Right Where We Started. Pamela Hearon
to her outside. Trey’s nostrils still picked up the stench of decaying flesh from the worn corduroy recliner, where she’d spent most of her hours these past two months, watching TV, smoking her hand-rolled cigarettes and yelling at him to change the channel.
Go on, Daddy’s voice whispered.
Trey put his hands over his ears, knowing it wouldn’t keep out Daddy’s voice.
Go on, damn you. You know you want to, so be a man for once. Do it.
Just a few more minutes. He was anxious to leave this hellhole and leave Daddy’s voice with it, but not until the time was perfect.
Restless, he stood and stretched and then remembered something he’d forgotten to do.
He walked down the narrow hall to the place where the piece of plywood covered the hole in the floor. It didn’t take much—only one hard stomp—to splinter the rotten wood and leave the gaping opening that would allow the snakes and vermin to take over the place. It seemed fitting to let them have it since the same sort of creatures who’d been his parents had held dominion over the place so long.
The action calmed him, and he was consciously able to unclench his fist.
He closed his eyes and ran his fingertips along the wall as he made his way back to the living room, holding his breath and counting slowly to one hundred.
His heart beat wildly as he made himself wait. Daddy’s belt wasn’t there to lash his back when he let out the air, but still he made himself hold it simply because he could. Because he was in control this time.
He opened his eyes, knowing instinctively it was time.
Sure enough, the rectangle glowed with the light of dawn—the time in the movies when prisoners were released or shot. No firing squad awaited him. He was alive and free and leaving Appalachia for the first time in his life.
He ran to the door, jerked it open and stepped onto the wobbly pile of concrete blocks serving as steps. A leap and three long strides took him to the beat-up pickup he’d bought with the money he’d hidden from Daddy over the years, five-dollar bills slipped undetected out of his paychecks from the Quick-n-Eezee convenience store. Daddy’s old fishing boat was hooked up and waiting. As long as he could fish, he wouldn’t starve. He gave the truck—his first honest-to-goodness possession—a loving pat before climbing in and starting the engine. He didn’t know how far she’d go, but wherever it was, that’s where he was headed.
He backed out onto the narrow gravel lane, flipping off the dilapidated trailer in a final salute.
A quarter mile down the road, a raccoon wandered out from a wooded area where sunlight had barely started to filter through the thick growth of trees. The creature, oblivious to the approaching vehicle, got almost to the middle of the road before instincts caused it to pause and stand on its hind legs to sniff the air.
Trey’s headlights caught the eyes, turning them to small orbs that glowed a sinister red.
Hit it.
“No, Daddy. It hasn’t done anything.”
It’s standing in your way, damn it. Hit it!
“I don’t want to.”
Do what I say, or you know what you’ll get.
Trey’s foot pushed harder on the accelerator, bearing down on the animal while it just stood and watched.
“I’ll get it anyway,” Trey whispered, swerving to the right at the last minute.
Gravel flew in all directions, pelting the truck’s windshield as Trey fought to bring the steering under control. The back tires slid into the grass, damp and slick with dew. Just when he thought the sharp drop-off would pitch him into a roll, the truck skidded to a stop.
You’re an ignorant fool. Nearly killed yourself over a raccoon. The stupid animal’s smarter than you are.
“Get out, Daddy.”
The laugh grew louder, and Trey beat his head against the steering wheel, trying to dislodge the voice from where it was housed.
I’m going with you, boy. Gonna stay with you ’til you prove you’re man enough to make it on your own. Now, go on. Do what you know you deserve.
Trey grabbed the leather belt that had been thrown from the passenger seat onto the floorboard. Doubling it in his hand, he reached across his shoulder to slash it across his back three times.
He didn’t make a sound the whole time—that would’ve meant an extra two. Throwing the belt back on the seat, he stomped on the accelerator, breaking the truck free from the mire holding it, and pulled back onto the road.
“OKAY.” AUDREY GLANCED at the list of words in her hand and picked out the one she thought would be the most difficult. “Spell ball.”
“B-a-l...” Tess took a giant step as she said each letter, ending up in the middle of the road. Again. “L.”
“Stay on this side,” Audrey reminded her. The road leading to Beecher’s Marina wasn’t very busy this time of day in mid-September, but she didn’t want Tess getting in the habit of thinking there would never be traffic. In the summer, cars and trucks towing boats behind them sometimes made it look like a parade.
“Mother, may I?” Tess shot her a mischievous lopsided grin—a replica of the one that stayed on Alex Merrill’s face most of the time.
“Yes, you may. And remind me to call your dad when we get home.” Audrey tried not to let her irritation show, but Alex’s failure to get those invoices scanned and emailed to her was throwing her schedule off—something she couldn’t allow to happen if she was going to keep her sanity.
Tess did a bunny hop back to her side. “Ready for another word.”
“Um...how about red.”
“R-e-d. Look, Mama!” Tess jerked to a stop and pointed into the thicket of autumn olive bushes.
At first, Audrey couldn’t quite make out what they were looking at, as the dog’s brown fur camouflaged it against the brown earth, where no grass grew. But then her heart sank. A mother dog with three nursing puppies, no doubt dropped by some person with no heart.
Audrey grabbed Tess’s arm as the child headed into the shadows. “No, punkin.”
“But, Mama...”
The dog’s ears had risen to pointy peaks and she looked at them warily at first. But, at the sound of their voices, her demeanor shifted as if she sensed help might be available. Her ears dropped and she struggled onto her feet with the puppies holding firm to her teats, a look of hopeful pleading in her eyes. She wagged her tail to show she came in friendship as she started toward them, ribs protruding, legs wobbly, dropping babies as she came.
Audrey’s eyes blurred at the sight of the starving dog and the whining puppies.
“We hafta help her, Mama. She doesn’t look so good.”
Audrey stepped between Tess and the dog, facing the animal one mother to another. She leaned down and extended her hand for the adult dog to sniff, which she did, followed by a lick of approval. Audrey scratched behind her ears, and the dog leaned into her hand, closing her eyes in a look of ecstasy.
Two of the puppies grunted and even yelped at the sudden disappearance of Mama. The third moved slowly and was eerily quiet. Smaller by far, he was obviously the runt—the one pushed out during this critical time of growth. The one sure to die if he wasn’t allowed to nurse soon. But the mother didn’t look like she was going to make it much longer, either. In fact, she flopped down and rolled onto her side, looking too exhausted to move another inch.
Audrey