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C H A P T E R – T E N:

Kicking the Hornet's Nest

~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~

I don't remember what caused me to wake so early the following morning, but once my eyes were opened there was no turning back.

Beyond the window, dark blue. It yielded very little light. I found my knife then slipped it into the sheath, covered Alice to her shoulder with the blanket, then left her in peace when I slipped into the shady hall and down the stairs with nothing but touch as my guide.

On the bottom level, a slight glow illuminated the wall in the foyer. I followed it to the kitchen, where I found Renee with her back to me, a litter of small glass jars on the counter in front of her. The fire stove was already burning, casting immense heat into the room, along with the fireplace.

She peered over her shoulder as I approached, and grinned. "Mornin'."

"Good morning," I greeted. I leaned against the archway.

"You're up early. Well, look at you. You clean up nicely. What made you shave?"

I stroked my jaw with my palm. The stubble pricked my skin. "I looked in the mirror," I said. The corner of my mouth tugged upward, and my eyes tried to adjust to the low light that barely filled the room. I stepped in a little more, approaching the island that separated us. "I didn't know I was that beastly. My apologies to you for seeing me like that."

"Trust me," she said, her back turned to me once more. "I know what it's like not feelin' or lookin' like yourself. It makes you uncomf'table, especially when you're around others. Like, maybe they ain't seein' the real you. Ya know?"

I pushed my fingers to my cheek. "Yeah, perhaps." I cleared my throat. "Do you always wake up this early?"

"Early? Oh, Honey, sometimes I wake up while it's still pitch black to start my day. I've got boys to feed and chores to do. I got myself a late start this mornin'. How did'ja sleep?" Renee turned and patted the kitchen table. "C'mon and sit down over here."

I pulled out the chair closest to her and sat. "I slept fine, thank you," I lied. I hadn't slept well at all. Between the noises, Alice and trying not to fall off the bed, I was miserable; more tired than I was before I fell asleep. "You said this was a bed and breakfast at one point?"

"Yup, some time back before we bought it."

I nodded. "Did anyone staying on the third floor ever complain of noises?"

"Noises? What type of noises?" Her tone changed, although not much.

"I don't know. Footsteps and banging?"

It took her a moment to answer. "Not that I recall. Why? Did you hear those things?"

"I thought I did, but maybe it was my imagination getting the best of me."

"It happens; imaginations getting away, I mean."

Her words ended the conversation on strange voices, footsteps and creaking walls. Still, I knew it was real. Alice even confirmed the noises when I woke. It was our shared reality, which we kept often. Our interpretations of the world meant having to share them. It was a military tactic we were taught early on when we lost a lot of sleep. I taught it to Alice, and it stuck.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Canning strawberries. Tomorrow, tomatoes. Keeps 'em around a little longer so we can enjoy 'em when winter comes. Would you like me to show you?"

I got up and stood by her, knowing I wouldn't understand a thing of it, and when she began to explain, it wasn't as hard as it sounded. It was a genius idea I was sure Alice would've loved to know about for when we finally settled, but there was a question of how she got the jars.

"Where do you get all this stuff?" I asked. "You have everything."

"What stuff? Oh, this?" She picked up a jar. "We got these before D.D.. Several cases, in fact. Years before it happened, Charlie told me that day would come eventually, and he wanted us to be prepared. He knew how people would act once gas started'ta dwindle."

"Charlie knew?" He seemed so simple-minded.

"Oh, yes. He watched the news every day and tracked the prices on the Market. He said it was only a matter of time and suggested we live this way in order to avoid falling victim to the failing economy. We were skint, and wouldn't be able to afford the rising prices. So, we bought a lil' extra of things we needed each time we went to the market over a period of six years. We kept inventory and categorized our cellar. So, when the gas ran out, we had things like matches, flour and sugar. Much more than that, to be honest. Anything you could ever ask for, we have except for the things we don't need."

I nodded. "That was very smart."

"I'm not sure how smart. Things don't last forever. Eventually, in a few years, we'll run out of all we've saved and we'll be with less, but at least we'll still have our farm. That's the important thing. Nothin' goes to waste, here. We utilize everything we receive from the Lord. What ever he sends our way is stock that we add to the pile. You learn to take nothin' for granted when there's nothin' left."

"If only we knew then what we know now. You and your family are very fortunate."

She smirked. "Honey, you don't have to tell me twice. I'm aware of our fortune, and I'm very thankful." She shuffled from the jars into a large pot of water sitting on top the bars over the bare flames. She began placing the jars into the water. "I'm tellin' ya, if it weren't for Emmett and Jasper, though, we'd been run all over already with thieves. Charlie can't get around like he used to, so when those boys came along I knew the Lord sent 'em to protect us."

When they came along? "I was under the assumption they were your sons."

"Well, they are," she said with a pause. "They most certainly are."

"By blood?"

"Blood has nothin' to do with family." She shook a finger at me. "I come from a big crowd, and so does Charlie, but before D.D., when the lines were still workin', they never called. They never sent cards or e-mails. Hell, the only time we saw them was maybe at Christmas and Thanksgivin', and we only talked to 'em to tell 'em to move their damn cars 'cause we had to go." She shoved her thumb to the space behind her, and her face lit with animation. I huffed with a grin. "They were never family. They were people we once knew, that we happened to be related to, but family?" She shook her head. "Family is who you make it, not who you get stuck with by lottery."

Truer words were never spoken. "So, they were drifters? Jasper and Emmett?"

"Yeah. Two Falls ago, we brought 'em in and helped 'em out like we're doing with you right now. They were such nice fellas, and always offering their help. Finally, Charlie asked them if they wanted to stay, and in exchange for food and a place to sleep, they'd help around the farm and keep the unwanted visitors away." She stuffed the final jar in the pot. The lid clanked when she lowered it over the glass and water.

"That makes more sense," I muttered.

"What does?"

I debated, very briefly, on whether or not I should tell her about Jasper and Bella last night, standing where she stood. "I just saw something that didn't add up yesterday after Charlie said they were 'his sons' and announced Bella as his daughter. But, when Jasper came in and stood next to her... it became... almost intimate."

"Well, they have every right to. Bella and Jasper are married."

I wasn't prepared for those words. It shocked me, pushed me back. "Married?"

"Oh, yeah. Cutest little ceremony this side of the Mississippi," she said with a smile, her eyes drooping as I'm sure the memory played in her head. "She wore my old weddin' dress, and they said their vows in front of the garden. We had sunflowers planted, then. I managed to make a strawberry cake, if you can believe that."

Said their vows? "So, they both spoke their vows?"

"Generally, that's how people say I do."

"So, she wasn't always silent?"

Not two seconds after, her lips closed into a uniformed line. It took her a moment before she could pick up her movement once again, and even then, her words fumbled. "Well, she was always a quiet child. She never had any siblins to talk to. Oh! Look at me jabberin' on! I bet you're hungry. Do you want somethin' to eat? We have the best tastin' watermelon you've ever put in your mouth."

She smiled that pageant-smile, and I knew she hoped I'd forget about her daughter and the questions that turned in my head. But I wouldn't.

"Sure, I'll take some," I responded. Even though, I had ultimately achieved what I'd set out to do (get answers), it still wasn't enough. However, I was thankful she wasn't being abused by a blood relative, but the image of her shying away from him, her husband, was never-ending. The new information didn't change anything. He was still an asshole.

While I ate, Renee fooled with strawberries. The longer she washed, cut, mashed and stuffed into a pot on the stove, the lighter the sky became. I had nearly finished when she began to ladle the berry mush into the jars she pulled out from the water.

Squeaky stairs then heavy footsteps fell through the house, and Jasper and Emmett came around the corner, less their hats.

"You boys want some watermelon?" Renee asked as they headed toward the back door.

Jasper turned toward her and answered, "No." He saw me, then. Emmett pushed through. "Well, well. Look who's awake. I didn't take you for a watermelon-eatin'-type-a guy."

"You were right on the money, weren't you?" I took another bite. Juice escaped my lips.

"Would I be on the money if I assumed you was a butcherin' type-a guy?" He approached, the soles of his boots scratching the floor.

I refused to let go of his gaze. Challenge accepted, Asshole. He didn't know who he was dealing with. "Depends."

"Ever cut up a deer before?"

I'd only cut the deer Alice and I found, but other than that? No. "Professionally, or?"

He braced his weight on the back of a chair adjacent to me. "You city boys," he chortled. "I bet the closest thing you ever butchered was a cat when you's younger. Why don't you come on out to the pit and I'll show you how to butcher som'em proper."

Fucking hick. "Yeah, okay."

He made for the door once more. "You makin' more biscuits?" he asked Renee as he passed.

"I'll see, son." She was too busy with her canning to pay attention to him, it seemed.

I followed him out to the shed. The double doors were wide open against the frame of the building.

"Emmett," Jasper called on approach. His big frame emerged from the entrance. "Get a bucket'a water."

"Aight," he said, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. Blood stained his fingers. "What's up, Eddie?"

"Hey." I jutted my chin as he passed. Despite Emmett's size, he was the more friendly of the two, or so it appeared. Still, he was guilty by association. He wasn't to be trusted if he kept Jasper's company.

As we entered the small building, the first thing I noticed was the unique odor. I knew it well. The sickly-sweet scent of death, followed by the sting of rot. It was common in the air of big cities, where population was higher. Even on the outskirts it hit me; a reminder on the wind as it blew across the wasted life.

The existence of a long body was the second thing to be noticed. A headless, skinless, marbled carcass hung by hooks from the back-leg tendons. It was an impressive-sized deer. I followed the chain into the rafters, as it hooked onto a pulley system. Above, more hooks hung from the ceiling. Heavy gardening tools hung from rusted nails on the three surrounding walls, and toward the front corner sat an old, red and rusted Chevrolet pick-up truck. The year escaped me. I wasn't that much of a car buff to remember hundred-year-old cars, but it was the type that became a family heirloom, passed down from father to son several times over.

Emmett was back a few minutes later, setting the water on a table pushed against the wall. The silver container neighbored a row of knives.

"I reckon most of the blood is drained by now," Jasper said, walking a good time around the upside-down body.

"It's still kinda cherry," Emmett suggested, poking the red meat on the hind-quarters.

"Fresh meat's better. Besides, I don't think City's ever had it ripe-off-the-bone."

City? Oh. He meant me. He was looking at me. I wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

Emmett handed me a slim, curved blade. "Ever use one of these before?"

A knife, hm? I wrapped my fingers around the thick handle. "I think I can handle it," I said.

"Let's hope so."

. . . | . . .

A drop of sweat rolled down my temple, even though it was fairly mild inside the shady barn. I resisted the urge to wipe anything away in order to keep the blood from my face. I was dirty, sticky, blood-ridden from shirt to boots with deer remains. I took an active role in carving the meat from the bone, doing whatever I was directed to do, using the tools I was told to use; a couple knives and a hand-saw.

It would've been considered male-bonding if I didn't have the urge to stab the shrimp next to me. Turned out, Jasper and Emmett had a run in with the military when they left their college in Waco, Texas. After news broke of the world running out of fuel, they fought their way to a city called Hillsboro, thinking they had a chance to find food there. Unfortunately for the people of Hillsboro (and Jasper and Emmett), Marines invaded and began taking advantage of those who were less fortunate. They had more firepower, and the new golden rule: Whoever has the most guns wins.

The further north they went, the worse the looting and murders became. Fort Worth, Arlington and Dallas burned within days, and was nothing more than smoke and ash when they passed. They spoke of military-grade armored cars rolling by while everyone else walked in the dirt. It became increasingly easy to see why we were hated so much. To them, we were the crooks and thieves depriving America of the one thing it needed to exist. When everyone did without, we thrived. It was the government's fault, and "the army was their dirty dogs doing their bidding".

I guess we all had to have something to blame to make us feel better for our insanity. Truth was, we were sent in to protect people from themselves. We were meant to obtain the order when the police couldn't. Order became chaos.

Jasper's and Emmett's story reminded me how much we failed our mission as soldiers, as men of honor.

I picked up a chunk of fat which was separate from the remaining bones they planned to bury next to the garden. "Do you bury this too?"

"No," Jasper said, and took the slab of fat from me. He slapped it down in the pail. "Never discard the fat. We use it to make candles and soap. Momma uses it to make biscuits, too."

Soap? What the fuck?

Candles I understood, but soap out of animal fat? I felt greasier. I used a bar of soap last night.

"Oh, okay."

Renee was still canning strawberries when we came in, but she had a pan of browned biscuits waiting for Jasper. He picked one up, and nearly burned his fingers.

Good.

Standing in the kitchen, at the island - between the two heats, warmed me. The cool, clean water sliding down my throat quenched a thirst I'd been aware of for quite some time that morning.

"Y'all are filthy," Renee said, brushing off Emmett's shoulder as he took a seat at the table with his biscuit. "Y'all need to change before you do anything else today. You can't come in my house like that." She looked to me, then, and took in my appearance with a sweeping, yet thorough, glance. She disappeared into the hall, then up the steps.

She came back a few minutes later, carrying an armful of green plaid and brown. "These are Charlie's, but he won't mind if you wear 'em. Go in the laundry room and change. Leave your clothes and Bella will wash 'em for you."

"No, ma'am. I can't."

"Yes, you can, and you will." She shoved the clothes into my hands, the only part of me that was clean since I washed them before entering, then pointed in the direction of where I was to change. "It's right through there."

"We're not gonna be staying much longer. This isn't necessary." My attempt to give back the pile was skinned.

"You can't wear blood all over your clothes for the rest of your life. It won't take long to clean it," she insisted. "If you don't lemme it's gonna start stinkin'."

"I don't want to be an inconvenience."

As I tried to hand her back the pile one last time, Emmett called out, "Let her wash your damn clothes, City! For Christ's sake!"

I exhaled in defeat. It seemed a bit much, but it was pointless to argue with someone like her; the concerned, motherly type. Those were battles I generally steered clear from. I nodded, not having seen such kindness since, well, I couldn't remember when. "Thank you," I said.

Standing in front of the large washing tub, filled with murky water, I felt trapped inside time. I had finally walked far enough away from disaster and death to be carried away from it all, to be welcomed into a simpler life before anything monstrous had occurred; before people turned on their own kind, before murder, before the smoke and debris consumed everything. The Swan family got along fine without electricity. They weren't affected by it. Most importantly, they didn't turn into raging monsters like so many people had.

I was thankful to whatever existed above our heads to have the opportunity to see such people.

Just as I began to slip the boots and socks from my feet, a knock sounded. The door opened and Renee appeared, handing me a bowl of hot water and a rag. "Wash up good," she said after shutting me inside.

I huffed with a slight shake of my head. Motherly indeed.

Undressed completely, I soaked the cloth into the warm water and began to wipe the gunk away, having to re-soak many times in order to clean everything. When I finished, I changed into the clothes I was presented with, along with socks and underwear. Not going to lie, I was apprehensive about putting those on, but I did, however weird it may have been.

I'm wearing another man's underwear: a thought I couldn't dwell on.

The socks, however, clung to my feet like a cloud from Heaven. I was a sucker for a fresh pair of socks, and I hadn't changed mine in some time, which was un-soldier-like conduct. Whatever magic there was, was lost when I slipped the boots on once more. It didn't matter how clean the socks were, they were always ruined with those uncomfortable boots. Perhaps it was time for a new pair, as Alice suggested during the Summer.

I left my clothes where she told me to leave them; on the floor next to other small piles.

I emerged fresh, almost a new man. I felt better having washed, and knowing I looked myself, the way I used to. I felt like me again... even though I was wearing another man's underwear.

Don't dwell on it.

. . . | . . .

There must be something said for their ability to work, and keep their crops, animals and themselves alive. They took to their chores seriously and I followed Charlie's direction with precision and care. Even though I was convinced there was something strange going on in that place, I did what was asked of me, like an old Labrador. Emmett and Jasper were in good health, while I struggled a bit, forking dried grass into a wheelbarrow then pushing it to the barn for the animals time after time.

They took my help without rebuttal, and before I knew it, I had worked up a sweat splintering wood. There wasn't much talk while working, but I guess there wasn't much to talk about that hadn't been said before. They didn't ask me any questions, and I didn't divulge any information about myself or Alice.

I was already nervous that Jasper knew too much, even though I told him nothing about me. The way he kept looking at me was unnerving. I'm not even sure he realized he was doing it. But when Alice ventured out of the house (in fresh clothes, herself), carrying a glass of water in her hand, he knew what he was looking at. I wanted to plunge the ax into his...

"How's it going?" she asked with a heavy breath and a fist on her hip. "Your leg doing okay?"

I'd barely seen Alice all morning since she worked inside with Renee, and I, out. I took a long drink of water. It filled my empty stomach and satisfied, yet intensified my craving for something cold and wet. I eyed Jasper over the rim of the glass, a warning look that was nearly concealed by the object in my hand. He continued to stare before returning to the ground he was tilling. "I'm alright. How are things in the house?"

She creased her lips as though she were holding in a grin. "I actually like this. Renee showed me how to can! And she's letting me help her cook dinner."

"She's letting you cook? Oh, no. The horror! Ouch, I'm kidding. I'm kidding. Don't be so violent," I jested, rubbing the pang from my bicep.

"You done with that?" She took the glass from me in a playful, violent way. I took the long, wooden handle up in both hands once again and began to set circular logs upright to quarter them. "Dinner's in a little while." She gave me one last smile and turned to go back into the house. As Alice walked in, Bella walked out with a brown basket, full of clothes, propped on her hip. She'd only recently stopped making trips to and from the lake with buckets, that time on horseback.

I watched her as she sat it down and began to hang the items up on the line one by one, including my old pants and shirt. I don't know why I watched her as long as I did, my hands propped on the end of the tool handle at my cheek, but I did with a sort-of fascination.

There weren't many questions left unanswered except her. What happened to this poor girl, or had she always been that way? I wanted to hear her story told in her voice. Silence was such a strange thing to me, so foreign. She clipped my shirt to the line, and then, as if she read my thoughts, her eyes drifted to mine. Our gaze locked for only a few seconds before she drifted elsewhere. Her chest rose with a deep inhale of breath.

I turned to my left, wondering what she could possibly be looking at.

Jasper's stare shifted between the both of us, dissecting our distant interaction. When I looked to Bella once more, her back was turned so she could finish her chore. Jasper appeared satisfied with her response, then dug his eyes back into mine.

Yeah, yeah. She's your wife. I get it.

I carried on with my work, resisting the urge to throw the ax at him.

I was grateful when night began to fall and it cooled off even more.

We ate a hearty meal of vegetables, potatoes and the remaining fatty bear meat after Charlie's prayer. Bella remained silent through-out dinner, as usual, although I did catch her in my periphery stealing a glance or two.

I agreed to my own room that night, one next to Alice. I wasn't sure I would be able to handle another episode on the hardwood or the edge of the bed. I left a nice-sized pocket knife with her before seeking privacy. I even gave her a quick run-down on how to use it effectively if someone came in during the night, but if that happened, I told her, I was only a scream away, then I'd take care of them.

I had never worked so honestly, including the years I was enlisted. Even though my muscles ached, especially my thigh, and my bones were relieved to catch a break at the end of the day, I felt good. I worked to help provide, not only for Charlie's family, but for Alice and me, or any other good-intentioned travelers that happened across this place during the winter. I helped someone without using a gun or knife.

I lay on the bed, staring at the deviating star shapes in un-uniformed rows which covered the ceiling. What were they formed with? And why? Why not a smooth ceiling? I'd never seen anything like it.

Squeaky stairs alerted me. I reached for the knife on my nightstand, and stood, waiting by the door. I'm not sure what I expected, but I received a knock.

I cracked the door to peer out.

It was her. Her features were lit by the bright light on the tray she carried.

I shoved my knife in the sheath on my belt, and opened the door further. "Come in."

I moved out of the way for her to enter. She watched me carefully as she stepped by. It was only then I realized it was too late to take the tray from her, the more gentleman thing to do rather than stand idle and make her do all the work like some servant that was here for me. I irredeemably lost the first impression round that was so critical these days. She probably thought I was a huge jerk.

My shoulder brushed the door, but it was more forceful that I realized. It closed completely. I didn't miss the way her body tensed at the sound as she placed the tray on top of the small chest of drawers, or the way she avoided eye contact with me as she glanced in my direction.

"Thank you," I said as she turned toward me, toward the door.

She didn't smile or nod, or show general regard for my thanks. She did think that I was a jerk.

She reached for the door knob, and I don't know why, but I stepped in front of it, blocking her exit. It was dumb of me to do. Her concern emerged then, but it wasn't my intention to frighten her. "I'm sorry," I said with a shake of my head. Her eyes remained wide, expectant. "I'm sorry for sneaking up on you in the woods. I thought you should know that. I never had any intention of hurting you."

She didn't say anything, so I continued in attempts to pry her voice from her throat. I needed to hear it, if only just a word! "It's just... Alice and I get worried when we see women traveling alone. It's rough out there, and after seeing all the blood on your dress, I had to find you to see that you were okay."

Her breaths were so quiet and still just like her expression, and I was left to wonder. I could only hope it was understanding that stared at me through her eyes, and when she moved to pass me I didn't continue to block her. I stepped to the side and, remembering a shred of old-world decency, opened the door, even though I didn't want her to leave.

"Have a good night, Bella."

She turned in the doorway, her eyes sparkling wildly from the flickering lantern she left behind. She was beautiful.

I watched the door close behind her, wishing she would come back in if only a little longer. I knew it was a false hope since I could hear her disappearing footsteps fade the further she walked from my door, the most noise I heard her make yet. I listened until there was nothing left except the lonely night buzzing out the window.

I moved the glowing lantern off the thick wooden tray and onto the small left-over space available on the chest. There was a black pile in addition to the water, basin and cloth; my clothes.

I picked them up, pleased at first then frowned. They were still slightly damp, which made me curious why she would take them down before they'd had time to dry. I brought the fabric to my nose, timid about how they would smell, but it surprised me when it didn't stink. In fact, it smelled quite good. Clean clothes had always been a favorite thing of mine, right up there with the clean socks.

But, wait...

My heart faltered. My lungs clenched. Heat flushed under my skin, and corroded my arms. My hands tremored as I lifted the newly-cleaned pants and jabbed a hand into every pocket, searching, hoping, for tiny balls of metal to brush my fingertips.

Empty.

All of them were fucking empty!

My eyes wide with realization, I exhaled as the material dissolved from my grasp.

"Oh, shit."

Watching the Wind - Fiona Joy Hawkins