by L. L. Akers
There was no answer.
He went in and opened their pantry. It was empty. He slammed the door shut. One by one he opened the kitchen cabinets. There wasn’t so much as a can of coffee left. Edith was going to be mad as a wet hen. And hungry, too.
He sighed heavily and turned to go check out the bedrooms. In his closet, he had a stockpile of ammo for his shotty and Edith’s little pistol that those ruffians probably stole already. He also had some 9mm for another pistol that he knew he owned, he just couldn’t remember where in the dickens he’d put it.
He cringed at the mess of the walls in the living room. Looks like he’d have a long way to go before he ever finished his honey-do list when Edith saw this. He hoped that she’d be so happy to see him, that she’d not rip him a new one over the damage he’d done in her house with the shotty.
Stomping into the empty bedroom, he saw Edith’s book on the dresser and froze. Next to it was her pocketbook, as she called it. More like a suitcase…and she never left home without it. Not even to walk to the neighbors.
“Edith!” he yelled in panic, and ran in to the spare room. Something didn’t feel right—it felt all wrong.
She wasn’t there.
He ran into the bathroom. “Edith?” A scene from that horrible old movie popped into his mind. He held his breath and jerked open the shower curtain from around the tub, his heart in his throat.
But she wasn’t there either.
Running out of the house, he told Emma, “She’s here somewhere. Found her book and her purse. Help me find her, please, help me.” Elmer knew it in his heart; his life was about to change. He was frantic.
Out in the yard, he clutched his chest as he rushed to the barn, praying to be wrong.
But as he’d already been in the barn earlier, he knew she wasn’t there, and he was right.
He climbed into the loft anyway, calling her name, nearly sliding down the ladder with every mis-step.
She wasn’t there either.
Behind the barn, and around the entire house, back to where they started.
The only signs of life were her chickens and the strange piglet, now rooting around in the remains of a fire. Why would Edith light a fire? She never lit fires…
He stood alone on the back porch. Where could she have gone? It was going to be dark soon, in minutes, actually. If she was at Rose’s, she needed to be getting home.
But she wouldn’t go to Rose’s without that dadblasted book. He just knew it. What else would they gab about? He wondered if maybe she’d been laying down in the back of the truck. Maybe he didn’t see her when they tore out like their britches were on fire.
Could they have taken her? Would they? What reason would they want an old woman?
“Elmer!” Emma screamed from the far side of the yard. She was standing at Mei’s grave, next to the edge of their property, where it met the woods.
Elmer put his hand up, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun setting. “What is it?” he grumpily yelled back across the yard.
“Come here! Hurry!”
Elmer hurried over, cussing under his breath. He didn’t have time for this right now. He had to find Edith. Getting closer, he noticed the dirt piled up beside the grave. If those animals dug that girl up, I’ll kill ‘em with my bare hands, he thought.
He stepped beside Emma and looked down into the grave; he was nearly struck down with shock.
Edith stared up at him with wide eyes, not moving a muscle. Probably scared nearly to death, he thought. In an urgent voice he said, “I’m coming, Edith…hang on. I’ll get you out of there,” and then dropped to the ground, turning over onto his belly, hurriedly crawling to the edge of the grave.
He pushed his legs over first and mumbled, “Oh Lord, help me…help me…please.”
Elmer let go and dropped the six feet with a hope and a prayer, landing on Mei’s legs with a sickening crunch. He cringed and paused a second, waiting to hear the screaming pain of his own old bones breaking. But nothing seemed to hurt too bad. He turned around, easing to his knees, and crawled down Mei’s body, trying to keep his own legs to the sides of her, instead of on her. He stopped before he got to her waist. There were Edith’s hands, wrapped around Mei from behind, helping her hold the picture of her little girl; her two aged, but beautiful hands, and Mei’s young one, all entwined together around the photo of the child.
“Edith?” he whispered loudly. He held his hands in the air, not sure what to do with them. He was afraid to move her, she was so still. Was her back broken? Was she paralyzed? It was quite a fall for an old woman. “Are you okay? Edith! Say something!”
She didn’t answer.
Edith lay under Mei, as though she were holding her, arms wrapped tightly around her. Mei’s head lay on Edith’s shoulder. A nasty, pink and brown wound screamed from her arm, burned deep into her skin.
She’d been branded with a huge number “2.”
A low hum started and grew into a heartbreaking wail.
“Eeeeediiiiiiiiith,” he screamed.
As he crouched over Mei’s body that covered his wife, he was struck by the worst hurt he’d ever felt—much harsher than the day he’d said good-bye to their only son—and the agony of it enveloped him.
Emma stared into the grave from above, and dropped to her knees, realizing Edith couldn’t answer her husband. Wouldn’t, ever again. She brushed the curtain of her hair aside, and reached a hand down to Elmer, not even coming close to reaching the broken man. “Elmer,” she said, stretching her fingertips down. “Stand up. Take my hand.”
The tears streaming down her face matched his.
He glared up at Emma and panted, taking painful breaths. He waved her away. “Leave me,” he roared.
She stood and stumbled a few feet away, her hand to her mouth as her tears ran unchecked. She took a sharp breath.
“Edith!” Elmer hoarsely screamed again, in a voice so broken it was barely recognizable.
Emma flung her hands up over her ears and dropped her head, feeling the life sucked out of her. She drew in a huge breath, holding it. She had no right to cry; no right to share Elmer’s grief. If she hadn’t hitched a ride with him, he might’ve been back home already to prevent this. She turned and ran to the house, not being able to stand the poor man’s howls.
The screen door slammed behind her.
Elmer scooted forward, tears rolling and snot bubbling, and pulled Mei up by her shoulders, then held her up with one arm, as he struggled through his sobs to try to pull his wife out from behind her. Edith’s long silvery-gray hair was down, streaming around her shoulders; she was beautiful…more beautiful than the day he’d married her almost fifty years ago. He rarely saw her with her hair down anymore. Usually it was up in a bun. At night, she braided it. A couple times a year, he might catch a glimpse of the long silvery locks, but it was rare.
It was impossible. He couldn’t get Edith out from under Mei like that. Instead, he stood, putting one boot on each side of Mei, and lifted her. The smell nearly knocked him down. He turned and carried her to the other side of the grave, leaning her against the dirt wall. Something in Mei popped and cracked again, as though her bones were snapping like dry tinder. Her head lolled over like a rag doll, the bandana falling off.
Elmer nearly heaved.
He got down and scrambled across the dirt again and looked at Edith.
Finally seeing her without Mei on top of her, he gasped. There was the bullet hole that had killed her. He turned his head up and cursed God. How could you let this happen?
She’s gone. She’s really gone.
He grabbed her and picked her up, standing to hold her broken body to his chest. Edith’s feet hung six inches off the ground. He tightly hugged his bride.
He ignored the smell of burnt flesh and convinced himself that she still smelled the same. Like lilacs and honeysuckle…a smell he’d associated with his bride for half a century. He buried his nose in her hair, sucking in huge breaths, and bawled until he w
as too exhausted to hold either one of them up anymore.
He fell to the ground, with Edith still in his arms, howling relentlessly, for how long he didn’t know, squeezing and hugging her while her arms flopped lifelessly at her sides. Finally, he took a deep breath and held it…then shuddered. “I’m so sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have left you here alone,” he cried. “I just wanted to get those girls home safely.”
He felt so shallow. Fifty years and that was the best he could come up with? Meaningless excuses? She’d been shot and thrown into a grave with a dead body… he couldn’t imagine anything more frightening for his wife. She would have hated that. In the past, he would have had to hold a gun to her head to get her into a hole. She’d barely glanced at Mei once they’d put her down there when they’d buried her.
That’s when it struck him.
They’d buried Mei in bright purple shirt. He remembered it plain as day.
Mei was now wearing a yellow shirt.
Somebody had to change that shirt.
His wife was alive when they put her down here…
Holding Edith with one arm, he stuck his hand to the dirt floor where Edith had lain, and searched the dirt, coming up with her little revolver.
That was why her hair was down. The few times he’d asked her to carry her gun, she’d act silly and hide it under her bun, sitting on the top of her head, and then tell him she was carrying her tiny revolver he’d bought her. She ignored the bigger 9mm until he’d been forced to put it away.
He smiled proudly through his tears. She went out fighting. He hoped she’d at least winged one of them. “That’s my girl,” he said, as he pulled Edith close again.
The sun finished setting, leaving him in the dark, softly singing through his sobs to his bride. It was the only song that came to mind…but he didn’t think Edith would care. She was a huge Johnny Cash fan, and loved for him to sing it to her. “I fell in to a burning ring of fire…it went down down down…”
As the moon rose, shining down on them, he refused to dry his tears or wipe his nose. He let it all go, only singing the same verse over and over, wishing for the darkness of night to completely blanket them and bring him sleep; giving him one more night to hold his bride while she lay against his shoulder.
44
Tullymore
Tucker and Katie were gathered around their table with the four kids using two battery-powered lanterns to play Monopoly when they heard a knock. Tucker scooted his chair out, warning Katie not to cheat—she was the banker—and nearly stumbled over the dogs laying at his feet.
He edged to the window and peeked out, his gun ready.
It was Sarah, holding her baby.
He slid his gun back into the holster, and stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door just in case it was bad news. So far, he’d kept the worst of it away from his kids’ ears. “Hi, Sarah. How is she doing now?”
Tucker tried not to cringe. The baby didn’t look any better. If anything, she looked worse. If Sarah didn’t look so much happier herself, he’d have sworn that Sammi was already dead. She had her swaddled in a blanket, and it wasn’t cold at all; maybe it was because she was so sick.
Sarah gave him a smile. “She is better now, I think. I just wanted to thank you.” She juggled Sammi to her shoulder and handed Tucker the plastic bag she had hanging from one arm.
Surprised, he opened it and looked inside, finding three rolls of toilet paper. “Thank you, but you don’t have to give me this,” he said. He tried to hand it back.
She waved him away. “No, I do. I have more, and I have tons of wet wipes, too. It’s just me and Sammi at home, and I thought of you and Katie with four teenagers…well, you’ll probably need it before I do. Thank you, for everything you did for us.”
Tucker shrugged. “You’re welcome, and thank you. You’re right. Those knuckleheads really go through some toilet paper. This will help a lot. Here, come on in.” He held the door open for her. “I have something for you, too.”
Sarah shook her head. “No really, you’ve done enough.” But, reluctantly, she stepped into the house.
“The one store we went to didn’t have much, but we took everything they had. Ironically, it was mostly dog food which will be helpful for all the dogs we have here—but a bit of people food, too. Another group we ran into out there brought our part back for us. We already split it up evenly for everyone here. Let me get yours.”
Tucker left her in the foyer to run out to his garage.
Katie stood up. “Hi, Sarah. Is the baby better?” she asked as she made her way over, wanting to take a peek at Sammi.
Sarah quickly turned Sammi around to show Katie, and then flipped her back to her shoulder. She nodded. “She’s…yeah. She’s better. I was just thanking Tucker. And, if you see Jake, can you tell him and his brother I appreciate them trying to find the formula?”
“I will, but it’s his brother-in-law, not his brother,” Katie answered. “I’m sorry the stuff they brought back was so out of date. It’s a shame she can’t drink it. I used to feed my kids out of date formula and baby food all the time. Never had a problem.”
“I don’t think it would’ve been a problem, except it was years out of date.” Sarah looked to be sure Tucker was out of the house before asking, “Katie, I’m glad I got a chance to talk to you. Mickey told me what happened at the store. Is Tucker alright?”
Katie was puzzled. “Yeah, he’s fine. Why?”
“Because of the—” Sarah stopped. It was possible Katie didn’t know that Tucker was nearly shot at point blank, and that they’d seen death at every turn on their outing, even burying a family of four. “Because I know he felt bad about the formula not working for us,” she lied. “I just want to say, I know he did everything he could for her.”
She lifted Sammi up and sadly kissed her head.
Katie was even more puzzled. “But you said she’s better, right? She’s taking the rice water?”
“Oh, sure. She is. I’m just saying no one could have done more than Tucker did. He shouldn’t feel bad—about the formula… being out of date, I mean.”
Katie studied Sarah. While she did seem a bit better in spirits, she still looked deathly tired, and she sounded loopy. The last week had really taken it out of the poor woman. Katie couldn’t remember seeing her at supper, and the poor woman was thin as a rail. She was almost wobbly on her feet, too. She waved her toward the den. “Want to sit down?”
“No, I’ve got to get back and put Sammi down. Has Jake left yet?” She looked around Katie to the den and dining area. “I really wanted to thank him, too.”
“Yeah, they’ve already left. They hung around a bit and waited for their part of the haul from the grocery store and then they went by Jake’s house. I think he had some supplies that Gabby wanted him to get. They’ve gone home to Grayson’s place now. But I’ll tell him if I see him.” She smiled at Sarah. “Grayson had a heck of a toothache. Neva gave him something for it, and he was ready to get home and try it.”
“Neva knows a lot, it seems. I’ve heard the kids call her a witch,” Sarah said. “Wait. Is she a witch?”
Katie laughed. “No. Neva learned about natural remedies and plants and all kinds of stuff from her grandmother, back in the day. She’s the one that told us about those hay boxes we’re using to cook with now. I owe her…big time. Saved me hours of sweating over that fire, not to mention saving all of us firewood we can use in the winter…I mean, if the power stays out. So, nope. Not a witch,” she finished and laughed again.
Nervously, Sarah juggled her baby to her other shoulder, looking away. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. My mouth sometimes…” She waved her hand in the air. “Anyway...” she faded off.
Tucker hurried in and opened the bag he was carrying for Sarah to look inside. “Sorry, it’s not much, but it’s something.” The contents of the bag barely covered the bottom. It was mostly snack items: beef jerky, peanuts, packs of cookies and chips. A can of soup was the only item
that resembled real food.
He handed it to her and smiled.
Sarah hesitated, and then asked, “Tucker, what are we all going to do for food if the power doesn’t come back on?”
Tucker sighed. “I’m not sure, but we’ll do the best we can. There’s a few small gardens already planted here. We’ll work those. People are saving their seeds from any fruits and vegetables they still had. It’s possible we could try to plant them and see if they’ll produce. Won’t hurt to try. Some people have more than others, or different things than others, and we’ll barter and trade. Maybe we’ll try to go out of the neighborhood to look for food again, but not right now. It’s not safe out there, Sarah.”
He hadn’t shared the story of the lives lost on their run to town run yet. He wasn’t keeping it from anyone, but he just hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He just wanted to be safe at home, with his family safe beside him, and take a few days to absorb it. Besides, he felt sure Mickey and Frank would be talking about it soon enough—although their version might be slightly different from the truth. But he knew Sarah didn’t know. She barely came out of her house.
Katie squeezed his arm. “What about hunting? You mentioned Xander was going to take you and a few others out to teach them to hunt, right? We can get meat like that.”
Tucker nodded to both her and Sarah. “Yeah. Of course. We’ll be going out soon. Until then, if you run out of food, you just come here. We’ll do the evening meal as long as we can with the group, and after that Katie and I will share with you, won’t we Katie?” He looked to Katie for support.
Katie didn’t meet his eyes; or Sarah’s. “Ummm…sure. I’ll see you later, Sarah, I’ve got to get the kids to lay down. These work days are brutal with no sleep. Good night,” she said and hurried away.
Sarah backed up. “Well, good-night y’all. Thank you again.”
“You want me to walk you home?” Tucker asked, looking out across the dark street.