Chapter Twelve
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With Sam leading while Brandon and Ally followed close behind, they raced up the mountain until the road they followed disappeared amongst a jumble of boulders. Sam brought her horse to a stop and climbed off, waiting for Brandon and Ally to park the truck.
Surely don’t know how they’re gonna get up the hill in that rig, she thought. ‘Course, they always have their own feet. That’ll get ‘em up to the Mesa, but won’t get them the rest of the way.
“Man!” Brandon exclaimed as he examined the rock fall. “When you said the road was blocked, I had no idea. It’s not blocked…it’s gone!”
Just as the road climbed along a sheer cliff face, the judicious amount of explosives applied by Sam’s father years before had rained Volkswagen-sized rocks and boulders down from above. Covered with this debris, the road was effectively blocked, assuring that no cars—and preferably no zombies—would be able to access Midland Mesa and the farm lands hundreds of feet directly above. Brandon shook his head in amazement but then returned his thoughts to how to get to the top.
“Um…there is a way around this, isn’t there?”
“Sure as sunrise, but ya got ta know where to look.” Sam gestured to the north. “Take a gander up there. The trail’s up yonder! We gotta follow along this rock face for a bit…maybe a half mile or so. Then, we’ll pick up a goat trail. Ain’t gonna be an easy climb, but we’ll get there.”
“Got it. Let’s get going.”
Sam couldn’t help but notice the smile that crept across Brandon’s face as he spoke. Before Sam could question Brandon, Ally spoke, “Are we supposed to hike after her? That’s not gonna work for me!”
“Nah, Sis. I got a better idea.” Brandon opened the rear of the trailer, revealing an incredible mass of materials, but most importantly, two dirt bikes.
“I’ve got lots of stuff I packed in here to show you, but that will be for later. Let’s get these bad boys out and get on the road.” Within minutes, the bikes were unloaded and ready for the trail. Brandon also grabbed a couple of backpacks he had in the cab of the truck. These drew curious, questioning looks from Ally, but she agreed to wear hers without complaint.
Brandon also produced a few more surprises. “I also brought along a few weapons…just in case we run into any problems. Sam, I’ve got something special for you. Um…since you lost your dad’s pistol while you were rescuing me, I hoped this might make up for it…at least a little bit.” He handed her a beautiful pearl-handled, six-shot 32 caliber pistol. With a huge smile on her face, Sam spun the barrel, slapped it shut, holstered it, and quick drew the gun repeatedly.
“Boy, that feels good! Good weight, good draw. Look at this gun, Bailey.” She showed the gun to her dog who gave it a cursory sniff, then returned to her nap. “Ain’t it the purtiest iron you ever done seen. I really…appreciate…this. Thank you!”
“My pleasure. I thought you could put it to good use. Besides, it was Priestly’s personal favorite, so that makes it doubly good.”
After securing the truck and trailer, the three departed the road onto a rough, barely discernible dirt trail. On horseback once again, Sam guided them deep into the surrounding pine trees and toward the hidden approach that led to the top of the mesa.
* * * *
Even at a slightly slower pace on the dirt trail, it still took the better part of an hour to reach the goat trail. Just past a dense thicket of salt cedars running along a rain runoff channel, Sam turned to the east, skirted around a boulder, and into a hidden ravine…and suddenly, her goat trail appeared.
“I’ve got to get down and lead ‘er up this trail. It’s too tricky doin’ it on horseback. I ‘spect ya may want to get down, too. Can you push those things up the rise?”
Brandon and Ally looked at each other and then reluctantly nodded. Not that they had much choice, though. There just wasn’t much room along the narrow trail, and any mistake could be fatal. Figuring that it was just safer, Brandon and Ally got off their bikes and slowly pushed them up the slope.
The climb was slow going, taking almost an hour to cover the trail’s switchbacks until they reached the top. With their legs and back aching from pushing the bikes, they finally reached the crest of the trail, and suddenly, it dropped down onto level ground. They’d finally reached the top, and before them lay the wide expanse of Sam’s mesa. Rolling, green pastures stretched to the right, left, and far into the distance, until they were obscured by the deeper green of trees.
“Wow!” Ally said. “It’s nothing like what I expected. It’s so…green! Nothing like the desert below.”
“Yeah, its kinda purty up here. Ya see, between the road and the trail, we’ve climbed pretty high up. Ain’t nuthin’ like the brown scrub brush down below.”
After several minutes of letting them catch their breath, Sam prompted them to get moving, again. “Well, let’s get to it.” Sam started to get on the saddle when Brandon stopped her.
“Hey, I got an idea. You could get to your farm faster on our bikes.”
“Um…yeah. I’ve seen that those things are purty fast, but I don’t know how to ride ‘em. So, I don’t…” As Sam spoke, Brandon’s smile only grew until Sam just stopped speaking, again confused by his reaction.
“No. You see, you could ride with me, and Ally will ride her bike. You can point out the way—how to get to your farm. This way, we’ll be able to move pretty quick at maybe forty or fifty miles per hour, and get to your farm even faster. Once we get you home, Ally can bring me back to get your horse. It’s a solid plan. So, what do you think?”
Sam had to agree that the bikes would be faster, and the closer she got to her home, the more she wanted to get there.
I just wanna get home…to Mama and my family. So, faster is better.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Before leaving, Sam first insisted on caring for her horse—watering and leaving it untied near some fresh grass to graze on. With the horse tended to, Sam grabbed both her saddlebags and her dog, and then climbed behind Brandon on his bike. With her arms wrapped around his waist —a position she noted was very enjoyable—the motorcycle sped away at its best speed toward the farm.
The scenery passed by quickly as the two motorcycles raced across the mesa. The rolling, green fields gave way to overgrown farmland and finally to the neighbor’s ranch with its large barn. There wasn’t time, or more importantly, the need to stop, so they continued passing it by, and it soon faded into the distance. The fields finally gave way to trees and a thick wood that covered the low hills.
Sam gave no notice while the scenery passed by, as she was lost in thought.
I like him…and I think he likes me, but…the way he has been lookin’ at me. Smilin’ and all whenever I talk…I just don’t know. I hope he don’t think I’m stupid! I know I don’t speak good like he does. Hmmm…he does seem to smile more when I’m saying something…like…uh, like…like the way I always talk. I know it’s all differn’t than the way others talk.
The miles went by as Sam ruminated on her problem. Her thoughts diverted from her speech to other aspects of her personality or appearance, all of which in the light of self-examination seemed now full of fault.
Too tall, too thin, don’t look enough like a girl. Can’t change the first two, but I guess I could try to look better. Guess I could try stayin’ a bit cleaner—keep the mud and dirt off. Boy, Billy and Cal will get a hoot out of that!
I want him to know that I’m not just…some hick from the hills. If I clean up that’ll do some good, but I gotta try something more. Try to be more like him or Ally. What was it Ally said? “Try to fit in.” Yeah, that’s what I got to do—fit in. Act like them…talk like them…that’s what I gotta do.
With her mind made up, all that was left was the miles to their destination. The trees began thinning again as the path wound down from the low hills to flat lands approaching Sam’s farm.
* * * *
Less than a half hour later, a structure appeared in the distance. It was small, Brandon could tell, but that was what he expected from Sam’s description—small and utilitarian. As it drew closer, Brandon could make out even more details. Its compacted dirt walls and flat roof, the small barn and chicken coop next to the house, and finally, the wood piles of the bonfires and the rough-hewn dog pens. Compared to the smooth-poured concrete structure he was used to, the house looked ramshackle, but he also saw the beauty of the home—how easily it fit within the surrounding landscape.
It fits in, Brandon thought. Now, we’ll just have to see how we fit it!
While Brandon was taking in the house and its surrounding fields, Sam was focused on something entirely different—the yard and house. Both were far too still. No chickens or animals roamed their pens in front of the barn, and no dogs ran about. In fact, she saw no activity at all. This didn’t just scare her…it terrified her!
Oh, my God. No! Please, Lord. Please…please…please. Oh, no!
As the bikes got closer, Sam saw bodies. Some face down, others on their back. All immobile, and all zombies. With no other option than to continue to stare at the approaching yard, her mind immediately took to the useless task of counting the bodies—five…ten…twenty, and probably more behind the house. These weren’t the zombies from the attack of almost a week ago. Years of experience in fighting off the dead and dealing with their remains told her that these were fresh kills. Clearly, the attack had been recent, and by the numbers of fallen zombies, it had been extreme. Although they were less than a minute from their destination, with this carnage occupying her mind, the last fifty yards to the house seemed to last an eternity for Sam.
Finally, their motorcycles rounded the bonfire wood piles and entered the inner yard, where they had to slow down and swerve carefully to miss the fallen dead. As the bike stopped, it sprayed loose rocks across the yard, but Sam didn’t care. All she wanted was to get inside and find her family. Sam threw off her helmet and leaped from the bike while drawing her new pistol as she did. She rushed toward the front door, finding it stained with blood—probably from the two fallen zombies at the foot of the door.
Brandon was in close pursuit, having taken his helmet off. He also drew his weapon and followed her just as she tried the door’s handle. It swung open easily, showing an interior that was both chaotic and bloody. Entering, they saw the table and chairs were knocked over and blood spilled on the floor. With the window’s wooden shutters still drawn closed, most of the interior was cast into shadow.
“Hold on,” Brandon said. “I’ve got a flashlight.” Quickly retrieved from his backpack, he shined the light across room. Sure enough, there was blood and most importantly, another fallen body resting facedown near the hallway to the back bedrooms.
“Oh, Lord no!” Sam knelt at the body and carefully turned it over.
“Is it…?” Brandon asked.
“No, thank goodness. It’s just another critter, but where is my family?” Suddenly, a sound emerged from the back bedroom. Thinking more with emotion than logic, Sam leaped to her feet to rush toward the sound, but a hand stopped her.
“Sam. No!”
It was Brandon restraining her. In the emotion of the moment, Sam didn’t even notice the growing growls by her dog, still in the flour sack around her neck. Shining the light down the hallway showed nothing, but the sounds increased until a hulking presence suddenly emerged from Sam’s bedroom. The light shined on a face, showing a huge gash from the mouth almost to the ear and exposing most of the zombie’s teeth. Curiously, it also had huge gauges the size of a soda pop can still installed in its ears —a holdover from its mortal life. The undead man was maybe six-foot three or four tall and towered over both Sam and Brandon. As it moved toward them, it gained momentum with each step. By the time the zombie reached the end of the hallway, it was moving fairly quickly and had lethal intent. Without a word, both Sam and Brandon almost simultaneously raised their pistols and fired—both scoring headshots that dropped the hulking shape, instantly immobile to the floor. As it dropped, its hulking mass revealed a second zombie, smaller than the first but equally intent on reaching the two humans.
“I got it,” Brandon said then fired, downing the zombie. The growls from Bailey suggested more peril, though.
“Let’s go take a gander…er, take a…look…in the bedrooms.”
Brandon led with his flashlight as they checked first the children’s room, but found nothing, and then went to Sam’s mother’s room where Bailey’s growls increased until they were a repetitive bark.
Please, Lord, Sam thought. Not Mama! Please, don’t let her be dead! Don’t let her be one of them critters!
Brandon panned the flashlight around the room first at the bed—empty. The light continued to swing across the room, stopping next by the dresser and then moved to the large cabinet her father built to function as a closet. Suddenly, a face was illuminated—a girl-child, its face torn and ravaged. The soulless, empty stare and its snarl punctuated that this was not human, or at least not anymore.
“Oh, God. Sam,” Brandon said. “This isn’t one of your…”
Sam was quiet for a second, then spoke: “Nah, it’s not my sister. Thank goodness.” She stepped forward and aimed the gun at the child, just as it crawled toward her, snarling as it did so. With a moment of hesitation born of sympathy, Sam gazed down at the child—simultaneously glad it wasn’t her sister while also sad. Remorse that not only had this child’s life been ended but sadness for the existence that was left.
“I’m sorry. Rest now,” she said as she pulled the trigger.
Sam took one last look as she considered the loss of humanity in this new, chaotic world and then turned back to Brandon.
“Did you see any indication of your family?”
Sam sighed heavily then replied, “Nah, don’t see no…er, I didn’t see any sign of them. I need to…look around a little more.” As Sam turned and went back into the hallway, she didn’t see the quizzical look on Brandon’s face.
In the parlor, Sam opened the shutters, hoping that the extra light would reveal some message as to where her family had gone. The light flooded the room, showing more blood, but fortunately did not reveal any bodies. Equally important, the daylight did not reveal partial remains of bodies that were in the process of being consumed. Her search also showed no overt messages.
“Is it okay if I come in,” Ally asked from the door.
“Sure, Sis. It’s safe,” Brandon replied. As she entered, Ally looked at her brother, and her eyebrows raised in silent question. He shook his head, telling her all she needed to know.
Sam righted the rocking chair but had no idea what to do next. Her whole mind had now descended into wrenching emotion—sadness, loss, and failure.
They’re gone, and I don’t even know where they went. It all happened cuz I didn’t git back here in time. In time to help them! In time to help Mama!
More in tune with her than he would admit, Brandon hugged her from behind. “Sam, look at the positive side. They’re not here, so they must be alive. We just have to find where they went.” She turned and buried her tear-filled face into his chest. Heaving sobs emerged, long buried but now released in a moment of both pain and comfort.
“Who the hell are you?” a voice spoke from the front door. Brandon looked up to see a small boy holding a gun leveled at them.
“Billy?” Sam rushed toward the momentarily confused boy then enveloped him in a hug. “Ah, you’re alive! Oh, Billy. It’s so good to see you!”
The boy at first didn’t recognize his sister. “That you, Sam?” This wasn’t the grime and dirt-covered older sister that he knew. In fact, this girl wasn’t even wearing her usual clothes and raggedy hat. On closer examination, both the voice and emotion confirmed that it was Sam.
“Where’re the others?” she asked as she wiped the tears from her face.
“In the barn. Ya see, lots a zombies came at us last night—more than we could stop. They were just about everywhere, beatin’ on the door to get in. Didn’t have no other option then to go up on the roof. From there, we were able to bust into the barn to get out of the cold.”
“Wow. That was real good thinkin’…ah…I mean, that was very…smart.”
Sam hugged him one last time then raced from the room toward the barn, leaving Billy alone with the newcomers. Immediately, Billy’s face quickly changed from love and happiness to suspicion, his eyes narrowing to a harsh squint. He even started to bring the gun back up just as Brandon spoke.
“Um…Hi! I’m Brandon.” He extended his hand toward Billy, but it just hung in the air, unaccepted. “Um…okay…This is my sister, Ally.” The squint gave way to puzzlement.
“Hi there.” Ally said with a brilliant smile. Billy just continued to stare but at least no malice remained.
“I…uh…um…hi,” Billy stammered.
She’s beautiful…like an angel, was all he could think. Ain’t never seen no one like her!
As Billy’s mind sought to find the right words…any words, Brandon, mercifully intervened with a smile. “Okay, then. Why don’t we go catch up with your sister?”
* * * *
It didn’t take long for Sam to find and reunite with Cal and Katey. They had dutifully remained by their mother’s side in the barn. After further hugs, smiles, and tears, Sam sat by her mother and asked of her condition, but the answer wasn’t encouraging. In the days since Sam had left for town, her mother’s pneumonia had gotten worse, filling her lungs with inflammation and infection. Further, her fever drove her into a deep coma. Amidst the worsening condition, the children had done everything Sam had asked in tending to their mother but with little impact. It didn’t take long for Sam to come to the inescapable conclusion. Their mother was near death.
While Sam sat quietly, holding her mother’s hand, Cal and Katey joined Billy, and continued their interrogation of Brandon. They asked who he was, what he was doing, and why he was there. Brandon responded to the litany of questions with good humor until Sam interrupted, insisting they carefully return her mother to the comfort of her bed. While Cal and Billy removed the zombie corpses from the house, Sam, Brandon, Ally, and Katey gently moved the mother back into her bedroom. With her mother safely under the thread-worn covers, Sam sat at her bedside and held her mother’s hand. She was overcome with worry.
“How is she?” Brandon quietly asked.
“She don’t sound too good. A lot worse than when I left her.”
Brandon placed a caring hand on her shoulder, wordlessly reminding her that he was there for her. “You’ve got to keep the faith, Sam. Just believe that she will get better.”
Sam sat there for just a moment more and then got up, ready to retrieve the precious antibiotic pills she brought back from town in her saddlebags, but Brandon intervened.
“Hold on a moment. I’ve got something better.” He pulled three small boxes from his backpack. Opening one of the boxes revealed a thin tube.” While I was back at The Club, I found three ready-to-go syringes of penicillin in one of the fridges, er…refrigerators.”
Sam furrowed her brow, twisting her nose to the right as she always did when perplexed or in deep thought. “Ah…what’s a see-rinch of penny-sillin?”
“A syringe is for giving a shot…er, an injection into the skin. When I was little, I remember my parents always telling me that when you are really sick, the best way to kick its ass…ah, knock down a bad illness is to use an injection of antibiotics. They work a lot faster than antibiotic pills, like the ones you’ve got in your saddlebags.”
“As I was finding things to load the trailer with, I found these three boxes. I remember seeing these kind of syringes used a few years ago, but I didn’t even know we had any of these left at The Club. Since they were kept in a refrigerator over the years, they should still be good.”
Brandon pulled the paper instructions from one of the boxes. “I found instructions on how to use the syringes inside the boxes, so I used the time waiting for sunrise to read up on how to use them. So, I think I could do it…you know, use it to inject the antibiotics.”
He paused for a moment and took hold of Sam’s hands. “Sam, this is a tough decision…and you need to know all of the risks. I’ve never done it before, and according to the instructions, there is some risk. After getting a shot of antibiotics, some people have a bad allergic reaction…and can even die.” He shook his head, knowing this had to be scary to hear, but he knew she needed to know the whole truth.
“Hell, I could even screw up the injection, but I think I know how it needs to be done. So…there it is. You could give her the pills, but those take days to really build-up and work. Or, we give her a shot of these each day or so and try to knock this down before she gets worse or…” He trailed off, unable to say more.
Sam looked at her mother and then at Brandon. “You really think this way is best…for her to get better?”
“She’s wheezing really bad…so, I think it is her best chance. It maybe her only chance.”
Sam looked at her mother’s pallid face and listened to her wet, gurgling breaths.
She sounds so much worse than before I left…and she’s even thinner. Her head is hot as can be with fever, but…I got to do something to save her. She glanced up at Brandon. His face was full of heartfelt concern, and she knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. She trusted Brandon completely, so it was time to place her trust in him, again. With one last look at her mother, Sam made her decision.
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I’m scared for her…but go ahead.”
“All right. Let’s get this stuff ready.”
Cal, Billy, Katey, and Ally all stood in the doorway watching intently as Brandon diligently reread the instructions and then cleaned and prepared the injection site with rubbing alcohol also retrieved from his backpack. With a furrowed brow and intensity neither Sam nor Ally had ever seen, he brought the syringe to the woman’s hip, paused for one last second, then pushed until the needle overcame the skin’s resistance. Slowly, as the instructions advised, he pressed the syringe’s barrel, injecting the milky-white antibiotic into the muscle just below her skin.
“That’s it,” he said as he withdrew the needle and held a cotton ball to the injection site. “By the way, you can see she’s got a lot of bed sores, so you need to change her bedding and her nightgown. Once you’ve done that, you should pile some pillows behind her and have her sleep sitting up…it’ll be better for her breathing.”
“How do you know all this?” Ally asked.
A smile spread across his face. “Like I said, I read up. Found some other books, too. Oh, Sam. One more thing. We need to get some fluids in her and something to knock down her fever, so I brought these, too.” Brandon produced a couple of bottles of sports drinks and a small container of liquid aspirin. He opened the bottle of liquid aspirin and carefully poured several ounces into the woman’s mouth. With that done, he then gave some final instructions to Sam. “For all of today, you need to keep a close watch on her. Keep her sitting up and give her some of the juice from these bottles—maybe a cup or so every hour. Somewhere in mid afternoon, give her another dose of aspirin, filling the cup to the top when you do.”
“Most importantly, look for any reaction from the antibiotics shot, like if her face gets red, she gets welts all over her body, or if she starts having trouble breathing. That might be an indication that her throat is closing up. If she does have any of these reactions, you have to give her some of this.” He produced from his backpack one last, small bottle—liquid antihistamine. “If she has a reaction, it’s really important that you quickly give her an ounce of this stuff. Just fill this little cup to the mark here then pour it into her mouth. Try to make sure she swallows it all. It’s really important that you act quickly and give her this medicine. If you don’t, she will die from the reaction. You understand?”
Sam nodded. She was completely unnerved by all of these instructions and in her concern for her mother. Brandon saw it in the uncertainty in her eyes. “Sam, if there is one thing I know about you…it’s that you can do anything. You’ve got more inner-strength than anyone I’ve ever known, so I know you can do it.”
As Brandon spoke, large tears began flowing down Sam’s face. “Too much! I don’t think I can do it…you’ll stay here and help, won’t ya?”
“I can’t. I’ve got to get back to the trailer and start retrieving things, including fetching your horse. I’ll be back soon. I promise. Okay?”
With tear-filled eyes, Sam agreed. Brandon gave her one last hug, and then he and Ally left the farm to retrieve both the horse and supplies from the trailer. Overcome by the ominous silence that quickly filled the farmhouse, Sam’s brothers and sister also gave her one more warm and caring hug before going outside to work, leaving Sam alone at her mother’s bedside.
This is worse than anything, she thought. I’d rather be doin’ somethin’—workin’ in the fields or in the barn. Somethin’ other than sittin’ here, hopin’ she won’t die.
In the room’s silence, Sam fell to her knees and prayed—for her mother’s recovery, for her family’s safety and health, for Ally, and finally, for Brandon. She didn’t know quite what to say about Brandon, and she certainly didn’t feel right about praying for God’s intervention to help her emerging romance. Instead, she kept it simple. She kept it direct
Take care of him, Lord.
While Sam sat in a lonely vigil at her mother’s bedside, in somber silence, the children collected the zombie bodies strewn all about the farmyard, placed them into a pile, and burned the remains. After that, they returned to their usual chores—tending to the farm’s animals, fetching water, stacking wood, and most importantly, readying the house for the forthcoming night.
* * * *
As they strapped on their motorcycle helmets, Ally gave Brandon “the look”. Usually, she retained this reaction for only a handful of occurrences, but disillusionment with her brother’s ideas clearly qualified.
“Okay, spill,” Brandon said, acknowledging his sister’s behavior.
“Well…I like Sam and all…but this wasn’t what I envisioned. I mean…when she like… said she lived on a farm, I thought it was, you know, something more like one of the farms on some of the videos we watched. You know, one with a big house and a red barn. That’s what I thought their farm would be like. Not like, you know, it is here.”
“Sam did say their farm was small,” Brandon patiently replied. He’d had these types of conversations with her before and knew that Ally just wanted to vent. Unfortunately, time was at a premium, so there wasn’t any way that he could let this discussion run its usual course.
“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “But this…” She waived her arm toward the farm’s yard.
“Ally, we don’t have time for this, now,” Brandon interjected. “I promise we’ll talk this through later, though. Okay?”
She nodded. With the conversation deferred for now, Ally climbed onto the motorcycle, sitting just behind Brandon, and they sped away from the farm.
The volume of the motorcycle’s engine precluded any conversation while they were en route to the cliff. This left Ally to ruminate on their condition. As people are want to do, her thoughts quickly descended into a comparison of her previous life at The Club versus this new life on Sam’s farm. Not surprisingly, in comparison, the farm didn’t fare favorably. One might think that the unfortunate events that had occurred at The Club over the last seventy-two hours would cast it into a well-deserved, unfavorable light; however, Ally’s mind didn’t focus on the negative. Instead, her mind was overcome with thoughts of The Club’s amenities—electrical light, warm beds on soft mattresses, and plentiful food. Her mind remained so focused on The Club’s attributes that by the time they reached their destination near the cliff where they had left the horse to graze, Ally was ready to “have it out” with Brandon over their future. Ultimately, she had already decided that if Brandon didn’t have a good solution for their predicament, she would simply return by herself to The Club.
Back on their feet after resting the bike on its kickstand, Brandon was checking on the horse when Ally spoke up, ready to finish their bifurcated discussion, “Look, I’m just not gonna be happy on that farm. It’s too small, and there isn’t even any room for us to live. Brandon, they don’t even have a floor! In addition, you saw how easy the zombies invaded the place. It just isn’t safe there.”
“Ally,” Brandon patiently responded. “You’ve barely seen the place. Plus, I can tell you it is no more or no less safe than The Club. Most importantly, remember why we left? Because of the people there…like Priestly. Don’t forget what they tried to do to you.”
She sighed, knowing everything he said was true. “So, we just move in with them? What about me? Am I supposed to look forward to being some sort of a farm wife to one of them boys?”
“No,” Brandon chuckled. “Look, Sis. You deserve a happy life with someone you want to be with and not just someone you’re forced to live with. You deserve a happy, safe life far away from the horrors of town. I think we can build that life up here. I promise you, it will be a good life if you just give me a little time. So…for me…will you give it a chance?”
She looked at him for a moment, and then cracked a devil-may-care smile. “Okay, I will…for now, but the clock’s ticking. Tick-tock!”
“You make an excellent clock. C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”
With the horse retrieved, Brandon was adamant about retrieving a few items from the trailer, but the logistics of moving items up a several hundred-foot cliff face presented an almost insurmountable obstacle. Even after overcoming the challenge of the cliff, there was the practical matter of transporting any items on either horse or motorcycle. As Brandon stared down at the truck and trailer below, trying to decide what to do next, Ally came up with a solution for at least part of the problem.
“Hey, didn’t that abandoned farm we passed a ways back have a wagon out front?” It did, and after a short trip back to the house, they returned to the cliff face with the horse pulling an open-topped wagon not too dissimilar to the ones that carried pioneers across America in the 1800’s. This only left the problem of retrieving the trailer’s items from the canyon floor below.
No solution immediately emerged, so Brandon had Ally remain at the top of the cliff while he carefully rode the motorcycle down the goat trail to the bottom. After one walk around the truck and trailer, assuring it was safe, he opened the back, unloaded a few items, and placed them on the hood of truck. On the third trip from the trailer to the truck’s front, Brandon’s shin collided with the truck’s winch that jutted out in front of the bumper. As he rubbed the painful bump on his shin, an idea emerged—use the winch as a hoist to lift materials up to the mesa.
It might just work, he thought. It all depends on how much cable is on the…ah, barrel or whatever it’s called. What I need is something overhead. Some kind of pulley that I can run the cable through. Something that’ll be strong enough to hold the weight. It has to be something I can secure to the rock up there.
Brandon searched both the truck and trailer for several minutes before he finally settled on a wheel from a wheel barrow and a pry bar from the jack. With a coil of rope around his shoulders, the wheel and pry bar secured in his backpack, and a sledge hammer over his bike’s handlebars, Brandon rode up the trail.
His enthusiasm to put his plan into action almost cost him his life during the return ride to the top. Halfway up at a difficult switchback, Brandon unwisely chose to navigate the difficult turn without getting off his bike. Just as the bike’s front wheel was cranked to the left, the rear wheel lost traction and slid toward the trail’s edge and a hundred foot drop. Brandon fought for control as the rear wheel continued to spin. Only at the last second was he able to regain control, preventing a fall.
“Wow, that was close,” he said to no one but himself. Gritting his teeth, Brandon intensified his focus to avoid any potential accident and finished the climb to the top without further incident.
As Brandon approached on his bike, Ally was sitting on the back of the wagon looking extremely bored. “Yo, Bro’. You got everything? Can we go, now?”
“Ally,” he said patiently. “We haven’t even moved anything up, yet. I’ve been down there figuring out how to get all the stuff up here onto the mesa.”
“Can’t you just carry some up on the bike?”
“If I did that, we could only bring things that fit on the bike…and that just won’t be enough. Plus, it’ll take months to move stuff at that rate.”
Ally crinkled her face, obviously discontent with waiting, though the irony of her wanting to get back to the farm she had so recently complained about was lost on her. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
He quickly outlined his plan to his sister and then sought out a place to secure the pry bar and wheel. It proved more difficult then he thought. Finally, an ideal location was found, and he secured the pry bar and wheel to the ground. With the wheel rigged up, it was time to put it to use. Brandon made a loop on one end of the coil of rope and lowered it over the edge of the cliff. Then, he wound the remaining length of the rope around the wheel and coiled the remaining rope next it to the back of the wagon. The plan would be simple in execution, he believed. That is if everything worked, and if the winch, its cable, or the rope didn’t break first.
“All right. I’m going back down to control the winch. Try to stay next to the cliff side and watch for my signal.”
“Why don’t you just honk the horn to let me know you’re ready.”
“Not a good idea. Even though it’s daytime, there could still be some walkers down in the woods. Blowing the horn might attract any around and bring them right to me.” With only a few more words, he headed down the trail to put his plan into action.
* * * *
Sam continued her lonely vigil at her mother’s side, but it was far from passive observation. The warning of a potential allergic reaction had so unnerved her that she found herself constantly checking her mother—studying the skin on her face, arms, and legs, looking for any telltale indications of a reaction. Fortunately, none appeared so far. This did nothing to reduce her stress, for she knew the whole family once again relied on her. While unspoken by any of her siblings, with Sam’s return, they again looked to her to make things better, and that now included her mother. So, she sat, watching her mother for any allergic reactions, as well as monitoring breathing, assuring that she drank in some liquids, and bathing her forehead with a cool, damp cloth to keep her temperature down. Overall, it was thankless and dreary but necessary work.
As the hours crawled by, when her nursing duties allowed a moment’s respite, Sam considered the practical issues of her family and the farm.
I’m worried, she thought. Winter snows are just ‘round the corner, and we ain’t hardly ready. The fall planting didn’t grow much. Not much taters, and only a handful of other veggie crops produced. Probably cuz we didn’t tend to ‘em with fertilizer and water like we shoulda’. All cuz of Mama. Not that I’m blamin’ her and all. Nah…with her sick, she wasn’t in the fields, and when we had to watch her, neither were me or Katey, so we didn’t git much of a harvest. Not much harvest means not much food!
She paused to check her mom’s neck and arms and then listen to her breaths…all good. No adverse reaction so far. As she returned to her stool at her mother’s side, she again returned to thoughts of their plight.
We can use some of the corn seed we put up for food, but that’ll starve the chickens. We ain’t got much hay put up for winterin’ the other animals. Probably…we’ll lose some of ‘em. Maybe have to butcher ‘em before they fall. It’ll give us food, but at a pretty high cost. It was tough enough when we only had five mouths to feed, but now with Brandon and his sister…it’s gonna be worse. I wish I knew what to do!
She again checked her mother then returned to her stool.
I know what I won’t do and that’s kick Brandon or his sister out to the cold. No…wouldn’t be the Christian thing to do, no sir. They got no place to go, ‘cept for back to town, and that ain’t right, neither. Nuthin’ but dead or bad people there. Nope, they should stay here, so we’ll just have to find a way to make do for food and such.
She got up again and checked her mother, but just as before, she didn’t note any reaction or change in condition. Returning to her stool, her thoughts turned to Brandon, she was less certain on what to do next.
Don’t know what I feel about him…but I know I feel somethin’. I mean, every time I’m around him, feels like a whole bunch of butterflies are in my gut. When we kissed…felt like my whole body was a-tinglin’. All I know is that I want him near me…just like I want to be near him. This ain’t like nuthin’ I’ve ever done or felt before…and I just don’t know what to do next! I mean…do I try to hold his hand or kiss him, or do I wait for him to do that? What happens next? I mean, Mama talked to me ‘bout sex and such when I was younger, but that never seemed too important to me as there weren’t no boys my age ‘round here. Other than that boy over at the Adler’s ranch, and he’s either moved on…or dead.
So, there’s the problem. I got a boy around that I like, but I don’t really know what to do next. Do I just be me? I mean, just be ‘ol Sam? I could, but I sure ain’t much to look at, and I don’t talk like no lady. Don’t know why he’d like that, being from town and all. He does seem to like me. I mean, we sure kissed! What do I do, now? Do I try to be like some lady? Do I try to dress like his sister? Don’t know! Dang, it’s all so…so…Sam was at loss for the right word.
After several moments, she finally gave up, looked at her mother, and spoke aloud. “Mama, I could sure use some of your advice…on men. Bet you would’a never guessed I’d be askin’ you ‘bout that.” Sam chuckled at the truth of her statement. Only a week ago, this would have been not just an unforeseen event, but an almost inconceivable occurrence. My how things can change when you’re young and in love for the first time. “Mama, I need yer help. Like…how to tell if one of them, er…a special boy really likes me? How should I act? What do I do to git him to like me more? So, Mama. You just got to git better, cuz I really need you.”
* * * *
The hours of the day crawled by, both uninterrupted and monotonous. Sam found her worry for her mother’s condition slowly abating and instead replaced with a growing worry about Brandon—his safety and whereabouts. When not thinking about Brandon, she focused on personal examination and decision. In those quiet hours in the absence of her mother’s advice, Sam made some decisions.
I ain’t never been a victim, and I ain’t never backed down from no fight, so I sure as heck ain’t gonna, now! I’m gonna just be me…and stop worryin’ about all this.
With at least a little of her concern abated, Sam sat up a little straighter on her low stool, feeling as if some of the weight of the world had been removed from her shoulders. She smiled a warm, loving smile both for her mother and for herself.
I am just gonna be me. But, ya know, I think I will try and stay a little cleaner from here on.
* * * *
Near late afternoon, Katey stuck her head into her mother’s room. “Hey, Sam! How’s Mama doin’?
“Still the same,” Sam replied. “At least she ain’t gettin’ no worse.”
Katey sat with her sister at the bedside for a few minutes, silently holding and squeezing her mother’s hand. After a few minutes, she finally remembered what she had forgotten to say. “Oh…that man and girl are back. You need to go and see. I’ll watch Mama for you.”
Sam nodded, silently accepting her sister’s magnanimous offer, and walked from the room through the parlor, past her dog Bailey—where she lay fast asleep, all curled up on a scrap of blanket—and out into the late, afternoon sunlight. To her surprise, in front of the house was a wagon pulled by her faithful horse. Brandon and Ally were at the rear of the wagon handing boxes, containers, and bags to the visibly excited Cal and Billy.
“Sam! You gotta’ see all the stuff they got,” Cal yelled. He was brimming with excitement, a huge smile covering his face. While Cal spoke, his brother Billy didn’t even look up. He was focused on the contents of a bag, his head practically stuck inside.
“How’s your mom?” Brandon asked. “Any change?” Brandon stopped unloading gear from the wagon, dusted off his hands, and approached Sam, meeting her midway between the wagon and the doorway. The smile on his face as he unloaded the wagon quickly dissolved to serious concern as he reached Sam.
“No change, so far.” She tried to embrace a positive attitude and smile as she spoke, but her eyes, red with tears, betrayed her.
“Remember, no change isn’t a bad thing. We’ve got to just give the medicine some more time to work. Most importantly, keep your mom in our prayers.” Their hands touched, clasping fingers as their eyes locked, but the moment lasted for only a second or two. Neither felt it was the right time for hand-holding, let alone anything more demonstrative.
As the moment passed, Brandon spoke as he led her to the wagon. “Tried real hard to make my last night at The Club count by grabbing things I thought you could use. The trailer is still pretty packed, but this is all I could get in one load before sunset. For this first load, I brought weapons, food, and camping gear.” Sam’s eyes were wide with surprise. He mentioned that he had packed the trailer, but she didn’t really expect much. This load clearly proved her wrong. He had done wonderfully!
“I’ve got six fully-automatic rifles, six shotguns, some hand guns, and something really special—a high-powered sniper rifle complete with a night vision scope. Plus, I’ve got a big bag full of ammo for the guns. I’ve got a whole bunch more weapons and ammo in the trailer that I’ll bring up over the next few days.”
Sam picked up several of the rifles and balanced them on her shoulder, checking each of the gun’s weight and sights.
Wow, never seen guns like this, she thought. The sniper rifle, with its extra-long barrel and bipod stand, particularly fascinated her.
“What’s night vision do?” she asked.
“Let’s you see images in low light. Don’t know quite how the optics work, but I’ve used it a number of times. It makes the nighttime look like day. You’d be able to see a zombie approach at a couple hundred yards.” Sam nodded in appreciation, though she still didn’t understand how it worked.
“As for food, I tried to be practical. You told me about the crops that you grew on your farm, but I had a sense that this has been a bad year, what with your mom being ill and all. So, I instead focused on food I could bring in bulk. Down in the trailer, I’ve got big sacks of rice and all sorts of other food staples—flour, sugar, and canned food of all sorts. In fact, I’ve got a whole pallet full of canned food including tuna, chicken, and beef. Your brothers and sisters could use the protein, I figured. For good measure, I also brought a lot of canned fruits and vegetables, beans, and dried milk mix. We had stacks ten feet high of five-gallon buckets of survival food, so I brought a full pallet of those, too. For this load, I figured your brothers and sister just needed some solid food, so I brought canned soup plus some canned chicken. Though they’re not the best thing for you to eat, I also brought noodle cups. To round things out, I also brought a mishmash of other stuff from canned milk, rice, cereal, etc. The way I figure it, just in this load, I’ve got a solid month of food here for you.”
Sam looked with wonderment at the boxes of food in the wagon. This is more food than we’ve had in the farm house all year, she thought.
“Wow, I’m…ah…impressed! Weapons and food will help us a lot. Thanks!”
“No problem. Got some other things here in this load that should also help—lanterns, flashlights, blankets, and a couple of other things just for the children. Finally, we’ve got camping gear for me and Ally. A couple of tents, some sleeping bags, and the like. That’ll let us set up a place to stay.”
“Where’re you gonna pitch yer tent? I mean, where will you…set up your tent?”
Brandon furrowed his brow. There she goes again, he thought. Why is she repeating herself? It sounds so…unnatural.
“I don’t know. Maybe, we’ll put it up in the yard near the house.”
“You sure ‘bout that? Does the tent have solid walls? Solid ‘nuff to keep the critters out. I mean, unless that tent is made out of somethin’…er…strong and solid, the dead’ll get right in.”
“Yeah, I wondered about that too, but I didn’t have any other ideas.”
“Well, you can hunker down…er, stay in the parlor for now.”
Cal wandered over and joined the conversation. “Why doncha’ set up yer tent on the roof? Use the ladder to git up there. It’d be safer that way.”
“What do you think, Sam? Would that work okay for you?”
“Sounds like it’ll work purty good. That is…for now—won’t work once the snow comes.”
“Yeah, thought about that, too. As my dad used to say, ‘one day at a time’. Ally and I will have to worry about that later. I think I’ll take your advice, Cal. Thanks.”
Billy finally emerged from the sack with several items, and he held one aloft. “What’s this?”
“It’s a safety razor. You use it to shave. Well…you will in a few years.” Billy stared at it with a quizzical look that bordered on the almost comical.
“How much stuff do ya have left in that trailer?” Sam asked.
“Quite a bit, actually. I was thinking that over the next few days, I’ll take the wagon back and forth to retrieve the rest. I grabbed a whole bunch of things I hope will help around here. Like, I went and got a bunch seeds from the home supply store next to The Club. I thought they might help you during the planting season in the spring. I also brought a number of other tools and equipment that should help around here.”
Brandon paused as he looked between Sam, Cal, and Billy. All of them had various grades of growing, skeptical looks. In that moment, he realized that he was both overwhelming them as well as treading on sacred ground—how they did things on their farm.
“Um…this is your place, and I know it. Sam…without your help, I just don’t know what would have happened to Ally…or me. I was just so appreciative that you invited us here that I went a little overboard in grabbing things and bringing them in the trailer. Look, I know I’m a guest here…I was just trying to help.”
“I know,” she replied. While Brandon anticipated anger or rapprochement from Sam, he found neither in her eyes. “No. Don’t think nothin’ of it.”
As the sun dropped lower on the horizon, all of the things from the wagon were hauled into either the house or barn. With the horse tended to, the motorcycles secured in the barn, and the tent raised and secured on the roof of the farmhouse, the chores in anticipation of nighttime were once again doled out. This time, they included chores for both Brandon and Ally. He accepted his without pause or trepidation. Ally, on the other hand, was less than happy with more manual labor, but it was necessary.
Brandon completed the repair of the house’s front door just as the sun touched the mountain side. With the animals secured in the barn and the dogs returned to their pens, the house’s front door was closed and barred, and the window shutters were drawn and secured. They were ready—night was at hand.
* * * *
Ally and Katey prepared their dinner that evening, using the large pot that hung in the fireplace. As they cooked, Brandon left the small parlor to check in on Sam and her mother. Once again, she had taken her position at her mother’s beside. He silently sat next to her as she watched her mother. Only after several minutes did she speak.
“She ain’t coughin’ so much, anymore. Guess that’s a good sign.”
He took her hand, holding it as they shared the moment. “It is. All that’s left is love and prayer.”
The room was quiet for several more minutes until she again broke the silence. “Can I ask you somethin’?”
“Sure,” he replied.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“You don’t mean at the farm, do you?” Sam shook her head. “I’m here, because of…ah, I’m here because you saved my life at least twice in the last week. You were there for my sister, too. She told me what you did for her at The Club. Do you know what the common thread in all those events was?”
Sam shook her head.
“It was you, Sam. You! I didn’t come here to just get away from Vegas or The Club. I came here because of you. You’re special! The more I’ve been around you, the more I’ve appreciated just how special you are.”
Sam was at a loss of words for a second. She looked up to only see caring emotion, so she again took his hand, holding it softly. “What does that…mean? I mean, what happens to us next?”
“That, I don’t know. I guess it’s just something we’ll have to explore together.”
“I…I don’t know what to do or say. I mean, I can strip and clean a gun lickety-split, but this…I just don’t know what to do.”
“Neither do I,” Brandon chuckled. “Neither do I. Tell ya what…you just be yourself, and I’ll do the same. From there…we’ll just see what happens. Okay?”
“Okay.” Sam felt even more weight of the unknown lift from her shoulders.
“Oh…but one more thing. You don’t have to act different for me. You know, you don’t have to change the way you talk or change the way you act. Just be yourself. Just be Sam. That person is special. That’s the person I like. Okay?”
“Ah…All right. I will.” She smiled, though a smile still felt strange. It still wasn’t something she was used to. Brandon returned the gesture with a warm, heartfelt smile. With their hands clasped and eyes locked, they both leaned forward in anticipation of a kiss, but the moment was broken by a cough from her mother. Their smiles turned to grins as they both settled back into their seats.
“Oh, by the way,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s your last name?”
“Grace. Kinda funny name, ain’t it?”
“Funny? Not at all. I think it truly fits you. Strength and beauty, both inner and outer. That’s you. I’m gonna go check on Ally and dinner.”
He gave her one last smile then left the room. Sam smiled again as he left, but to be honest, she was completely lost in her thoughts as her mind replayed his words over and over.
* * * *
The nights and days that followed were blissfully uneventful—no zombies attacked at night, and daytime activities quickly became routine and without issue. Brandon and Ally settled into their new home in the roof-top tent. It was only moderately comfortable, but both accepted that it would make due for now. In fact, even as they set up within the tent, Brandon was thinking about what to do next. More permanent housing was clearly necessary, but very few options were available, and each had their own positives and negatives. He could build a room addition to the house, but building would take some time, and it was also something he clearly wasn’t skilled in. He could find another house, but from what Sam told him, they were few and far between on the mesa. The closest being the Adler’s abandoned farm, but it was hours away from Sam and her family—too far away to be desirable. With no easy options available, this relegated Brandon and his sister to their rooftop perch—at least, for now.
In parallel with the setup of their rooftop home, both Ally and Brandon also integrated fairly seamlessly into the Grace family household. Although, their acceptance was clearly favored by what they brought with them—food. The first night’s dinner, made of several cans of soup combined with a can of chicken meat and some dried pasta, seemed like a feast to Billy, Cal, and Katey. For children that were used to minimal or no dinner, this meal was a blessed gift they wolfed down, leaving nothing remaining within the cook pot. In the following days, Brandon stocked their pantry so full of food that Sam’s fears about the family starving during the winter were finally abated.
With the food, Brandon and Ally also delivered what seemed like endless other materials—home goods and items that had an immediate impact on their lives. Beds were warmer with new blankets, and rooms were brightly illuminated with new lanterns. Finally, a pile of jeans and shirts that Brandon grabbed at the last moment before leaving The Club provided some much needed new clothing, replacing the children’s threadbare garments. Coats, shoes, socks, and even undergarments clothed the children in warmth.
Equally significant to the clothes and food were the books. The textbooks, novels, autobiographies, and even home improvement books that had filled two boxes in the trailer now lined the shelves in the home’s parlor. Books that Sam not only coveted but also knew would help better educate her brothers and sister. Of personal interest to Sam were the blank journals and pencils Brandon presented to her. He’d listened when she’d talked about her interest in writing and presented to her a gift that would allow her to capture her thoughts for years to come. This simple act almost brought Sam to tears for both its thoughtfulness and personal value.
Brandon added food, clothing, weapons, light, and even music to their lives. While the daytime work still prevailed, evenings were now more joyous, as they would all sit together in parlor. In portable camp chairs that Billy said were “the nicest thing my butt has ever felt”, they would sit by the fire under the warm light of a lantern and read, talk, or play. The music from Ally’s MP3 player, amplified by a portable, battery-powered stereo, filled the room with sounds they had never even conceived. Rap music made Billy frown, though. He just couldn’t follow the fast-spoken words. Light and happiness filled the farmhouse. All that was missing was the children’s mother.
In the days that followed, Brandon gave Sam’s mother a second injection of antibiotics, and blissfully, no reaction occurred. Under the influence of the antibiotics, her breathing went from tight and constrained to loose and productive. Slowly, she drove the infection from her lungs. Equally important, her high temperature quickly abated. She was getting better, Brandon concluded. All she needed now was time, care, and continued prayer.
Round the clock, they all took turns sitting by her bedside, caring for the sick woman. They gave her water and thin soup to build strength and reverse the draconian weight loss. After consulting several of the books he’d brought, Brandon even required them to get her on her feet. Although still unconscious, they would walk her around the parlor to stimulate blood flow and regain strength in her core muscles. All they awaited now was for her to open her eyes.
As the days stretch by, hope began to fade. Even with their resolve, Sam was beginning to question whether her mother would ever awake. None of them were willing to give in, so the beside watch continued with Ally sitting by her side one evening. She thumbed through a book under the low light of a lantern when stirring of the bed covers caused her to look up…and into the open eyes of the woman. Too overwhelmed to say anything, Ally was about to race from the room to get Sam when the woman spoke.
“Water,” she said in a soft, rasping croak. Nodding, Ally retrieved the water cup and held it to the woman’s lips, letting her drink long and deep. As she drank, the woman’s eyes locked on Ally’s—a deep stare that held no trace of hostility, only questions. Finally, a headshake signaled she was done, and the cup was withdrawn.
“Thank you,” she said. The woman’s voice, while no stronger, was at least clearer.
“Um…sure thing, ma’am.”
“Who are you, child?” The woman’s blue eyes seemed clearer by the moment, and they were piercing. Even feeble with sickness, it was clear that this was a formidable woman.
“Ally Warner.”
“Well, thank you, Ally Warner. Can you help me sit up?” Ally brought the woman to a sitting position and gave her another drink of water. Silence fell between them once again as the woman took another long drink of water. “Are my children about?”
“Yes, ma’am. In the other room.”
“Well, why don’t we go visit them?”
“You sure? I mean, you’ve been sick and all for some time. Wouldn’t it be better to stay here? I could go and get them if you want.”
Again, the woman’s inner strength and forcefulness prevailed. “No…I want to go visit them. Plus, I think I’ve had just about enough of this bed.” She swung her legs over the edge and started to stand up, but she immediately collapsed back onto the bed. “Looks like I’ll need some help. Would you mind?”
“Sure thing. Um…I’d be glad to.” The woman wrapped her pencil-thin arms around Ally, and using the young girl as a crutch, slowly rose to stand on her own two feet. Moving only inches at first and then with longer strides, they slowly crossed the bedroom, reached the door, and went down the hallway to the parlor.
In the light of the room, Billy and Cal were both seated in canvas chairs, each looking at thick, hardcover books. At their feet, Katey was playing with a makeshift doll house that Brandon constructed out of a cardboard box. Sitting side-by-side and holding hands, Brandon and Sam were both talking in low tones about the mesa.
“Why do you call it Midland Mesa?” Brandon asked. “That’s not the name on the maps.”
“Don’t know,” Sam replied. “I remember asking Papa ‘bout the mesa. He’d just say, ‘It’s fair to middlin’.’ Hmmm, middlin’.” She smiled in the remembrance of the moment with her father. “Guess from there on, we all just took to callin’ it Midland Mesa for no other reason than it just seemed to fit.”
“Why, hello there,” Betsy Grace said. Her words instantly silenced the room. Billy and Cal leaped to their feet and dashed to her, enveloping the woman in a squeezing hug. Katey was only several feet behind them and fought through the boys’ embrace to her mother’s side. Ally, knowing this was a family moment, gracefully withdrew once the boys had hold of the woman and could guide her to a waiting chair. Interestingly, Sam didn’t instantly fly to the woman’s side as the younger children did. Instead, she stood, somewhat reluctantly let go of the young man’s hand, and then finally went to the woman’s side, all of which were duly noted.
“Oh, Mama. It’s so good to see you up and ‘round,” Sam said. “Here, you want a chair? You ready to sit, again?”
“I think that I probably should,” she replied, and the four children all helped her into one of the canvas chairs. As she sat, she looked with her piercing eyes at the now-standing man.
“Um, Mrs. Grace. I’m Brandon. Ally’s my sister, who you’ve already met.” He extended his hand, expecting a limp, weak handshake but got neither. It was firm and solid.
“Pleased to meet you.” She looked about the room and at the smiling faces of her children, but she also noted that her daughter returned to the young man’s side.
Hmmm, she thought. It’s clear that she’s smitten with that man, and by all appearances, he looks to feel the same way. Her fierce gaze softened into warmth and love, not just for her children, but for Brandon and Ally. Without another word, they were accepted into the household.
“I guess there is a lot for me to catch up on.” As she slowly ate a bowl of warm soup and listened to Sam and the children talk of the previous weeks, the house was filled with stories, warmth, and laughter. For the first time in a very long time, the house again felt like a home.
I still hate the night, for I know that things deep, dark, and dangerous still live within its shadow. Maybe, it’ll always be that way. Now, I know you don’t have to face the night alone.
Sam Grace
Midland Mesa
November 24, 2025
