Desperate Acts
Short Stories by Various Contemporary Authors
Cover Art: Designs By Rachelle
Published by Mind Wings Audio at Smashwords
These short stories are also available in audio CD and MP3 formats
Copyright © 2010 by Mind Wings Audio
Discover other titles by these Contemporary Authors at Smashwords.com
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright owners of the published works:
A Murder of Crows
© 2009 Jack Bates
Someone Else’s Dream
© 2001 E. Jean Beres
Rumors
© 2009 E. Jean Beres
Dream House
© 2001 E. Jean Beres
Remote Bliss
© 2008 M. Cheryl Green
Homeless
© 2008 Elsie Schmied Knoke
Shortcuts
© 2009 Tarrin Webb
Through the Eyes of a Killer
© 2008 D. L. Wilson
Darktown Strutters
© 2009 L. A. Wilson, Jr.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Remote Bliss
M. Cheryl Green
Shortcuts
Tarrin Webb
Rumors
E. Jean Beres
Darktown Strutters
L. A. Wilson, Jr.
Through the Eyes of a Killer
D. L. Wilson
A Murder of Crows
Jack Bates
Someone Else’s Dream
E. Jean Beres
Homeless
Elsie Schmied Knoke
Dream House
E. Jean Beres
Remote Bliss
By M. Cheryl Green
The last sunrays streaked the western sky as another dog day of summer ended. Josiel Henry rocked gently on the front porch of her cottage. It was secluded by pine and oak trees off State Road 1723 in Cumberland County near Fayetteville, North Carolina. She smiled and laid her head back after tuning in to her favorite jazz radio station.
Josiel’s only companions, Kujo and Bingo, lay in the grass beyond the porch. Kujo a mongrel resembling a bloodhound suddenly perked his ears. When alert, his meaty frame was taut, more like a Rottweiler. Bingo, a young Beagle hound, looked up from his nap. In an instant, they raced toward the dirt path driveway, barking, scouring the area.
The rustling and crackling of twigs sounded in the distance. Josiel squinted for a better look. A figure darted through the bushes and the pine trees. It might be human. Maybe it was an illusion or an apparition, but that was not something Josiel would entertain. She either saw something or she didn’t.
Josiel picked up her binoculars. She always liked zeroing in on the critters. This time the binoculars didn’t reveal much of anything. She picked up the computer remote and pointed it at the window, muting the speakers.
“Quiet, Kujo,”
Kujo’s barking ceased. He stared down the driveway, whining, his ears still perked. Bingo stood in the middle of the driveway continuing his high-pitched bark.
“Bingo, be quiet!”
Bingo glanced at her, then back down the driveway. He bounded toward the trees. Kujo shot ahead of his companion. Both dogs disappeared into the underbrush.
Josiel stood, leaned forward, and inspected the yard. “Who’s there?” Her gravelly, low-pitched voice drew out the words. Her curly gray boy-cut hair accentuated her pecan-colored skin and, even at age seventy-two, her willowy frame was well-toned.
Barks and growls from the dogs were her only response. She scanned the area once more with her binoculars. Probably a fox, or maybe a black bear—she’d seen one out here before. She went inside.
Josiel’s eyes scanned the living and dining rooms, the exercise equipment and furniture. The house was a place built for comfort, her cozy cocoon away from violence and aggression, something she despised and had seen too much of in the past. She checked the back door then peeped in her bedroom. A glance over at the closet door brought thoughts of the rifle. It was stored up in the attic through the opening in the closet. Josiel had never felt the need to have it handy, though she did clean and oil it once a year. Respect for guns and how to shoot was something she’d learned as a girl, but she didn’t much like them. She’d used the rifle once, a few years before, to shoot a few tin cans off a stump, just to make sure she had the feel of it. Her former husband had given it as a gift to their son; a teenager at the time, he’d lost interest in shooting decades ago. Admittedly, living a quarter mile from the state road in a secluded area was a little daunting. But the dogs were watchful and she enjoyed the privacy, no more of the ugliness of the city and past affairs.
Josiel turned on the television and went to the kitchen to finish up the dishes. She hated housework, but couldn’t stand the sight of a sink filled with dirty dishes. After putting the last dish away, she lay back in her leather recliner in the living room. She flipped through the TV channels stopping at NBC. Dateline’s To Catch a Predator was on. How could these guys be so stupid? These men were proficient at surfing the web to commit crimes against children. Didn’t they ever watch news shows? To think they would pull such stunts and expect they could get away with it. Now another one was in the hot seat—waiting for the kid to come out but instead he gets Chris Hansen. She shook her head, just thinking about them, those sick, stupid bastards. Why couldn’t they just do right? Twisted or not, just do right. She thought about Jim, her ex-husband. He wasn’t a pedophile, but he’d had his own issues with violence. She was sure that there was a genetic flaw that some men carried that made it impossible for them to control their conflicts and inconsistencies with others, male and female.
Sounds of barking and growling and pain-filled yelps gripped Josiel. She jumped up, grabbed the bat by the door, and flipped on the outdoor spotlights. Outside, all was silent, not even a cricket chirped.
“Kujo, Bingo—come boys.” Josiel whistled. “Kujo, come on, boy.” She patted her thigh and waited. Nothing. He’d always come in the past. “Bingo, come here Bingy.”
Josiel examined the yard then walked along the edges beyond the spotlight. She went toward a wooded area on the side of the house. Kujo lay on his side on the ground. He didn’t move as she came closer.
She knelt down and felt his chest below his front legs then checked his nose. He wasn’t breathing. “Oh Kujo,” she groaned, stroking him. Her hand came away wet with blood. With a closer search of his fur, she felt puncture wounds. It appeared that someone had stabbed him.
Josiel leaned close, as if to shield the dog’s body, and scanned the area with her eyes. She gripped the bat tightly and crept toward the back of the house. The back door looked secure. She circled around toward the front, searching for anything that moved. She would notify the sheriff’s office immediately.
Josiel went inside and turned to close the door; as she did, two men rushed her from behind. She was spinning, a hand grabbing her, then another. One grabbed her in a chokehold while the other jerked her hands behind her. At five-foot-ten, Josiel was taller than either of them. They had to struggle to hold her. Her eyes widened with fright. She tried to make a sound but couldn’t. She fought until she could no longer breathe.
“Do not scream,” growled the man who was choking her. He had a slight Latino accent. His angry black eyes were fixed on hers. She felt the heat of his breath, and saw the sweat beads on his brown skin. His lip curled beneath a thick, dark mustache. He loosened his grip just enough to let her breathe.
“What y’all want?” Josiel stammered, coughing; her throat still felt like something was blocking her breathing passage. Both men let her go. Her hands shook as she rubbed her throat. Terrified, she struggled to conceal her emotions. She needed to focus, concentrating on what her next move might be and what she should or shouldn’t say was of utmost importance.
“Is this your place?” the man with the mustache asked.
Josiel nodded, frowning as her eyes darted between the two men.
“We need a place to stay,” he said.
She lowered her eyes and mumbled, “Stay in the woods—” The spiteful remark was more audible than intended.
“You think we stupid?” The man who had held her arms grabbed her neck.
The mustached man held up his hand. “No, Paco.” Then he looked at Josiel and said, “We stay here.”
“Here?” Josiel asked. She clasped her trembling hands together, trying to appear calm.
“Yes, here!” said the mustached man.
A tap-tap sounded at the front door.
Paco looked at the mustached man. “Hector—”
Hector motioned to Paco to take Josiel away from the front door area.
Paco grabbed Josiel and dragged her into the kitchen. Hector peeped through the curtains then opened the door. Two men entered.
“Who’s here?” the first man asked. He had a scar on the left side of his cheek. It started at his temple and ended at the bottom of his jaw line.
Hector pointed toward the kitchen.
Paco guided Josiel into the dining area. His face was pitted with acne scars and a frown that seemed part of his countenance.
The second man who entered appeared to be the youngest of them. He was about the same height as Josiel but slimmer with stubble in place of a mustache and tied back hair. She watched him stroll over to the dining room, glancing at framed photos and the open rooms. He sat down at the table. His eyes looked kinder than the other two—or was it his youth?
“Paco, bring her over here,” the young one said.
Paco steered Josiel toward the dining room table and sat her down in one of the chairs.
“What have you got to eat?” the young one asked.
The nightmare of her past swelled inside her. It was the darkest chapter of her life, her marriage. Her husband was questioning her. She had to be as docile as possible; she didn’t want to provoke him. “Vegetables, brown rice, tomatoes, onions,” Josiel said. She hoped her tone wasn’t irritable.
“What about meat? Don’t you have meat?” the tall slim man said.
Shaking her head, Josiel said, “No, don’t eat meat.” It was curious to her how he could be thinking about food.
“What kinda old bitch are you?” he said.
Josiel remained silent, her eyes lowered to the floor. Giving the young one a hard kick in the groin would’ve been gratifying, but this was no time to lose control.
“Go cook us some food.” Hector said. He turned to the man with the scar. “Lucho, you watch her.” Then, he pointed a finger at Josiel. “No mistakes or you will regret it, comprende?”
She nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen. She hoped they hadn’t noticed how quickly she’d moved out in the yard. The men didn’t need to know that she had the energy and the stamina of someone younger. She feared they’d become even more vigilant. Bent and decrepit would be a much better persona for now. She’d bide her time until the opportunity was right.
The young one got up, looked around the dining room, then moved through the bedrooms, searching. In the second bedroom, he found a cell phone, desk phone, some documents, and a checkbook.
“I have something,” he called out to the other men in the living room. He took the phones, checks, and documents out to his friends. “This old woman gets a check every month. Look at this.”
Hector and Paco looked at the check statement. The young one set the phones down by Hector.
“Maybe we should just stay here and collect,” Paco said.
They all laughed.
“Maybe we could stay for awhile, until they stop looking for us,” the young one said.
“Quiet, Felipe,” Hector said.
Lucho looked around the kitchen, gathering all but one small knife. “You use this,” he said, handing Josiel the knife. “And remember, we’re watching you.”
Josiel nodded and stared vacantly at the paring knife. She moved about the kitchen weighted with the burden of past feelings of mistreatment reawakened, struggling with the messages her senses were trumpeting in her head—control, anger, abuse—thirty years of recovery, erased in a matter of minutes. Once again, she was compelled to yield to violence; someone telling her what to do, threatening abuse if she didn’t obey.
Lucho gestured toward the window. “I’m going outside. You stay put.” He went out through the living room.
Josiel worked quietly, straining to hear whatever she could from the men talking in the other room. A rustling noise sounded outside the kitchen window. She could see Lucho’s head, he was moving about, looking around. Why? Her heart pounded. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself as she chopped the onions. She wondered, What are they running from? From what she’d seen in the news, she was sure that whatever it was, these men weren’t just some illegal aliens.
“Her name is Josiel Henry,” Felip said in the living room. “It looks like she lives alone here at least since we got rid of her dogs.”
Josiel gripped the sink. She covered her mouth and wept silently. They’d killed Kujo and Bingo.
“Sí, we did good,” Paco said. “Not much traffic on this road.”
The same things that had drawn Josiel to this place had attracted these criminals. She’d wanted seclusion—so had they.
“Felip, see what else she has around here,” Paco said.
He nodded and rummaged through the living room.
Lucho had come back inside. He made sure Josiel was in sight in the kitchen, then turned on the television in the living room and found the news. “. . . local police in Austin, Texas, are still searching for two men who murdered a teller during a bank robbery last Friday.” They showed a video of the robbery and provided a contact number for anyone who may have seen the men.
Josiel felt her heart sink after hearing the news clip.
Hector laughed. “They think we’re still in Texas!”
“Still, we be careful,” Felip said. “We don’t want them looking anywhere else. This could be a trick for us to let our guard down.”
Paco nodded. “You might be right.”
“Right. We still hide out as planned,” Hector said.
“At least they are looking for two men, not four. That takes the edge off,” Lucho added.
“Maybe for Texas, but things here may not be as they seem,” Felip said.
“What are you talking about?” Paco asked. The frown on his brow deepened.
“There’s a weight machine in the spare bedroom and a treadmill over there.” Felip pointed to the treadmill near the far wall. “This old bitch is lying. Someone else lives here besides her.”
“Josiel, come here!” Hector called.
Josiel appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“I’m asking you one more time, and you’d better tell the truth. Do you live alone?” Hector said.
Josiel considered the question. If she said no, they might leave, though they already thought it was a good hideout. On the other hand, they might stay anyway and plan to kill the other dweller that they would expect to show up or turn their wrath on her for lying when no one appeared. If that happened it would increase suspicion on her, increasing the odds that she might be killed sooner than later. It was too complicated.
“Answer the question!” Hector demanded.
Josiel flinched. “Yes.” The truth was best in this case she decided.
“Whose exercise equipment is this?” He pointed toward the bedroom then to the treadmill.
“It’s my son’s.” They’d find the lie easier to believe anyway. She was a workout fanatic, seven days a week for most of her adult life, not the norm for most seniors.
“When is he coming home?” Hector asked.
“Thanksgiving.” Her son always came home for Thanksgiving.
Lucho rushed toward Josiel in the kitchen doorway. He frowned and leaned in, looking up at her. “If I find out you’re lying, I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he said, grabbing her neck.
Her eyes met his as his stale breath reached her lips. Lucho’s threat and menacing glare made her feel weak. Her hands trembled and she felt drained. It was the same reaction she’d had in the face of her husband’s threats and assaults, an entrenched reflex she’d all but forgotten. Survival instincts flashed in her mind—don’t do anything to upset these men, go with it, do what they want. She willed herself to stay calm as dread and loathing churned inside her.
“Settle down, man!” Hector said. “This old lady ain’t going nowhere. She’s got to cook our food.”
Around ten that night, Josiel brought two platters to the dining table; one stacked with corn cakes, the other with sliced tomatoes and cheddar cheese. She followed with a bowl of sautéed squash, bell peppers, and onions. After setting out the plates and forks, she watched as the four men sat down. The food she prepared was all that she had but not what most people would want. Would she be blamed for her food choices? Anxious, she waited for the upshot.
Felip tore into the food as if he hadn’t eaten in days. The others followed; using corn cakes as utensils, they ate like savages.
“Get glasses for the water,” Hector demanded.
Josiel jumped then ambled toward the kitchen, returning with the glasses. She felt like every move she made was in slow motion, maybe it was.
“Sit down, over there,” Paco said, pointing to the living room sofa. Inside, Josiel’s willpower fought the order, but she obeyed; there was no other option.
The men consumed two weeks’ worth of food in less than an hour. Then they lit cigarettes and talked softly and quickly. Josiel could understand little of what they said. The terror that she felt inside had drained her. Their chatter soon became white noise, lulling her to sleep.
After a while, the men quieted. “Lucho,” Hector said, “take the old woman to her room. Tie her to the bed and watch her tonight.”
Lucho grasped Josiel by the arm, startling her.
“I gotta pee,” she said.
Lucho steered her to the bathroom. He let her go in alone and close the door. At least there was that. Her retirement ten years earlier to this peaceful country setting had been all she wanted. She’d had control of herself, no need for concern of ill-treatment and violence at the hands of someone else. How long would they let her live? What did they need her for? Couldn’t they still collect her money if she were dead? All they needed was her ATM card and password and she knew she would give it to them if threatened. No one would come checking on her. She was practically a recluse. Each month, when her retirement checks were deposited, she’d go into town, but she’d already been there this month. Everyone in the places she did business knew her public routine. How could they not? She was as consistent as a clock. No one would miss her until then, if then. Now she was paying the price for her seclusion. She looked in the mirror over the sink, washing her hands. She shook her head at her reflection; it had been years since she’d left her husband and with that, the violence.
“Hurry up, old lady!” Lucho yelled.
Josiel opened the door; he was waiting with duct tape.
In the bedroom, he taped her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. Though it was painful, exhaustion outweighed discomfort. She had to relax and come up with a plan. Minutes later, her eyelids quivered then closed.
A gust of wind obliterated the halo around the drawn curtains in Josiel’s bedroom, pushing the curtains aside. The sun glared in her face. She woke with a start, her arms and feet jerking. Her arms tingled; she couldn’t move. What nightmare was this? Then she remembered. Lucho was asleep in the big chair at the foot of her bed. His head was laid back and his mouth gaped open.
She watched Lucho as he slept, curious how he seemed perfectly normal, except for the scar. It could have been from an accident, but the stern distant stare in his eyes when he was awake suggested that wasn’t the case. He was too mean. He had come by that scar through a confrontation. She felt sure of it.
“Hey,” Josiel called. “Hey!”
Lucho lifted his head slowly. “What?” He looked annoyed.
“I need to wash up and fix breakfast.”
“Go back to sleep.” Lucho turned from her. “We’re not ready to eat.”
“I need to eat or I’ll be sick,” Josiel said. “The doctor’s got me on a special eating time. I got to eat every four hours.” She scolded Lucho with her eyes.
She detested being dominated merely for the sake of appeasing Lucho.
Lucho cut the tape and allowed her to get the things she needed from her dresser then escorted her to the bathroom. She felt as though she’d aged ten years. Her joints were stiff and her shoulders ached. She didn’t have to practice a shambling walk today. She winced as she raised her leg to step into the shower.
Josiel busied herself with breakfast. Lucho watched her from his seat at the dining room table. After awhile, Lucho left his chair at the table and browsed the bookcase contents in the living room. A commotion sounded. She moved near the kitchen door to look into the adjoining room.
“Ay!” Lucho exclaimed, rushing toward the dining room. He’d found a chest disguised as a book in the living room bookcase. He dumped the chest’s contents and sorted the things on the table—ten one-ounce gold coins, a diamond ring set, and fifty one-hundred-dollar bills. Paco and Felip went over to the table.
Josiel stood in the kitchen doorway, her hand over her mouth. Hector watched the men from the spare bedroom. Felip reached out for the coins on the table.
Josiel hurried toward Felip. “Please, don’t take—”
“Get back!” Felip backhanded Josiel across the chest.
“It’s all I have, please,” she said, sobbing softly.
“Go on back in the kitchen,” Hector said from the bedroom doorway.
She’d saved those bills one by one, working as an analyst for the government. The gold coins were gifts from her son.
A few minutes later, Josiel reentered the dining room and stared at the dining table. The treasure from the book chest was gone. She glanced through her open bedroom door then looked away. She thought she’d better not give them the slightest reason to look there. The four men had gathered around the television. Lucho shifted his gaze from the screen to her and back again.
“I need to bury my dogs,” she said, her voice trembling.
“No, you go make us some coffee,” Paco said.
“I need to bury my dogs!” she sobbed, dejected by the men taking her things from the book chest and the killing of her dogs.
“She’s probably right,” Hector said. “It’s not a good idea to leave them lying out in the open. Someone might see them and get suspicious. Felip, find a shovel and bury the dogs.”
Felip went out the backdoor.
Hector looked at Josiel. “You, have a seat.” He pointed to the recliner in the living room.
“A shovel’s in the shed,” Josiel said, sitting down slowly, watching the men.
“Let her make some coffee, man,” Paco said.
“You make it,” Hector said.
“Why should I make coffee?” Paco said. “That’s what she’s here for. Are you getting soft?”
Hector jumped up and grabbed Paco by the shirt and pulled him closer. “I’ll kill you where you stand if you ever accuse me of being soft again. Understand?”
Paco held up his hands. Hector let go of his shirt. Paco turned and slouched as he went toward the kitchen.
“Got freeze-dried coffee in the freezer,” Josiel said. She watched Hector sit back and relax on the sofa. He looked tired and irritated. Was he really trying to protect her?
Later that morning, Hector shaved off his mustache then joined the others in the dining room. The four men busied themselves playing cards. Except for short breaks, Josiel was confined to her chair in the living room.
About one o’clock, Hector looked up from the cards and said, “Josiel, go fix lunch.”
“I cooked everything I had last night.”
“Man, we need some real food. Some meat.” Felip pounded his fist on the table.
“How we gonna pull that off?” Paco asked.
“We’re not. She is,” Hector said. “I’ll go to town with her. We’ll grocery shop and pick up a meal for tonight. You all stay here.” Hector turned to Josiel, “Go fix up to go shopping.”
Lucho followed Josiel to the bedroom.
Josiel and Lucho returned to the living room a few minutes later where the other men were. Hector looked at Josiel, up and down, and nodded his approval of her outfit for town.
“We should return in about three hours. Don’t be outside while we’re gone and don’t make a lot of noise. We don’t want any attention, all right?” Hector said.
The three men nodded.
“Get some beer too!” Lucho added.
Hector nodded and went to the car with Josiel.
After Josiel and Hector got in the car, Hector said, “When we get to town, you do the shopping by yourself, but I will be close-by. If you do anything to cause trouble, I’ll tell the men to burn your house to the ground.” He waved her cell phone in her face and scowled at her.
Arriving on the edges of Fayetteville, Hector directed Josiel to an ATM. She withdrew the maximum amount. He grabbed it from her and counted it. “All right,” he said, “to the grocery store.”
After they arrived and parked, Hector took hold of Josiel’s arm. “Remember what I said. If you make trouble in the store, your house will be gone forever. Understand?”
Josiel nodded. She’d only had one plan for conveying a message. Was there the slightest chance anyone would notice? If so, she’d take her chances on whatever might happen if the police came. It would be better than waiting to die.
“And buy some meat and coffee, and some beer.” Hector released her arm, got out of the car, and followed her at a distance. After she entered the store, he stood out front for a few minutes smoking a cigarette, then went inside.
Josiel nervously shopped, making sure she loaded up at the meat counter. She caught glimpses of Hector, first in front of the store, then in the dairy section. When her grocery cart could hold no more, she went to the checkout.
The bag boy unloaded the groceries into Josiel’s trunk then slammed the trunk shut. A man close by stood watching them.
“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” the bag boy asked.
Hector shook his head and walked toward the next lane of parked cars.
“Have a good day ma’am,” the bag boy said. He gave no sign of noticing anything out of the ordinary.
Josiel’s hand came up, but then dropped to her side. She knew Hector was watching.
Josiel got in and started the car. The passenger door opened. Hector slid into the passenger seat and gripped her hand.
“If you pull another stunt like that, I will punish you. I promise.” He crushed her hand until she flinched. “Now let’s go!”
Her crushed fingers throbbed as she backed out of the parking space. How much more could she take? For some reason, she’d hoped Hector might be easier on her than the others. She’d been wrong; he would kill her too. If Lucho had his way, she would have been dead already.
Josiel nearly wept as she thought of what waited for her at home.
By early evening, the four men had gorged themselves on food and beer and flopped wherever they could get comfortable. Paco sat at the table, his head resting on his arms while Felip lay on the floor in the front of the television and Hector reclined in the chair. Lucho sat on the couch watching her as she stood in the kitchen doorway.
“Why are you standing there staring?” Lucho asked.
“I don’t know what to do. I’m done in the kitchen.”
“Go in your room and stay away from the windows,” Lucho said.
She went to her bed and peeped between the mattress and box spring. The hatchet was still there. Felip was not as thorough as he could have been. She’d kept the hatchet under the edge of the mattress as her last defense, if some natural calamity required her to hack her way out of the rubble. She hadn’t considered the possibility of using it on an intruder, until now. Still, after more than twenty-four hours, she hadn’t had the slightest chance to get the hatchet. She couldn’t take on all the men with a hatchet. It would be no good unless she had a clear shot at getting away.
Josiel watched the curtains ruffle in the breeze through the window. The men were full and relaxed; even without a weapon, this might be the time. She released the spring locks on the window screen and let it slide down the outside of the house. She stepped out of the window and dropped the few inches to the ground, then headed toward the trees and the road beyond. It would be dusk soon. That should add time for her getaway.
About five minutes later, Lucho called, “Josiel, what are you doing?” He went to the bedroom, and looked in. She was gone. He saw the window screen was missing and rushed into the living room.
“She’s gone. Josiel’s gone—out the window.”
“Find her,” Hector roared, pulling himself up from the chair. All four of them rushed from the house. Hector started issuing orders. “Lucho, see if you can spot anything in the back, and fan toward the road. Paco you look up there.” He pointed to the left side of the house away from the driveway. “Felip and I will take the area along the driveway. We’ll meet on the state road, and stay out of sight!”
Though the pine trees blocked most of the remaining sunlight glowing in the west, Josiel jogged and walked, going as quietly and quickly as she could through the trees. Her heart raced, making it difficult to breathe.
Hector’s voice was far enough away that his words weren’t clear to her, but she knew they were coming. She needed to either reach her nearest neighbors a half mile away, or wave down a car on the road. A passing car was unlikely out here. She’d met her neighbors once, and waved at them when they passed by on occasion while getting her mail, but she didn’t know if they’d be home. Their house couldn’t be seen from hers. She berated herself for a moment. After nearly a decade of living off the county road, she should have been more cordial, maybe dropped by from time to time just to get acquainted.
She was nearing the open area where the pine trees ended, but beyond the pines lay a stretch of pure blackberry briars about thirty feet wide. She’d have to hunt for a thin spot or get ripped to shreds. She’d be caught for sure if she stayed near the trees.
Twigs crackled in the stillness. Josiel pressed close to a tree trunk. One of the men was getting closer. She looked at the briar patch, just a few feet away. She crept toward it. She crawled, staying level with the gnarled overgrowth, searching for a thin spot. Thorns tore through her clothes into her flesh. She kept moving.
“There she is!” Felip said, pointing toward the brambles. He and Hector were beyond the trees and near the road.
“Quiet. Stay low,” Hector whispered.
They neared the edge of the briar patch.
“How are we going to get to her?” Felip asked. “She’s in the middle of it.”
“Go on down to the road, cross over on the other side, and get down near the ditch. Come back up once you’re near where she is. I’ll keep going to where she is on this side.”
Felip nodded and ran.
Paco came out from the trees about forty feet to the right of the driveway. Hector whistled softly, then gestured at where he’d spotted Josiel. Paco nodded and moved toward the spot. Hector stopped and knelt down about twenty feet from Paco. They watched.
Scratched and bleeding, Josiel stepped into the ditch by the road. She took a few deep breaths then began to climb up the embankment. She wished against the odds that someone would come passing by.
When Josiel stood up on the edge of the road, Felip rushed across the roadway.
“Oh God! Oh God!” Josiel cried, hurrying toward her neighbor’s house. Felip closed in. She tried to speed up, but this was where youth outran age.
Felip grabbed her. “Come on,” he rasped, dragging her back toward the driveway.
Josiel didn’t say anything but struggled to escape him.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Felip said. He gripped her hard, and she fought him.
She knew it was useless. They were never going to let her go. She gave a last swift tug and almost broke free. Felip punched her in the face. Josiel collapsed.
Paco and Hector ran along the road to where Felip was standing over Josiel.
“Give me a hand, Paco,” Hector commanded.
The two men lifted Josiel and carried her to the driveway entrance where Lucho had brought the car.
“Good idea to bring the car,” Paco said. He glared and tilted his head toward Felip. “He got mad and knocked her out.” They dumped Josiel in the back seat. Hector rode up front while Paco and Felip sat on the trunk as the car lurched over the ruddy road back to the house.
A week passed. Josiel recovered from Felip’s punch, and continued cooking the meals for the men. They seemed to have no intentions of leaving. On this morning, Josiel sat quietly at the dining room table watching the men in her living room. They’d just had their morning coffee and sat blankly watching TV. They’d begun talking about going to New York.
Josiel knew they would kill her before they left; it was a matter of time.
“Hector, check this out,” Felip said from the couch. He turned up the volume on the television. Hector and the others gathered around.
“ . . . Latino men wanted for the murder of a bank teller in Austin have been tracked to the Fayetteville area. An abandoned car with Georgia plates was found in Pope Park on U.S. Highway 301 by the Cape Fear River. Fingerprints from the car matched one of the robbers. If you see anyone suspicious in the area, please call this number.” The scene switched from the newsman to the photos they’d showed the week before.
Josiel couldn’t make out the photos on TV from the dining room, but she wondered which of the men had actually pulled the trigger. Felip seemed too inexperienced. Lucho? Hector would have found another way, if he could have stopped whatever it was that happened. Paco was quiet, but when he spoke, he was sure of himself. He hadn’t hesitated to speak out and challenge Hector either. It was Paco who pulled the trigger; she had no doubt. Although, they didn’t seem to be hardcore criminals—a legacy of violence and blunders was more likely.
“We’re screwed,” Paco said. “That’s it. We need to move on.”
Josiel looked directly at him. “You could leave now. Take my car,” she said. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of the car before.
They looked in her direction.
“I won’t tell anyone you were here,” she continued, almost in the same breath. “I give you my word.”
The men stared at her, expressionless for a moment, but did not reply.
“Hold on. Think about it, the old woman is black,” Lucho said. “Who would search for us here? Who cares about the blacks?”
“Good point,” Felip agreed.
Josiel looked away, her anger burning.
“We just need to stay out of town,” Hector said.
“Yeah, no more grocery shopping,” Lucho added.
“But we need more food!” Felip said.
“Fine, we’ll go hunting tomorrow morning, okay?” Hector said.
“But if we start shooting out here, we’ll attract attention,” Paco said. “I haven’t heard any rifle or shotgun fire. It’s probably not hunting season.”
“I saw a bow,” Felip said. “It’s one of those archery types. I saw it in the shed when I buried the dogs. She probably has arrows.”
“Get them,” Hector ordered.
Felip left for the shed.
Another one of her son’s sporting activities. She wished she had given it away.
Felip returned with bow and arrows in hand.
“Ahh, this should bring down a few rabbits,” Hector said taking the bow.
The men laughed.
The following morning, Josiel could hear the men up and about in the front room. Hector stuck his head in her bedroom where Lucho sat watching the doorway, waiting for her return from the bathroom.
“We’re going to go hunting for a bit,” Hector said. “Stay here and watch the old woman.”
“When will someone else take over?” Lucho said.
“Starting tomorrow morning, I’ll have Felip to replace you. Okay?”
“Sure, tomorrow.” Disgust laced Lucho’s voice.
Josiel hobbled from the bathroom to the bedroom. She glanced at Lucho then looked away, afraid he might rough her up if their eyes met. Hector turned toward her. “Go in the kitchen and fix some coffee.”
She went to the kitchen, put on her apron, and looked at what she had on the shelves. There she saw the beginnings of a plan.
After Paco, Felip, and Hector left to go hunting, Lucho stretched out on the couch and watched TV. Josiel kept quiet in the kitchen. It was time.
She went in the living room, and said, “How bout some real breakfast food? Maybe biscuits and bacon?”
Lucho stared at her, his deadpan eyes revealing nothing. “Okay.”
She stirred up the biscuits, popped them in the oven, and fried the bacon. Then she made tea. She used one of her decaffeinated teas and added Valerian herbs, a natural tranquilizer, with honey and lemon. She made the tea strong, allowing her to put in plenty of the Valerian herbs. She finished and took it to him.
Like always, Lucho ate as though he were starving and drank all the tea in the pot.
Josiel cleaned the kitchen, put away the dishes, then checked on Lucho. She had to be careful, just in case the brew hadn’t worked. In the living room, she found him fast asleep in the recliner. She rushed to the bedroom, got the two-step ladder, then went to the closet where she opened the attic ceiling panel. Inside the opening, she felt around until she touched a rifle bag then lifted it out and laid it on the floor. Reaching behind the clothes and shoes, she pulled out a large box of cartridges.
Her thoughts raced to the last night with her husband, after she’d made her decision to leave. He’d forced himself on her because she had refused him. She was frightened of the reprisal from the deed then, but this terrified her more. Her hands shook as she loaded the cartridges in the rifle.
Josiel’s countenance was grim, her resolute spirit crystallized into anger. She was determined not to die in this circumstance, not after she’d recovered, not after sovereignty—no way. She checked the scope, dumped the rest of the cartridges in her apron pockets, picked up the rifle, and came out of the closet.
She went to her bed, reached down under the edge of the mattress, and lifted out the hatchet. It would be her silent weapon; she didn’t want to notify the men in the woods with a shot from the house. With the hatchet in her right hand and the rifle in her left, she moved toward the living room. Her heart raced and she felt unsteady. She laid the rifle down by the bedroom door. Reaching the open area, she eased along the wall, angling toward the big recliner chair. She froze.
Lucho raised his head slightly and his jaw moved in a lazy chewing motion, then his head fell back, and he continued to snooze.
Josiel advanced. When she reached the back of the chair, she raised the hatchet over her head. She swung down with all her strength and recoiled in fright as the man’s body convulsed. Frantically, she wiped her face with her apron.
She was shaking uncontrollably. Her ears rang as the blood rushed through her head. She held on and retrieved the rifle then raced from the house.
She shuddered and rushed toward the woods. Even with all her physical conditioning, she was up in years. Could her heart tolerate the terrible thing she was doing? There was only one way to find out.
Josiel had to find the others before they discovered Lucho. It would be futile to try and run to a neighbor’s with them on her trail. She would just put more people in danger. She circled around in the backyard. The sun had been up for two hours but the air was still moist. A light rain shower from the previous day left the ground just soft enough to show the shoe imprints of the three men on the ground.
She wasn’t sure how she would approach them, but from the path they had taken, she might have the advantage unless they had seen her and were waiting in ambush already. There was one spot she knew.
Josiel followed the three men’s tracks. They’d gone right by the spot she wanted. She had to take a chance they would return this way. She crept close enough to see the large oak tree and the makeshift ladder that led up to a well-camouflaged wood platform in the branches. It had been there for years. The dogs had found the base of it. She wasn’t sure if it was the work of kids or hunters. No one was up there now, and no movement sounded nearby.
She tested the wooden slats on the ladder; it seemed sturdy enough. With the rifle, it was a struggle, but she finally pulled herself onto the platform. She checked the rifle and scope then searched the area. She waited.
After what seemed like her longest hour ever, men’s voices broke the silence. She positioned the rifle and peered through the scope. At first, Josiel couldn’t find them, but finally she spotted them less than forty feet away. They were coming in her direction.
She had her first chance with Paco. Should she shoot him now? She juggled distance, proximity and other questions. She waited. They came closer. She set her mark on Paco and pulled the trigger. Rifle fire cracked the silence. Paco fell clutching his chest. Hector and Felip ran. She regrouped and fired once at each of them. Felip grabbed his leg as he ran.
Hector pressed up against a tree and motioned to Felip to keep quiet. Searching upward, they spotted Josiel and circled around, trying to escape her sight.
“She got Paco,” Felip said, his voice cracking.
“Don’t worry. Just take care of your leg,” Hector said.
Hector took the bow and arrows and crept to where he could see Josiel. She was still scanning. He tried to blend with the trees and brush.
Josiel followed Felip and Hector with the scope but, by the time they stopped, she didn’t have a clear shot. She watched Hector as he edged to the right of the tree platform. She could see his chest in the scope, and when he stopped in the bushes to the right of the tree, she fired repeatedly. He darted, seeming to dodge the bullets, but then grabbed at his arm; although he wasn’t down.
She checked her apron pockets for cartridges—eight left there, and three in the rifle. She needed to at least seriously wound Hector. It was not easy without the element of surprise. She turned to check on Felip.