When the front door swung open, Anne jumped back as Ken stepped out with his rifle slung over his shoulder.
“The cart’s around back. I’ll need someone to come with me to help carry it back,” Ken said.
“I’ll come with you,” Anne said.
“No, him,” Ken said pointing at Nelson. “I’ll need somebody who can pull the weight we’ll have to deal with.”
Anne started to protest, but Nelson assured her it was fine. Before he took off, Anne slipped him the revolver. He didn’t say anything when he felt it fall into his hand. He simply nodded and hid the gun in his pants pocket.
Nelson kissed Katie and Sean and headed off with the cart in tow back toward the cabin.
Freddy and Sean shared the couch in the living room, while Anne, Katie, Fay, and Beth sat in the kitchen. Beth grabbed a kettle of tea from the stove and poured them each a cup.
“We can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Murth,” Katie said.
“I should thank you. With that ammo we’ll be able to hunt until Ken and I are in the dirt.”
The steam rose from the cup. Katie put it to her lips and sipped slowly. The warm blast of liquid scorched her tongue and lips.
“If that isn’t warm enough for you…” Beth said, pulling a flask from her pocket. “This might help.”
Katie smiled and extended her cup, then winced when she took a sip.
“That’s… strong,” Katie said.
Beth poured some in Fay’s, but Anne declined. Beth took a swig straight from the flask and tucked it back into her pocket.
“Hard day calls for a hard drink,” Beth said.
“How long have you and Ken been married?” Katie asked.
“Going on thirty years now.”
“Nelson and I just hit our fifteenth this past year. Anne, you and Mike have been married for twenty years?”
“Twenty-five next spring.”
Katie glanced at Fay who held up her barren left hand.
“Divorced,” Fay said.
“I’m sorry,” Katie said.
“I’m not.”
Katie glanced around the house. She admired the rustic look of the home. She wasn’t sure if it was a look by design or of purpose. Judging from the look of Beth and her husband, she figured it was the latter.
Then Katie’s eyes landed on the crucifix hanging high on the wall in the kitchen. It was an old piece, but kept in good condition. The polish of the metal shined and reflected the candlelight.
“That’s beautiful,” Katie said, pointing to the crucifix.
“That’s been in my family for five generations,” Beth answered. “It’s always been passed down to the eldest daughter in the family.”
“Do you have any daughters?” Katie asked.
“No, just Billy and Joey.”
“I’m sure it’ll be hard giving it away to one of their wives once they’re married.”
“No, I won’t be giving it to their wives.”
“Why?”
“That crucifix doesn’t just represent the blood of Christ, it has the blood of my family. It’s been with us through wars, droughts, depressions, and no matter what has come our way we’ve always survived. My family has always found a way. It’s never easy pushing through hell, but we did it, and we’ll keep doing it. Some woman from the outside wouldn’t understand that. They wouldn’t appreciate what that pain means.”
Beth pulled the flask back out and took another swig. Katie thought it was an odd statement to make, but agreed that the pain you went through to push forward couldn’t truly be appreciated unless experienced firsthand.
There was an exultation that came from conquering that pain, but when Beth spoke, her tone had no hope, no redemption. It was as if the pain was there not to make you stronger, but make you callous.
“I’ll run and grab you ladies some sheets. I’m sure the boys will be back soon. It’s been a long day,” Beth said.
Beth pushed her chair back, and it squeaked along the wooden floor boards. Anne reached for her arm before she left, and Beth whipped around to her.
“Thank you for helping us,” Anne said.
When Beth was sure she was out of sight from the kitchen she leaned up against the wall. In the dark hallway she felt the guilt wrestling in her conscious. She knew what she had to do, but the conflict raging inside her intensified.
She pounded her fist into the cushioned back of the chair next to her. She punched it over and over again. Each hit, submitting to her guilt.
She brushed the loose strands of her hair out of her face and regained her composure. She walked to the end of the hall and pulled open a closet. The shelves were lined with blankets, pillows, and sewing supplies. She reached into the corner and pulled out a shotgun.
Beth made sure the gun was loaded, then tucked the shotgun under the crook of her arm and walked back to the kitchen.
Ken didn’t say anything on the way up to the cabin. The only noise the two of them created was the creak of the cart’s wheels as they hauled it through the forest.
Nelson kept touching the side of his pant leg, feeling the outline of the pistol. He wasn’t sure why Anne had given it to him. Was she worried about what Ken might do? Could he be trusted?
He shook the notion out of his mind. Of course he could trust Ken. Mike wouldn’t have cooperated with him if he didn’t believe it. He was overthinking. His imagination was getting the better of him.
Nelson hadn’t done much exploring since he’d been at the cabin, but the times he did go for a walk he couldn’t help but see the beauty around him. Aside from the circumstances that brought him here, he felt like he could be on vacation.
The forest was different at night. During the day he could see all of the details, the small nests in the trees, the bushels of fresh berries, the squirrels and birds traveling from branch to branch. Everything was so green, lush, and full of life.
The walk during the night was cooler though. There was a crisp lightness in the air. But in the darkness Nelson couldn’t see the green leaves or the bushes bearing fruit. Everything was lumped together in shadows.
Nelson felt the cart jerk to a stop, and he stumbled forward a bit. He hadn’t realized they were already at the cabin.
“C’mon,” Ken said.
Nelson made sure to let Ray know who it was before he approached the door. He didn’t want to get a belly full of shotgun beads.
“Ray?” Nelson asked, walking through the front door.
“You alone?” Ray asked.
“No, Ken’s with me. We’re here to grab you.”
Ken pushed his way inside. Ray sat in the dark corner of the living room, aiming the shotgun at the two of them.
“We load the ammo first, then we grab him,” Ken instructed.
Ken didn’t wait for permission, or for Nelson, as he made his way to the basement door. Between Nelson and Ken, it only took them twenty minutes to load all of the ammunition into the cart, but Ken insisted on gathering as much of the other supplies as they could.
Boxes and cases of different caliber rounds weighed the cart down. Nelson couldn’t believe how much Mike was able to stockpile. It was enough bullets to supply a small army. The rest of the space in the cart was occupied by first aid kits, a few tools, and food rations.
“That’s the last of it,” Nelson said.
Ken followed Nelson back inside. When Nelson grabbed the shotgun from Ray and threw his arm around his shoulders to steady him, Ken aimed his rifle at the two of them.
“What are you doing?” Nelson asked.
“Slide the shotgun over to me,” Ken said.
“You son of a bitch,” Ray said.
“No hard feelings, boys, but I couldn’t just let all of these supplies go to waste, not after the bikers finish off the rest of your group.”