by W. A. R.
She sniffled, refusing to look at them. “Let’s get him fixed up and restrain him somewhere until he comes around again.” She said and she examined his broken fingers. Miles released his leg, and Shelly reached for the first aid kit, pulling the needle and wire thread from the kit, preparing it for use on the gashes that covered his body. George and Derek removed the gag from his mouth and set it to the side, going to get the metal tool to cauterize some of his less severe wounds. Another sickening crack resounded throughout the kitchen and Miles grimaced before he rounded both Amber and Katie to get the short sticks. Cassie had set the log on the counter and went to stand next to Jackson, helping him bandage and plaster his leg. Once again there was the crack of bone against bone. Miles turned back to Katie and Amber, sticks in hand.
“Katie, we can do the rest…why don’t you go clean yourself up and try to relax.” Amber suggested, and Katie’s wide eyes were saddened and full of fear as she looked at Rick who lay motionless on the table. Very slowly, she nodded and walked away on dragging feet. Miles went to stand beside Amber, who had gotten the second bandage from Jackson and Cassie.
“Cassie, are you alright honey?” Amber asked her daughter. Cassie simply glanced up at her, clearly unaffected, and offered Amber a small smile.
“I’m fine.” She told her mother. Amber grinned back at her, although the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m real proud of you.” She told Cassie, and Jackson chuckled. Amber eyed him curiously. “What?”
His grey eyes twinkled at her. “You sound too much like your father.”
Amber looked back down at Rick’s fingers, chuckling in spite of herself. “Well, I am proud of her. She handled that like it was nothing.”
Cassie simply shrugged. “I did what I had to do...” She replied, pausing for a moment before looking up and catching her mother’s eyes. “I did what you would have done.” Amber felt tears spring to her eyes and she quickly mouthed her love to her daughter. And Amber once again smiled at her before looking at the sticks in Miles’s hand. She took both of the sticks from Miles and placed them on the underside of Rick’s fingers, the two fingers pressed together. As she held them still, Miles grabbed the bandage and began wrapping it around them, ensuring that it was tight enough to hold them in place but not so tight it cut off circulation. George returned with two metal rods, holding the ends with a folded towel. Shelly had taken scissors to his short and removed it, gently cleaning the wounds and blood away with a wet washcloth. Miles reached forward and took one, helping to cauterize the wounds, leaving Amber to bandage his broken fingers alone.
After about a half an hour, thunder sounded outside and rain began to pitter-patter against the roof as they worked tediously. It wasn’t much longer after the storm began that George, Derek, Miles and Damien carried the now clean and healing man to the living room, anchoring his hands to the leg of the couch with a sturdy rope. His body lay stretched out across the length of the couch, and they tied his feet together, tethering them to opposite end of the cushioned piece of furniture. It was the only place that was sturdy enough, as well as providing the certainty that he would constantly be watched in case he decided to surprise them by waking up unexpectedly...if he decided to wake up at all. Amber and Shelly tended to Katie’s bloodied scalp as she sat in the recliner, and Elva Jo, Bobby-Jean, and Jackson stood in the entryway, watching them all and talking amongst themselves. They eased more into the room to allow Jacob, Brittany, and Cassie entry. Miles wasn’t sure where they had been during the whole ordeal, but he had assumed that they were probably kept upstairs while it was all happening. Jacob was smiling at Cassie, his brown eyes alight with admiration and Cassie only wrapped her arms around herself, her cheeks red from his attention. He knew that look on Jacob’s face all too well. George was ensuring that the knots were tight when the front door eased open, revealing Brian, Buddy, Kyle, and little Elliot. Brian and Buddy were soaking wet, while Kyle and Elliot were not so much so. Elliot grinned and ran into Miles’s arms, Miles grunting in surprise. He ruffled the boy’s damp hair tenderly before glancing up at Brian. He could sense, rather than see everyone stop in their motions, all murmuring ceasing as they stared at the man. His eyes were red-rimmed, and Miles knew that he had been crying. His shoulders were shaking from the tension he carried on himself, but no one moved; not even Shelly.
His eyes skimmed across the room, resting on Rick’s confined and motionless body before turning to Amber; his sister, the one person who above all else he could trust. “Is he okay?” he asked the weighted question, but it still seemed to somewhat ease the tension in the room. Amber sighed and attempted to wipe the dried blood from her hands to her jeans. She was silent as she chose her words wisely.
“Physically, he should be fine.” She told him gently and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Miles suspected that this wasn’t going to be good. He could see Amber waver just the slightest on her feet, and he could sense her apprehension in telling Brian even just the basics.
“What do you mean ‘physically’ he’s fine?” he asked her and she winced, placing her hands on her hips. Miles stepped forward as George stood to his full height. He needed to take that weight off of her. He wanted nothing more than to take Brian out to drink like they had before the world erupted into nothingness. When things had gotten bad, they would meet at that bar and drink their sorrows away. But, he understood that he could no longer do that. Instead, he could only be the honest friend that he was.
“Brian, there is no easy way to say this.” Miles began, taking his place between him and Amber. He gulped, anticipating Brian’s reaction as the words tumbled out of his mouth. “There is a possibility that he won’t be mentally competent.” He told him, and yet still there was confusion. He knew that Brian had comprehended the words, he simply hadn’t accepted them; it hurt too much to accept them. Miles’s heart wrenched at his lack of understanding, knowing he would have to lay all of the cards on the table. Before he could, however, George had eased forward as well and spoke. He couldn’t deny the wave of relief that washed over him at the interruption.
“He had no idea who Amber was, or Shelly, Cassie…none of them. They tried to ease his mind but he was crazed.” He said, and if anymore sadness could live within Brian’s battered soul, it was there.
“Brian,” Amber began, stepping towards the shattered man before her. Her brother. It was killing her, Miles knew it, even though she refused to show it. Her voice was tender and sad, trying to alleviate any pain that came with her words. “We don’t know what happened since we last saw him…and…and you…” she began stammering over her words. Buddy crossed his arms and looked sideways at Brian curiously. She cleared her throat, forcing the emotion out. “You remember how that went. Who knows how bad it got before we found him.” With that, Brian brought his fingers to his tear filled eyes, his shoulders shuddering as he cried silently. Miles felt the urge, no the need, to ease their anguish. He noted the questions in both Buddy’s eyes and George’s, questions they refused to ask. Miles himself had not even allowed his mind to go there; if Brian had wanted him to know, he would have confided in him and in his raw state of shambles, he couldn’t very well ask about it. He looked at Brian, a man who had become like family over time and felt his heart twist.
“On the other hand, he could wake up completely coherent. We just don’t know.” He told Brian, who jerked his gaze up at his words. Everything was silent as the two stared at one another, no one wanting to counter Miles’s words of hope for Brian. No one wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t wake up the same person he was before, regardless of whether he was mentally incompetent or not. After a moment of deliberation, thunder sounded again and Brian ran a hand through his wet hair.
“I’ll be outside.” He said, his voice gruff and sad. Shelly immediately pushed past everyone to follow him, their footsteps sounding throughout the house until they reached the porch. Miles sighed and watched as Kyle meandered over to Rick’s motionless body.
“I’ll take first watch.” He said, trying to make his voice deeper than it already was. This caused a few muffled snickers from around the room, Miles included. Nonetheless, Kyle pulled a small ottoman beside the couch and sat, staring hard at the man. Miles grinned. He had to hand it to the kid, he was persistent. The boy was constantly wanting in on the action, wanting to prove his worth as a man to them all. Miles glanced over at George, who smiled in return, and an understanding occurred between the two of them. They would allow the boy to believe he was on watch, but they would alternate between watching the boy and Rick in a way that would go unnoticed. George knelt down beside Kyle, smiling up at the boy.
“The agreement between us is that we do this in teams.” George said, motioning to everyone that was present in the room before turning back to the boy. “Care if I help you keep an eye out?” he asked and Kyle shrugged his small shoulders, as if uncaring in the least but there was no mistaking the excitement in his eyes. .
“Sure, but I am in charge.” He said, causing more snickers across the room. George shook his head in surprise and held his hand out for the boy to shake. The shuffling of feet reached Miles’s ears as George pretended to consider his condition.
“Deal.” He told Kyle before Kyle offered him his small hand, shaking on the silent promise between the two of them. George then stood and wondered into the kitchen. Miles followed his movements, becoming acutely aware of the dispersing of everyone around him. Cassie, Jacob and Brittany all sat on the floor before the fire, preparing a deck of cards, eyes skirting nervously across the room to Rick’s motionless form every so often. Katie was leaned back in the recliner, her eyes far away and solitary. She wanted to be left alone, that much was obvious. He heard the voices of Bobby-Jean, Jackson, Elva Jo, Damien, Derek, and George in the kitchen. Thunder boomed once more, and Miles wondered where Amber and Buddy had disappeared to now that the chaos had gone and everything relatively settled back to normal. An old feeling snaked its way into his gut and he straightened his shoulders involuntarily. Was he jealous? Surely not; he had nothing to be jealous of. Buddy was…Buddy. But then again, they had been through a lot that day. He shook his head and meandered towards the kitchen, glancing through the entryway at the people crowded around the room, some preparing some food for the children and others cleaning the mess that had been made.
“Everyone okay in here?” he asked of them, and only a few looked his way, the others immersed in their tasks at hand. Everyone nodded quietly, their minds elsewhere.
“We’re all fine, son. We are just worried and trying to relax for the night.” He then paused and turned his grey eyes to Miles, a mischievous glint in their depths. “Are you okay?” Jackson asked him, brow raised in curiosity. Miles grinned at the gentle old man.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, and the chuckle from Jackson that followed his question told him it was the wrong thing to ask. He swallowed thickly as the air in the room lightened. He noted the small smiles from everyone in the room and shifted on his feet uncomfortably.
George caught onto this and grinned impishly, leaning against the counter. “Amber and Buddy had quite a day.” Then George, Derek, Jackson, and Bobby-Jean all began to laugh lightly. George shook his head and Miles wondered what he was getting at. “You should have seen his face when they wouldn’t radio back.” This caused more laughs. Derek had stopped mopping up the blood on the table and Damien had stopped on his way out of the door with the water bucket and log.
“I was worried.” Miles tried defending himself but Damien cut in, setting the bucket and log on the counter in obvious excitement.
His grin was wide as he spoke. “Oh, are we making jokes about this now? What about when she sat on the radio. Man, I’ll be the first to admit, you and Brian had me scared out of my skin.” He said on a chuckle, and this brought about murmurs of agreement and laughter.
“Well, we were…worried.” He said again, for the lack of a better excuse. He knew what they were doing. This was their way of relaxing after the chaos: to take joy in the fact that they had all made it alive, to enjoy the little things life had to offer. Miles had to readily concede that it was much better than everyone simply dwelling on the sorrow-filled situation.
George then stepped forward, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah…poor Buddy. You and Brian really thought he left them behind.”
Miles shrugged. “Well, when he pulled up, we didn’t see them…immediately.”
“So you two had to hurt the poor guy?” Derek asked on a smile, beginning again to wipe at the bloodied table. More laughs.
George then looked about the kitchen, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Where are they anyways? I was going to get Buddy to help me bring in some logs from under the awning out back before they got too wet.” At George’s words that jealous feeling settled into his gut once again, and he felt a flush crawl up in his neck in response to it. He straightened his stance and shifted on his feet. Had something occurred between the two of them while they were gone? If it had he knew that it would have been his own fault; he had somewhat avoided her since everything happened with Buddy. This ate at him and he felt a small anger begin to rise within and before he let it get to him, he looked around the room at the faces before him. George watched him, grinning like a Cheshire cat, as was Jackson and Derek. Oh, so that was what they were doing; they were goading him.
“Don’t poke the bear.” He told them on a smile, making them laugh before Bobby-Jean spoke softly. A sadness for her children filled her eyes.
“On a more serious note, go check on Amber please. Shelly is handling Brian, and they shouldn’t be bothered, but I don’t want Amber alone either. I am so worried about the both of them.” She stepped towards him, wringing her hands together nervously. He felt sympathy for the older woman.
“Of course.” He told her, and she caught his arm before he could leave.
“Be sure to tell her that we have the children, they are okay, and she should try to relax. Thank you.” She told him before letting him go, and he nodded, turning and walking through the open front door and onto the porch in search for them. He didn’t have to look far, as they were standing on the ground in front of the steps of the porch, scrubbing with their fingernails at Rick’s blood that coated their clothes and skin. The rain pounded against them while they did so, making their goal only that much easier to accomplish. While Buddy did so casually, Amber seemed desperate to rid herself of the residue. This brought a new ache to him. He had thought that Brian was the only one emotionally vulnerable because of Rick; he hadn’t thought that Amber was, not really. He knew she was saddened by Brian’s apparent pain concerning it, but not that the day had really taken its toll on her. Neither of them spoke, but neither of them even looked his way. The silence reined between the two of them for the few minutes they stood in the rain. He wondered if they even knew that he was there. Buddy’s hand snapped up to stop Amber as the scrubbed the blood off of her left arm so violently it seemed as if skin should have come off with it.
“You need to relax. We did what we could. He is alive, be thankful for that.” He told her, his hand dropping from Amber’s as she slowed her movements.
“It doesn’t make things easier.” She told him and Buddy ran both hands through his hair, clearly done with his scrubbing.
“No…but just consider everything you have here…everyone you have in your corner.” He told her and she sighed. Amber stopped, and Miles could see her questioning why she was out in the rain scrubbing away blood to begin with. She sighed.
“I just need to think.” She said before turning from Buddy and making her way up the stairs. She paused only slightly when she saw Miles, pain evident in her eyes.
“Bobby-Jean said not to worry about the kids, they are alright, and to try to relax.” He blurted out. He then mentally kicked himself for not saying something more comforting, but Bobby-Jean’s words were the first thing to come to mind. She nodded and continued past him and made tracks i
nto her room, obviously still upset. She closed the door behind her and he didn’t hesitate to follow her, whether she wanted him to or not. She needed a friend, and being alone with her thoughts would not help her; Bobby-Jean was right about that. On the contrary, they would only serve to torture her and make matters worse. Miles knew this from personal experience; from his own loss of Michael. Without thinking, without knocking, he entered her room, turning quickly to close the door behind him. He then turned and saw Amber standing in the candlelight, pulling a dry shirt over her pale wet skin. He swallowed hard, freezing momentarily in surprise. God, but was she beautiful. How could he have thought he let that go in the past few weeks?
She turned and looked in his direction, clearly not surprised he was there. “I figured you for the knocking type.” She told him bluntly, slipping her wet boots from her feet before doubling over and removing her wet socks and tossing them to the side.
“Me too.” He said thickly, trying desperately to pry his eyes off of her, even though she was fully clothed by then. That was not why he had followed her in there. She then gave him a small smile that tugged at his heartstrings and stood, walking towards the darkened closet before closing the door behind her. He brought his palm to his forehead in exasperation, releasing the doorknob in the process. What had gone over him? For weeks he had pushed all of his feelings aside for their well-being after she had poured out everything to him. What good would those emotions do when caught in the battle-zone? It wasn’t as if he didn’t care about her anymore; hearing her response weeks before, and feeling her lips move under his had almost been his undoing, which was why he had left it like he did. He had left it at that; leaving the door open for any move to be made…he had simply avoided making one. Why? He asked himself that constantly. The only answer he could come up with was that he was giving her the space and time she needed to accept the idea of him…them.