"Why didn't Zamara tell me?"
"I don't know why, she just said I should keep it to myself until you warm up to me."
"Well, yeah. Fuck Christos Haytham in his goddamn ear with a goddamn shard of glass. I hate that fucker."
"Why?"
"His uncle is the fucknut senator, his cousin, my exgirlfriend. Christos MotherFucking Haytham tried killing me. My treehouse is because of that son of a bitch, and now I have his wife? Fucking A, what's next, a nuclear apocalypse?"
I swallowed hard. "Yeah, you might want to call your sister and ask her what Virteria Serum is… because according to her, that's a very real possibility. And from the psychotic babble coming from my husband's lips, she was right."
Chapter Three
I looked down the revolver's barrel and thought about my husband. A fire. Blown up? Dead? Scarred for life? How does the lab going boom change my life? How did the fire start? Did he have something to do with it? Couldn't, he loved that lab more than me…
"Izzy, you aren't focusing on the task at hand. Stay in the moment." Tyb's voice caressed my ear as he stood behind me, giving instruction on gun safety and technique. "Now, when you have that soda can in your sight, gently squeeze the trigger. There will be a little kick as the combustion from gunpowder pushes the bullet from the barrel. Don't hold your arm locked like that, relax your elbow a little… yeah. Perfect. Take your shot when you're ready."
A deep breath. Focused my thoughts on nailing that can. Pulled the trigger and POW! A puff of dirt from the hillside right behind the target flew into the air above the can. "Dammit." Dropped my arm holding the heavy gun. Pistols are heavy, I tell you.
"You aimed a little high, Izzy. Picture where you aimed, lower your barrel a tiny bit and try another round. I don't know many people who get bulls eyes the first time they shoot a gun."
I did just that. Aimed a little lower. Pulled the trigger and the can ended up flying. "I did it! I killed the can!"
Tyb laughed. "That's a start, Izzy. Moving targets get exponentially harder. By the way, if you are on the receiving end of gunfire, run in a serpentine pattern."
"Umm, okay. Good to know." Really hope that bit of advice is unneeded though.
Tyb walked from behind me to my side. "Life is unpredictable at best. If push comes to shove, and you need to defend yourself, never aim an unloaded weapon at a person. If that person is irrefutably after your life, you fucking shoot them. Gut shot to incapacitate, then a head shot. Never give them an opportunity to come after you again. You shoot, you shoot to kill."
This was heavy stuff. I mean, I totally get what he's saying and why, but could I kill someone? Even in self-defense? I have a hard time picturing myself doing so, in that fashion. But who knows what would happen if shit hits the fan. "Duly noted."
"I don't mean to freak you out, Izzy, I really don't. But you have to be prepared for when shit gets real. If this were the middle ages, you would know where to hide when the raiders come. If you were male, you would've been required to master the long bow, if you were English, that is. My point is that what was once common sense is now a vague ideal to most. In this day and age, the vast majority of people won't experience war on a first hand basis—and the news doesn't count. We've become out of touch with the animal within us all. That said, everyone deserves a fighting chance. By learning to protect yourself, you are getting that opportunity." His warm brown eyes held my own for a long moment. "This is not the same world you are used to. Can't say it plainer than that. My sister says you're important. Zamara is many things; liar is not one of them."
Was Tyb a survivalist, like that one guy from the movie, Tremors? At any rate, we don't live in a time when warfare strikes the nation. We're beyond that sort of mentality. Deflect time. "Why do you still call me Izzy? You know my real name."
Without missing a beat, Tyb replied, "Selesta died when her body guard's car careened off that cliff. You are not her, you do not live her life, nor are you likely to see many people from that incarnation for quite some time. I see no reason to call you who you are not."
Well, that solves that burning question. "Okie doke. Good point." I needed to get into the mindset of not being me. Perhaps I shouldn't have chosen Izzy as my name, since Izzy is a play on Lizzy. My mother gave me the middle name of Lizzy, after the Beatles song, Dizzy Miss Lizzy. "So, is Tyb your whole name? Curious minds want to know."
He crossed his arms and spoke. "My name, since you must know, is Tybas. Couldn't stand it as a kid. So, anyways. Remember how to safety the weapon?"
I nodded and showed him by flipping the safety on the gun so it couldn't accidentally fire.
"Holster your sidearm and let's go meet the goats. Want them to love you? Give 'em some treats."
Okay. Super goatie time. "What kind of treats?"
"Sweet ones. Wait and see."
I was right, shooting involved less hiking. On the north side of the hill house, a sturdy three-sided lean-to thingie housed the Mule. We piled in and away we went. Not a long drive, but a hilly one, with Tyb fishtailing around muddy corners. It was kinda fun. The return ride was just the same.
On the other side of the milking shed, hidden within the forest, lurked the hilly domain of goats. A large paddock enclosed their grazing area. Some were black and brown, a couple were solid black.
As we strode toward the gate, Tyb educated me on his milkers. "The two-color ones are Oberhasli goats. They make the bulk of my dairy operation. The black ones are Mercia-Granada. They have high milk-fat. That milk-fat makes for awesome cheese and butter."
"Good to know. And they get milked twice a day?"
"Yep. When I need them freshened, I do artificial insemination. Billy goats stink, and the smell can taint the milk. With AI, I can get quality goats with quality milk and no off-flavors."
"What do you do with all the cheese?"
"Eat it. If I make extra, I smoke it. Cheese fondue in the middle of winter is a truly splendid thing."
I nodded. Could easily imagine this mountain of his getting snowed in during winter. Having preserved foods would be a good thing. Donner party type of catering? No thanks and not likely.
"Do you can stuff, too?" Couldn't resist asking just how much he preps for winter.
"Why yes I do. Pretty much everything. That way I'm not dependent on a freezer or electricity to keep my food safe. Oh! After the goats, I'll show you the root cellar."
"Root cellar?" I think my grandparents had one at their house. Or maybe it was a storm cellar? It was something cellar, that much I know.
"Yep. Potatoes, carrots, onions and canned goods."
Okay. I keep adding things onto my mental map of the property. This is what early cartographers must have felt like, ever tweaking their charts the further they journeyed.
Tyb opened the gate and held it wide for me, then locked it again once I was inside. As soon as the goats saw him, they began to baa like sheep and crowd around, nuzzling his hands. "My greedy girls looking for some treats? Oh, alright… Just for you sweeties."
I smiled at the crooning baby-talk voice Tyb used. He walked to the milking shed, went inside and popped back out with an industrial sized container of peanut butter and a huge handful of wooden spoons. The goats caught sight of him and crowded around, bumping each other to be first in line to get the goods.
"Want to see something funny?"
I nodded, eagerly anticipating this show.
Tyb popped open the peanut butter container, tucked it under his arm and transferred the bulk of spoons to the now-free hand. With his other, he got one spoon and scooped a little peanut butter on it. "Okay girlies. Line up!"
They did and fast. Shoulder to shoulder. This was obviously not their first rodeo. Now that they were lined up, Tyb took the spoon and planted the handle in the earth, peanut butter in the air. Goat one got her treat. He repeated the gesture for each of the goats, who each demolished the dollop of peanut buttery goodness presented.
After giving the last goat he
r treat, he capped the peanut butter tub and bent down. "Come here, take a look."
I knelt by his side and gandered at what he wanted to show me.
"Okay, I'll school you on this now so later we can get right down to business." He gestured at the goat's hind end. "This is the udder. Those are the teats. The objective is to mimic a kid, baby goat that is, and get the milk. Make the 'OK!' sign with your hand."
I did, curving my index finger to touch my thumb, splaying my other fingers out.
"Good. You'll encircle the teat with that loop you made, as close to the udder as you can get. You'll cradle the teat in your hand and then squeeze gently, starting top to bottom. Repeat as needed until the goat is dry." Tyb reached up and patted the goat's back. "They are pretty tolerant, but for the first milking or two, I'll be handy. After that, you'll be on your own."
I took a deep breath and tried calming my insides. There was nothing prurient in how he explained milking a goat, nor did he use a bow-chicka-wow voice. Everything he said was matter of fact.
But for some odd reason, I couldn't shake the notion of Tyb's hands groping my tits.
Chapter Four
The rest of the day flew by pretty quickly. After meeting the goats, I was introduced to the root cellar. It was next to the lean-to, built as an earth berm building, with a large wooden door bolted from the outside. When opened, it revealed a large room, lined with shelves. And then shelving ran down the center, anchored by at the floor and ceiling. Everything was packed. Quart jars, pint jars and everything in between, all organized by content and secured in its spot with elastic strapping.
"That way if I get in an earthquake, things will rattle but not fall."
Awesome.
There were bins situated below shelves on the left side of the room. The bins were mostly empty of their vegetables. Come fall, they would be full again, to last the year.
After locking up the root cellar, Tyb turned around and whistled loud and clear for a long moment. Then silence. A minute passed. Then the sound of thundering paws. A herd of huge white dogs and two smaller, colorful dogs made their presence known.
"These are my helpers. The white ones are Maremmas. Biggest is RiffRaff." That dog came to Tyb when he said its name, and Tyb petted the massive dog on the head. "Back to work, Riff." Dog trotted off. "He watches the chickens. Next biggest is Frank N. Furter, on patrol duty."
I quirked my brow at that revelation. Okay…
Each dog came as their name was mentioned, and each dog was dismissed with a, 'back to work'. The other Maremmas were Magenta (goats), Colombia (goats), and Eddie (patrol). The other dogs were Australian Shepard's with bright blue eyes and mottled coats. "These are my goat herders, Brad and Janet."
"So, Rocky Horror Picture Show fan?"
"Can't say fan, but I am fond of the whole idea. That, and Tim Curry is my favorite actor of all time."
The more I spoke to Tyb, the more I liked what I saw. Feelings of confusion pounded my mind. I didn't want to explore that avenue, not yet. I got suckered in by Christos because I was naïve. Now, I'm a little wiser, I hope. Tyb could have a huge flaw that I don't know about, and eyehumping the man simply because he wasn't Christos, isn't a smart thing to do. I made a stupid compromise with myself. I could think about Tyb being tawdry, but not act on it. Not until I know him better. Jumping into bed with the first guy to make my pulse quicken taught me a very important lesson: vaginas can be fun, but using one to replace thorough thought is bad. Very, very, bad. It's not my fault that Tyb's callused hands were sexy in a way I never experienced before. This was a man who could build a mountain with his bare hands, if given enough time and material. Christos seemed like a prissy boy compared to Tyb's rock hard manliness.
Dammit! My train of lustful thought derailed as Tyb asked me something about parsnips.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Are you fond of parsnips?"
"Never had one."
"Can't believe how deprived you were in your former life."
"Terrible, isn't it?"
"Must have been, else you wouldn't be here."
"Touché, sir, touché."
"Are you always this funny?"
"No, not always. But I don't think you're going to start whaling on me for being a smart ass."
"Your husband did that?"
I bit my lip and started walking around the hill to make for the house. I didn't want to talk about Christos, especially to someone who held a huge grudge already. It's too easy to get on the pity me train, and I really didn't want my ticket stamped for that trip. "My husband did a lot of fucked up things."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Tyb sounded genuinely contrite for posing the query.
I stopped and turned around to face him. "Christos did a lot of things to me, both physical, mental and emotional. Right now, I'm not sure what the worst was. But yeah. I wasn't allowed to have an opinion. He didn't want me to even buy my own clothes or drive myself to the doctor. He wanted utter and complete control over me. Felt like I was a heroine of some eighties historical romance novel, where she gets abducted and immersed in a seductive and dangerous world, with a master who wants to own her body and soul. It's smothering. Had to constantly walk on egg shells. Never wanted to say something that would upset him or otherwise cast a cloud on an otherwise sunny day for him. Every time he opened his mouth to speak to me, I usually thought 'oh shit…!' and wondered when the other foot was about to drop. That's not healthy. That's not good for a person. Then all of a sudden, he started talking about how I'd be mother to a new world and how I'm worthy to bear his seed… It really creeped me out. That, Tyb, is why I ran. Either I get away or I get killed. And I really have no doubt that if I angered him enough, he would kill me in a rage. I am absolutely certain of that."
"What makes you so sure?"
I swallowed hard, thinking of that bastard's words in San Francisco. "Because he told me less than a week ago, that if I ever betrayed him, he knew exactly where he'd hide my body."
Tyb's expression darkened. "That's a shitty thing to say. I hope you don't take offense, but I'm glad you decided to run. It's hard to turn your back on everything you know and go forth not knowing that the future holds, but it's a braver thing than sitting in a shitty relationship, wondering if today is the day they snap and you die."
I smiled a little at Tyb, and resumed walking to the house. Dammit. He's too easy to like. "So, how long have you been in exile up here?"
"Almost seventeen years."
Wow. "Really? And no social life other than your family and the strays your sister drags over?" Stopped halfway up the hill to the house and faced him again.
Tyb grinned. "Nope, no life, other than running this homestead. Takes too long to run down the mountain and hang out at the bar in town, hoping to meet an eligible barfly with a penchant for animal husbandry. Besides, from my limited understanding, women are trouble. Voodoo vaginas and things like that."
I burst out laughing at his mention of voodoo vaginas. "What about the magic penises can do, being the built-in wand of torment?"
"I'm pretty sure female nether regions hold more power. It's why they have the power to carry children. It's a more potent magic."
"So be it. Not going to argue."
"Are you capitulating because I'm right or because you just don't want to debate?"
"You have a valid point, but without genetic contribution from a male, our species would quickly die out."
"Well, here's to the species not dying out anytime soon. Side note, I'm actually glad you're here. It's nice to have a conversation with someone who talks back. Lady Dunklebee is great for snuggling, but not so wonderful at witty conversation."
"Duly noted. Besides, I'm sure it's more than my sparkling wit that makes you happy to have me around." Let it be my curvy ass or tatas hidden beneath my shirt. Let it be because I make him smirk and because I am capable, when given instruction and encouragement without fear.
"You're right. It's great to have
someone around to help out. Things will get done faster since I'm not shouldering it alone."
"Yay, working for room and board!" My sarcasm was starting to get warmed up.
Tyb replied, "Yay, pretty girl stranded out here for company!" and grinned.
I could feel my face flame.
Shit and awesome. He thinks I'm pretty, even half muddy and shorn like a sheep.
Decided to brazen out the banter. "Yay, stranded out in the middle of nowhere with a guy who thinks I'm purty!"
"Funny, too. Modest, even." Tyb dropped the laughing face and spoke low. "I'm almost sure Mara is punishing me for pulling the heads off all her Barbies as kids."
"Why is that?" My curiosity stoked at his words.
Tyb looked me in the eyes and I felt as though he was staring through me and able to see the attraction I had for him. "Because it's been a very long time since I've been graced with the company of someone so interesting."
"Interesting, eh? Why am I interesting."
"Because you are an attractive female adept at banter. It's a nice change of pace, and the view isn't so bad, either. You can stop biting your lip, Izzy. In fact, if you could refrain from biting your lip, at least when I can see you, it'd be great."
I was puzzled. "Sorry. It's a force of habit thing."
"No, it's okay. Just gives me thoughts I shouldn't entertain about someone I don't want to touch."
Before I could reign in my tongue, I asked rather indignantly, "Why don't you want to touch me?" Here I've been, trying not to picture Tyb's hands caressing my body and naked fun time, exhilarated by his admission that he found me attractive. He stating he didn't want to touch me was very much cold water on my delusions of possible seduction down the line, if I found him really worthwhile.
With a leery look, Tyb said only two words with the expectation that I would know exactly what he meant. "Voodoo vagina."
Chapter Five
Voodoo Vagina. Voodoo Vagina. Voodoo Vagina…
That little mantra echoed in my mind for close to a minute before I started snickering like a dipshit high on laughing gas.
Darker Shade of Pale - HER FREEDOM Page 2