Chapter Eighteen
Everyone thinks I'm psychotic, except for my friends deep inside the earth.
Unknown
~~~~~~~~~~
It was dark when Petra finally cried herself to sleep. It had really been some birthday. Personally, I couldn’t tell if she had cried so hard because of Matt’s death or because it was death of the last tangible link to a life neither of us wanted to return to.
Our fathers had known each other for years, his being a lawyer while ours was a cop, but it wasn’t until our mothers had met in neo-natal class that a friendship had grown. Though born on different days, Matt was only forty-five minutes older than me; a fact he never forgot to gloat over.
I had yet to shed a tear for my dear lost friend. I hadn’t yet processed the information; couldn’t understand what it would mean for him to be dead.
To be no more...
I knew it was coming. Anyone who went to visit him on any regular basis could see the cancer slowly eating away at him - turning his once full, suntanned cheeks to sunken-yellowed bowls. It also had slowly zapping the mischievous spark that danced in his deep brown eyes when I suggested something stupid; like sticking a flat head in the engine block of our English teacher’s new car.
He was gone...
He was gone and I didn’t know how that made me feel. Six years ago I had packed away all my emotions and locked them in a deep dark vault and swearing never to open it again. The pain and betrayal, the hurt and self-loathing, all packed away in a tight, pulsating little ball where it could no longer cripple me with fear.
Due to this emotional numbness, I was unequipped to deal with Matt’s death. It was business as usual and would continue as such until I could make sense of things. And business? Well, that was gutting a mouthy dog.
Checking Petra one last time, I slipped out of the tent gate and locked it behind me.
“Hey, let us in,” Sookie’s voice whined from behind me.
“What?” I demanded, spinning around to face her.
Dino left the light of the barrel fire and pulled at his sister’s arm, his face full of apologetic embarrassment.
Shaking off her brother, she crossed her arms and planted her feet. “Let us in. We need a place to sleep.”
I laughed, the audacity of this chick could almost be considered amusing if she wasn’t as annoying as all hell.
Covering my mouth, I tapped my cheek with one finger as I studied her. “Let me ask you a question Sookie: Can a toddler give birth?”
The firelight deepened the groves of her frown as she asked, “What?”
“You’re what, seventeen?” I asked.
“Nineteen. Again, why?”
“Really? Well, then you really shouldn’t frown like that.” Leaning forward, I staged whispered, “Winkles,” while waving a finger up and down indicating my forehead, “Anyhoo, let’s revise the question. Can a fetus give birth?”
“No. What kind of stupid question’s that?”
Absently, I scanned the camp, looking for my original quarry. My eyes dropped back to the annoyance in front of me. “A relevant one as I’ve just recently turned eighteen and you, as you just pointed out, are nineteen. Thus proving once and for all that I’m not your mother.”
“What has that got to do with anything?” she demanded as she stupidly made a grab for my arm. The sudden hush of the camp alerted me to the audience.
“I am not your mother so I am not here to hold your hand or wipe your ass. Now piss off!”
Her mouth dropped open and I made my exit.
A baby cried and the night once again came to life. It was still early, maybe seven o’clock, but the sun had gone down long ago and the night was getting cold. I felt someone small slam against my back then drop away.
“Sorry, Annie I didn’t mean to.” Delilah scrambled to her feet and dusted herself off. “I was playing tag with Roger and wasn’t looking where I was going.”
The dirty youth, her scraggly short hair hidden under a battered baseball cap with smudged cheeks and calculating eyes, was the polar opposite of the beautiful cherub who first arrived in camp a year ago. Bright emerald green eyes framed by jet-black corkscrew ringlets that formed naturally and hung to the center of her back; flawless tan skin with fresh pink cheeks that dimpled when she smiled; the girl had been a pedophiles wet dream.
Naturally, that was the first thing I told her over protective father. Once I regained consciousness, Samson had sworn vengeance on anyone ever stupid enough to touch his darling daughter. In the end however, he had listened to reason and the transformation from porcelain doll to ragamuffin street urchin had taken place.
That was how Samson and Delilah got their names. The only time I had ever seen that man cry was as he hacked off the raven locks of his daughter’s hair. Every time a ringlet would fall from his fingers, he swore never to cut his own hair until he could earn enough to provide a safe and stable home for her.
“Give it back you little street rat,” I yelled as I grabbed her arm and shook her vigorously.
Her bottom lip was quivering and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t know what your talking about.” I shock her again and the tears brimmed over. “I didn’t take anything. You’re hurting me. Please let me go.”
“You didn’t take anything, did you?” Yanking her forward, I began to dig in her deep pockets until I pulled out an orange, a five dollar note and a misshapen glove. “What do you call this then?”
The volume of her sobs skyrocketed as she stopped trying to pull herself out of my grasp and sunk to the ground instead. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m just so hungry; it’s been days since I’ve eaten. I won’t do it again, I promise. Just please let me go.”
She continued to sob, sagging deeper and deeper towards the ground until I had to change my grasp or fall. The minute my hold loosened, she was off like a shot, ducking around the milling crowd and disappearing around the first corner.
Half a minute later, laughter greeted me from behind different tent. “How’d I do?”
“Great,” I congratulated, holding out my hand. “You have improved a lot, and I barely felt the lift. Nice waterworks by the way. I never could cry on cue like that.”
She smiled widely as she passed back my stuff. “I had a great teacher.”
“Maybe, but you still missed this,” I said, flashing another note before hiding it again.
“And you didn’t find this,” she crowed happily, pulling my lighter from her shoe.
Tapping the lighter against my palm I had to give her props. “Good job. Your have done well young frog spawn.”
She laughed again and jogged back to her tent. Samson nodded at me as he pulled open the door.
“Delilah!” I yelled, throwing the orange to her. “A graduation present.”
The new arrives were wondering around still looking a bit lost. Individuals would go from one fire to another, looking for warmth and comfort. Some had pitched their tents and stood guard against the established residents in fear of attack; many of the older residents were doing the same thing. It would take days for everyone to get used to each other again. Till then, it was just like one big game of Mexican standoff.
I spotted the mouthy dog warming his hands around a fire with a few of the younger residents. Storming over, I grabbed him by the ear and pulled him away. The chorus of woohoo echoing through the night cut off with a slash of Pie Man’s hand.
“Annie?” his deep voice questioned.
“It’s nothing Pie; just educating a dog,” I called over my shoulder.
Simon nodded and went back to his conversation.
Jacobs babbled something about letting him go and him following, or some nonsense but I was too pissed to listen. We had almost made it to the camp line when a dark figure blocked my path.
“Move Miner!” I hissed.
“Let him go Thief,” The man countered.
Four days ago, this Miner who now stood before me had come to Dicksonville, claiming to be a friend of Jacobs’ and wanted to stay. This news was met with a mixed response. I, and others like me, wanted him gone. Miners couldn’t be trusted; they would sell anyone and anything to get their next fix. And who was to say that their next fix wouldn’t go bad and turn them into a boomer, destroying God knows how many lives before they could be put down? As far as I was concerned, they brought a new troubled element to and already dangerous existence.
Jacob had seen it differently, claiming this miner was in fact cured of his addiction, something almost unheard of, and a danger to no one. The fifth rule, no discrimination, was even brought into the argument. In the end, it came down to Abraham. He acknowledged the possible threat, but reluctantly asked this of the crowd: if we started discriminating against this miner, where would it stop?
Over the mutters of witnesses, he was granted permission to stay.
It was the wrong decision in my opinion. He should have been kicked out the moment he stepped foot in camp. But just because he was allowed to stay didn’t mean I had to like it, or him.
Between gritted teeth I seethed, “Miner, move before I shove those glasses where the sun don’t shine.”
His eyebrow arched above his lenses. Dressed in his usual black jeans and black hooded jacket, he was almost swallowed by the night. His eyes however, stained an eerie yellow from his tinted lenses, shone like beacons.
“Release him Thief or I’ll do the same to you.”
Letting go of Jacobs, I crossed my arms and stood toe to toe with the creep. He stood his ground, mirroring my stance and waited. Who knew who would have broken down first, I like to think it would have been him, but Jacobs came up and pushed the miner away.
“Leave her be Carsten. She didn’t mean any harm.”
I snorted while the miner argued, “Yes she did! I don’t know why you let her treat you this way.”
“It is not for you to criticize.” Jacobs gripped the Miner’s shoulder looking deep in his eyes. “She treats me as she does any other.”
“And this is her excuse? Why must you continue with this creature?” he asked, exasperated.
“That is not your concern.”
Mildly offended, I went to lean against a tree trunk.
“She doesn’t want your help. She doesn’t deserve your help, so why bother-”
“If you ladies are finished, I believe I was here first,” I called, I cutting off the Miner’s words.
“We will talk about this later Carsten,” Jacobs announced, postponing the argument.
“But-”
“The lady is right- she was here first. I will be alright.” Turning, he joined me under the shadowy branches. “You wanted m-”
My fist connecting with his windpipe cut off his question. The miner dashed over, looking ready for battle, but again, Jacobs held up his hand.
“Leave us Carsten,” he croaked.
“What, I’m supposed to just leave so she can continue her attack?” the Miner demanded in rage.
Jacob swallowed hard before continuing. “Yes, now go!”
Incredulously, the Miner stared at us- me with my fist clenched ready to strike again while Jacobs still rubbed at his tender throat- not understanding the command. He began to back away, one slow step after another, before twisting around and running for the camp.
Raising his arms up and down in an exaggerated shrug, Jacobs turned to me and asked, “Now, where were we?”
My fist connected with his cheek and I felt mildly better.
“Ahh yes, that’s right.” He rubbed at this cheek calmly. “Can I ask what has prompted this attack?”
I slammed my fist into his gut, hitting him one last time for good measure, although it really was no fun hitting someone when they didn’t react.
“Yes, you dogged on me!” I screamed, flicking a stray hair out of my mouth.
“Dogged? I don’t think I know what that means,” he responded, confused.
“Dogged, grassed, dobbed… call it what you will. You told someone about Petra and me- described us and where we could be found. You broke rule nine!” I ranted.
“Aw yes, your famous rules. How many are there anyway?” he wondered absently. “And weren’t you just breaking the camp’s no fighting rule?”
“Ten, but so what? As for no fighting, the border is about ten paces behind you. Outside the border the camp rules don’t apply.” I opened my arms wide, emphasizing the point.
He looked over his shoulder then shook his head. “So I told someone about you, big whoop. I don’t see the problem.”
“You don’t see the problem?” I screeched, incensed. “Well, what if your brother were to come along? If I described you perfectly and told him exactly where to find you, would there be a problem then?”
That had him straightening. “Who told you about my brother?”
“Your little messenger pigeon, Gabe; he was around here earlier.”
“Who?” he asked, confused.
“Gabe; black hair, big nose,” I floundered, trying to remember enough about the man earlier to describe him.
“You know your propensity to rename people can be a bit annoying,” he criticized gently.
“Shut up,” I muttered darkly. “Um.... nurse’s uniform.”
“You mean Alex?” he guessed.
“Probably,” I said, batting away his answer. “You haven’t answered the question. Would there be a problem if I told your brother where you were?”
“Of course that would be a problem. Stay away from Devlin, he’s evil.”
“So is everyone else! Try and understand that it might be a problem for me if certain people knew where I was. Where anyone is for that matter. Do you think I choose to be here? That this is the life I wanted for my brainiac sister? No. She should be at some university somewhere showing up for lecturers.”
“Your point?”
“My point is: don’t dog on others if you don’t want them to dog on you. Keep your dam mouth shut!” I walked away, fed up with the argument.
“Sorry, I didn’t think.”
“No you didn’t. If you don’t know a person’s back story, don’t involve them in yours.” I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Oh, and if you ever tell a Catholic priest about Petra or me, I’ll slit your throat and do the time with a smile on my face”
“Why are you afraid of a priest?” he shouted to my retreating back. “Why?”