Jonah tried to prop himself up on his elbows, dazed, brain fogged, the cabin shadowed. He peered at his hand, soaking in a bowl of warm water. The swelling had subsided, some. He thought. Maybe. No. No, it hadn’t. The purpled palm remained numb and monstrous, the fingers ballooned, taut skin inflamed and chafed, rimmed with salt from the soaking solution.
She’d done it, soaked his hand.
She sat now, hunched at the card table, scribbling.
Jonah sat up, a wave of nausea forcing him to slump on the edge of the couch. Breathe, he thought, breathe. He hung his head between his knees. Then he planted his palm on the couch arm and tried to stand, lame and feeble. Famished. A salty thirst begged to be slaked.
He needed to leave with her, but he could not venture in the woods in this state, risk the mines in the dark. His energy would flag well before he got to his truck, and he’d never get far driving before sleep or sickness took him. One more night of rest. That’s all they needed. Then, they were gone.
He stood behind her at the table, hands on the back of her chair to support himself, his body humming with fatigue. She had a coloring book open and was working away at a horse.
A scrap of notepaper lay beside the book, colored completely black.
“Pretty horse.” He pointed at the blackened notepaper. “What’s that?”
Her face pinched.
“Nighttime?” he said.
She shook her head, her eyes dark. Black.
He saw she’d drawn another stick figure, lying in the grass. A girl. Or a woman. She’d scribbled red crayon all over the girl and was coloring everything on the page above the woman in black.
“Why are you drawing these?”
She shrugged.
“You must know. Tell me. Who is it?”
A knock pounded at the door.
Jonah gasped: the last breath of a drowning man before he went under for the last time.
She looked up.
Jonah placed a hand on her shoulder. He hadn’t heard an ATV.
The knocking pounded on the door. Louder. Insistent.
The girl whined.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Shhh.”
A shadow crossed by the front porch window.
Jonah moved in front of her to block her from sight.
Someone peered into the grimed window, a shadowy figure. A man. It disappeared from the window.
The knock came again.
“The back room,” Jonah whispered. “Go.”
She stared at him.
He picked her up from the chair and hauled her to the back room and set her on the trunk. “Stay here. Understand? Don’t make a peep. No matter what. And don’t come out. If you do, they’ll take you and I’ll be in big trouble.”
She nodded.
The knocking came.
He kissed her forehead then left and shut the door behind him. He took the drawing and coloring books and hid them under a plate, looked around for more evidence of Sally. Saw nothing.
A fist pounded on the door.
Jonah took deep breaths, trying to wake himself, prepare himself. He grabbed the rifle from the corner, cracked the door open, and peered out.