Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (9 page)

“Can’t you hear that, you dumbass?” said a voice to Campos. Standing quiet and still, he listened, and off in the distance he heard something. Actually, he heard singing, though he couldn’t make out the words. Grabbing his rifle, which leaned against the doorjamb of the market, Campos headed in the direction of the sound. He could hear better without the crackle of the fire in the background. The closer he got, the more he heard, and the little tune came in clearer.

“Who would be singing out here at night?” he asked.

“Someone about as crazy as you, I bet,” the voice said.

Campos had learned long ago not to argue with the voices he heard, even when their remarks upset him. Usually, one of the other voices would stand up for him.

As he got closer he noticed that the sounds dissipated. Campos thought perhaps he’d only heard an animal, or two, or—more likely—whining or something. Or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him again, which wasn’t unusual. Then he heard a low growl. Something or someone was definitely out there. He saw movement in the dark. He heard footsteps. He stopped beside a parked car, weapon lifted. There was danger ahead.

Peering toward the approaching footsteps, he made out the silhouette of a young lady coming his way in the moonlight. Squatting, he planned to trail her for a few minutes to see where she headed and if anyone else tagged her.

As she got closer, he saw only a slight young lady looking worn out and a bit frightened by the darkness. She wore a light pink T-shirt and had a matching pink drawstring backpack on her back. She held what looked like an ice scraper in her right hand. She moved it back and forth as she swung her arms in her effort to climb the ramp.

At first sight Campos supposed this young lady would be a good addition to his town. She looked determined, and clean cut. Old enough to work, although right now she looked a bit cold as the breeze picked up her golden locks, highlighted by the firelight.

“Hi, miss,” Campos said as he abruptly stepped out from his hiding spot.

She screamed. It startled Campos. He jumped back as much as she did. He brought his rifle before him, but before he could ask her to quiet down, a voice yelled at him, “Shut up!” Then he reached out with his unarmed hand and grabbed the girl by her long hair, dragging her toward the fire bin.

She kicked and screamed, so he let go of her, but only for a second so he could get enough leverage to backhand her. He sent her sprawling down to the hard asphalt, where her head bounced with a sickening thud. A dog barked in the darkness, and Campos knew he should get the girl inside in case the wild animals were coming. He slung the gun over his shoulder and reached down to lift the girl’s light frame. He carried her to safety within his home in the blue-framed house next to the gas station.

He didn’t know why she’d screamed like that. Campos knew young girls were often afraid of their own shadows. It was lucky that she had happened upon him; he could keep her safe from the wild beasts, and it sounded like at least one had been headed their way.

He brought the girl into his tidy living room and placed her carefully on the corduroy sofa. He noticed a stream of blood coming from her lip and trickling down to her chin. He thought it must have happened when she fainted.

He went to the kitchen to wet a clean towel and then gently mopped up the blood. He then applied pressure to her lip gently to stop the bleeding. He felt her icy cold hands, so he pulled a soft afghan down from the back of the couch and began to cover her when he noticed she still wore the backpack. He lifted her head and gently removed the bag to place it next to her. He studied the girl as he tucked her in, her lovely innocence unmarred in the wake of this world.
She’s just a child
, he thought, feeling the weight of her life there with him.

Graham could only watch and listen as Campos startled the girl. He wasn’t surprised when he heard the man’s voice change, but it creeped him out. He began to slide out of his hiding place to intervene, but Bang grabbed him around the leg and buried his face in Graham’s side, trembling. Then he heard a loud smack and watched in horror as the girl’s head bounced on the pavement in front of him. Bang jerked, moving even closer to Graham’s side.

Feeling absolutely at fault for not helping the girl to begin with, Graham cursed his stupid indecision. From underneath the truck he could see the girl’s body in a heap on the ground. As Campos reached down, Graham feared he and Bang might be discovered. He truly felt like a coward and not at all worthy as his father’s son.

Once the dog started barking, he feared the other sister would come forward and engage the madman, too, but then he heard the dog and girl run off to the safety of the woods. He needed to find her. He could have made a difference in their survival, but he’d chosen to remain silent. Now one of them was in grave danger, and the other needed him more than ever. Surely she was scared out of her mind with her sister attacked and taken like that. Shame enveloped Graham as he pulled himself and Bang out from under the truck.

He looked again through the binoculars and watched Campos walk away, carrying the girl through the door of his house. At least he knew where she was. Quietly he backed away with Bang and crept down the grassy slope to where the other girl hid, hoping to find her.

Not trusting his back on the man, Graham took cover at the beginning of the tree line and watched as Campos closed the door. He would find the girl who’d run off, and then wait until morning to rescue her twin.

All of this meant he would need to find shelter here for the night. Bang pulled on Graham’s shirt, and Graham bent down to his level to hear him more closely. He noticed the kid had his fingers in his mouth again. “What is it, buddy?”

“I’m scared. Can we go now?” Bang whispered.

“I know you’re scared,” Graham said, rubbing the boy’s shoulders. Then he took him into his arms and held him, hoping to dissipate some of the fear. “I promised I’d take care of you, and I will, okay? But one of those girls we saw earlier is hiding in the forest here and she’s very, very scared and she’s all alone now. I think we should find her. We might have to stay here overnight though, okay? What do you think—should we go help her?” Graham held Bang away from his body to see his reaction.

“Sure. Are we going to save the other one from the bad man?” Bang asked.

“I don’t know yet. We’ll have to figure that out after we find the girl in the woods. I think she went that way. I want you to stay close. The dog went with her, and he might not be in a very good mood, but we can’t just leave her like this,” Graham said.

As he walked with Bang close behind him, Graham really felt the pressure of his own indecision. Holding his rifle out in front of him, he wasn’t surprised to see Bang swallow his own fear and pull his bow and arrow out for defense.

“Be careful with that thing,” Graham said. Bang nodded but continued to look into the dark forest beyond.

Their progress slowed through the brush. Graham tried to still their movements whenever they caused a rustle. They stopped often to listen for any clues in the distant sounds to see if they might be from a distraught young girl or wild predators.

Fifteen feet above, darkness cloaked the canopy of tree branches, permitting only narrow moonbeams to filter through, like a celestial mirage, casting sparse rays of blue light within. It would be almost impassible if it weren’t for the mercy of the moonlight, though even that made it difficult to see as the silver castings seemed to deepen the shadows.

Stopping every few steps, Graham raised his rifle and made sure Bang was close by. They’d begun to anticipate one another’s movements in a rhythm of guarded devotion. One, two, three, four. Stillness, silence, scanning. One, two, three, four . . . And so the two of them went through the forest.

Macy sat huddled against a damp fallen log with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. With her new companion lying alert across her feet, she thought of the events that had landed her in this current situation. Had it not been for this dog, she too would be in the angry grasp of the stranger.

Macy felt alone. She could only see puffs of steam coming from the German shepherd as he panted and sniffed the air on occasion. “Oh, Marcy, I’m so sorry!” Her sobbing distracted Sheriff from his vigilance; trying to comfort her, he stretched around to lick the back of her hand. Macy tried to suppress her tears and the fear. Gripping the dog, she buried her wet face into his course bronze fur, taking what comfort it provided.

Moments later, a little calmer, she peeked out into the night. Every now and then she heard the crunch of twigs, swooshing of leaves, or distant hooting of owls. She trusted Sheriff’s proven senses, so she continued to crouch in her spot and lamented the events that had led her here.

The day before, her mother had died. She was afraid her father was dead, too; Macy could feel it, even if Marcy didn’t want to believe it. And now her twin sister, whom she’d never been parted from, could also be dead for all Macy knew.

She vowed that when the morning dawned, she would sneak around to her father’s apartment. She hoped her fear of his being dead was wrong and she could get his help to rescue Marcy. At the very least, she knew he had a hunting rifle hidden deep inside his walk-in closet. He’d showed her and Marcy how to use it last winter at her grandfather’s place. She wasn’t certain she’d be able to pull the trigger to kill someone, but she thought she could if it meant saving Marcy’s life. She would never leave Marcy here alone with that man. Then, exhausted by the trauma of the past two days, Macy fell asleep deep in the fur of the haven that Sheriff provided.

Making sure the girl still slept, Campos quietly left the house to shut down the town for the night. “Time to close up shop,” he said only to himself.

He’d made good progress today after clearing out most of the contaminated food from the market. “One more day will do it,” he told himself. “With the girl’s help, it might go even faster—if she works hard enough.”

Smiling to himself, Campos felt happy to have someone to take care of as long as she pulled her weight.
No slackers here
, he thought. She wasn’t as strong, not like the workforce of men he’d rather have, but at least he’d have someone to talk to about the events that happened on any given day. Truth be told, he felt kind of lonely these days; even though his father had never been a nice sort, Campos missed him. And Ben, the postmaster, could be counted on to greet him every time he came into the post office, handing over the mail and stopping to chat a bit. But Campos had recently found old Ben slumped over the breakfast table at his home, and he had buried him and his wife in their backyard.

“I’ll have to come up with some chores for the girl. Jobs she can do to keep her busy,” Campos said to himself.

“I don’t like the little bitch,” replied another voice.

“She’s a darling girl, and she needs a home,” the she-voice insisted.

Getting angry now, Campos said under his breath, “You leave her alone; only
I
talk to her. I’m warning you all.” Campos stopped midstride on his way to the fire pit, hoping he had made himself clear to the others. He rarely even acknowledged the voices within, but he knew they could be a problem for the girl.

There were things he couldn’t even remember, and he feared that those were times one of the others took over. He would find himself in a different place, with parts of the day missing; that’s what had happened with the whore woman and the beggar man. He knew he’d have to find his medication soon; the girl’s safety depended on it. Some of the others were fine—friendly, even—but one in particular scared him.

Pulling on the makeshift barbed wire fence he’d rigged up along the open road, he closed up the front entrance. It wasn’t a surefire locking system, but at least it kept the wild animals from wandering into town. When he’d walked outside a few days ago early in the morning, he’d found, out of his peripheral vision, a wolf standing sure as you please on the corner of the bank plaza. The wolf watched his every move, and then walked with those big pads of his off to the side. He finally disappeared between the buildings and into the brush.

From that point on had Campos decided to at least put up a few fences to dissuade the wild animals from freely roaming into town at night. Each morning he opened them up again for anyone of the two-legged variety who wanted the option of staying or trading.

Walking to the other end of town for the back entrance, Campos stopped at the market parking lot. There he found that the fire in the bin had died down from lack of fuel. He pushed the shopping cart back into the line of carts, turned off the lights, and closed the door he’d propped open earlier. Then, listening to the nightly insect chattering and the rhythm of his own boot steps, he walked to the darker back entrance and secured up his town for the night.

With a bit more pep in his step than in previous days, Campos thought about how the events of the day had finally taken a turn for the better. He looked forward to tomorrow. He’d feed the girl some breakfast and then find her a better home to live in. Not too far away from him, though, in case she needed him. Perhaps the one next door where Mrs. Walker had lived with her daughter, who had not been much older than this girl. Maybe there were clothes about the same size for her there too. It’d be nice if he found her a mother and father as well. “Girls need their moms and dads more than boys do,” he said to himself.

Knowing the day was finally done and his nightly chores were finished, Campos stopped at the gas station to lock up the doors in case someone tried to steal his fuel. As on any other recent night, he stopped and looked up at the bright moon just above the tree line of the forest. He listened intently as the quiet begged for even the slightest sound to say he wasn’t alone. He heard nothing out of place, nothing out of the ordinary that would cause him alarm. Only the crickets chirping; an owl, known to make his calls every night, echoed in the dark with a lonely hoot. On most nights Campos felt himself a certain kindred spirit to the lonely bird.

Feeling secure, he accepted the yawn and soreness the day’s work now brought. He ambled quietly over to his home and stepped inside. The girl lay unmoved from her last position. He felt her head for any fever, avoiding the lump that had risen on the side of her head. He watched her breathing and decided she just needed to sleep. Tucking one end of the loose cover in, he removed her shoes, placed them beside the couch, and went off to his room to close the day behind him while looking forward to the next.