A Broken Time

by Anna Oney

  “May I sit?” he asked, pursing his lips, as he looked about for a chair.

  “Sure,” Blythe replied, disappearing around Asher’s towering soldiers. He reemerged dragging a chair from the far corner to the middle of the rug across from where Griffin sat. “Here,” he said, motioning toward the chair. “Have a seat, sir.”

  “Thanks, Blythe,” Asher said, walking around the chair.

  Blythe stationed himself beside Griffin, resting his palm on top of the rocking chair. Griffin folded his hands in his lap as Asher sat down. The desire to lunge at Asher and wrap his hands around his throat was great. The two soldiers came to stand on either side of Asher, looming over their leader in a protective manner.

  “You said your last name is Clery?” Asher asked, jerking back his head. “I understand that the McCord siblings’ grandmother, Emma, was a Clery before she got married. Any relation to the McCord’s of Back Wood?”

  Gripping the arms of the rocking chair, Griffin leaned forward. The thick blanket that’d covered his lap hit the ground with a soft thud.

  “I am,” he replied, his voice unsteady. “Emma was my sister. Tell me something, Commander,” he said, swiping a finger beneath his chin. “Do you remember the faces of all the people you’ve killed? I surely hope so,” he said, clenching his fists on the armrests of the chair. “Because you’ll be judged for every single one of them.”

  A smile formed on Asher’s face as he gave Griffin a squinted look of amusement.

  “I have to admit,” Asher said and laughed, peering at Blythe, and then back to Griffin. “I know exactly who you are and who you’re related to. Pete, the ignorant fool,” he said and paused, shaking his head. “He filled us in on his family and their history when we first arrived. I find that knowledge important, you see?”

  “Really?” Griffin said, shifting in his chair. “Why is that?”

  Asher held his hands out before him, palms facing up.

  “To really get to know the people I mean to take advantage of, I need to know what their weaknesses are. I strip away all that my subordinates know. All they have. All they love. Until they have nothing, but me and what the NWA has to offer them.”

  “Sounds like you’re a leader of a cult,” Griffin replied. He noticed the jaw of the soldier standing to Asher’s right stiffen. The soldier on his left shifted his stance. “And these men, here,” he said and paused, motioning toward each soldier. “Are your brainwashed followers.”

  Asher didn’t have a response to Griffin’s statement as he whistled and clapped his hands together. Griffin grimaced at the sound, as it seemed to echo throughout his home.

  “Pete even gave me your sister’s memoirs to read over,” Asher continued. “Gave me a good laugh. I bet her grandchildren grew up believing that she actually had some kind of connection with the spirit world. That Native,” he said and paused, snapping his fingers. “What was his name?”

  “Wakiza,” Griffin replied, clenching his jaw.

  “That’s right,” he said, bringing his palm to his forehead. “Wakiza. When I heard my men boasting about how much they enjoyed your fruit, your name jarred my memory. Could this be the same Griffin that Emma Clery left the safety of Back Wood road to bring home? Now,” he said, coming to his feet. “To get to the real reason I’m here. Eleven of Back Wood’s children have been missing for nearly two months. We’ve searched everywhere but here.”

  “Sir—” Blythe began, stepping between Griffin and Asher.

  “For now,” Asher said, a sharpness in his tone. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Better yet,” he said and paused, clicking his tongue. He looked to his men. “Seize him.”

  The men stationed on either side of Asher rushed forward, grabbing hold of Blythe’s arms. The man to Blythe’s left handcuffed Blythe’s hands behind his back.

  “You know, that brown mare in the barn looked awfully familiar,” Asher said, standing face-to-face with Blythe. “The one with the diamond on its forehead.” He bared his teeth, looking Blythe sternly in the eye. “I know she’s here. Tell me where you’re hiding Fawn and the kids, or I’ll take it out on the old man.”

  A clang of metal erupted from the closet at the bottom of the stairs. Griffin rose from the rocking chair, receiving a backhanded slap in the face from Asher. The blow sent Griffin staggering backward until he fell back into his chair.

  “Who’s in the closet?!” Asher shouted, grabbing Griffin by the collar of his shirt.

  The shrill bark of a dog came from behind Asher, stalling his fist as he hurled it at Griffin’s face a second time. Nothing but the fizz and pop of the fireplace followed. It was a bark that Griffin recognized but hadn’t heard for decades. His eyes fixated on a short-haired, white wagging tail that stuck out from around Asher’s back. Asher’s warm, heaving breaths fanned Griffin’s swelling cheek as he turned his head slightly. Asher moved just enough for Griffin to make out half of the dog’s face and the red collar around its neck.

  Stella . . .

  “I didn’t know you had a dog. Hey there, pooch,” Asher said and laughed, narrowing his eyes questioningly at Griffin. “I didn’t see one when we rode up.”

  Another bark came from behind Asher, bringing a crooked sly smile to Griffin’s mouth.

  “That’s because I don’t have one,” Griffin replied, looking to Stella. “But my sister,” he said, staring up at Asher. “Emma. You know, the one you read about? She did.”

  A vibrating growl residing deep within Stella’s chest spilled from her snarling mouth. The soldier to Blythe’s right slammed the butt of his automatic rifle into Blythe’s stomach and aimed his weapon at Stella. Blythe lay on the floor, gasping for air.

  “Commander,” Griffin said, tipping his head forward. “Meet Stella.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Fawn and Marie held hands as they stood at the bottom of the cellar’s stairs. The weight of Blythe’s automatic rifle on Fawn’s back caused her to slouch. The children were huddled together on the floor, their worried eyes fixated on the movements coming from upstairs. Davlyn, Dean, and Noelle busied themselves comforting the youngest kids.

  The muffled barks of a dog sent Marie’s tensed shoulders to her ears.

  “D-did you hear that?” she asked Fawn, who stared upward at the cellar’s latch. “Fawn?”

  A raspy voice Fawn recognized as the scarred blind man’s crept through the depths of the cellar. “I always knew,” the voice said, turning Fawn’s skin into gooseflesh. “I always knew.”

  “Fawn,” Marie hissed beside her. “You’re going to break my hand.”

  Peering downward, Fawn took note of Marie’s reddened, swelling fingers.

  “Oh,” she whispered, letting go. “Sorry.”

  “Aunt Fawn?” Jackson softy said from the far corner. “Aunt Marie? There’re voices coming from the floor.”

  “Voices?” Fawn whispered back.

  The fervent nod of her eldest nephew’s head prompted Fawn to leave Marie at the bottom of the stairs. She stepped over and between the children’s shoulders, receiving squinted looks of wonderment mixed with annoyance. His gaze latched to the floorboards, Jackson pointed downward upon Fawn arriving at his side.

  “It’s coming from down there,” he said, looking to Fawn.

  “It’s probably just the men talking upstairs,” Fawn replied, grabbing hold of his arm. “Be quiet. Sit down with the rest of the kids.”

  “But,” he protested, pulling away from her. “It was a girl.”

  “A girl?” Fawn softly repeated, narrowing her eyes at the floor. “From down there?”

  Fawn took the nod of Jackson’s head as confirmation.

  “What did she say?” she asked, as Marie joined them.

  By this time, everyone hiding in the cellar had turned around on their bottoms to see what the commotion was. Davlyn, Dean, and Noelle handed off the youngest kids they held to the older children beside them. They rose from the floor and came up behind Fawn, Marie, and Jackson.

>   “Wait a minute,” Marie joined in, placing her hands on her hips. “What did who say?”

  “The girl in the floor,” Jackson whispered, resuming his stare below. “She said, ‘Come play with us. It’s safe behind the veil.’ There were kids laughing in the background.”

  “Well,” Davlyn spoke up behind Fawn. She folded her arms across her chest and bit her bottom lip. “If that’s not creepy, I don’t know what is.”

  Fawn sank to her knees, lowering the profile of her face to the floor.

  “Joy,” she whispered, tilting her head. “Is that you?”

  “What’re you . . . ” Noelle began beside Davlyn.

  A warm gust of wind from below fanned Fawn’s baby hairs from her face. The cellar was filled with the aroma of sweet grass. The top of a golden ladder shot up from the floor, sending the floorboards swaying as if they weren’t boards at all, but a curtain. A small hand, belonging to a child of around ten years old, slid through the floor.

  Marie and Jackson stepped backward, bumping into Davlyn and Dean.

  “Yes, yes,” Joy said, snapping her fingers. “It’s me.”

  A hushed gasp expelled from each person’s mouth as Joy moved her arm to the right, exposing a hole to another dimension. A bright light enveloped the dark cellar, forcing Fawn to position her hand before her eyes. The light faded, revealing Joy smiling up at them. The girl’s bare feet were immersed in the greenest grass Fawn had ever seen. Her blonde, braided pigtails hung over her shoulders. The skirt of her coral, knee-length dress swayed with the wind that carried swirling sunflower petals.

  Fawn grasped the first rung of the ladder.

  “Wait,” Marie said, closing her fingers around Fawn’s forearm. “No, ma’am. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You can’t just climb down that ladder,” Davlyn hissed, widening her eyes as she stretched her arm toward the hole in the floor. “What’re you, nuts?”

  Fawn began the descent and paused, peering upward at Davlyn.

  “Think back, cousin,” she replied, tightening her grip on the ladder’s rung. “Think back to when me, you, and Noelle magically ended up in Stagecoach’s armory. There was no way we could’ve escaped from that pit. Not without help.”

  “But,” Noelle joined in, her eyes darted twitchingly from Davlyn, and then to Fawn, “you have no idea what’s down there.”

  “I’m with them, cousin,” Dean contributed, stepping between Davlyn and Marie. “I can’t let you do this. I’ll stop you,” he said, reaching for her arm. “Don’t make me drag your butt back up here.”

  Fawn smacked at Dean’s reaching hands and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Stop me,” she scoffed, slowly shaking her head. “Cousin, you don’t have that kind of power.”

  “The Soothsayers have spoken,” Joy interrupted, drawing everyone’s attention. “There are more of Asher’s men in the woods. They’ve already killed Harland. They’ve only spared Fenton to use him as bait because of his relation to you. The soldiers wait for Asher to give the order to attack the house,” she said and paused, locking eyes with Fawn. “The battle I spoke of the last time I saw you — it begins here at Griffin’s orchard. The children aren’t safe in that cellar.”

  Marie, Davlyn, Noelle, and Dean’s frozen gazes were directed downward. Marie was the first to move and make a sound.

  “O-okay,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. Looking at her daughter, Meadow, who sat beside a wide-eyed Ally and Cade, Marie patted her thigh. “All right, kiddos,” she whispered, waving her hand. “Get ready to climb down.”

  Fawn smiled up at Marie, grasping her sister’s ankle. She admired Marie’s ability to put on a brave face, while within, she fought a raging storm of anxiety.

  “Since I’m already halfway down,” Fawn said, clearing another rung. “I’ll check it out.” Looking from Marie, Davlyn, Noelle, and then to Dean, she continued. “Y’all get the kids ready.”

  Joy moved away from the bottom rung, allowing Fawn to step freely from the ladder. A man’s electric voice sang Queen’s, “Radio Ga Ga,” from the heavens. Fawn wondered if it was Freddie Mercury, the lead singer of the band. She had once checked out a book from the Stagecoach Library called, Music: A History. The fourth chapter had been appropriately titled, “Rock Gods,” and Queen had been at the top of the list. An image of their performance at Live Aid in 1985 had covered the first page of the chapter.

  A vision of her mother clapping her hands as she sang the chorus brought a smile to Fawn’s face. Closing her eyes, she raised her hands to the sky.

  All we hear is radio ga ga!

  Radio goo goo!

  Radio ga ga!

  All we hear is radio ga ga!

  Radio blah blah!

  Fawn opened her eyes. A massive red canvas tent with white stripes stood thirty paces ahead of her. Children of all ages and ethnicities ran to and from a petting zoo under the shade of the tent. Far to the right of the tent, other kids stood in line to ride the Ferris wheel. The smaller children rode the carousel on the tent’s left. Others stood in line at three food trucks. One handed out pies, including blackberry, apple, peach, and even chicken pot pie. Another truck featured twisted doe sprinkled with white powdered sugar. Its sign read, “Funnel Cakes! Get them while they are hot!” The middle truck had slushies of all flavors and pepperoni pizza. The children ate at picnic tables behind the trucks.

  Fawn peered through the opening in the cellar’s floor, waving a hand for her kin to follow.

  “It’s safe,” she said. “The kids are going to love this.”

  One at a time each child descended the ladder with bright eyes full of wonder. The adults were the last to clear the ladder.

  “Fawn,” Marie said, balancing Cade on her hip, while holding Meadow’s hand. “I think Momma used to sing that song to us before bedtime.”

  “She did,” Fawn replied, smiling at her sister. “Almost every night.”

  Joy stretched her arms toward the fun waiting to be had and smiled big.

  “Scatter,” she said, clapping her hands. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  Ally stood to Marie’s left, taking in the joyful scene playing out before her.

  “Wow,” she whispered in awe.

  Jackson came up beside Ally and flicked her shoulder with his finger.

  “I’ll race you to the tent,” he said, getting in position.

  And off they went with Marie, Cade, and Meadow trailing behind them. Dean, Davlyn, and Noelle began nudging the other, big-eyed, apprehensive children toward the trucks to get them something to eat.

  “The kids will be safe behind the veil until Asher and his men are dealt with,” Joy said, drawing Fawn’s attention downward and to the left.

  “Who do these other children belong to?” Fawn asked, watching the kids run to and from the tent.

  “They’re shattered pieces of souls,” she replied. “Yours is in here somewhere. Oh look,” she said and paused, pointing toward the Ferris wheel, busily spinning. “There she is right now. Looks like your great-grandmother, Shirley, is sitting beside her.”

  Fawn held a hand over her forehead. Sunlight had hit the Ferris wheel just right.

  Her chipped soul couldn’t be seen through the piercing gleam of the sun reflecting off the wheel’s steel.

  Joy snapped her fingers, closing the hole she had made in the cellar floor. She skipped about twelve feet and came to a stop, waving over her shoulder for Fawn to follow. Upon Fawn’s arrival at her side, Joy moved her hand over the ground, revealing a passage to Griffin’s sitting room. Peering downward, Fawn’s breath caught in her chest. Griffin lay beaten on the floor beside an equally roughed up Blythe.

  A wet, chomping sound came from below. Joy moved her hand farther to the right, exposing Stella tearing out a soldier’s throat. The soldier’s hand twitched at his side as Stella chomped down harder, putting an end to his life. Stella then turned her focus to another soldier that’d begun tugging Blythe from the ground.

  �
�I spoke with Father,” Joy said beside Fawn. “He said you could have your memories back.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see . . .”

  Joy shoved Fawn from behind, dispatching her through the opening. Fawn was bombarded with a rush of memories from behind the veil. Granddaddy Doolie walking her down a hallway of shimmering light, past a room housing shattered pieces of souls and a room he referred to as the room of Forewarning, said to contain warnings for the living. Mrs. Maples patching up her wounds on the Healing Slab. She, Davlyn, and Noelle’s lunch with her deceased ancestors. Meeting her grandmother, Darby, who requested to be called Neenah. Hugging her great-grandmother, Shirley, who stood before a steep set of stairs that led to a latch in the sky. And lastly, the wheat field where she’d helped a young girl from the ground. A girl that mirrored an eight-year-old Fawn. One who’s touch transported her back to Lacing Switch road and its harrowing memories.

  The young girl’s words rang in her ears.

  “I can’t come back,” she had said. “Not until you forgive yourself.”

  Fawn landed on her feet so hard, she stumbled backward, crashing into the wall. Breathing hard, she peered upward, seeing that the hole she’d fallen through had closed-up.

  “Thanks for the warning, Joy,” she said, stepping onto the rug. “Damn,” she shook her head. “That was a rush.”

  She slung Blythe’s rifle from around her back. In the time it took Fawn to travel through the hole, Blythe and Griffin had been moved. Stella was nowhere in sight.

  A smile splayed across her face as she walked up on the soldier lying dead in front of the fireplace. Blood oozed from the sides of his torn throat, soaking into the rug. The man’s sleeve had been folded back during his fight for survival against Stella. Scars adorning his forearm intrigued Fawn. Three healed, long, discolored gashes stood out on his creamy skin. It looked as though they had been scratched into his flesh. Images of Audrey’s bruised, lifeless body and bloody fingernails flashed across Fawn’s mind.