by Anna Oney
“Let’s get this over with. Walk up to the Healing Slab,” Mrs. Maples said, gesturing toward the marble with her palm facing upward. “And lie down.”
A small set of stairs slid out from the side of the slab as Fawn did as Mrs. Maples instructed. She sat on the edge of the cool marble with her eyes latched to the odd ceiling above her.
“What’s with the ferns and fireflies?” Fawn asked as she lay flat on her back.
“I’ve found that it soothes my patients. What?” Mrs. Maples said, throwing a hand on her hip. “Are you one out of the more than a billion of my patients who disagrees?”
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Fawn replied, shaking her head. “It’s quite relaxing.”
“Good,” she said and nodded. “Then we’ll begin.”
Mrs. Maples positioned herself at the head of Fawn’s body, laying her palms down on either side of Fawn’s cheeks. Mrs. Maples leaned forward, brushing a few strands of Fawn’s auburn waves from her forehead. A green liquid — the color of life — coursed through Mrs. Maples’ fingers, building up at the tips.
“What you’ll see,” Mrs. Maples whispered, holding Fawn’s face. “Are things that have already come to pass.”
Fawn cut her eyes to Doolie, who steadily backed away from the table with Rambler by his side.
“You’ll be just fine, baby doll,” he said, as his back bumped against the mirror wall. “I promise.”
Fawn’s flesh harbored the same green fluid that flowed through Mrs. Maples’ fingers. Squinting up at the woman, Fawn was overcome by a rush of memories. Every injury she’d suffered was replayed on the mirror walls surrounding them. One after another. Every scraped knee or bruise, every mishap when climbing a tree or learning to ride a horse, every altercation that had resulted in stitches and broken bones. Past and present scars and wounds were being fully repaired within and outside of her body, although the memories of them remained intact.
The liquid pooled inside her open wounds, spilling from her cheek and the sides of her body onto the marble. The soft, repetitive drippings of the green fluid as it trickled from the edge of the slab to the floor, coaxed Fawn’s eyes to close.
She stood outside the foggy window of a rugged dwelling that had a rusty roof made of metal sheets. Raindrops darkened and soaked through her auburn waves, matting her hair to the top of her head. Water glided from her bare shoulders and shot from the tips of her fingers. Steam rose from the ground around her, suggesting it had been a few weeks since the last rain fall.
Shivering, she peered through the hazy window, catching sight of two blurry masses being brought together. A parted, embroidered curtain floated gradually from the discolored glass as a crack in the window allowed a breeze to whistle through. She rubbed at the glass with the bottom of her fist to clear a circular space to look through.
A man and woman were embracing on a bed. The woman wept into the crook of the man’s neck. Her long, coppery curls were draped over her heaving back. Through the rain tapping on the metal roof and the wall between the couple and herself, Fawn could only clearly make out one word that was said: “fault.”
Movement came from the far corner of the room. Fawn leaned in closer, pressing her nose to the slick window.
“Hunter,” she said to herself, as he stepped fully into view.
Hunter’s gaze was glued to the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. A young man with bright, brown eyes and big ears held her lover’s attention. Fawn’s focus was drawn from the similarities this youngster had with the man she’s slept with on a regular basis, by the two people on the bed being engrossed in a kiss. She looked up from the people tangled in each other and realized Hunter had vanished from the room.
A tap on her shoulder prompted Fawn to jerk her body around. A fog had been draped over the area. A chill that began in her feet quickly shot through her entire body. Instead of standing on soggy, wet terrain, her feet were immersed in snow. She exhaled, billowing out puffs of steam. A coppery smell ensnared her nostrils. The rain that’d been pouring down on her transformed into snowflakes drenched in blood.
The fog thinned out, revealing a man bathed in black and white. He was tied to a post that had been erected about twenty feet from where she stood.
“Please don’t be Hunter,” she thought, stepping forward. “Please . . .”
A twinge in her lower half forced Fawn to cradle her suddenly rounded stomach and sink to her knees.
“Please, not yet,” a woman’s voice reverberated around her. “Please, not yet!”
Ahead of her, the man raised his chin from the base of his throat, revealing his cloudy eyes.
“I always knew,” he whispered, coughing up blood. “Red Rain,” he softly said, as blood continued to ooze from his mouth. “Red Rain. Red Rain.”
Fawn’s eyes sprung open as she jolted forward, casting her auburn waves over her shoulders. Clutching at her flat stomach, her chest rose and fell with her heaving breaths. The smell of pine drifted through the open window of she and Hunter’s cabin. She took in the image of her sitting up in their featherbed. Digging her fist into the soft material, the last thing she remembered was saying goodbye to Reesa and collapsing to the ground. How she came to be inside their cabin and lying on their bed was a complete mystery to her.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, lowering her moccasins to the creaky wooden floor. Scratching her head, memories of her brawl with Big Sneed crept slowly toward her frontal lobe. The echoing bang of his pistol, the searing pain in her leg and hip as she was shot, her stumble to the ground from Juniper’s back. She brought her hand to her side, noticing that the hole that had ripped through her hip had disappeared. It was the same story with her leg.
Easing herself from the edge of the bed, her attention was pulled toward a corner where her bow, which had been snapped in two, had been pieced together. Leaning against the wall next to her bow was her father’s hatchet, which Big Sneed had snatched from the loop at her side. Both of her quivers had been replenished with the arrows that had been thrown from them when Juniper reared back. She walked toward the corner with feelings of rejuvenation flowing through her veins.
Fawn redonned her weaponry and stepped outside to the neighing of her closest friend. Juniper strode toward her mistress, bobbing her head and swishing her tail. Fawn wrapped her arms around Juniper’s neck, brushing her cheek against the horse’s hide.
“Good to see you, too,” she said, taking in her friend’s wild scent. “That was a close one.”
Out the corner of her eye, Fawn caught sight of a large heap at the base of the tree that Big Sneed had slammed her against. Grimacing at the image of him biting into her flesh, she raised her fingers to her cheek. Nothing. That wound was also gone.
Taking hold of Juniper’s reins, Fawn walked with her toward his rank form. The fletching of Reesa’s arrow protruded from his back. He’d fallen on his knees, propping his buttocks in the air with his arms facing up at his sides. The profile of his face was smooshed against the ground due to the speed with which he’d collapsed.
Kneeling beside Big Sneed’s body, she brought the back of her wrist to her nose. You’re ripe, she thought, as she rolled his stiff body onto its side. How long was I out? A glossy sheen had developed over his flesh, suggesting that he’d been dead for more than twenty-four hours.
She scanned Big Sneed’s form in search for anything she could use to defend herself. She noticed the barrel of his automatic rifle sticking out from behind the tree. The thought of taking the rifle crossed her mind, but carrying a weapon of that magnitude — and one she had zero experience with — would endanger her more than the people she meant to use it against. The pistol Big Sneed had pulled on her was hidden beneath his pant leg, secured in its holster. She decided not to fool with it either. Whomever had returned her weaponry hadn’t included the firearm she’d carried with her at the time of the ambush.
Choosing to go forward with her mended bow and hatchet, she stowed Big Sneed’s automatic rifle a
nd pistol with her extra supply of arrows in the hollowed-out cypress tree two miles down from the cabin.
The Boom Hole was a place where she and the man of her dreams had spent time getting to know who and what they meant to each other. Memories of the laughter they’d shared while constructing that cabin under the sweltering sun, the sounds of their lovemaking that could be heard outside the fragile boards enclosing them, and the drizzly, late afternoon Hunter had professed his true feelings for her as they checked the lines for fish at the creek, were all fresh in her mind.
Fawn gave Juniper a light kick to start moving, knowing she and Hunter wouldn’t be able to return to their sanctuary for quite some time. The uncertainty of events to come had Fawn regretting that she hadn’t replied, “I love you, too,” to Hunter when she’d had the chance.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ending Big Sneed’s life weighed heavily upon Reesa’s shoulders. Silent tears streamed down her face as she trudged her way home. Thinking back to that defining moment, Reesa believed her choices had been limited to two. She could have either let her favorite aunt die or pull the trigger back on the bow, releasing the arrow into an oblivious Big Sneed. In the end, she knew she had made the right decision. But, despite the circumstances, his blood on her hands was proving harder to cope with than a deer’s.
Instead of stowing her bow away, like Fawn had commanded, she wanted to throw it in a fire and watch the flames diminish it to ashes. She never had the chance to as the roar of the NWA’s Humvee engines came up the trail behind her, prompting her to dart into the thick of the woods. Crouching behind tangled briar vines, Reesa clutched her bow. Six of the NWA’s massive military vehicles headed up the trail that led to Back Wood’s rear entrance.
Through the woods, Reesa followed alongside them. She made her way with the goal of getting her bearings before sneaking through the back gate, as she’d done earlier in the day to visit Fawn. Around forty-five minutes later, she came within thirty feet of her community’s towering walls. The beating of her heart quickened and her mouth went dry. The NWA had blocked off the exit with two of the Humvees. She took note of the tracks from the other four Humvees that had veered to the right, advancing down the west side of the barrier.
She made the mile-and-a-half trek around Back Wood’s walls to see if the NWA had blocked off the front gate, as well. Two of the Humvees were parked before the community’s entrance, while the other two were parked on either side of the road. White plastic suits were being handed out to every solider from the back of these monstrous vehicles.
Unease crept through her still-developing, thirteen-year-old mind, telling her that she needed to do what her aunt would do in this situation: get her people out. Fawn, her heroine, wasn’t there to get the job done. So, she’d have to become the heroine again herself. A job she knew shouldn’t be taken lightly.
Reesa distanced herself a mile from Back Wood’s rear entrance, coming upon a fallen, thick-trunked sweetgum tree. With roughly an hour a half worth of daylight left to spare, she decided to spend it building a modified lean-to shelter. Close to the trunk of the tree, she cleared a section of the ground about the length of her body of twigs and rocks. She laid her palm flat upon the cool surface of the black soil, longing for the comfort of her featherbed back home. Layering pine needles over the bumpy, chilled terrain, she hoped to cushion herself through the long night ahead of her.
Since autumn had arrived, the nights were growing cold. The thought of her teeth chattering and body shivering had her weighing the consequences of returning home — which had been her aunt’s exact orders. But going home would mean being locked within Back Wood’s walls like a disobedient child like the rest of her family.
Not much was certain to her, except one thing. Whatever reason the NWA had for blocking the entrances had something to do with the man she had killed. Maybe they had already searched the woods for the killer and come up empty. Maybe they assumed the culprit had returned home and was walking among them. Maybe now, they were trying to keep the murderer from escaping.
Choosing not to hand herself over to the NWA, Reesa combed the ground for multiple, medium-sized branches. She leaned the ends of twelve branches side by side against the fallen tree, constructing a roof, all the while stressing over how worried her mother must be. Sneaking out wasn’t something a child of the leader of the community would do. Never had Reesa shown up late for supper, or talked back, or done anything she believed would reflect badly on her father, who hadn’t paid much attention to her or the rest of his family since the NWA’s arrival.
Reesa scattered crisp, dead leaves and brush on top of the roof, so — God forbid — if it rained, she wouldn’t get completely soaked. She came to her knees, slipping her bow and quiver full of arrows inside the slanted-roofed structure. Settling down for the night, she lay on her side within the gloominess of her (hopefully) temporary home.
Already homesick, tears streamed down her face. By this time, she’d be sitting beside Ally with Cade in her lap, listening to their mother finish reading their falling apart, split-spine copy of J.K. Rowling’s, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. She wiped her cheeks free of the salty substance using the bottom of her blotched-with-sweat, button-down shirt, longing for the company of her little brother and sister.
Emotionally drained and physically exhausted, Reesa’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Just as her eyes closed, the tweet of a bird came from above the shelter.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Roughly three hours after Fawn and Juniper had parted from the Boom Hole, they arrived a mile outside of the Bogan Farm with no mishaps along the way. Fawn secured Juniper’s reins under the shaded area of a red maple tree. A batch of shrubbery made a half circle around the tree, almost completely camouflaging Juniper.
Fawn French braided her hair at an angle, fastening the shaft into a sturdy bun at the side of her head. Leaving Juniper under the shade of the tree, Fawn tried ignoring her panicky neighs and stomps at the ground. About thirty feet from where she’d left Juniper, Fawn crouched behind a fallen sweetgum tree, peering over her shoulder. Fawn’s separation anxiety was spiked as she could no longer see or hear Juniper clearly.
She’ll be fine, Fawn thought, turning her focus from Juniper’s wellbeing.
Peeking over the trunk of the fallen tree, she took in the image of five guards stationed outside the circle of tents the NWA had erected around the community. The solider that had shoved her backward stood at the main entrance. She remembered his crooked nose and brassy, nasally tone of his voice.
Big man, she thought, keeping herself low as she shuffled alongside the trunk. All guff. Wonder if he’s overcompensating for something?
Coming to the tree’s jutting branches, the ground littered with spiky sweetgum balls, Fawn’s eyes were drawn to the side entrance of the community. About twenty men were filing inside, the barrels of their automatic rifles propped against their right shoulders. Folded and secured under their armpits were white plastic suits. Some of the sleeves of their garments had come unfolded, flapping behind them in a light breeze.
“What’re they up to?” she whispered to herself.
Fawn knew whatever danger Hunter was in couldn’t be staved off by her intervening. She would only worsen the situation, possibly resulting in them both being killed. She couldn’t help him if she was dead.
Ducking away from the fallen tree, Fawn made her way back to Juniper with her mind set on returning with greater numbers. She’d start by locating Davlyn, who was just as skilled with a bow as she. Then she’d head to Stagecoach, and attempt to sneak inside to request aid from Clancy.
***
Fawn and Juniper traveled for twelve hours the first day, resting only thirty minutes every third hour. They stayed away from the roads, advancing under the cover of the woods. At night, they slept for four hours before rising and continuing their roughly three-day journey to Stagecoach.
On the second day, they snuck past six Humvees on separate
occasions that surveyed the roads for stragglers. Fawn couldn’t risk helping a man and woman backpacking on the side of the road. She observed them being picked up by the NWA, assuming the couple hadn’t been introduced to them. The couples’ wide eyes, full of wonderment as they stared at the massive, roaring beast the NWA rode up in reminded Fawn of the first time the NWA had arrived at Back Wood’s gate.
The third day rolled around with no sign of Davlyn. Doubts concerning Clancy’s loyalty to their family began to rise in Fawn’s mind.
Was Pete right to question Clancy’s character? she asked herself, remembering their discussion by the campfire. Maybe Clancy did do something to Davlyn. She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. No, he couldn’t have. We’ve known Clancy since we were kids. He and Daddy were friends.
These thoughts were halted as Fawn and Juniper came upon Lacing Switch road. There was no mistaking its overgrown, abandoned traffic jam and the shrill, grating noise of rusted metal as the wind crept through the twisted, hollowed remains of the vehicles. Harrowing, shameful memories swept across Fawn’s mind, prompting her to kick Juniper’s sides harder than she meant to.
“Sorry, girl,” she whispered, keeping her face turned away from the road as they galloped farther into the woods.
About six hours into the third day, they were within five miles of Stagecoach’s barrier. To enter the community without being detected, Fawn needed to make herself as small as possible. She found a batch of closely knitted trees, and secured Juniper’s reins behind them. Bow drawn, she crept alone through the thick woods to the northeast side of the community’s walls where she knew there was a hidden passage.
Before that fateful night on Lacing Switch road, Fawn had had two girlfriends who lived behind Stagecoach’s barricade. It was so long ago, Fawn couldn’t remember the girls’ faces or names. Only that she had enjoyed the innocent, harmless conversations they shared. As young women in their mid-teens, they’d snuck through the obscured passage of loose boards behind the town’s broken-down, red bricked Amtrak Train Station and met up with Fawn halfway between their communities.