Chapter 14
WEDNESDAY
It was nine p.m. and Daryl felt like hell. After putting in a twelve-hour shift, the cops had called him down to ID suspects, make another statement and answer question after question. All he wanted was to shower and head over to May's house, to curl up with his girl on the couch and watch TV. He fiddled with his keys, and realized a moment too late that they hadn't moved the tumbler on the lock. As the door popped open, he heard the click of a hammer being pulled back on a pistol.
"Well hello Daryl. Have a good day at work?" The tone was light and mocking, and terrifyingly familiar.
"What the fuck you want Lloyd?"
"Flesh..." He pulled out each letter with a whisper, causing Daryl's skin to crawl. Before Lloyd could utter another word, Daryl threw himself backward out the doorway, hearing a shot ring out from the dark inside. Quickly, he rolled underneath the wooden stairs, waiting for the other man to follow.
"Here I come little pig! I'm gunna get cha! I'm gunna get cha!" As soon as his foot fall hit the second step, Daryl grabbed his ankle, causing him to hit the ground heavy. Filling with adrenaline, Daryl pounced on the other man like a hawk. He banged Lloyd's head into a sharp rock, while struggling to keep the gun pointed away. Here, in the moonlight, he could see Lloyd more clearly; unshaven, reddened eyes, spitting with rage, and the blood pouring from his head only intensifying the look of madness painted all over him. He would not go down without a fight. They struggled mightily, one over the other, then back again; until Daryl finally got him into a choke hold, causing him to pass out. The whole interaction took only minutes, but felt like hours. He took no time in getting the man bound and calling the police.
But standing there in the dark, he felt the twinge. That instinct, from years of being out in the wild, that something, very close to him, was not right. He couldn't put his finger on it, but then again, he was almost to the point of total exhaustion. 'What is it? What the fuck am I missing?' Suddenly he felt it- like a big bell in his chest- May. There had to be something wrong on the farm. He ran through the woods, unstoppable by the dark and the twisting branches. When the house came into sight he paused. It seemed fine. The lights were on downstairs, off upstairs, and there were no strange vehicles parked around. The woods sung with crickets and owls, and the sky was clear. But still, in the tranquility of the evening, something was wrong. He approached the front door and knocked. May answered quickly, cracking the door open just far enough to poke her face out.
"Hay! You're home late, the cops sure took their time with you huh?" She sounded fine. There were no strange noises in the house. But there was something off, something wrong.
"You guys ok? I just..."
"Of course we are! Jesus you are a mess! Why don't you head back to your place and clean up, then come back here, ok?"
He looked down at himself, covered in motor oil, dirt and blood. "Yeah, yeah. I'll, uh, yeah. Be right back." He turned to walk away when she called out to him.
"Just a reminder, bring back that book I lent you- the one on Albaqueerie, alright?"
He looked back and nodded at her. "Sure thing. Don't worry alright?"
"I never do!" And with that, she closed the door, never dropping her eye contact. He knew it then, that she wasn't alone. It was her safe word that she had used, confirming what his gut instinct had already told him. He didn't know what he would find inside; how many men, what weapons they had, what they had already done to his girl... He pushed his fears down deep, focusing on the task at hand. The cops were still a good twenty to thirty minutes out, and he'd be damned if he was leaving her alone in there another second. He went around back, looking through the lower panel of the screen door. There he could see Bleeker, sitting down at the kitchen table, holding May on his lap, arm around her waist. Their voices were soft from so far away, but he could still make them out.
"That was a real good show you put on there honey. You listened real good. Now as soon as my associate gets Daryl under control, then he'll get him back here and we have a little party. You and me and Lloyd can have some fun and Daryl gets to watch."
"Then what?" She snarled through clenched teeth. "You kill us both?"
"No, no, no. You get to live. You got you're self-someone who's sweet on you, or else I'd keep you myself." He slowly stroked her back and smelled her hair. She struggled to push him off, but he grabbed a fist full of her hair, yanking her head back. "Don't you fucking pull away from me you arrogant bitch. You may have hidden those kids of yours somewhere, but you better believe I'll find em'. Just remember, I'm only under obligation to keep you alive- not your brats."
So the kids were safe, somewhere, for now. He started back around the house, planning his next move, when he heard a little voice coming from the woods. "Pssst! Daryl! Over here!" He recognized the voice as Alfie's, and followed it to the dense shrubs near the back of the house.
"Daryl! You should have seen it!" It was Hap, overly excited as always. Alfie quickly covered the younger boy's mouth with his hand and addressed Daryl.
"Is it safe yet?"
"Naw, yur moms in there with a real bad guy. Ya need to tell me what happened."
"He came to the front door first, then tried the back. I think that's where he busted in. Mama snuck us out the bathroom window and told us to hide in the woods. She said not to come out unless it was for you, or her, or we saw police lights."
"That's good. I want you boys ta stay here till we get this thing sorted out, alright?" The boy nodded, his face sober. Daryl felt an ache, deep from the recesses of his mind, of sorrow; that they would have this trauma so young. He grabbed them, suddenly, into a hug. It lasted only a moment, then he let them go just as quickly, heading back to the rear porch.
Gingerly he reached for the screen door. It squeaked when opened, so he used his pocket knife to gently slice through the screening at the bottom, crawling through. Every loose wooden plank, rusty nail, and abandoned toy was an opportunity for an unwelcome sound. He took every movement with an aching precision, born of decades of walking through a landmine of broken glass in his childhood home and the agility of a seasoned hunter. It also helped that he knew the house through and through. As he used the outdoor fridge for cover, he inspected the back door. Sure enough, the latch hung loosely, a boot print on the frame where he would have kicked it in. He took a quick look inside to survey if anything had changed. The two of them still sat at the dining table, backs to the kitchen. Gingerly, he pulled the door open, pocket knife in hand. Bleeker didn't have any visible weapons, but his hand was still on May's waist.
He approached them, silently, the fluidity of his motion belaying none of aches that wracked his body. When he got with in arms reach, he shoved her hard, sending her a good two feet away. "Run! Now!" She looked shocked, but took no time in scrambling up and fleeing for the front door. Daryl watched her move a beat too long, missing the sight of Bleeker's fist heading straight for his mid-section. He dropped like a sack of bricks, all the breath knocked out of him.
"You stupid fucking redneck! Now look what you've done!" Bleeker was seething as he watched her head out the door. He trotted after her, Daryl watching helplessly. Slowly he pulled himself off the floor, across the room, and out the front door. Bleeker was chasing May across the large field to the side of the house, the very one he had struggled to clear of blackberry bushes.
"Bleeker!" He shouted across the yard, giving May a chance to get further away. But she didn't. She ran straight at him, and as his head was turned toward Daryl, her leg swung up, getting a sold kick to his genitals. He fell to his knees, but was still able to grab her ankle as she started back towards the house, causing her to also fall.
"I am going to gut you like a deer you stupid cunt!" Bleeker started to pull up his pants leg, and May started fighting even harder to pull away.
"Leave her alone!" Daryl was arching towards them, deathly afraid, and pretty convinced, that there must be a gun or knife in Bleeker's boot. He threw himself at the man, breaking Bleeker's grip on her ankle. Savagely they wrestled; punching, gouging, snarling. But Daryl was the one who was far more tired, and Bleeker straddled him in moments. His fingers wrapped around Daryl's throat and spots started to form in his vision.
He got down close into Daryl's face, and he could smell the chew on his breath. "I'm gunna' choke you out. Then, when you're tied up, my associate and myself are going to take turns fucking your girl. And when we're done, we're going to cut you into pieces until your'e dead and sell and her kids for a whole fuck load of cash. And there ain't nothing you can do about it asshole." His head was spinning and the nausea was getting worse; he was going out. Vaguely, he saw a look of surprise pass on Bleeker's face, before the other man's head snapped back by the hair. There was May, holding a sharp looking knife. Quick as a flash, she brought it up and through Bleeker's throat, severing the artery, causing a massive spray of blood. Instantly he let go of Daryl and reached for his ruined throat. Daryl choked and gasped, the air filling him again.
She stood over the gagging biker, the boot knife poised above him, slick with his own blood. "Carotid artery motherfucker." Somehow, through the pain of his own death he managed a growl at her, flipping her the bird. She spit in his face. "I'll see you in hell you son of a bitch. An I'll fuck you up there too." He finally stilled and she walked away, tossing the knife to the side.
Daryl stood, slowly, wobbling like a new born calf. She supported him, both of them shuffling back towards the house. They sat on the steps, and he hunched over his knees, still light headed. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah. Just need a minute." His voice was rough and soft, but she believed him.
"I'm gunna call the cops and then get the kids, alright?" She ran her hand up and down his back, and leaned her forehead on his shoulder. He nodded, and she let him go, heading inside.
The rest of the night was a mess of police, paramedics, and even a few neighbors who were unused to so much activity up their mountain. The paramedics tried to take Daryl in, but after he almost threw a punch at one of them they let it slide. The whole family were questioned, poked, prodded, and finally left alone around midnight. The boys didn't fall asleep easily, so when they did, Daryl and May stood silently across from one another in the hall, just breathing and trying not to fall over.
"You're not going to work tomorrow are you?" She whispered to him, after a long minute of silence.
"Naw. Already called my boss while the cops were there so's they could back up my story." He shifted on his feet and she watched him wince and grip his side where he got punched.
"Me either. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She held out her hand, and he took it, heading towards the bedroom. She pulled him into the bathroom, angling him to sit on the toilet. He rested his back against the tank as she unlaced his boots and pulled them off with his socks. He stank something awful, but she didn't show it on her face, just threw the nasty boots off to the side and stood to unzip his coveralls. They were stiff with blood and she had to work the zipper up and down several times to get it all the way down.
She stood back to look at him. His eyes were closed, hair loose and greasy around his face. Large bruises were forming around his neck, and she knew there would be more around his torso. Every inch of him was caked with filth.
"Daryl? Are you awake?" He made a little grumbling noise from deep in his ruptured throat. "I'm going to turn on the shower, can you strip for me?" He smiled, and she let out a little chuckle.
By the time the water warmed up he was naked, leaning against the wall like he was sleeping. "Can't I just sleep? Most of the dirty stuff was on my clothes ya know."
"Oh no ya don't mister. Not unless you wanna sleep buck naked on the porch you don't."
"Will you come in with me?" He was peeking up at her from his down turned eyes.
"Yeah baby, of course." He climbed in as she undressed, and made a deep moan when the water hit his body. She stepped in behind him, picked up the soap and started washing his back. Suddenly he whipped around, grabbing the soap and throwing it the floor.
"What the...?" Then she said no more, as his arms wrapped around her, crushing her to his broken chest. Her hands slipped up his narrow hips as far as she could reach, and they stood there for several minutes, holding each other. After a while he made a noise, which sounded suspiciously like a small sob, before shaking his head and taking a deep breath. His hands moved up to her face, gripping her jaw line to look up at him.
"Now you need ta' tell me, an ya' need ta' be truthful- did he hurt you?"
"No baby, I'm fine. Other then get a little grabby, he didn't do anything to me. I'm fine." He squinted at her, but let his grip soften and drop to her arms. "Can we wash now? Then go to bed?" He nodded, giving her the slightest peck on the lips. She reached down and grabbed the soap as he turned around to reach for his shampoo. She lathered his shoulders and back as he washed and rinsed his hair. Her fingers kneaded into the tight, abused muscles, but only feathered over the purpling bruises and scrapes. When he turned to rinse, she worked his chest and arms as he let the water run through his hair.
"God damn it woman, the things you do with your hands."
She let out a soft laugh. "You want me to stop?"
"Oh fuck no. But I don't think I can stand up for much longer."
She handed him the bar of soap and reached for her shampoo. "Why don't you finish up while I wash my hair, then go lay down; OK?" He gave her his shaky nod and let her stand under the water long enough to get her hair wet. It took him less than a minute to finish showering, and then left her alone.
When she got out, he was asleep on top of the covers; hair tousled, body still mostly wet, towel half covering his lap, and covered in bruises and scratches. She pulled on some panties and a nightgown before climbing under the covers on the other side of the bed. Daryl, finally roused again, tossed the wet towel across the room and pulled the blanket up over himself. He settled down on his side and reached out for her, pulling her roughly into his chest.
"Ain't nobody gunna fuckin' touch you like that again. You hear me?" He still sounded angry, but she understood the fear beneath it.
"No, nobody's gunna take me from you. I'm yours baby, nobody else's."
"That's right. Mine." His lips were pressed against the top of her head and she could feel him chewing on them.
"You took so many risks with your own hide tonight, and you saved me. So thank you honey."
"I didn't do all that much, yur' the one who killed the dude."
He felt her fingers dig into his sides and a shiver run through her. "I don't want to talk about that right now. Maybe ever."
He dug his grip into her hair. "It'll never happen again. I mean it." She wasn't sure if he meant the violence or the topic, but she was too tired to care. They both quickly fell asleep, their grasp on one another unbroken.