Light of Innocence

Chapter 4: The Good and The Bad

Teddy Roosevelt is slicked with sweat. A bit of spit and foam resides around his moistened lips. I look at Elenore, Ada's horse with a coat the color of fresh butter cream. Elenore seems to be in the similar state as Teddy, moistened lips, sweat shinned coat. Luckily there has been no shortage of greenery for them to graze, but these long-haul days of riding have made them fatigue worse than ever. Up until now their rides haven't lasted more than three days. We are pushing them to their limits. I give a gentle pat on Teddy's side, hoping to soothe him for a couple more miles.
As instructed by Mama we have avoided all paved roads, yet, our curiosity has become insatiable. We have camped for the past seven days; our stock of food is running low and so is our will. The past week all we have encountered are the red squirrels that skitter around the trunks. We will need to develop a plan, our game of running to the Market is turning into a dead end. Horses tiring, food reserves shortening, and distractions are thinning. Soon, Ada and I will be forced to face our circumstances. We are now alone.
Off in the distance Ada spots a ghostly chipped road sign. "Eat, I think it says. A good sign, literally," she laughs with a forced thin grin. Over the past seven days we have barely said twenty words to each other. Each sentence we start has the weight of our parents hanging over it. Each time we begin we just taper off and grow silent, afraid that speaking of them will create greater pain than we already have. I pretend I don't hear Ada crying at night. I tell myself that once we reach somewhere safe, I will let myself process. I even think they may have survived, and we are just taking a trip to the Market, collecting supplies. But denial can only do so much.
"Well if we are quick," I start.
"Oh, we will be, in and out. Just enough to gather some cans. We will tie Teddy and Elenore up on the outskirts and be quick. I promise." Ada is so desperate; I try and convince myself that she is right. However, the knot in my stomach keeps me from relaxing fully. Mama strictly said avoid the paved roads. And here we are, strolling on the black roads. Slick ebony fully drenched with an evil doing. I swallow hard and keep my rifle tight to me. Meanwhile, Ada begins to ease her worries off, like a heavy winter coat. She whistles loudly along the road. I hiss at her, already feeling too exposed for my liking. She just winks and continues.
The soft clops of Teddy and Elenore are cheerful rhythms, so innocent and predictable, easing my stomach into a calmed placid lake. Birds are chirping with charming tunes. Ada matches them as she ends her whistling with a warm smile. I try to bury the silent yells of my objections, letting a small smile surface too. I hope Ada doesn't notice its stiffness. Ada is too good, too clean to batter this darker unfolding world. I will let her live. Let her live in this pocket of bliss. If she can for a few minutes forget our parents' demise then who am I to stop her?
The trees thin and then part completely. Like a strange gateway to a new stage, we are welcomed by rusty cars, dented trucks and rampant weeds filling the cracks of the broken street. Large houses tower over us, seeming to watch with widowed eyes. They are almost as high as the evergreens that surrounded our farm. They are buildings, shops, apartments, and warehouses. My books educated me when my parents grew tired of my fervent questions. Any word I did not know my dictionary became my teacher and friend, and then the thesaurus followed soon after. Each store had a purpose, and each title that hung above the battered store fronts described its purpose for the town. Flower shops, boutique, pharmacy, mail, etc.
Eleanor and Teddy's trots clack the road louder now, echoing against the cavern of buildings in an uneasy replication. Windows are broken, glass litters the streets, sparkling in the early sunrise glow. Nature's hand reclaims the rock and stone shops, ivy arms reach over their stone foundations and painted walls. The maps all say this is a Market that my parents have frequented, but the magic that I built around this place has been sucked from my mind. This is an ominous dwelling like the sun-bleached bones of forgotten prey.
Time has frozen here, doors ajar, personal possessions discarded like trash, and rusted Welcome signs that creek with the wind. An eerie rush seems to filter through each tall house in a grey. It is a cold creep, raising hairs on my neck. I try to shake it away, but it seems to have embedded itself in my bones. Apart from the constant clacks of the cold horseshoes, there are idle clanks of empty tin cans or the deserted wails of a wind through shattered windows.
We continue, unsure of where to stop. Each store seems to be gutted, emptied violently in a rush. The horses trot on, we are tired, sleeping hasn't aided our shadowed eyes. There will be no rest that can soothe us. I peer at each building, weary and soulless, mirroring ourselves. Stripped of all that we had contained and all that we were. We remain empty solemn structures, purely existing with wind passing through us.
I see one splayed in a discarded heap. I look on, its letters too soiled to bring a new message to me. I see another wedged along a tire and curb. The spine bent and bulged. Then there are many, they litter the road like leaves along a forest floor. Books. Hundreds of books, colors and titles of too many to note. My voice hitches as I leap off Teddy. They cover the floor like a carpet, leading to a main building. LIBRARY it reads in stone letters.
The building seems to be carved out of grey speckled stone, thick wooden doors are ajar, beckoning me in. I feel Ada's eyes, reading my response to the new building that lies to our right. I give her a guilty smile. "I know we are supposed to look for food, but can I...just look? You know for a second." My voice is high, too desperate for my liking. I am supposed to be the elder sister, unwavering in the mission.
Ada smiles at me, recognizing me for the first time in a week. I see blood trickle back to her face in a way that brightens her closer to life again. "But of course, who am I to separate you from your true love," Ada gives me a wink. For a moment I remember we are in this together. And all the pain and denial we have faced in the past week can heal, as long as we have each other. I give her a tender smile, turning away to hide my threatening tears.
"Keep your gun close and check for food," I keep my voice stern, hoping it will keep her on alert. I must keep my older sister duties after all. Ada just rolls her eyes and holds her gun up. I give her a final smile and lead Teddy to a metal statue on the sidewalk. It seems like a perfect place to tie him up.
As I walk in, my nostrils fill with a heavy mold odor. My heart sinks a bit, knowing this will be the death of all the paged enchantment that I have been denied. I wipe this thought away, urging myself to hope again. I step further letting my rifle kick against my fatigued thighs. The leather strap that Dad made is at a perfect length to grab in case a wild animal crosses path.
          I feel my heart pang. It is as if someone has strummed a fleshy cord connecting my heart to my gut. It riddles within me, as I think of them. Mama's white hair that she kept tight and cleanly swept back. Dad's rough leathery hands, tanned and rugged from the elements. I bite my lip in order to deter the pain away. I need to control it.
Peter Pan by J.M. Barry is discarded on a table. Dust has collected over the cover, powdering it with a thick layer. I hungerly delve into it flipping through the pages. It is in moderate condition, water damage, but no obvious mold forms. However, I have already read this over a dozen times I need something new. New would be good. New would be distracting. I painfully lay it down.
A wooden bleached sign hangs above me in rusted chains it reads FICTION, I can almost feel my mouth salivate as I make my way over. I need to hurry up, I cannot leave Ada alone too long. I am being too selfish already. I let my finger skim over each title I try and think of names my parents told me about. I want something amazing, however, anything new will be amazing.
In the aisle of books, it smells like mold again, and my heart hurts. These books, beautiful books, suffering by being forgotten. Such a shame. I read something interesting, unusual something Alice might like. Lord of the Flies such a silly name, I think. How can someone be lord of flies? It is a hardcover which is good because it is harder to ruin, but harder to pack. I clutch it to my chest, letting my attachment set in a little. You could be my new favorite; I think with a soft smile.
"Good news and bad news sweetheart." I know it is a male's voice, it is husky and low like my Dad's. I am so startled by it I don't know where it is coming from. I whip my head in the wrong direction, nothing but more thick spine books meet me. Then I whip my head again, I am met by a thick black hood, it isn't dark in the library yet all I see of this hooded figure is a crooked white smile and frightening green eyes. I am speechless, mumbling what I think is a faint, What? But don't quite get it out in time. I feel my fingers fumbling over my new book and heavy my gun. It is awkward and a weakness that I show to the perpetrator.
He clucks his tongue and his voice returns, "I wouldn't do that," he taunts. I imagine he was some of the ugly monsters who killed my parents and the stinging bile threatens again. I clamp my gun and begin to point it.
       "Now didn't I just say, I wouldn't do that?" He says again a little more menace dripping on his voice. He pats his own chunk of cold metal that he holds beaded at me. The black barrel like a deep empty eye, charming me to hold my stare, "Now, before I get sidetracked again. Good news, you get to keep the book. Bad news, we get your packs and your horses." He levels me with piercing green eyes and the same crooked grin, resting up in the right hand corner.
Hearing this the air leaves me at once. Like my chest has been smashed shut. He knows about Ada! My eyes grow wide with fear, eyeing the exit. It's my fault. My stupid yearning for a distraction, endangering my sister with this irresponsible whim. I was a fool if I thought I could keep Ada safe, and survive without my parents.
I bow my head, letting tears trickle down my cheeks. I let the shame in. I'm too pathetic to care what anyone should think. I steady myself and lift my head slowly. I am met with his electric green eyes. He studies me and then I see a flicker in his slit eyes. Is it guilt? I quickly patch a plan. It is rushed and is on pure reflex. So many things could go wrong. Try to be brave. I slowly raise my arms, displaying my surrender. I lift my father's strap from my neck. I hope it isn't too heavy for me to pull this off.
My heart is thwarting in my chest. I'm surprised he doesn't hear it. I begin to hand over my Dad's gun, I let my hands shake, I need to look scared. I need to look vulnerable. The hooded man steps forward with a triumphant snaky grin. Once he is in reach, I whip the soft leather strap around me, swinging it in a half circle. I see his face morph into surprise. I hear the full crack of the stock contacting his jaw. He trips back and I dive into the book aisles, clumsily I slid over the pages that cover the floor. I hear him curse and growl but I am to the main doors in time.
Gun at the ready, preparing to aim it to whoever is the greatest threat to my sister. Adrenaline thrums in my ears. I am no longer shaking. I will correct my mistake. I will save us. I'm hoping that I still have surprise on my side as I burst through the doors.
But my luck has been short lived. Ada is off of Eleanor, unarmed, bent to her knees, and encircled by a swarm of dark masked strangers. Her eyes find mine first, and then several pairs of eyes find me, raising their weapons. But I only shutter as a gun raises to Ada's soft willowy curls. I've failed again. I don't dwell on this long. As I begin to lower my gun, letting it slip through my defeated fingers. A sharp thud hits my head, darkening the frightful scene in an instant.