Thunder (13 page)

Cleon's eyes widened. He stared at his brother. “Why are you blaming Selah?”

“Because of this.” Raza held up a key to the shackles. “This key should be in the barn at home.” He pulled the other key from his pocket. “Here's our key.”

Cleon shuffled to Raza and lifted the shackles. “They weren't unlocked. The link is broken.” He glanced at the ankle pair lying on the ground and pointed. “So are those.”

Raza bared his teeth. “I don't care what deception they've made up. This is still the other key from the barn. Selah was here!”

Cleon grimaced. “Maybe she's madder than we thought about us taking her catch. I told you we should've let her come along.”

“She's a girl, not a hunter, and I don't care if she did turn eighteen two days ago.”

Cleon slapped his forehead. “I forgot to say anything to her. She's going to be awful mad by the time we get home.”

“She didn't go home.” Raza paced. Cleon could tell his teeth were grinding because his ears were twitching.

Cleon stood and stretched once again. “So you really think she stole the Lander to claim him as a prisoner herself?”

Raza ran his hand through his hair. “I don't know what she did. But that would be her smart choice.”

“Am I missing something? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” Raza dropped the shackles back to the ground and kicked them.

“What's wrong with you?”

“I'm sick of everything about Selah. At least I'll get the bio-coin.”

“Did something hit you on the head while you were asleep? What does bio-coin have to do with Selah?”

“I know Father let me take this assignment for extra bio-coin to keep me quiet.” Raza motioned to the crates in the wagon. “He knew he was wrong. I'm the oldest. I'm his first son. It should be about me, not about her.”

“What about her?” Cleon swiped up the blankets and loaded his belongings into the wagon.

“It's always about Selah. That's why we were following her the days before her Birth Remembrance. Father wanted to know everything she did.”

Cleon averted his eyes. “Do you know why?”

Raza dragged the shackles to the wagon.

“Raza? You didn't answer me.” Cleon wondered why Raza didn't know. Strange. After all, he was the firstborn.

“No more talking. Get the stuff in the wagon so we can leave. I want to beat her to the Mountain. She doesn't have a wagon, so we should be able to catch up. I want the Lander back.”

“What if she doesn't go to the Mountain?”

“Well, we're still going to the Mountain. I need to deliver those rabbits.”

“I saw empty crates the last three times you came back from the Mountain with Father. What are you up to? We don't eat—”

“It's none of your business. Father let me make the deal and I'm getting good money, so I'm not giving it up.”

Cleon raised both hands. “I wasn't asking you to give anything up. You're so secretive about stuff. I just thought—”

“You just thought you'd horn in on my bio-coin. Well, that's not going to happen. Find your own income.”

Raza threw the shackles into the back of the wagon. They skittered across the plank floor and came to rest against the tarp-covered crates. A low growl filtered out from the covering.

Cleon opened the bin of vegetable matter. “Here, you feed those things. I'm not going near them. Helping carry them was close enough.”

Raza curled his lip at his brother and snatched a couple handfuls of field lettuce and wild carrots. “You act like a child. They're just feral rabbits, not wolves.”

He flipped back the tarp. The black, white, brown, and rust-red rabbits pressed themselves to the back of the cages.
Raza opened each of the staggered crate tops and dropped in a clump of food.

Rabbits charged forward, baring razor-sharp teeth. The growling intensified as they tore into the vegetables.

Cleon watched with disgust. “Why would anyone pay for these diseased mutations?”

S
elah relaxed against the wagon's side rail as it rolled along. She appreciated the ride, and the beautiful draft horses were mesmerizing. No one in her Borough owned this kind of horse. She thought Father would be excited to have horses such as these for heavy work. And Dane—well, he would adopt one as a pet right away. She could picture the look on Mother's face at Dane leading one of these great beasts into the house on a leash like he once did with a lamb from the shearing pen.

The wagon hit a bump. Her head bounced off the cross rail, loosening the leather tie on her hair. She winced and rubbed her head as her long hair spilled over her shoulders. She noticed Bodhi watching her.

“What's the smile for?” Selah maneuvered the tie back into place. She was positive he'd lied about her brothers having rabbits, so she knew not to trust him, no matter how sweet the smile. Besides, she'd seen how easily he'd killed those three
from Waterside. Now he'd done some kind of hocus-pocus on Amaryllis. She knew girls who fell for bad boys with sweet smiles. But she still needed him to reach her goal.

He cocked his head and smiled. “You look good with your hair down.”

Selah furrowed her brow. He looked so innocent complimenting her. Granted, she didn't have a lot of experience with boys, but this one worried her. Weird thoughts plagued her, like someone was speaking in her head.

Amaryllis lifted her head from Selah's shoulder, stared at Bodhi, then glanced at their surroundings. “This is where we get off,” she said in a small, tired voice.

Bodhi looked at Selah for confirmation. She shrugged. The path to the library lay farther up the road. No telling where Amaryllis wanted to go.

Selah leaned forward and tugged the sleeve of the wagoner. “Excuse me, sir. You can let us out here.”

Speaking softly to his horses, the man pulled back on the reins. He turned in the seat. “You folks sure you want out here? There's not a homestead for miles in these parts.”

Selah looked at Amaryllis. The girl gave a weak smile and a nod.

“Yes, sir. We're sure. Thank you for your kindness.” Selah helped her from the wagon as Bodhi grabbed their gear.

She figured it was easier to backtrack to the library where Amaryllis lived until she healed. Maybe find someone to leave her with. They stood on the dusty road amid the long shadows as the sun continued its climb to midday. Strange, she felt safe here.

“This way,” Amaryllis said. She pointed to the overgrown
area between two aged maples then limped in that direction. Selah marveled. Her condition had dramatically improved in the last few hours.

Selah wondered if the girl might be disoriented by her injuries. This wasn't the direction to the library. “Are you sure you know where you're going?”

Amaryllis turned and gave Selah a sour look. “I lived here all my life. I'm pretty sure I know where my house is.” She continued into the tall grassy weeds. A cloud of gnats and pollen rose from the disturbed vegetation.

“I thought we were going to the library,” Selah said. She plowed her way through the weeds. Bodhi followed. It had never occurred to her the child actually lived in a home.

“We can stay at my house during the day and go there at night so the magic lights come on.” Amaryllis pushed through the tall grass, walking backward to face them.

The hidden library was the safest place. Selah opened her mouth to protest but choked on several swarming gnats. She coughed, spitting them out and gagging in the process.

Bodhi gave her a playful tap on the back. “That'll teach you to walk through bugs with your mouth open. Cough them up.”

Selah shot him an evil look. Just as smart-mouthed as her brothers, but easier to look at, so she'd give him a half pass. She was beginning to wonder just how much he knew about being in the wild. He acted like the Borough guys who stayed in town and never got their hands dirty. She glanced at Bodhi's hands. The nails were clean and trimmed, certainly not a farm boy's hands.

Amaryllis snickered and continued her limp into the brush.

Selah finally spotted the path, a lane leading out to the road, but now overgrown and snarled with weeds including the perennial kudzu. On closer inspection, she could make out the roof of a small house in the distance.

Amaryllis hobbled to the dilapidated door and pushed. It gave way at the top while the bottom remained stuck. She threw her shoulder against it, whimpering in pain at the unyielding wood.

Selah reached the door. “This is your house?” Aghast that anyone would live in such awful conditions, she didn't want to offend the child.

Amaryllis nodded. “This is where I lived with Mother before she died.”

Selah cringed. “What did your mother die from?” Some illness her mother had taught her about left behind germs that could continue to kill if a person wasn't careful.

“She died from brain fever. She went blind first.” The girl's head dropped. “Then she forgot how to move or talk and finally how to eat. She's buried over there.” Amaryllis pointed to a spot between the house and a large rickety-looking shed.

Selah felt a measure of relief. She had feared the girl's mother was still in residence and had become varmint food. A few years ago, Mother had taken her along on a visit because a certain Borough woman hadn't been seen in a while. The woman had died in her bed and wild dogs smelled the decay. Selah squeezed her eyes shut. She still remembered the look of the woman's scattered bones, gnawed and stripped of flesh.

Amaryllis tried the door again. This time Bodhi put his shoulder into it and forced it open. The large single space smelled musty. A tattered curtain of bug-eaten holes separated
the back quarter, creating a sleeping area. A dusty, torn, and partially unstuffed mattress lay haphazardly across a rusted bed frame. The girl ignored the blight, pushed the mattress straight, and crawled up in the corner against the back wall.

Selah took in her surroundings. Dirt and cobwebs galore. Opening the door had disturbed dust from several surfaces, filling the air with luminescent particles. Loose boards in the plank walls let daylight filter through, and the few remnants of lace curtains didn't do much to keep the bright sun pressing on the grimy windows from spreading into the room.

She saw the signs—of living cut short. Grimy plates on a sideboard shelf, a battered lantern next to dust-laden cups and utensils set on the table, the blackened kettle on a rusted gray metal stove.

Selah looked to Bodhi for some sort of help. “Should we stay here?” She really wanted him to argue, giving a reason to leave without hurting Amaryllis's feelings.

“I think rest, and then something to eat,” Bodhi said.

Selah could only interpret the look on his face as disgust. She wasn't feeling much better, but safety ranked higher than comfort.

“There's still some of Mother's canned food in the root cellar. I never liked fruits and vegetables much, so I only ate them when I was starving,” Amaryllis said.

“What do you eat besides bird meat?” Selah asked. She knew the girl liked the jerky and biscuits Selah had shared, but her meager supplies wouldn't feed three of them.

Amaryllis shrugged. “Bread from neighbors when I look real sad.”

Selah shook her head. “You mean when you hustle them.”
The child had used those same faces on her. She knew all the angles from Dane's behavior.

“Well, that too.” Amaryllis was acting more animated now. Being home seemed to bolster her spirits.

“Why have you never stayed with any of them?” This was the first she'd heard of neighbors. Maybe she could talk one of them into taking the girl. Then she'd get back to taking care of herself—although Amaryllis had proved to have her own skills.

The child's face turned from shock to fear. She backed farther into the corner and shook her head. “No, no . . . the man! I won't. I'll run away! I'll never come back.”

“Okay, calm down. You don't have to.” Selah's stomach twisted at the way Amaryllis said “the man.” Something sinister lurked in the story. She wouldn't push the topic.

The girl trembled. Later Selah would say it was at that moment she decided. She would not be leaving Amaryllis in Hampton.

Selah changed the subject. “Where's the root cellar?”

“The flat door on the back side of the shed.” Amaryllis curled up in a ball and began rocking herself to sleep.

Selah moved to the door. Bodhi stood his ground with arms crossed.

She looked back. “Are you coming?”

“Why?”

“Well, man of few words, I might need you to help carry food. Or whatever else I find that might be useable. We could do with a shirt for you.” Maybe it was a guilty pleasure, but his chest remained a looming distraction to her resolve.

Bodhi rubbed a hand over his bare midsection and grinned.

Selah swallowed hard. It bothered her when he acted like he knew her thoughts.

Amaryllis lifted her head. “There are some of Father's clothes in the shed. Mother could never bear to get rid of them.”

Selah led the way to the shed. This would be a good place to confront Bodhi about the occurrences of the last few hours without frightening Amaryllis with her tirade.

Bodhi followed. “Listen, I have to find people who know what's going on and can help me get home.”

Selah spun and poked him in the chest. “This situation is your fault in the first place.” She'd never admit her defiance had caused the problem. Mother said behaviors bore consequences. She was always right.

Her anger made easy work of the door. She pulled hard, yanking it loose from the dirt and vegetation claiming the bottom edge, and entered the darkened space, slowing to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. Along the narrow back wall, wooden pegs held shirts and pants. Below them in a neat row were several pairs of heavy work boots.

Bodhi stood in the open doorway. “I met you a few days ago for about a half hour. Your brothers beat me in the head and shackled me. How's this my fault?”

Selah decided to avoid the subject. How do you tell someone you've turned into one of them when you're not sure what “one of them” is? Since freeing Bodhi last night, a constant thundering had rolled over her heart with the weight of a boulder, and she still couldn't bring herself to read Mother's letters. The way forward included Bodhi Locke, whether she liked it or not.

She walked to the wall. Maybe if she covered him up, she wouldn't feel so vulnerable to his looks. She grabbed a shirt. Making a face at the musty mildew smell, she shook off the dust. A gray cloud rose from the material to hang in the airless room like a silver fog.

She waved a hand to disperse the particles. “You probably should shake this outside. It needs washing before you put it on.”

Bodhi fingered the coarse linen material. “You want me to wear this?”

“No,” Selah said, but she wanted to scream,
Yes, cover yourself so I'm not all flustered
every time I look at you!
“Civilized people wear clothes, but you could continue to act like a heathen and broil in the sun.”

She averted her eyes. Why did Bodhi have to be so good-looking? She had spent her life in the Borough and could pick only a bare handful of guys who had affected her like him.
Bare . . .
Even her thoughts were betraying her.
Cover him
up.

“You didn't answer my question. How's it my fault?” Bodhi crossed his arms without taking the shirt. He planted his feet wide.

Selah had seen the same pose when Raza balked at doing tasks Father assigned. She held out the shirt. “Listen, we'll find you something better, but for now this will have to do.”

Bodhi didn't take it. “You still—”

“Well, what do we have here?” She pushed the shirt at his chest and let go.

He scrambled to grab the shirt as it fell to the floor. Selah walked past him to the side wall covered in knives of all sizes
and shapes, some rusting or severely nicked, several sharp and clean other than a patina of dust. One in particular caught her eye, a machete with a fourteen-inch blade, a wide tip, and a full-sized handle ending in a bulb shape.

She carefully lifted it from the pegs. The machete balanced well in her hand, like the one belonging to Father had. She'd used it on a regular basis to clear brush and kudzu encroaching on the back hay field. She swung the machete a few times.

Bodhi stepped back. “I remember you had small knives at the beach. Is that your weapon of choice?”

Selah searched for the sheath. “Yes. I need a bigger knife after the hard time I had killing the snake with those little things. I never thought I'd come up against something so large.”

After some trial and error she found the right sleeve with a belt loop on each side. Selah rooted through dusty piles of rags and equipment. There surely was a belt to fit or at least one she could alter the way Father had taught her.