The Breeders Part 4

Chapter Five.

Twilight slashes the western sky when I spot our house. In the dark, the dusty white farmhouse stands like a lone beacon. As the tires crunch onto our driveway, a kerosene lamp blazes to life in the upstairs. I kill the engine. Arn's already swinging out when I reach his door to collect him.

The screen door thwacks as my mama barrels out, her nightgown flowing behind her in the moonlight.

"Riley," she cries, her hands flying up to her mouth. Then her eyes land on my stepfather. "Oh G.o.d."

She runs through the yard barefoot. Gravel tears at her feet, but she doesn't bat an eye. She throws her arms around us, sobbing. She smells like home.

The door bangs again and Ethan stumbles out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinks, and then runs down the steps, smas.h.i.+ng into us, almost knocking everyone over.

"Dad!" Then he turns his oval face to me. "Riley, you brought him home. I knew you would."

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, but my hands are too full of my family to wipe them away.

Slowly we make our way toward the house, touching, hugging. Ethan asks a million questions which no one answers. Auntie's on the porch, clutching her shawl around her. She shakes her head at me as we pa.s.s. "Stubborn girl." She grips my arms and smiles.

My mama takes my spot under Arn and leads him to the stairs. When they get to the base of the steps, she turns and throws her arms around me again. "Thank you for bringing him home," she whispers and kisses my cheek. They limp up the stairs.

Ethan's cold fingers find mine. "Caught a rabbit while you were gone."

I lead him down the hall to our bedroom. "That's fantastic, little bud. Did you kill it?"

He drops his eyes. "I couldn't."

"What'd you do with him?" I drag my body down the dark hallway. So tired.

Ethan swings our arms back and forth lightly. "He's in a cage in the barn. I named him Superman."

I chuckle. "Superman, huh? Now we really can't eat him."

"I wanna keep him."

"We'll see."

I fall into bed with my clothes on. My last image is Ethan curling into his blanket, his dark hair falling over his sleepy eyes. Man, it's good to be home.

I wake to a sharp beam of sun dancing on my eyelids. I squint into the midday sun. Ethan usually has me up at the crack of dawn with his chatter. Either I slept through it, or he thought I needed the rest. Boy, is he right. My body aches like I've taken a bad fall down a rocky hill. The goose egg where my head hit the jail wall smarts when I probe it. My mouth tastes like a dirt road. Yet, the voices down the hall are laughing. All worth it.

I drag my body out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen. Arn sits at the table with a fresh bandage wrapped around his bare chest. His eye's still swollen shut and his jaw looks like someone put it on crooked, but his color has returned. He spoons weak broth into his mouth. His hand trembles when the spoon meets his lips, but he steadies it easily enough.

My mama strides around the kitchen, pounding fresh dough on the counter, chopping angled carrots. Her burned face is set in a calm contentment. Auntie knits in the chair opposite Arn. She's the first one to notice me leaning in the doorway.

"Up, I see," she says, her needles clicking. "Thought you'd sleep the day away."

"Hush, Bell. She needed her sleep." My mother floats over and hugs me. "Morning, angel. Hungry?"

I haven't eaten since the canned beans I scarfed on the road yesterday afternoon. My stomach growls. "Yeah. Is it lunch time?"

My mama drops dough b.a.l.l.s on a tray. "We're pulling out all the stops. I'm making Auntie's famous bread, we got fried rabbit, and I found an apple in the back of the pantry."

"Rabbit?" I look for Ethan. "We ain't eating Superman, are we?"

She shakes her head, but her smile wilts. "I promised Ethan we wouldn't hurt Superman, but he's pretty upset we can't take him. I told him he has a few days till the move, but he's out sulking in the barn. Maybe you could talk to him."

I don't understand. "What?"

"I said he's sulking in the barn. When you're done eating, could you talk to him?"

"Not that. The other part. The part about us moving."

She stops slicing carrots into little orange circles. "Riley, you didn't think we could stay here after what happened? We'll never be able to trade in town again. As soon as Arn's well, we're leaving."

I stare at my mama with my mouth open. This had not crossed my mind. Of course she's right. We can't trade in town, but moving means traipsing through dangerous territory. Last time, it was nearly impossible to find a house with a working well outside of town walls. We'll risk being attacked, running out of gas, or starving to death. No wonder Ethan's in the barn sulking.

Arn raises his eyes to mine. The bruising under his left eye is a yellow green. He goes back to spooning the soup into his mouth. Auntie says nothing, but the furious clicking of her knitting needles speaks for her.

My mama offers me a calming smile. "It'll be fine, darling, as long as we're together."

As long as we're together. It usually brings me comfort. Today it falls flat.

"I'm going in the barn," I say, heading for the back door.

"What about your lunch?" she calls.

"I lost my appet.i.te." It's a childish thing to say, but I can't help myself. I am jogging when I hit the back porch.

The barn's familiar animal scent greets me as I enter. Bounty moos deep in her throat. I detour towards her and stroke the soft fur along her nose.

"Hey, girl. Thanks for watching them while I was gone." She flips her ears back and forth, dislodging a few flies that buzz up and spiral around to her back. We won't be able to take Bounty. Arn will butcher her and the pigs before we leave. G.o.d, this day just gets worse. I turn away from her big brown eyes.

Ethan's squatting on the dirt floor next to the rabbit cage he's constructed out of old chicken wire. He's pa.s.sing bits of carrot through the bars. Superman is a scrawny brown hare with long ears and a little cotton ball tail. He's too skinny to make a good dinner, anyway. I sit in the hay next to Ethan, my arms around my knees. My brother slides another carrot top through the wire into Superman's awaiting teeth.

Finally, Ethan looks up at me. "Are you gonna kill him?" he whispers.

I reel back. "What? No! I'm not going to kill your pet."

Ethan shrugs. "Mom says I can't keep him when we move, so I thought maybe she sent you out to kill him."

I shake my head. "She promised. You and your pal got a couple more days. Then we'll send him back to his bunny family."

Ethan slips his fingers through the mesh cage and strokes Superman's soft sides. The jackrabbit is surprisingly calm at my brother's touch.

"He bite?" I ask.

Ethan shakes his head. "Not me. When I got him out of the snare, he was bucking a lot and scratched my arm, but I calmed him down."

I stick my fingers through the wire and stroke Superman's rump. He twitches a little at the initial touch, but doesn't jump away.

I lean into Ethan's skinny frame until our shoulders touch. "It'll be fine, you know. As long as we're together."

Ethan looks up at me through a dark lock of hair. "You sound like Mama."

"Well, it's true." I twirl a piece of hay around my finger. "As long as we're there, you'll be safe."

"It's not me I'm worried about," he whispers.

I mull this over. The worry I have every night for my family weighs so heavily on my chest I can't breathe. How big that must feel for a little boy? I put my hand on his boney shoulder. "You knew I was coming back, right? I wouldn't leave you."

Ethan looks at me, his round, dark eyes s.h.i.+ning in the dimness. "Promise?"

"Of course." My chest tightens at the thought of Ethan watching my dust cloud recede as I drove away. I ruffle his hair, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, who'd make fun of you for picking boogies and wiping them under the bed?"

"Shut up," he says without emotion. He smiles with his mouth, but not his eyes. So serious, my little brother.

I stand up. He gives Superman one more carrot and then stands, brus.h.i.+ng the hay off his pants.

"I wish there was a way to keep Superman," he says, sighing.

"Maybe you can fold him in your suitcase like this." I scoop him up and turn him upside down, so his knees are at my face and his head dangles toward the ground. When he giggles, his belly shakes beneath my arms. He nearly kicks me in the face as he struggles to right himself. In a month, he'll be too big for me to do this any more.

When he starts tickling my ribs, I nearly drop him on his head. Instead I roll him into a pile of hay near Bounty's stall. When we walk out, he slips his hand into mine.

"Maybe you can talk to Dad for me. You saved his life. He owes you."

I tug a piece of hay out of his hair. "Nah," I say, shaking my head. "After all the c.r.a.p I've put Arn through, I bet he figures we're 'bout even."

I dream I'm back in town searching for Arn. I run up the dusty street, but my legs droop like useless sandbags. In the dirt, I claw through the scrub on my belly. My heart pounds up into my throat. Someone's after me.

I feel eyes on me, sending s.h.i.+vers up my arms. The deserted street is empty. The hot sand burns my hands as I dig forward. I have to get away. I have to find Arn.

A hand circles my leg. I scream and claw through the sand, but the hand snags my pants and drags me backward. I wheel around, unable to breathe.

Greased, black hair, watery green eyes the color of bile and a mouth full of jagged, white fangs. The Warden has found me. I gasp and struggle, but his fingers are tentacles circling around my legs, dragging me to his mouth, which unhinges like a copperhead's. He will swallow me whole. Every part of me screams. My fingers claw through the dirt, but it's no use. His fingers scratch up my legs and cut into the soft flesh of my stomach. He drags me towards rows and rows of sharp, white fangs.

"Help!" I scream to the empty hills. I turn back, but my attacker is no longer the Warden. It's Clay. "Help me!" I plead.

I lock onto Clay's blue eyes. I watch in horror as a sulfur green seeps into his blue irises. Clay opens his mouth and reveals rows of dripping fangs.

I wake up screaming.

My room is dark. My heart pistons out of control. I place my hand to it and try to breathe. Across the room Ethan lies under a mound of tattered blankets. There's my boots where I left them beside my bed. On the nightstand, Ethan's comic book flaps in the breeze from the window. I lie back in bed and try to relax.

My brain begins to separate nightmare from reality, but my skin still crawls with sweat. I stare up at the vein-like cracks in the plaster ceiling. I'm fine, I tell myself. I clutch the sheet around me. I don't feel fine.

A puff of night air traces my sweat-drenched skin, sending s.h.i.+vers up my arms. My comforter lies in a wad on the floor. I stand up and cross our window to get it. Outside there's a delicate crunch of gravel.

What was that? I hear it again. Footsteps on the gravel outside. My pulse skyrockets. I take a step toward the open window and peer into the darkness.

Sheer, ratty curtains hang limp over the opening to discourage bugs; through them I scan the moonlit yard. The dead apple trees are dark gnarly slashes in the distance. The outhouse is the rectangular shadow to the right. I clutch my arms around myself and s.h.i.+ver. If the coyotes are prowling this close, we're going to have a big problem. I reach around for my hunting knife on the nightstand. When I'm turning back to the window, I see the moving shadow.

It's a lean, dark figure slinking from the outhouse to the barn. It's too tall for a coyote. Only one thing can make a shadow like that and he walks on two legs.

The fear in my dream is nothing compared to my fear now.

"Riley." A voice behind. A rough hand that slides over my mouth. I jab an elbow backward. My attacker oomphs and the hand falls away. I turn and raise my knife.

Arn's hunched over, his hands wrapped around the bandages that circle his middle. I've elbowed him in his broken ribs. I start to apologize, but he snaps his fingers to silence me.

"Get your brother and get in the cellar. Don't come out no matter what you hear."

The gun in his hand paralyzes me.

"What's going on?" Ethan asks groggily from his bed. He's propped up on an elbow looking at us.

Arn doesn't answer. He strides to Ethan's bed, leans down and hugs him. If Arn is hugging, this is serious. I can't think with the terror screaming through my head.

"Take him now, Riley." Arn slips out of the room and down the hall.

"What's happening?" Ethan sits up, alarmed. His eyes trail his father.

"Get dressed," I say, grabbing my own boots and coveralls.

There's a low whistling sound, then a crash as our front window shatters. Something explodes, rumbling the floorboards beneath us.

"What was that?!" Ethan presses his palms to his ears.

I s.n.a.t.c.h Ethan. He's weightless as I tear out of our room. I shoot a glance toward the front room. The window lies in jagged pieces on the floor. Arn's got the kitchen table flipped over and hunches behind it with a rifle to his chest. My mama crouches at his feet, slipping rounds into another rifle with trembling fingers. Auntie sits with her back to the table, the revolver clutched to her breast.

I can't think. I can't breathe. I just run. I'll drop Ethan off and come back for them. It don't matter what Arn said. They need me.

I hit the porch, barely feeling the boards under my feet. When I jump into the yard, headlights blaze from our driveway. Half-dozen men are cl.u.s.tered behind three trucks. They're armed. They're going to kill us all.

I skid to a stop at the storm cellar. Ethan's crying when I set him down to pull open the doors.

"Riley," he sobs. "What's happening? Where's Mama?" Snot runs in strings from his nose.

There's no time to comfort him. I point to the hole. "Get in."

He shakes his head, tears flinging off in every direction. "Not without you."