Jane and the Exodus

by T. R. Woodman

  “What?” Jane asked, picking up on her brother’s mischievous tone, turning to face him.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?” A stiffness crept over her body. She already didn’t like the direction the conversation was going.

  “And praying, Jane, don’t forget praying.”

  “I’m sure you have been, Tate.”

  Tate stopped and took on a more serious look.

  “What?” she said, squirming in her seat.

  “I want you to take the children with you,” Tate said.

  Jane must have been looking at her brother like he was crazy, or maybe like she was about to go into shock, because Tate got a quirky look on this face. Jane’s mind raced. She didn’t understand.

  “What do you mean?” Jane stammered. “You want me to take them with me today?”

  “No, no, no,” Tate replied, laughing, patting Jane again on the knee. “Of course I don’t want you to take them today. Unless you came here in a bus. You didn’t come here in a bus, did you?”

  Jane silently and slowly shook her head.

  Tate looked at her with a quizzical look and continued. “No, of course you didn’t come here in a bus. No, no … I want you to come back for them another day … in a shuttle … and take them with you to Vista.”

  Jane was still confused. “Huh?” was all she managed to say in response.

  Tate was quiet.

  Jane’s mouth started working again. “Who’s going to take care of them, Tate—on Vista?” she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

  “You will,” Tate replied simply.

  Jane’s mind was still racing to catch up. She had come to talk to her brother, to see if he would come with her. Not only had he said no, but now he was asking her to adopt a half-dozen kids.

  She stood and looked down at her brother, the priest, sitting calmly in the pew, as if he had asked nothing more of her than to bring a casserole to Christmas dinner. “Are you crazy?” she exclaimed, stiffening her back and arms and feeling a flush of heat through her face. “I am eighteen years old. Do I look like someone who can take care of six kids?”

  “Actually, Jane, there are seven,” Tate said, totally relaxed and looking up at her from his seat. “And, yes, you do.”

  “Well, I can’t!” Jane fired back. “There’s no way. You must be out of your damn mind, Tate. What do I know about taking care of kids? How am I supposed to do that?”

  Grabbing Jane’s hand, Tate gently squeezed it and pulled her toward him. “Sit down, Jane.”

  Jane sat on the edge of her seat, eyes wide in wonder at what her brother might say next.

  Tate held her hand in one of his and patted it reassuringly with the other.

  “These children have nothing, Jane. They’re orphans. They have no family other than themselves, and around here …” Tate motioned to the town beyond the walls of the chapel “… they don’t have much of a future. Just think about the life they could have with you. Think of the life you could give them. I can teach them about faith, and I can feed them and tuck them in at night. I can be their caretaker, and their priest, but you can be something for them I can’t—you can be like a mom to them.”

  Jane was silent for a moment. “Do they teach you guys how to speak like this in seminary?” she asked more calmly.

  Tate laughed again and winked. “Like I said, you learn pretty fast when you’re a priest.”

  Jane chuckled, still unsure as to whether she had really heard the request just made of her. “I thought you just said you wanted to take care of these kids … Why are you trying to give them to me?”

  “Oh, Jane, this country is full of orphans. You know what the slums are like. Maybe it was a noble idea for our leaders to give everyone a place to live and a place to work—you know, after the Second Depression hit—but it obviously hasn’t worked. Every day, the shortages get more severe, and the people get more desperate. The factories they are assigned to work in get more dangerous. The slums almost feel like ghost towns, there are so few adults left. There is so much poverty and disease, and so much death, and those who live in the cities don’t see any of it … but I do.”

  Tate turned in his seat and patted her on the knee again.

  “You know, that’s the real reason Dad wants to find a new world. Neither of us is old enough to have seen our country at its best, but he did. And he’s seen how bad things have become … how much pain people are in. Every year, the slums get worse; more people die in the factories, and more children are left to fend for themselves. They come and go, and most choose to live on the streets. I see them everywhere … I love all my children, but if I can help more, I want to. If you take these kids, they’ll be safe and they’ll be loved, and that’s what I want for them.

  “And you know, Jane,” Tate continued with a brotherly shrug. “You may not think you’re ready to handle taking care of kids, but if anyone can figure it out, you can … A little brotherly advice, though: try not to feed them oatmeal every day. That doesn’t go over all that well.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Jane said, laughing. “And thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Hey, what are brothers for anyway?” Tate grinned.

  Jane looked down at her shoes and was quiet for a minute. “I just don’t know, Tate. I’ll have to think about it,” she said, knowing she didn’t have hardly any time at all to make up her mind. Her dad would be making his announcement, probably in the next few hours.

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Tate replied. “Well, a little praying about it would be good too, but if all I can get is thinking, I’ll take it.” Tate stood and held out his hand to Jane. “I hate to say it, sis, but I really ought to go. Those kids will have scrubbed the floors, washed the clothes, and cleaned the kitchen by now—you know, that’s what orphans do.”

  “Right …” Jane took her brother’s hand to stand. “I think I heard that in a fairy tale somewhere, probably when I was six.”

  Jane turned and started to ease her way out of the pew and into the aisle when she felt Tate slap her shoulder.

  “What?” she asked, a little miffed at being smacked.

  “Oh, sorry,” Tate replied, lightly brushing a very crunchy something from Jane’s shoulder. “Mosquito. They sure seem to get big this time of year.”

  FRACTURED

  For someone who had only that morning learned to drive, Jane thought she was getting fairly good at it. The four-lane road leading out of Ironhead wasn’t any better going in the direction she was headed. She had learned, however, that by looking twenty or so yards ahead, she could guide the truck toward the area of the road with the fewest potholes, and while she certainly hit more than she wanted to, she was missing most of them. Of course, it didn’t hurt that there still weren’t any other vehicles on the road for her to sideswipe, so the fact that she was constantly swerving back and forth between the two lanes going in her direction, to miss the ruts, mattered little.

  The sun had started to break through the clouds more consistently, but it was still cool from a full morning of cloud cover. Jane drove with the windows down, enjoying the breeze blowing through the cab. She had pulled over a block from the chapel to roll down the windows, purely out of necessity. Somehow, just having the door open near the dumpster she had parked next to was enough for the smell to penetrate every fiber of the cab. She could hold her breath for a long time, but she was certain she’d black out if she had to drive for too long, gulping air though her mouth to avoid the stench. Now, a few miles down the road, the air was clear, the breeze was tickling her hair, and for the first time in hours, she felt a little bit at ease.

  “For what it’s worth, Jane,” Evelyn said, having been silent since before Jane had entered the chapel, “I’m sorry about Tate.”

  “Thanks, Evelyn,” Jane replied with a sigh. “I think deep down I knew he couldn’t come with me, but a girl can hope, can’t she?”

  “Yes, she can,” Evelyn agreed.


  “I guess I will just have to put my hope in the thought we’ll come back one day,” Jane added. “But I can’t really think about that right now—I have other things to worry about.”

  Jane was thinking specifically about the orphans Tate wanted her to take with her. What she was going to do, she didn’t know, but she knew she didn’t have much time to work it out.

  “I know, Jane,” Evelyn said. “I heard Tate ask you to take the children with you.”

  “Oh, you did, did you?” Jane said sarcastically. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”

  “Which part of wearing a two-way communicator do you not understand, Jane?” Evelyn countered.

  “I’m just kidding, Evelyn.” She had found a relatively smooth part in the road and was enjoying driving straight for a change.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, Jane,” Evelyn started, again breaking the silence. “What are you going to do about the children?”

  Jane thought for a second and sighed. “I have absolutely no idea. I mean, I’m not ready to have kids—at least, I don’t think I am—and I don’t think it ever even crossed my mind to adopt kids.”

  Continuing coasting, she rambled. “And seven? Seven! From what I understand of human biology, I think it’s customary to start with one. I definitely don’t need seven kids.”

  Jane could just make out the turnoff ahead and the great washed-out entrance to the dirt road where she had seen the starving girl in the woods earlier that morning. It seemed like forever ago, and she wondered if the girl had found the food she left on the side of the road for her.

  “You know,” Jane said, just as much to herself as to Evelyn, “one thing is for sure: it breaks my heart to think that those kids could end up living like that little girl in the woods.”

  Jane slowed down as she approached the place where she would have liked to turn off the highway, realizing that if there had ever been a road to cut through the median, it was long since gone. Stopping the truck in the road, she looked at the thick and wildly grassy median sagging between the two sides of the highway like the back of an old broken-down mare. Unsure if it was a good idea to drive through it, Jane looked along the length of the highway in front of her, and in the rearview mirror behind her. There wasn’t another vehicle in sight.

  “Well,” Jane mumbled, “it’s only a bad idea if I get stuck.”

  “Wait, what?” Evelyn replied quickly. “Get stuck where, Jane?”

  Jane stepped hard on the gas and turned into the median. “Don’t worry about it, Evelyn,” she shouted as she barreled through the bumper-high grass, nearly hitting her head on the roof of the cab with every bump. Exhilarated at the rush, Jane gave the truck more gas as she headed up the other side of the median and popped out onto the highway on the other side, coasting to a stop.

  “Who knew driving could be so much fun?” Jane said under her breath, a little shocked and surprisingly pleased with herself.

  “I take it you didn’t get stuck, Jane,” Evelyn remarked.

  “No, I didn’t, thank you very much.”

  Jane gave the truck some gas and looked at the spot where she had unloaded the truck’s bed.

  “Well, well, what do you know?” Jane said, noticing that all the tools—the rakes and shovels, and even the toolbox—were gone. Giving the truck a little more gas, Jane steered it toward the spot and turned to drive along the tree line, hoping to see a tiny, and less hungry, face in the brush.

  Sure enough, as she coasted along, she saw some movement in the bushes not far ahead of the truck. It was the little girl from earlier, and she was stepping out of the woods from about the same place she disappeared before.

  “What’s going on, Jane?” Evelyn asked. “Why are you driving around in circles?

  “It’s that little girl, Evelyn,” Jane whispered. “She came back.”

  “You’re pushing your luck, Jane. Do not stop the truck.”

  Jane smiled and pulled to a stop, still about ten yards out so as not to scare off the poor little thing again.

  “Hello again, sweetie,” Jane said, smiling and happy to have another chance to see the girl.

  The girl crept out from the tree line, just as timidly as she had before, carefully looking around her as if she were in mortal danger. She still didn’t smile, and the more steps she took away from the trees, the faster she moved toward Jane and her truck. Stopping about six feet away, the little girl looked up, nervously fidgeting with her hands.

  Jane’s smile faded, and she leaned out of the driver’s side window, not sure what to do.

  “Listen, sweetie,” Jane began, still concerned for the girl’s safety. “Are you okay?”

  The little girl looked down at the door of the truck, still fidgeting uncomfortably. “Um,” she started, “thanks—for the food.”

  Jane’s smile returned. “Sure thing, sweetie. I wish I had more to give you.”

  The girl continued to stand in the dirt, staring and fidgeting. She opened her mouth to speak again but nothing came out.

  “It’s okay,” Jane counseled her.

  The girl looked up at Jane quickly then back at the door of the truck and took a step back, dragging her foot through the dirt. Mumbling almost to herself, Jane could just barely hear her say, “I’m sorry.”

  Jane was confused. Shaking her head, she stared at the waif. “Sorry … for what?”

  “Drive!” Evelyn screeched in Jane’s ear.

  Jane’s heart raced at the sudden screaming in her ear. She looked around wildly. “Wha?” she said, her mind scrambling to catch up.

  “Drive!” Evelyn screeched again. “You’re in danger … Drive!”

  Out of the corner of Jane’s eye, she could see it. Someone big was rushing out of the bushes toward her.

  Jane stepped on the gas. The truck revved but didn’t move.

  Panicked, Jane looked back over her shoulder. He was still rushing. He was almost there, and he had something big in his fist.

  “Drive!” Evelyn screamed.

  “Drive!” Jane screamed at herself, wrenching the truck into gear.

  The truck lurched forward.

  Jane slammed her foot on the gas.

  The little girl screamed.

  Jane heard the attacker grunt, and a split second later, she heard the crunch of something massive hitting the doorframe above her head and then felt the sickening thud of something heavy smashing into the side of her face.

  “Uh,” she heard herself groan as her head jerked violently under the impact. Seconds later, she was pulling herself upright into the driver’s seat, with both hands still glued to the wheel, her foot still heavy on the gas.

  Jane wobbled her head. “Oh my God—oh my God—oh my God—” she repeated through her own rapid breaths.

  Her truck was careening toward the trees. “Oh my God—oh my God—oh my God—”

  Quickly Jane wrenched the wheel to the left. The truck fishtailed and then straightened as she headed for the dirt road leading out of the clearing.

  Jane noticed the white knuckles of her hands gripping the steering wheel were covered in blood.

  “Oh my God—oh my God—” she repeated, looking in her mirrors to see the attacker slowing down his chase. The girl was standing further back with her hands covering her face.

  Jane’s vision was starting to blur. She couldn’t see anything out of her left eye. She put her hand to her face and felt warm wetness. Jane glanced at her hand and at the blood dripping down her fingers.

  “Oh my God!” she said again, now realizing that she was sobbing hysterically. She couldn’t breathe.

  Crashing through the trees narrowly guarding the entrance to the dirt road, Jane slammed her bloody hand back down onto the steering wheel. She had been accelerating this whole time and was weaving down the narrow road and swiping trees and shrubs as she went. With her eyes wide open, but unable to see out of her left, and still terrified, she eased her foot off the gas to let the truck slow down a little.


  Over her own cries and screams, Jane realized Evelyn had been yelling in her ear the whole time.

  “Jane! Are you okay? What’s going on?” Evelyn repeated.

  “Oh my God, Evelyn!” Jane cried.

  The truck slowed enough for her to get control of it again, but she still raced down the dirt road.

  “Jane, are you okay?” Evelyn repeated.

  Jane was still sobbing and was in shock. “O-o-oh my God, Evelyn … h-h-he came o-o-out of the bushes.”

  “Jane! Are you okay?” Evelyn shouted.

  “I-I-I don’t know,” Jane finally replied, still crying and breathing heavily as if she had just sprinted the entire distance she had driven. “I-I-I’m bleeding. My f-f-face is bleeding!” She gently put her shaking hand back up to her face, afraid of what she might touch. It was sticky now, and still wet, and she realized it was incredibly tender. Jane felt her stomach churn. She wanted to vomit.

  “Are you out of danger?” Evelyn asked quickly.

  “I-I-I think so,” Jane replied. She was shaking all over. “Oh my God, Evelyn. Wha—? Why?”

  “Is he following you?” Evelyn asked, now with a steadier tone.

  Jane glanced in the rearview mirror. “N-no, h-h-he’s gone,” she said.

  “How badly are you bleeding?” Evelyn asked, continuing to assess the situation. “Is it serious?”

  “I-I-I can’t tell,” Jane stammered and glanced down at herself. She had painted the steering wheel red with blood, and it was now turning dark as it dried. Her hands were also turning dark with dried blood, and she could see that it went all the way up her arms and had made a mess of her jeans and sweatshirt.

  Jane took a deep shuddering breath. “I-I-I’m afraid I’m hurt … pretty bad. There’s blood a-a-all over the place.”

  “Calm down, Jane,” Evelyn replied. “It can’t be too bad or you wouldn’t still be driving … or talking to me.”

  “O-o-okay,” Jane heard herself say, still with a tight grip on the steering wheel and barreling through the brushy road faster than she knew she should.

  “I need you to stop the truck,” Evelyn said, returning to her normal tone. “You need to take a minute to check yourself out.”