Against The Darkness (Cimmerian Moon) (8 page)

I wipe the
tears that have formed on the corners of my heavy eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to yell,” I whisper.

“It’s okay to
me,” a man with a heavy country accent says.

Who is
this?
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“I reckon
nobody worth spit can hear yer screamin’ all the way out here.”

My eyes fly
open to something black, round and hollow aimed right at my face.

Gun.

Panic that
feels like ice-cold tentacles seizes my body and seems to squeeze the life out
of my heart. My insides twist and my mind screams, “Run fool!”, but I’m rooted
in place, unmoving, staring at my death.

“I see this
got your attention.”

I flick my
eyes away from the gun’s barrel to the stranger holding it. He appears as if he
just came from a
The
Hills Have Eyes
casting call. He’s white,
but dark, like he spends most of his time outdoors. His shoulder-length hair is
greasy, but for some reason I don’t think it’s that way because of the
invasion. It doesn’t appear to have seen a comb in months. Dark, sparse stubble
is spread abundantly across his chin and cheeks. His brown eyes are wild and
darting to various positions on my face, seeming to not focus on one thing.

“Like whatcha
see?” he asks, noticing that I’m studying him. And then he smiles.

Gross
.

I wish he hadn’t
done that, as pink swollen gums are where teeth should be.

“Hurry up with
that one,” another voice calls out.

I peer past
his legs to see another man standing off to the side, not too far away from us.

Danger
.

I inch my hand toward my knife. If I
can just get it untied, I can stab him before he knows what’s going on.

He flicks his gaze from my face to my
hand. No such luck.

“I think I’ll be relieving you of
that little weapon.”

Little weapon?

Let’s see how little he thinks it is
when it’s buried in his gut.

“Are you tryin’ to find out who’ll be
faster at killin’ the other? ’Cause I bet your life on it that I’ll win.”

I stare deep into his eyes, trying to
find a flicker of jest in them. Finding none, I think about my odds. If I move
fast, I can untangle my knife, stab him in the stomach and then run over to the
other man and stab him.

Still wearing that unamused smile, he
inches the barrel closer to my face, as if he’s daring me to make a move. “Do
you need some kind of incentive, girl?”

Adrenalin tells me I can do it, but
reason keeps me from trying. I let out a defeating breath and untangle my
knife. “No,” I say, handing it to him, blade first.

“Tryin’ ta cut
me?” he says, with a cackle.

The glare I
give him should be answer enough. If I had a chance, I would have sliced off
his fingers, making holding a gun impossible.

He takes my
knife and slides it into the side of his boot. I can’t help but to hope that he
shears off a toe…or maybe two. But all my hopes are dashed when he doesn’t cry
out in pain.

His smile
fades from his lips. “What nationality are you girl?”

Although I don’t
see the relevancy of his question I answer anyway. “I’m mixed—black and
white.”

He pulls back
with a hiss. A warning bell in the back of my mind goes off.

“You one of
them mixed-race people?”

My heart kicks
up a notch, if that’s even possible.

I’m scared and
slightly pissed at the way he said it. He cocks his head to the side. “Hey
Eddie, I got me one of them mixed-race people.”

“A mixed-race?”
The person I assume is Eddie replies.

“She’s just a
child,” Ms. Burgess yells at them.

I’ve had all
my attention so focused on
The Hills Have Eyes
men that I hadn’t
wondered about everyone else. I pull my gaze away from the men to where Ms.
Burgess is. She’s sitting off to the side, next to Ian and Wade. Their arms are
behind their backs. I guess that they’re tied because the look on Wade’s face
says that if he wasn’t bound he would be up throwing country bumpkin bodies
around.

“Please,” Ms.
Burgess pleads. “They’re all children. I’m trying to get them back to
Michigan.”

“Michigan, you
say?” Eddie finally comes into full view. He’s holding a rifle and has the same
vibe as my assailant, except that he’s bigger…and meaner-looking. He leans over
and spits on the ground and then, with his free hand, reaches into his pocket,
grabs a wad of brown substance and stuffs it into the side of his mouth. “Ya’ll
can mix breeds if’n you like in Michigan, but round these parts it’s a sin.”

“Please, we’re
just trying to get back home,” she continues.

It’s then that
I realize that I don’t see MJ, Mia or Shayla.
Did they kill them? Are they
going to kill me?
I peer back up the barrel of the shotgun. It would be
ironic. We escaped aliens, but we couldn’t escape humans who meant to do us
harm.

“You goin’ ta
lay there all day or is you gittin’ up to join yer peoples?”

It takes me a
minute to realize that he’s talking to me and what he wants me to do. “I’m
getting up.”

He takes a
step back and motions his gun toward Ms. Burgess, Ian and Wade. “Well, git!”

I scrambled to
my hands and feet. The thought of crawling to them was in my mind but, just as
quickly as it came, I push it out. I will not crawl like some kind of dog or
second-class citizen. Instead I rise and straighten myself. I make sure to
stare directly into his eyes as I walk calmly over to sit next to Wade. While
they are all on their knees, I decide to sit on my butt and cross my legs.

“Where are the
others?” I ask Ms. Burgess, pretending that I have my fear in check, even
though I can hardly hear my own voice over the loud rush of blood passing by my
ears.

“Shayla and
Mia are relieving themselves and MJ,” she nods to the left of us, “is over there.”

MJ’s back is
against the tree and his head is hanging low. His arms aren’t tied behind him
but are stretched back awkwardly and secured around the tree.

I don’t like
this. He’s looking hurt or dejected…both.

“What did they
do to him?”

“Nothing that
a good hug won’t cure,” Ms. Burgess replies.

And that’s
what I feel like doing.

It doesn’t
take a rocket scientist to see what these nim-wits have done. If they don’t
like mixed people, then they surely would have a worse opinion of black people.
The thought makes me seethe with anger.

I squint defiantly
up at our captors. “If you’re separating the races, then I should be over there
with him,” I say, with a crack in my voice.

“What are you
doing?” Ms. Burgess whispers harshly.

“You’re stayin’
right there, girlie” Eddie says.

“Sin, we need
to stay together,” Wade says.

Had they
objected this hard when these men were separating MJ from everyone else?

I take a deep
breath and rise to stand on shaky legs. “I’m going with him.”

Wade tilts to
his side and tries unsuccessfully to get up. “Help me up, I’m going with you.
It’s too dangerous.”

Eddie cocks
his shotgun. The sound of a bullet going into the chamber echoes around us. “If
she wants to go, she can go. But you.” He points his gun at Wade. “Ain’t goin’
nowhere.”

I muster all
the strength and nerve I have and walk to MJ. I try to clamp down on the panic
that fills me to the core with each wobbly step I take. MJ lifts his head to
watch me. I can’t help but think I’ll get shot in the back the closer I get. So
I keep my eyes on him, thinking he will at least grimace or scream when the
shotgun is raised at my back. At least then I’ll have a moment to know what’s
coming.

He doesn’t do
either. With reddened eyes, he just watches in silence as I approach. As I get
closer, I see the dry tear tracks on his cheeks and know that whatever they
said to him had been just as hurtful as the things they said to me. By the time
I reach him, I feel as though my legs will give out. Using the tree for
support, I lower myself next to him and take a relieved breath. I made it and I
wasn’t killed.

“You didn’t
have to come over here,” he says.

“If they’re
separating races then yes, I do.”

“You should
have stayed with them. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with me.”

“Whatever it
is, they can do it to both of us. I can’t sit back and pretend that I’m not
black.”

He flicks his
eyes in my direction then back down again. “I always thought you only associated
with your other half.”

“And what’s
that supposed to mean?”

He lifts up
one shoulder awkwardly. “I dunno. I never see you with any of us. I just
assumed…”

“Who are ‘us’?
Black people?” I ask, with my irritation lacing my voice. I’d just taken mess
from
The Hills
people and now he was giving it to me?

“Yeah.” He stares
at me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, especially since you could have
gotten yourself killed coming over here with me.”

I don’t have
to prove anything to him, but that doesn’t stop me from explaining myself. “My
mom is black, you know.” I want to add that the black side of my family is the
only family I know and if I walked up to any of my dad’s relatives, they wouldn’t
know me from the next stranger, but I don’t go that far.

He nods. “I’ve
seen her at the band concerts.”

We sit in
silence for a little while, before he adds, “You know, I wasn’t supposed to
come on this trip.” Then he lets out a humorless chuckle. “I’m not even
supposed to be in band.”

“I didn’t want
to come either. My mom made me come.”
And I left her without saying goodbye.

“No you don’t
understand. I play football, I was supposed to quit band years ago, but Mr.
Steinberg didn’t want me to. He thought I could be this great saxophone player,
he didn’t want me to give it up. So he worked out a deal with me, I’d stay in
band, practice and participate in the concerts but understanding that I
couldn’t play at the games or anything. He even paid off my saxophone for me.
When my mom couldn’t make the monthly rental fee anymore and it was pretty much
a done deal that I’d have to drop band, he stepped up and took care of it.”

“Yeah, we all
knew you and Mr. Steinberg had a special arrangement.” I shrug, letting him
know that it wasn’t a big deal. “Ian wasn’t supposed to come on this trip
either. His mom and dad paid for private trumpet lessons. He joined the band this
year and only did that so he and Mia could spend more time together. Bet you
he’s kicking himself right about now.”

“Get out!”

I shake my
head. “Biggest mistake ever.”

“Wow.”

“We all knew
Mr. Steinberg wanted you to stay in the band; he thought you were pretty
special. Way better than Alex.” I let out a small chuckle as I remember Alex.
He always wore sunglasses and a three-piece suit during band concerts. He
wasn’t as cool as he thought he was but no one had the heart to tell him.

“Alex wasn’t
that
bad.”

“No, not
really. He was a ham though.” I chuckle again, remembering some of Alex’s
antics.

“He didn’t
make it.”

The sound
ceases coming out of my mouth and my smile drops away. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry
that more people didn’t make it.”

I look up at him
when he doesn’t reply to find that no emotion shows on his face, as if he hasn’t
heard me or didn’t want to hear me. I don’t press him. Everyone is dealing in
their own way.

“What do you
think they’re going to do with us?” MJ asks.

I glance over
to where both men are talking, seeming to be deep in a discussion. “I have no
clue.” For no apparent reason, the man, Eddie, pops the other man in the head.
“But I feel like I’ve been caught by the Clampetts.”

“But the
Clampetts’ are a step above these fools.”

“Sure is a lot
of chattering over there,” Eddie says.

“Be quiet,
Sin,” Wade hollers, as if I needed the coaching.

I snap my
mouth shut. I defied them by coming over here. I definitely don’t want to press
my luck.

Wade is
watching me. Even under the scraggly beard I can see how red his face is. His
eyes are wide and fearful. I know he’s scared—we all are—but
something about seeing him like this makes me wonder if we’ll escape with our
lives from these people.

I nod at him,
letting him know I’m fine. He nods back, some of the fear leaving his eyes.

Shayla and Mia
come back, followed by a third man. They both make their way toward us, but the
man who woke me so rudely grabs onto Mia’s arm, pulling her back.