It was hard to see who was there. I saw four figures.
“You were warned,” the one voice said.
“No. I’ll keep him quiet.” I stumbled to a stand and backed up.
The four of them rushed at me.
I moved quickly, but someone stepped on the light, making the barn completely dark. I could see a hint of light from outside the barn doors and aimed that way. When I did, I felt the strike to my face. Was it a fist? The hit sent me flying back. I clutched Edward as tight as I could and caught my balance before I hit the ground.
Again, I tried to run, but the barn doors shut and it was all black. My eyes didn’t have time to adjust when I felt Edward ripped from my arms. His cries continued and faded.
“No!” I cried out. “No!”
My scream was quickly silenced when I felt the object slam into my gut, knocking the wind from me.
All I could think about was my son, my poor son. I couldn’t even hear him anymore. I landed hard to the ground and the blows started one by one. A strike to my gut, my legs, my head. They only stopped when one of them grabbed me, pulled me by my shirt and dragged me for the longest time. I was pulled from the smooth hay covered floor of the barn to outside. The rough terrain scraped painfully against my body. When they finally tossed me aside, the pummeling began again.
It didn’t matter though. I closed my eyes and waited for death. What was the point of fighting? I failed. Edward was gone.
12
SAVING GRACE
September 5
When I opened my eyes, all I could see was the crushed fallen leaves. It was light out and I was on my stomach. A simple movement of my hand shot a danger of pain through my entire body. My eyesight was blurred and my lips were so swollen they were tight. I attempted to run my tongue over my teeth, but when I did, I felt them resting in my mouth. It took a lot, but I lifted my head and spat. A blood clot emerged, followed by a long strand of blood-filled saliva, along with several teeth.
It was hard to pinpoint where I hurt, because everything hurt.
Then reality hit me.
Edward. Where was he?
A saddened and aching moan seeped from me as I clutched the ground in an attempt to stand. My legs buckled and I fell back to the ground.
Oh, God, no. Not my son.
I had to get it together, think of him and not myself.
I cringed and grunted to regain my stand and fought my hurt and wobbling legs. I wondered if maybe I was dead. Maybe I had turned into one of them. I glanced down to my hand; it trembled and then, just to make sure, I tried to speak.
“Edward,” I said softly. Then I closed my eyes tight. The emotional pain was more than the physical. If I did anything, I had to find my son.
I didn’t even know where I was. I was surrounded by trees. No matter where I looked, I couldn’t see anything but those trees.
I held up my wrist to see my watch. It was hard to focus and I knew that the time of eleven twelve wasn’t nighttime. My God, I had been unconscious for twelve hours.
If I did find Edward, chances were there’d be nothing left.
The loss of leaves allowed me to look at the sky. We were headed south and I looked for the sun to get my direction. I headed to where I believed was south. Every step I took hurt, but I kept going.
About twenty feet into my walk, I saw blood and the leaves were pressed and scattered. The muddy ground had footprints, lots of them. Peering around, I saw a trail. I wasn’t a tracker, and didn’t need to be one to know that was where they dragged me.
My best recourse was to follow that dragging trail and go back to the barn, that’s where they took Edward from me. As I staggered, my chest felt heavy and I could hear my own wheezing breath. My head throbbed and burned. I reached up to feel a huge gash. It was still damp and when I looked down, my shirt was saturated with blood. I was hurt in so many places, I was probably dying.
Fueled by emotions and determination, I kept going, stumbling, getting back up. I knew they dragged me for a long time, I just didn’t realize how far.
The trees thinned out as I entered more of a clearing. I tripped over the uneven ground and toppled back down again. I rolled over and got to all fours. It was when I started to stand that I saw it.
I was headed south and it was back in the trees, far off the path I was taking.
It may have been far, my eyesight was blurry, but there was no denying that Edward’s infant carrier hung from a branch by the shoulder strap.
My adrenaline shot up and I moved with more of a rush to get to that carrier. I was fueled, I didn’t even notice the pain anymore. My mind cried, No No No as I made it to the tree.
I lifted my arm to grab the carrier and my entire side felt aflame. I took a deep breath, grabbed on to the end of it and pulled. With grunts of pain and all my strength, I managed to free it and the carrier fell.
I caught it before it hit the ground.
It was empty.
My beating heart sunk to my stomach as I dropped to my knees.
The strap had a bloody handprint on it and I brought the carrier to my face.
At first, I whimpered the agony of my loss, then with my head arched back, holding that carrier, I cried out deep and long. One gut wrenching cry of sorrow. I didn’t care who heard me. In fact, I wanted them to.
I wanted to die. Maybe if I were lucky the Vee would come. If they didn’t, I’d find my way to the road and wait for them to come.
Allow the Vee to consume my body and my pain.
Why live?
I took a few deep breaths, inhaled again to scream but didn’t.
A young girl stood on a slight crest about twenty feet from me, holding a baby blanket.
I stood up.
She brought her index finger to her mouth as if to signal me to be quiet, then she turned and disappeared over the grade.
I wanted to call out, “Wait” but she needed me not to make a noise, and believing she had found my dead son, I followed her.
When I arrived where she had stood, I looked down. She was at the bottom of a hill. I could tell by the way she held the blanket she was holding a baby.
More than likely, Edward.
I slid down that small hill more so than walked, and tripped my way to her.
She had a young face, that of someone that wasn’t even a teenager, but she was tall. Her long dark blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. Her face was dirty and her hands… bloody.
To me, she was far too young to blame for Edward’s death. More than likely she was walking and found him. I remembered seeing her when I arrived at the gate to Mr. Mills’ home.
At least, I’d hold Edward one more time.
I reached out for the blanket. When my fingers touched him, his bare arm shot out of the blanket and his fingers curled.
I gasped.
He was moving? Edward was moving? I grabbed the blanket with him and he squirmed in my arms. I opened the blanket to see my naked son and his legs kicked.
“How?” I covered Edward and held him close to my body. I tried not to cry, I couldn’t even form a sentence. “How? I thought…”
“I heard them talking last night. Planning.” Her voice quivered. “How they were going to kill you and take your stuff. I couldn’t… it was a baby.”
“You were there?”
She nodded. “I grabbed him from you and ran.”
I closed my eyes. “Thank you.”
“I had to take his sleeper off,” she said. “I covered it with blood. Your blood and told them, I crushed his skull. I hid him here and then came back.”
Edward fussed and moved a little, but that was it. I didn’t see any injuries.
“He’s quiet,” I said.