole our supplies.”
Conner sighed. “I’m not here to listen to a rousing speech. We all know what happened. The question is what the hell do we do now?”
Allen glared at him before continuing. “We need to take inventory of the stolen goods.”
“My shotgun,” Conner said angrily. “Along with my dad’s rings.”
Becca added, “Some of my clothes.”
“My mother’s jewelry,” Cathleen mentioned.
Dean didn’t say anything.
The Ryans looked at Calvin, Naomi, and Trinity.
Calvin spoke first. “Nothing from me.”
“Same,” Trinity said.
“Just my gun,” Naomi added.
Conner looked at Naomi with surprise. “I thought you gave your gun to Bob.”
“I borrowed another one,” Naomi said, giving Allen a dirty look that silently reminding him of what she saw in the basement.
All eyes turned to Allen, waiting to hear his response.
Becca asked him innocently. “How about you?”
“Our food, our water, our very means of survival,” Allen said, not taking his eyes off of Naomi as he lied through his teeth. “We had little supplies as it is. Worst of all, the thief left with our whereabouts.”
Calvin interrupted. “Conner, when was the last time you saw your shotgun?”
Conner had to think about it.
“It wasn’t yesterday, was it?” Calvin asked.
“I thought…I … I don’t remember,”
Calvin asked the girls. “And you two, with the clothes and jewelry. Was that stuff you knew you had yesterday?”
Cathleen and Becca traded looks. They shrugged. “Not that we recall.”
Calvin fixed his cracked glasses. “That settles it. Last night wasn’t the first time this woman had ever broken in. I’d wager she’d been coming here the last few days.”
The thought made Naomi nauseous.
“Think about it,” Calvin said. “We’ve been sick and most of us head to bed after dark. Besides, the storage room closet wasn’t broken into. It was unlocked, meaning she must’ve had the key. Or she picked it. If that’s the case, we’re looking for a professional burglar.”
Everyone sat still for a moment, letting the information sink. Naomi clenched Trinity’s hand under the table.
Cathleen spoke in a passive aggressive manner. “Maybe if we weren’t so busy in-fighting, we might have noticed the stranger lurking in our halls.”
Allen gave her a pointed look. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”
Dean faced him. “Don’t give her lip.”
“Hey!” Naomi shouted.
The room quieted down.
“Cathleen’s right,” Naomi stood up and spoke with passionate fury. “We need to put aside our differences and deal with this problem. Someone was in our house. She could’ve killed Becca. She could’ve killed Trinity. She could’ve killed any of us. If nothing else, we need to find this woman and deal with her.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked. “Deal with her?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Naomi said.
Allen looked over the Ryans. “You don’t need to help. This is your chance to leave.”
Conner shook his head. “Not like this. My gun is too important for that. This place is. I’m staying with Naomi.”
The rest of the Ryans nodded.
Allen rolled out his shoulders and downcast his eyes in anger.
Naomi eyed him. “We need their help, Allen. Especially if we want to get back our stolen supplies.”
Allen set his jaw and nodded.
Naomi looked out at the table. “Let’s rest up tonight, figure out if anything else was stolen. I’ll help you all track tomorrow.”
“You?” Cathleen exclaimed as if it were the most insane thing she’d ever heard.
“I was raised in these parts,” Naomi said. “This farm girl has a few tricks up her sleeves.”
The meeting dismissed. Naomi was glad to see that the only people that Ryans disliked more than her family was the woman who robbed them. Conner seemed the most upset. He said that shotgun was special and had gotten him through some “tough times.” Naomi didn’t know what that meant, an
d she’d rather not know. Nevertheless, it was his most prized possession, and he wasn’t going to let some random woman just walk away with it. After everyone cleared out of the dining room, Naomi headed upstairs. She stopped mid-flight to catch herself. The world spun. She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued her ascent.
She knocked on Allen’s door. He cracked it open.
Naomi locked eyes with her big brother. “We need to talk.”
Frowning, he opened the door for her. The moment she stepped in, Allen locked the door. Naomi took a few steps, rubbed her hand down her mouth, took a breath, and spun around, punching Allen across the jaw.
He staggered, but quickly straightened up. He glared down at Naomi, looking like he was about to hit her back. Naomi stood her ground, too pissed off to care.
“Don’t do that again.” Allen let go of his anger and headed for his drink cupboard. He grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it to Naomi.
She caught it.
Allen pulled out a second bottle and opened it. He started to chug it down.
Naomi crossed her arms. Her head throbbed. She knew she should be napping, but she was too furious for that. She waited for Allen to speak. He didn’t. That further infuriated Naomi. “Allen, you really--I don’t even have words for how mad I am right now.”
Allen looked out of his window and took another sip. “It was never meant to be this way.”
“What way is that?” Naomi said. “Starving us for no good reason? Holding back medicine? Lying profusely? I sure hope that was not your plan from get-go. Anyone who would do that to his own sister and guests is a seriously rotten bastard.”
Allen twisted back. All traces of remorse were lost behind his hard face. “I wanted to provide for you. I wanted to provide for Trinity. I wanted to give our parents a place to sleep, but you brought strangers into my home.”
“That’s no excuse,” Naomi said. “One of them died because of your inaction.”
“If I showed them the food storage, they would’ve turned against us,” Allen argued.
“That’s not true,” Naomi replied.
“You know it is. Desperate people do desperate things,” Allen barked. “These people are takers. They never offered to make supply runs. The moment they felt sick, they did no work. It was me and you doing everything. Just like how I knew it would turn out. They won’t listen to you when you tell them to leave. They lack respect.”
Aftermath [Book 2] Page 12