by Thunboe, Bo
Mary bit her lip. “You need to go get her.”
He tried to rise from the couch but he had nothing left and fell back. The fire was going and the room was too warm. He needed food and rest or he wouldn’t make it there and back. “I traveled all night, Mary. I need—”
“I’ll feed you. Then you can go. Give me your coat and lie down while I heat up a can of chili in the fire.”
Dan handed her his coat, then stretched out. As his eyes closed, he saw her going through his pocket. He should have told her about the gun.
43
When Mary returned from the kitchen with the can of chili, Dan was asleep. She stood over him gritting her teeth. How could he sleep with Erin out there? Would he have fallen asleep if Erin was his real flesh-and-blood daughter? She bit her lip. That wasn’t fair. Dan has treated Erin and Sean as his own since the very beginning, despite fearing that his own ancestry would make him a terrible father. He fell sleep because he needed the rest. He’d been travelling all night. She set the can on the hearth and covered him with the quilt. When he was on trial, he averaged four hours of sleep a night and could go like that for weeks. But that was just brain work. Would four hours be enough to recharge his body? She folded her arms and stared down at him. Four hours would have to be enough. She noted the time on the old wind-up clock over the mantel.
She picked up his overcoat. It was filthy, an elbow torn and dirt splattered along the bottom. Not that it mattered. He would never need a dressy coat again and his winter coat was better for the trip to Elgin. When she emptied the pockets, she found a gun.
Dan didn’t own a gun.
It was small and cold and didn’t seem like much. She hung up the overcoat, then sat on the hearth examining the gun. She remembered something about a gun having a button to push so it couldn’t shoot. A safety. She found a button and pushed it but the cylinder that held the bullets swung open, releasing a dark metallic odor. She looked at the bullets and could see by the holes punched in them that two had been used. Mary closed the gun and set it on the mantle.
She looked at Dan stretched out on the couch. His voice had dropped and wavered when he said it was bad out there. Had he fired these two bullets on his way home?
Would the other four bullets be enough for the trip up to Elgin and back?
The numb, tingling pain raced up her arms and hit her brain with a hot, crackling buzz. She closed her eyes and let it come because she wanted to see it.
Men roam the streets in packs, snarling like animals, their eyes gone black with a glowing red pupil. They break into stores and loot what they want and throw the rest into the street. Maniacal laughter. They force their way into houses and brutalize the people inside, beating and torturing and raping them. Back on the street, they crouch and sniff, then as one bound down the street, loping like animals. A girl in the distance. A speck of bright green on her back. They gnash their teeth and lope after her. She turns—
Pop!
Mary startled. She was standing in front of the couch, staring down at Dan, the fire roaring, the fresh wood crackling and popping.
She sank to her knees and propped her elbows on the coffee table. “Lord, please watch over my baby girl and convince her to stay put until Dan gets there. You know how strong-willed she can be. But now is not the time for her strength. She needs to save that for her trip home with Dan. Amen.” She crossed herself, then rose and paced in front of the hearth. She glanced at the clock. Only eleven minutes had passed since she noted the time—it was going to be a long four hours.
The garage door creaked open. She dashed into the laundry room and caught Sean. “Dan’s home. He’s sleeping on the couch.”
His eyes lit up. “Did you tell him about me getting the deer?”
“I told him about Erin. Now he’s sleeping and I’m going to wake him in four hours and he’ll go get her.”
“I’ll get his bike ready.”
Mary patted Sean’s chest. “Where’s the deer?”
“In the garage.” Sean tip-toed past her and gazed into the family room. “What did he say about how he got home?”
“He’ll tell us when I wake him. Show me your deer.”
The book had not prepared her for what was hanging from the end of the track for the garage door. The deer’s skin and fur were gone to reveal a ripple of white fat and red muscle, its back knobby with vertebrae. The carcass spun slowly, revealing the cavity where its guts had been. Its head was gone.
“You’ll get used to the smell,” Sean said.
Meat from the grocery store didn’t smell like this.
“Hi, Mrs. Fallon.” Ed stood by the deer, tying off the rope by which it hung.
“Hello, Ed.” He was a nice boy, grown up now, and handsome and intense like his dad was, or had been, before he got sick. The sleeves of his coat were stained dark red. “Did you do all this?”
“My dad taught me. It’s pretty simple, really.”
“I read that it’s best to let the meat hang like that for a day or two before butchering it.” The concrete under the deer was speckled with blood droplets. She got a bucket from the shelfing across the back of the garage and put it under the neck.
“I heard you say Mr. Fallon is home. When he goes to get Erin, I’d like to go with him.”
“That’s very kind, Ed. And brave. But I’m sure he’ll want to go alone.”
Ed frowned. “I’m going home to see how my folks are doing.”
After Ed left Sean showed her the hole where the arrow hit the deer and told her the whole story. “I wasn’t sure how—whether… I wasn’t sure I could actually kill a deer. But when I had the shot I just did it.”
She hugged him. “I’m proud of you.”
“I can’t wait for Dan to see it.”
“Come inside to warm up and eat something before you work on getting his bike ready.”
Sean stripped off his outerwear in the laundry room. Mary pushed the can of chili she’d opened for Dan into the edge of the coals. She had stripped off the paper label so the bare metal gleamed in the firelight. She had no idea how long it would take to heat up, so kept watch. Sean sat on the coffee table, feet stretched to the fire.
They were both quiet, watching the can, letting Dan sleep. He didn’t snore but his breath drew in loud and raspy and she worried he might have some kind of bug working in his chest.
It wasn’t long before bubbles rose and sputtered along the can’s rim. Mary used the fireplace tongs to ease it away from the heat. Sean got a bowl from the kitchen and she poured the contents in. The tongs were awkward and the contents came out in a big lump that splashed chili onto the hearth. Sean grabbed the bowl and gobbled it up; he’d always been a good eater. When the can cooled down, he scooped out the dregs with his spoon.
He leaned toward her and whispered. “Did you eat, Mom?”
“I’ll eat something while you work on the bike.” The emptiness she felt wasn’t hunger. This hollow wouldn’t be filled until Dan brought Erin home.
She checked the clock. It had been less than an hour.
44
Erin, Cammie, and Melinda had decided to leave first thing in the morning. That gave “the-powers-that-be” time to fix whatever was wrong and, if they didn’t, gave Coach time to convince the Twins to go.
Erin burrowed further under the covers with Cammie. They lay on their sides, facing each other, and talking in low quiet voices while Melinda slept.
“You’re the first girl I’ve kissed,” Cammie said. “But I know what I am.”
“Gay?”
“Yes,” Cammie said. “I can’t tell you what this means for you—us kissing and… whatever. You have to decide that for yourself.”
Erin leaned in and kissed Cammie again, her soft lips hot against Erin’s and—
Voices from the other room.
Erin pulled her head back.
“Sounds like the Twins are finally snapping out if it.”
They pulled the covers down just as Coach appeared
into the doorway. “Do you three have any food?”
“Don’t even talk about food,” Melinda said. “I’m starving.”
Had she been awake this whole time? Erin was sure she’d heard snoring from the other bed.
“Did you guys get up early enough for breakfast?” Erin asked.
“Melinda and I did, but this thing”—Cammie whirled a hand above her head— “had already happened and there was nobody around to put out any food.”
“What do you mean?”
Melinda sat up. “There was no one at the desk. We yelled and knocked—us and a couple other people looking for breakfast. But everybody who worked here must have left.”
Coach rubbed at his mustache. “There’s got to be some food in that closet off the breakfast room. We should go downstairs and try to get in there.”
“Count me in.” Erin threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. “How?”
“I’ll get the tire iron from my car and we’ll pry the door open.”
Cammie jumped off the bed and went to the window. “What about the guys who did that?” She pointed down to the pavement. “They came back inside the hotel.”
Coach rubbed his mustache again. “Well, we need to eat. Let’s at least check it out.”
“All of us?”
“Someone needs to stay behind to open the door when we come back,” Coach said.
The Twins came through the door together. “Count us in,” Sara said. She was the blond of the pair, Lisa the brunet.
“All right. You two are with me and Erin. Cammie and Melinda will—”
“I want to go,” Melinda said. “I’m the toughest—what?”
Erin grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the window. “Now that the Twins are off the bed, we need to keep them moving. Get them involved.”
Melinda shot a look at the pair. “Okay.”
They left through Cammie’s door, letting it close slowly behind them, the click of its latch a thunderclap in the empty hallway.
“Wait for your eyes to adjust,” Coach said.
“Obviously,” Lisa said. She must be feeling better for her snark to come back out.
Erin put her hand on the wall and waited. Slowly the darkness lightened as her pupils opened to accept the dim light squeezing out from under the doors on the west side of the building.
“Lead the way, Erin. I’ll take up the rear.”
She felt her way to the end of the hall, found the door, and pushed it open. It was pitch black in the staircase.
“Let’s link up,” Erin said. “Put a hand on the shoulder of the person ahead of you.” A small hand grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. Erin took her time descending, one hand on the railing, the other hand in front of her feeling along. She went slowly, careful not to trip. Counting as she descended. Ten stairs to each flight, two flights to each floor. She’d started on the fourth floor so had eighty steps to go. She counted and announced each landing as she hit it, but the only other sound in the stairwell was the scuff of shoes on concrete and four people breathing a lot harder than you would expect for a slow-motion descent.
At the bottom she felt her way to the lobby door, a trickle of sweat running down her temple. She paused with her hand on the knob, gathering herself for whatever lay beyond.
“You guys ready? I’m about to open the door into the lobby.”
A shoulder squeeze, then two voices announced they were ready. She pulled the door slowly open. A soft gray light ahead. She moved toward it, feet and hands feeling her way forward. The light growing as the lobby opened up in front of them, cold and dreary.
And empty.
The hand released her shoulder.
“I’ll get my tire iron” Coach said. “You girls wait here.”
As Coach pushed outside through the glass doors, Lisa wandered over to the reservation desk and got behind it.
“What can I do for you cowpokes,” she said.
Sara stepped up to the counter and put an elbow on it. “I’d reckon I’d like a whiskey.”
The Twins were definitely feeling better.
Erin went to the glass doors and watched Coach dash across the parking lot until he ducked between two cars and disappeared.
A metal jangle from the girls.
“Keys!”
“Try them on the closet!”
All three girls clustered around the food closet door, Sara handling the keys.
“Get back. You’re blocking the light.”
Erin and Lisa stepped back. Erin’s stomach grumbled. She’d never been a slave to food but now that food was coming, realized how empty her stomach was.
“Is the key there?
“There’s like a hundred keys here. Give me a minute.”
It was less than a minute.
Luckily, the room was much bigger than a closet and even had a window, the lower half blacked out, but the top half clear glass. It was shadowy inside, but light enough to see what was there: bananas and apples and bread and muffins and single serve cereal boxes. All three girls dove into the muffins. Erin’s was lemon poppyseed and was delicious. She got a small bottle of milk from the glass door fridge and opened it. It smelled fine. She washed down the muffin.
“I guess we don’t need my tire iron.” Coach stood in the doorway, a metal rod in his right hand. It was long with a chiseled tip on one end, the other end doglegged to a wrench.
A jangle. “We found the keys.”
Lisa found some plastic shopping bags and they started filling them.
“How’d you get the door open?” A tall burly man with a thick wiry beard and wearing a red hat stood in the doorway. Another man appeared behind him—taller, wider, and wearing a flannel shirt.
“Don’t take all the food,” Flannel growled.
Coach stepped in front of the men. “We’re just leaving.”
“Not with all that food you’re not.”
Erin stepped up next to Coach. If things were going to get physical it had to happen in the lobby where she and the Twins had space to move and could stay out of their reach.
Red Hat eyed her, then flinched, one arm coming up and wrapping around his lower chest. “That’s the chick who broke my ribs.”
Flannel looked at Erin, then back at Red Hat. “Time to get even.” He shoved Red Hat forward and pushed in after him.
Shit! Exactly what she didn’t want!
Coach let Red Hat go past him, then threw himself at Flannel and drove him back into the lobby.
Red Hat had flung out his free arm in reaction to the push. Erin grabbed the wrist with her left hand, stepped into him, and clamped her right triceps over his outstretched arm. With her back now to him she jacked over at the waist and thrust her hips into him, then torqued her body and threw him up and over her, slamming him to the floor.
A grunt of breath burst from him, then the Twins advanced, raining blows on his torso and head until he went still.
“The bigger they are—” Lisa said.
“The harder they fall,” Sara finished.
A gurgling gasp from the lobby.
Coach!
45
Sean took Dan’s bike down from its hooks on the ceiling at the back of the garage—an eighteen-speed hybrid with tall handlebars, a cushy seat, and wide tires. Too fat and heavy for a road bike, and too thin and fragile for a trail bike, but it was perfect for how Dan used it, riding around town and on the groomed Paget River Bike Trail.
Sean cleaned the bike of its accumulated dust, pumped up the tires, and oiled the chain. Then he took it outside through the service door and rode up and down the street, running the bike through its gears and testing the brakes. It all worked great. Carson watched him out his front window and Snick glowered from his garage where he was sawing branches into firewood.
Sean parked the bike back in the garage and sat on an overturned five-gallon bucket. If Dan did find Erin—when he found Erin—he needed a way to get her home. Sean took his own bike down and removed the rack over the back
wheel and put it on Dan’s bike. It was fairly wide and flat and Erin could sit there. He got a stadium cushion and tied it to the rack with twine—now it would be comfortable, too.
When done, he sat on the bucket staring at the deer. He’d been super lucky to have that deer stand like that, so close, so perfectly positioned for the shot. Even as he released the arrow, he wasn’t sure he had it in him to kill. But he’d done it. The world had changed and he was changing with it.
He wondered what it weighed. That was a lot of meat. His mom had said the Simpsons and Vargas were leaving, but that still left Carson, the Millers, the Snicks, and Ed’s family. And the Fallons. Fifteen people would be eating off his deer. They’d each get at least five pounds of meat. A big help. He patted the deer, the flesh cold and tacky. He went inside.
His mom had joined Dan on the couch and they were both asleep. Sean laid down on the floor close to the fire and draped his coat over himself.
They had a warm house, food to last a good long time, and all the water they could ask for flowing past the bottom of the yard. All they needed now was Erin home.
46
Erin ran into the lobby and found Coach standing over Flannel, the tire iron hanging from one hand, its chisel end dripping.
Flannel lay on the floor, both hands to his neck. Blood welled and surged between his fingers, foam frothing from his gasping mouth.
“What did you do, Coach?” Lisa rushed over and knelt next to Flannel. As she reached to clamp her hands on the flowing wound Flannel went suddenly slack and his hands fell away, revealing a huge tear in his neck. A final gurgle, a pulse of blood, then he seemed to shrink into the floor as all his muscles released.
All three girls looked at Coach. He grimaced. “I… he was a lot bigger than me. I couldn’t just… I had to strike first and hardest.”
That was exactly how to fight a stronger or more skilled opponent.
A groan from the storage room. Red Hat coming to.