Authors: Darrell Maloney
And he always hid the keys whenever he wasn’t using them.
None of that mattered, really.
For Sarah wasn’t trying to get away.
She honestly believed what her captor had told her.
That they were happily married and were all alone in the world.
That all of their neighbors were hostile and jealous because Nathan, in his great wisdom, had prepared for Armageddon better than anyone else around.
That those same neighbors were so jealous of Nathan and Becky, were so hostile, that they’d shoot them on sight.
And that was why they stayed to themselves. Seldom strayed from the farm, unless Nathan was going out to gather supplies.
Sarah… Becky… was content. After all, staying at the farmhouse wasn’t a bad thing. It was big and comfortable and had most everything they needed.
So she was okay with that.
And she was okay with never venturing out. After all, if the rest of the survivors were petty and decided to dislike them out of jealousy, then those weren’t the type of people she’d want to associate with anyway.
She thought it was silly, that she was naked all the time and Nathan was mostly clothed. But even that she bought into. Being naked was a certain kind of freedom that was hard to explain, but she enjoyed it.
She liked the way the breeze felt as it blew across her body while working in the garden.
And how the sun warmed parts of her that most people never let see the sun.
She believed Nathan when he told her she’d enjoyed those sensations for years. And that he enjoyed seeing her naked because she turned him on. Not because she wanted to or intended to. But simply by parading around in front of him as she went about her daily chores.
He seemed to be a man with a ravenous sexual appetite. Three or four times a day he would order her to go down on her knees for him or go to the bed and wait for him.
He wasn’t a gentle lover by any means. And he never gave any thought at all to giving her any pleasure. He was in that regard a very selfish lover. He took constantly without giving.
But she accepted that as her lot in life. Part of the package she took when she chose him to be her husband. And since she couldn’t remember having any lovers before him, for all she knew he was the first.
For all she knew, all men were that way.
She simply knew no better.
She’d cleaned the catfish he’d brought home herself, while he rested in the hammock in the yard. Somehow she knew exactly how to gut and scale them, then filet them just perfectly.
She assumed it was because she’d done it for her husband on a regular basis. It wasn’t true, but she had no way of knowing that.
The truth was her real husband Bryan had taught her how to do it the summer before, and she’d gotten quite good at it. But while she remembered the process, the whole concept of Bryan was something her brain just couldn’t grasp.
She finished cleaning the fish about the same time Nathan started complaining it was too hot outside and growled that he was moving into the house.
“I’m gonna lay down in the den for awhile,” he told her. “Come and tell me when it’s ready.”
And she intended to do just that. The catfish was ready, as were the stewed carrots and the mashed potatoes. The potatoes were instant and obtained from the back of a truck. But they’d have to do since real potatoes weren’t available.
When she went to the den to retrieve her husband, he was sound asleep and snoring loudly.
She decided to give him a few minutes, and hoped he’d wake up on his own. She’d been snapped at and belittled the day before when she woke him from a nap, even though he’d told her to.
Worse, she was afraid for a brief moment that he was going to hit her. But he pulled back.
Yes. Letting him sleep a few more minutes was the best option. Perhaps he’d wake up on his own and that would be better for both of them.
While she waited she went to the bathroom to relieve herself. Then, in no great hurry to get back, she examined herself in a full length mirror.
Her breasts were sunburned, as was her backside and the area below her waist.
She pondered that for a moment.
And she wondered why.
Someone who’d been a nudist for many years would have been tanned more or less evenly all over, wouldn’t she?
Even in the most intimate of places.
But she wasn’t.
That was odd. Very odd indeed.
Then she fingered a small tattoo on her right shoulder. A pretty tattoo of a bluebird in flight, a twig in her mouth.
She’d asked Nathan where it came from.
He’d very gruffly said he didn’t remember, and to leave him alone.
But the tattoo bothered her. She didn’t know why, exactly. It obviously had no special significance to her husband.
But she had a gut feeling it meant something special to her.
She wished she could remember what it was.
Chapter 32
Sarah had lingered for far too long in the bathroom, and was startled to hear a very angry “God-damnit!” coming from the kitchen.
She hurried out and joined Nathan as he was standing over two plates of cold catfish.
“Honey, please don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
He turned around and punched her so hard she went reeling across the room and landed against the back wall.
“Why in hell didn’t you come and wake me up? I can’t eat cold catfish. It tastes like crap!”
She cowered, then rolled her body into a fetal position, wrapping her arms around her knees and clasping her wrists together.
She didn’t know why, but she seemed to sense a beating was coming.
Perhaps it was her subconscious telling her that this man wasn’t what he pretended to be. That he was brutal and unforgiving and enjoyed beating women.
“I’m sorry. I was getting ready to come and get you, I swear. I just had to go to the bathroom first and freshen up.”
Martel wanted none of it.
He repeated his complaint.
“How in hell am I supposed to eat this crap? I don’t eat cold fish!”
“I… I’m sorry, honey. Give me a minute and I’ll heat it back up again. It can’t be that cold. Just a minute in the microwave and it’ll be steaming hot. It’ll be great, I promise.”
But he was incensed.
He grabbed one of the breaded filets off his plate and brought it to her.
Kneeling on one knee beside her, he placed one of his huge hands behind her head and used the other to shove the fish into her mouth.
“Here, bitch! You eat it. Tell me how you like it, huh? Tell me how you can expect me to eat this shit. Huh? Tell me!”
Before she could answer, he drew back with an open fist and hit her hard, just below the left eye.
The last thing she saw before the merciful blackness overtook her was the enraged face of a madman.
Chapter 33
Joel Hance had no idea he would be auditioning for a new family.
Hannah and Mark had chosen to keep that from him, in case their friends in the compound were tired of taking in new people.
It was Mark’s idea, but Hannah agreed completely.
The closeness of the original forty members who’d gone into the mine three weeks before Saris 7 hit the earth was weakened just a bit when two orphaned teenaged girls were invited in.
It was weakened again when Glenna and her children came into the group, and a third time when Frank Woodard and his wife Eva joined them.
Although no one would say so outright, there were whispered grumblings that perhaps their group was growing too large. It was losing its sense of family. The bonds were starting to stretch too thinly.
Hannah and Mark saw it differently. They saw each new addition as bringing something new to the group that it didn’t have before. They saw it not as a group of individuals that was getting out of control. They saw it more as a family that grows with each succeeding generation, and which becomes stronger as time goes by.
In any event, they knew that broaching the prospect of bringing in another outsider might be a bit touchy.
They’d brainstormed, and decided that perhaps the best course of action was for the group to meet Joel first. And to get to know him.
“They can’t help but love him,” Hannah said. “I mean, he’s witty and charming and funny and handsome. The women will swoon for him and the men will think he’s way cool. They’ll all fall for him in various ways.
“And then after they do, we can spring it on them that he has no living family, and no place to go.”
Mark was enthused, but to a lesser degree.
“Are you sure that you haven’t fallen in love with him yourself?”
“Oh, don’t misinterpret what I’m saying, honey. I love him as you love Sami and Sarah. They are good friends of yours and you value their friendship. That’s how I feel about Joel. I know that he and I have known each other for just a short time, but what we went through together was incredibly intense. It bonded us in the same way any crisis does to the people who go through it together. Plus, he saved my life. He tries to play it off by saying he didn’t, but in my heart of hearts I know I wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t been there. So I not only love him as a close friend, I feel I owe him.
“Obviously I can’t save his life to repay him for saving mine. So I’ll do the next best thing. I want to save him from a lifetime of being alone. I want to surround him by the other people we love. And I know they’ll love him too.
“But when it comes to the man in my life, that’s you and only you. It’s always been you, and it always be. Just because I love Joel doesn’t mean I want him to replace you. I just love the two of you in totally different ways.
“Have I confused you enough, or do you understand?”
“Both, actually. You’ve confused the heck out of me, but I think I understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Good. Because here he comes.”
“Hey you two. Can I join you? Or is there enough sunshine to go around?”
“Welcome, stranger. Roll yourself over here so we can tell you about our evil plan.”
“I love this little courtyard. Did they tell you how it came to be?”
“No.”
“One of the nurses told me about it. After the world thawed out they got ahold of some seeds from FEMA. They planted tomatoes and beans and several other vegetables in the flower boxes all around the perimeter of the courtyard.
“But none of it grew very well. Many of the seeds never came up, and those that did looked sickly and scrawny and never blossomed. They said there just wasn’t enough sunlight that made its way into the courtyard. That the eight stories cast too many shadows for too many hours of the day.
“Then Father Foster, who was the hospital’s Catholic Chaplain for many years, died. In his last will and testament, he said he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread around in the courtyard. He said he’d come here for years to meditate and he was at peace here.
“So they did as he requested. That was a year ago. And they said that all the plants instantly sprang to life, as though they had new purpose. And that they blossomed and bore fruit and vegetables and now they put out so much food that even after the staff takes what they need, they still have leftovers to give to the food bank.
“Now they call the garden ‘Father Foster’s Miracle.’”
Hannah smiled.
“Wow. Cool story. Is it true?”
“Absolutely. Now then, what’s this about an evil plan of some sort?”