Freedom, Part 7
by Martin H Slusser

Harrison was slumped in the rear seat of the limousine. A worried Henri glanced back. The man was toying with a small quirt, hitting himself on the groin whispering curses and then pleas.

They passed a Conservation crew in dayglow orange jumpsuits clearing the debris from the attack site. A black Harvester van was parked near it, with two men pulling body parts from the woods.

Henri glanced away. He was over sixty, and his day was coming. With a near reverent hate, he touched the collar around his neck and sighed.

“So?”

The Guardian appeared on the seat next to him. The big spirit reached over to slide the flask from Henri’s coat pocket.

He raised it, said, “Scholta,” and drank half.

“’So’ he says. So? So maybe I’m too young to go with them creeps.”

“Nah.” The Guardian wiped his mouth off with the back of one scarred hand. “Ain’t never to young to escape this hellhole.” He pointed at the trees bugging along the road. Here and there a redbud put out delicate coral blooms. A wild apple tree had a few white blossoms on it. The air was filled with new life and the joy of another Spring.

Growing morose, the Guardian said, “This whole place is not but death and tears." A tear ran down one lean cheek. “Compared to the Forest of the Sun, this is the deep end o’ the methane digester. This is the dead lands.”

Tears wet the face. Snatching up the hem of his robe, the Guardian blew his nose in it.

Henri snatched back the flask.

“Man, but ain’t much worse than a whining drunk. Get a life.”

“Got one.” The guardian stared out the window. “Got you. Got your old daddy and granddaddy and all the way back to Red Earth Man. That’s all I got to live for, watching you try to throw yourself into Hell. That, and a few tears.”

All anger gone, Henri tipped the flask up, draining it. He glanced at it wishing for more.

The window whined down, and he threw it into the trees.

He glanced into the mirror. Face a pale mask of hate, Harrison was watching him.

Smiling and innocent, the twins waited until Carl was busy. They slid into a hole in the wall. A nice cow was there chewing her cud.

Trixie sighed.

Dixie slicked her lips.

“Steak.”

“Ham-buggers.”

“Yum.”

The cow’s ears shot up. The aging Ayrshire lowered her horns and snorted.

Dixie held up a pinkie. Trixie linked with her. Together, they smiled at the cow.

Under the splayed hoofs, a little wisp of steam arose to be lost in the cool air.

From the house, Anna said, “If anyone if bothering that cow, they’re goose is cooked.”

Trixie shivered. Dixie said, “Be brave, Sis.” She gave her sister a kiss on the cheek.

Carl’s innocent rumbled followed Anna’s. “I found a two-by-four, honey. Where are the twins?”

Eyes wide and trembling, the girl leaped from the cow-byre and ran to the front of the house.

They slipped in to sneak back to the bedroom. Benny was lying next to Sue. He was sound asleep, his mouth slightly agape, with Sue stroking the hair from his face.

Seeing the twins, Sue held a finger to her lips.

She smiled, beckoning them in.

On tiptoes, the girls moved in.

They peered at Benny, then grinned at Sue.

“He’s a mean one, Auntie Sue.”

“You all got to take care of him.”

“Men ain’t too bright.”

“See? Got himself hurt.”

“Carl?” Benny opened his eye to glare at the twins.

They zipped out of the room, through the kitchen and out the door.

One stopped to close the kitchen door. She smiled, then saw the two-by-four in Carl’s paws and gasped. The door slammed shut.

Scowling at the door, Carl sighed. He shoved the piece of wood up under the table and wired the broken leg fast to it.

He gave the table a slap. Satisfaction in his voice, he said, “There. That ought to hold it.”

With a long, sighing groan, the table collapsed.

A shriek came from outside.

Carl dashed out with Ama and Anna plowing into him. One of the twins had a hand wrapped around a piece of black wire, the second was holding of her twin. The braids stood out and sparks snapped off their teeth. Carl knocked them down, and both girls collapsed.

“Gee,” Dixie said.

“What cha do that for?”

“It was fun.”

“Look.”

Pinkie’s linked, they pointed at a cockroach scurrying along the wall, and lightning cracked from their fingertips.

“Wow. Let’s go see Unca Benny.”

They bounced up but Ama stood in the doorway.

“Go play. Sue don’t need nobody messing around.”

The girls scowled, but Ama gave them a warm, gentle smile, and they bolted down the street.

Glancing at Carl, Ama said, “See? They good babies. No need to be beating on ‘em. Just show them love.”

She turned to step back in the house. Anna frowned. She plucked something from Ama’s back, dropped it with a grimace of distaste, and stepped on it. The monkey demon wailed in pain.

Ama stopped. She glanced around and shivered.

“You hear something, honey?”

Anna smiled. She gave the old woman a quick hug and kiss.

“Freedom, Auntie.”

©2004 StoriesByEmail.com

Virginia Host