Darling Wildfire (Red Rabbit #2)

69

THERON

A month passed, and we still hadn’t wandered into civilization yet. We looked like an extension of the wilderness—our clothing cut and torn, hair scraggly and dirty and rough beards on all our faces. We hadn’t seen any sign of Vetticus but I wasn’t surprised because now, he had to contend with three military trained men who had the upper hand and who didn’t want to be found. I had no intention of ever letting him find us.

Nyx’s hand was slowly healing. The process hindered by lack of nutrition and proper care. Atlas’ back was no longer open wounds but I could tell the skin was still sensitive and because I couldn’t stitch it up, he was sure to have some wicked looking scars.

But overall, we were alive. We were surviving.

And that was all that mattered.

It was the only thing I allowed myself to focus on. I couldn’t afford to think about anything else or I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick myself up and go on.

We were always hungry and expended massive amounts of energy walking every day so we had nearly no fat on our bodies anymore and our pace was slow. We caught what game we could—usually rabbits, once a porcupine. After the first clear night, it rained almost every day so we had plenty of water. We rarely spoke, operating off hand signals if needed but I could tell we were all nearing our limits. Our bodies just weren’t holding up well enough with such little food.

I called a halt midday and Atlas collapsed onto a tree stump, his head in his hands. Nyx leaned against a tree, staring off into the greenery with a dull look of someone working on autopilot.

Suddenly, Atlas’ head whipped up.

“Do you hear that?”

His voice came out raspy and hoarse from lack of use.

“A car,” Nyx said.

Nyx and I followed him through the trees until we saw a break through the forest and an old beat-up pickup truck was rolling down a furrowed dirt road. We followed the truck through the forest for a few miles until the trees abruptly ended and the road spilled out across a valley with mountains far in the distance. The truck was headed towards a farm that sat about half a mile from where we crouched at the treeline.

“We’ll wait for dark,”

I said and made myself comfortable in the shadows of the trees.

I watched the truck come to a stop in the yard and a woman got out, two paper bags clutched to her chest as she lugged her groceries into the house. The farm looked like in the past it had been well kept but now had the hint of neglect tugging at its edges. The garden was the only thing that looked taken care of, having been recently weeded and trimmed, but the yard needed a mow, there was fencing in one pasture that needed repairing and the barn looked like it hadn’t been swept out in some time. A few horses sat in the backfield, a few sheep and goats in another near the house and there was a chicken coop on the side yard.

The house was a two story old style farmhouse with peeling white paint and a bench swing on the wrap-around porch. The place held a nostalgic feeling about it as well as an underlying sadness I couldn’t place. We sat watching the house the entire afternoon and didn’t see anyone but the woman. No kids, no men—just an old hobbling german shepherd who emerged when the woman returned home and hadn’t moved from his spot laying on the porch steps.

When night finally came, we carefully approached the house in the cover of darkness and split up. Atlas took the barn and Nyx and I flanked the house. There was a single light on in one of the upper windows which I assumed was the woman’s bedroom, otherwise the house was dark.

The backdoor was unlocked, alluding to the level of security the woman felt by being this far out in the wild. She must be a comfortable distance from any neighbors or towns to not feel any threats. We met Atlas back at the barn. He had a basket full of vegetables from the garden.

“There’s a well,”

he whispered.

Nyx nodded and moved off to fetch water while Atlas and I entered the barn and headed towards one of the far stalls. The barn didn’t look used in a while, with cobwebs heavy in the corners and the straw smelled of mildew, but it was relatively dry and I was thankful for a warm shelter as the rain started up again outside.

“It’s a feast,”

Nyx said when he came back, eyeing the food hungrily. I agreed and for the first time in a month we went to bed with full stomachs.

For the next week, we settled into a routine.

An hour before dawn, we’d head back to the treeline to watch the house during the day, then creep down and raid the garden and well before sleeping in the barn. If the woman noticed, she gave no signs of it. Her daily routine consisted of letting the dog out, having coffee on the porch and then she’d do some farm chores such as weeding the garden, taking care of the chickens and livestock, and a few other odd jobs before she’d move inside the house and we wouldn’t see her again.

As we sat down in our stall in the back of the stable on the seventh night; I bit into a carrot and nodded towards the house.

“I’m going inside tonight,” I said.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Atlas asked.

“I want to see if we can get a read on where in the world we are. The truck doesn’t have a license plate.”

Nyx nodded. “See if you can find some more food. Veggies are good and all but I’d love some fresh bread—with butter…or some meat.”

He moaned at the thought and Atlas scoffed under his breath.

“Always hungry,”

he muttered.

“Aren’t you? I can feel my stomach kissing my spine. I feel like someone could come along and flick my forehead and I’d tip over.”

I waited until the dead of the night, almost late morning to ensure she was well and truly asleep. We were pretty convinced she was alone on the farm at this point but I still palmed the knife we’d found that first day in the shack—just in case—as I crept to the backdoor.

I carefully edged the door open just enough to slip through, thankful it didn’t squeak on its hinges. The back room was a mud and laundry room. It was mostly women’s shoes but there were a few men’s boots laying dusty underneath them. They didn’t look recently used and there was only women’s clothing on the washer and dryer, confirming my suspicion that there was a man of the house but he hadn’t been around in some time. The next room was a sitting room on one side and a dining room on the other. Both were comfortably furnished with old, handmade wood furniture.

A floorboard creaked as I was leaving the sitting room for the kitchen and I froze, wincing at how out of the ordinary it sounded in the dead stillness of the house. I waited an excessive amount of time before moving again and made it into the kitchen in relative silence. It was a rare, clear night, so the moonlight filtered through the windows cast just enough light to see by.

I pocketed an apple sitting in a bowl on the counter and my mouth watered an embarrassing amount when I saw muffins sitting on a cooling rack. I grabbed one of those and bit into it, suppressing my moan of pleasure as the sweetness of wild blueberries exploded in my mouth. I saw some papers on a small desk and went over, sifting through them. I could barely make out what anything said, and I was holding up an envelope to the window to see the return address when the kitchen exploded with light.

“Don’t fucking move.”

The woman’s voice said from behind me.

I held up my hands and carefully turned to see her holding a .357 leveled at me. Her eyes scanned me quickly, lingering on the faded, torn up camo pants I wore before jumping to my face. There was fear there but also a steel resolve I recognized—she would do what she had to.

“I’ll shoot,”

she hissed.

“I have no doubts about that, ma’am,”

I said softly, hands still up.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m just passing through—”

“From where?”

I didn’t answer, and she scowled. She looked like she was around our age, late thirties, with blond hair in a messy bun and a long t-shirt down to her knees. I kept my eyes on her face, knowing I looked fearsome having not shaved in some time and so filthy I probably looked like a wild animal.

“Get out,”

she growled.

I opened my mouth to say something and the barest twitch of her trigger finger was the only warning I had before she shot me. The gunshot rang out loud in the enclosed space and by some fucked up luck; I was mid step to the side, meaning the bullet barely grazed my arm. But now I had to move, so two steps brought me to her and I grabbed the gun, quickly shoving it up and flicking the cylinder. The clink of bullets falling echoed through the kitchen.

Before I could grab her other hand, I felt the bite of steel in my side, catching her wrist in time to avoid her shoving a knife into my ribs. I hissed at the pain and quickly turned her, slamming her wrist against the counter as I pressed her body against the island.

I happened to glance up in time to see Atlas and Nyx at the side door and before I could shake my head to stop them from coming in and making things worse, they opened the door, pulling the woman’s attention.

“Stop,”

I barked. They froze just inside the door, quickly looking over the situation.

The woman was shaking in my arms, vibrating with a potent mix of fear and anger but at the sight of Nyx and Atlas, she stopped struggling, seeing the situation for what it was. She was no match for three men.

“Let me go, please,”

she whispered, her words hitching in her throat.

“We’re not going to hurt you,”

I said. “Like I said, we’re just passing through.”

“What do you want?”

She hissed.

“Food mostly,”

Nyx said, trying for a grin but with his beard and how dirty he was, it didn’t come across well. He must have seen the look on my face because he smoothed a hand over his beard and looked at the woman sheepishly.

“Sorry for scaring you, ma’am. We don’t usually look so—wild. I don’t know how people have beards—this thing itches something horrible.”

“If I let you go, will you promise to behave?”

I asked. I could feel the blood dripping down my side and my arm and I needed to see the damage she’d done. “Let go of the knife.”

She hesitated but the hand I had pinned slowly relaxed and I grabbed the knife and tossed it to Nyx. He caught it and put it in his belt. I nodded to the gun and Atlas carefully stepped forward and picked it up, checking to make sure it was empty and shoving it into his belt.

“Please don’t—don’t take that,”

she pleaded.

I stepped back away from her as Atlas held up his hands.

“Just holding it for you,”

he said. “I’ll give it back when we leave.”

“She got you good there,”

Atlas nodded to my side.

I pressed my hand to the large cut on my side. It would need stitches. She looked at me with no regrets and folded her arms across her chest. I glanced at Nyx, silently ordering them to watch her. He nodded, and I moved over to the sink, pulling my shirt off, I grabbed a towel and held it to my skin. Atlas moved over to where the papers were that I was looking at.

“What’s your name?”

Nyx asked, leaning against the counter.

She stepped away from Atlas who was now a little closer to her, eyeing him warily and looked back at Nyx, frowning but resigned.

“Macy,”

she grumbled.

“We’re in Canada,”

Atlas said, holding up a letter.

“What? Of course we’re in Canada,”

she scoffed.

“What’s the closest city?”

he asked her.

She looked at him like he’d suddenly sprouted several heads.

“Hell’s Valley,”

she said. “But it’s a good three hours from here. The closest town is Banks.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” I asked.

She made to move, and I held up a hand. “Just words.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she glared at me before jerking her head down the hallway.

“Hall bathroom, under the sink.”

“Thanks, Macy,”

Nyx said, leaving to retrieve it. He came back and brought it over to me. As I pulled the towel away Nyx chuckled and turned to Macy. “Needle and thread? You got him pretty good.”

He flashed a smile that usually would melt any woman, but in his current state it did nothing but make her blink at him in irritation.

“Dining room hutch,” she said.

Atlas pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and nodded to it. “Have a seat.”

She hesitated, but he didn’t break eye contact and she finally did as he said, watching each of us with her hands clutched in her lap. Nyx came back with a sewing kit and we got to work sanitizing a needle and thread. Nyx did the first stitch, and I heard a soft scoff. We both looked over at her.

“That’s not how you do it,” she said.

“I’ve stitched up plenty of people,”

Nyx said indignantly.

“I’d hate to see the scars they have now,”

she retorted. She stood up, and we all froze but she held her hands up and came over. “Give it to me.”

Nyx hesitated.

“I’m a nurse, asshole,”

she snapped.

He hid a smile and held up his hands, stepping back. Macy washed her hands and then jerked her chin at the counter.

“Sit,”

she demanded.

I hopped up, and she took the needle and thread. The first dig of the needle made me grit my teeth and glare down at her.

“Oops,”

she muttered.

“He probably deserved that,”

Nyx supplied from over her shoulder.

She stopped. “Do you mind?”

“Okay, okay,”

Nyx moved away, giving her space and her rough handling stopped.

I saw her eyes rove over my body, taking in the other scars and the brand on my chest.

“Military?”

She asked, doing another stitch.

“Retired,” I said.

“Those don’t look retirement issued,”

she grumbled.

“You don’t want to know,” Nyx said.

He’d hopped up on the counter near the sink, swiping a muffin. “Do you live here alone?”

“That’s literally the worst question to ask a woman,”

she said dryly. “And besides, don’t you already know that answer? You’ve been spying on me for a few days at least.”

“Touche,” Nyx said.

Atlas emerged from the living room on the other side of the kitchen.

“Who’s the Marine in the pictures?”

He asked. I watched her stiffen beside me. She made a few more stitches, and I watched her lip tremble.

“My husband,” she said.

“Where is he?”

Atlas demanded.

“Not here,”

she said shortly.

“What does that mean?”

Atlas continued aggressively.

“Come on, man,” Nyx said.

“No, I need to know if some Marine is going to bust through that door suddenly,”

Atlas insisted.

“He’s deployed,”

she said louder.

“He left you here alone?”

Atlas continued. “In the middle of nowhere?”

“Jesus, At—”

Nyx started.

“Knock it off,”

I barked. “He hasn’t been home in some time—she’s telling the truth. Just leave it alone.”

The kitchen settled into silence as she continued her stitching. Her lower lip trembled but her hands stayed steady. Twenty stitches later, she snipped the thread with a pair of small scissors and grabbed a bandage, pressing it firmly against my side. She moved to my bicep to check the bullet wound but I knew it was a graze before she even said anything.

“This one just needs a bandage,”

she muttered.

A moment later, she stepped aside.

“Done,” she said.

“Thank you,”

I met her gaze, and she nodded before turning to the sink to wash away the blood.

“Macy,”

I got off the counter and stood behind her, waiting for her to turn around. When she did, she pressed herself back against the sink but met my gaze solidly with her own. “We need your help. If we could clean up, refuel and get a ride into town, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She looked around the kitchen at us, presumably seeing if her instincts told her she could trust us to keep to our word.

“You’ll just take it, even if I say no,”

she grumbled.

“Yes, but we won’t hurt you either way,”

I said. “You have my word on that.”

“Fine, in the morning I’ll drive you into town,”

she sighed. “You can use the bathroom down the hall.”

“Until then, you’ll hang out where we can see you,”

I said. “I’d prefer to not acquire any more scars while I’m here.”

She glared at me briefly before nodding curtly and moved towards the coffee machine which sat near Nyx.

“Then I guess I’ll start some coffee,”

she grumbled.

Macy watched Nyx warily as she approached but he was busy eating another muffin.

“These are really good,”

he said, his mouth full.

She finished filling the coffee pot. Soon the room was wafting with the smell of coffee and Atlas had gone to clean up in the bathroom. We stood around the kitchen awkwardly while the coffee brewed and the sound of the shower kicked on in the hall. Nyx jumped down from the counter and pointed to the fridge.

“Mind if I make some breakfast?” He asked.

She resumed her seat in the kitchen chair and nodded. Nyx gathered some eggs, bacon, spinach and a few other ingredients and set to work whipping up some sort of omelet with toast and jam. We both watched him while the first omelet cooked and the bread was toasting. He poured three cups of coffee and handed one to me and one to Macy. She looked like she was still trying to come to terms with the fact she had three strange men in her house and one of them was cooking in her kitchen but she nodded her thanks and sipped from the mug, not bothering with any creamer.

Nyx took a sip of coffee and gave an exaggerated moan of pleasure.

“Fuck, I’ve missed coffee,” he said.

“I didn’t know you could cook,”

I commented.

Nyx shrugged. “I’m a man of many hidden talents,”

he winked at Macy.

“That just looks creepy,”

Atlas said, appearing in the doorway. “Don’t do that while you look like a wild animal. You’ll scare her.”

Nyx flipped him off, flashing him a purposefully exaggerated grin before turning back to breakfast.

“Since when can you cook?”

He asked, coming over and taking the cup of coffee Nyx offered. Macy’s eyes followed him as he did. He was shirtless, in nothing but a towel. He’d shaved and cut his hair shorter again, throwing it up in his usual bun.

“Why is everyone so surprised? These hands are used for more than killing you know,”

he scoffed.

Macy choked on her coffee, and Atlas sighed.

“Go get cleaned up,”

he said. “I’ll finish breakfast.”

“Don’t ruin it,”

Nyx said. His eyes slid over Atlas’ body as though he couldn’t help himself any longer. “The bacon should be done in the oven in a minute.”

“You make bacon in the oven?”

Atlas asked.

Nyx’s gaze shot back up to Atlas, and he shoved the spatula into his chest, a heated gaze jumping between the two as Nyx’s fingers came into contact with Atlas’ bare chest.

“Everyone knows you make bacon in the oven,”

he muttered.

They continued to stare at each other. I cleared my throat. Nyx blinked and shook his head as he stepped away and headed towards the bathroom. Macy’s mouth was parted slightly, entranced by what just happened and probably also by Atlas who was looking like a viking god in nothing but a towel. He looked even more fearsome with the freshly healed whip marks on his back.

An hour later, I came out of the bathroom in a towel carrying an armload of all our dirty clothes into the laundry room. Macy saw me and sighed.

“Just throw those out. There’s clothes in that closet you can look through.”

Once we were all clean and clothed, breakfast was laid out on the island. We dug into the food and Macy nibbled on a piece of bacon; her legs now tucked up under her on the chair and her second cup of coffee in hand.

“This farm seems like a lot of work for one person,”

Nyx commented in between bites.

Macy nodded. “It is.”

“How long has your husband been deployed?” I asked.

Macy’s face fell again. “It’s been four years. He’s MIA—no one knows where he is—”

Her voice broke and I frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that,”

I said. “Do you know where he was stationed?”

“The last I heard, he’d disappeared somewhere in Syria. That’s all they’ll tell me.”

I nodded. If he was MIA—missing in action—chances are he was either dead or had been taken by the enemy and was being held. Neither option was pleasant to think about.

Dawn began to break just as Nyx and Atlas finished cleaning up the kitchen.

“Are you guys in some kind of trouble?”

Macy asked.

“Better if you don’t know,”

I said. “Do you have a map of the area?”

She nodded and disappeared down the hall only to reappear a few minutes later with a few folded up maps. She spread them out on the table and I ran my hands over them to smooth them out, my fingers tracing the mountains as I got my bearings.

“We’re here,”

she supplied, pointing to a spot on the map.

I followed the forest back the way we’d come, tracing my finger over the forested area. I stopped on an isolated area with enough land for Vetticus to run his operation. The estate had to be somewhere in that area. I looked back at where this farm was and traced it to the nearby cities and towns.

“Can I keep this?”

She nodded. “Are there other farms around here?”

Atlas asked.

“Yeah, they’re spread out along this valley,”

Macy said, tracing a part of the map.

Atlas met my eyes over the table, concern written all over them. Vetticus would surely check the farms. I didn’t want to bring that trouble down on Macy. If I was him, I’d be busy sweeping all the farms in this valley knowing if we made it, we’d pop out somewhere around this area.

“We’ve already been here too long,” Nyx said.

I nodded. A week here was pushing it.

“Can you take us into town?”

I asked Macy.

She nodded. “I take it you want some supplies…”

It wasn’t a question but I nodded all the same.

“And any guns or weapons you can spare—minus the one Atlas is keeping safe of course.”

Macy stood up and disappeared down the hallway.

An hour later, we had three packs full of supplies, clean clothes and best of all—two 9mm handguns and a rifle. Macy had been hesitant to part with the weapons but she knew I’d steal them regardless so I let her take her time choosing which ones.

We piled into the pickup, Nyx and Atlas in the bed and I sat in the passenger seat while Macy turned the key and the truck rumbled to life. We were just pulling out of the drive when a radio crackled in the truck and then a voice came through.

“Macy, come in, Mace. Over.”

“Who is that?”

I asked. I snatched the radio before she could grab it.

“He’s my neighbor on that side,”

she said, waving her hand off down the valley. “He helps me out here and there.”

“Macy, come in—”

The radio cut out. “—men—guns—”

I heard Nyx curse through the open back window.

“Drive,”

I said to Macy.

She pulled out of the front yard and turned the truck towards the road leading into the woods. The radio crackled again but the warble of the man’s voice couldn’t be understood. Macy’s hands gripped the wheel tightly and her face was lined with worry.

I handed her the radio. “Pick it up. Don’t mention us.”

She nodded. “Finn, I’m here. Are you okay? Over.”

“Thank god—Mace—men—”

“I can’t hear you, Finn.”

“They’re—down the valley—headed for you. Run—”

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

No answer. “Finn!”

She turned wide eyes to me. “I think something is wrong.”

“How far away is his property?”

“Five miles, maybe?”

Macy said.

“Do not stop this truck no matter what,”

I commanded.

I pulled my gun around and checked it as the truck bumped along the road at a steady pace.

“They’re after you,”

she said, glancing at me.

“Yeah—watch for drones!”

I called out over my shoulder.

Atlas already had his rifle up and ready while Nyx looked out over the forest surrounding us.

“Are you guys criminals?”

I watched the road ahead as it wound through the trees.

“No, it’s not the law that’s after us.”

“Who is it?”

“Something worse.”

“And now you dragged me into it?”

Her voice was borderline hysterical now.

“You heard your friend,”

I said. “They would have come through this valley looking for us anyway and done god knows what to you.”

“So, what, I’m lucky it was you?”

She scoffed. “The lesser of two evils or something?”

“Last I checked, I’m the only one who got hurt in the last twelve hours,”

I said dryly.

Her mouth snapped shut at that and pressed into a thin line as she focused on the road. Besides urging her faster, no one spoke for the rest of the drive down the dirt tract. When we pulled out onto a two lane paved highway, Macy pushed the truck well over the speed limit and we sped off towards town.

The drive into town was a nerve-wracking hour where any moment I expected a drone to come down on us but we made it without incident. The town of Banks was a sleepy backwoods town with two street lights and a quaint downtown strip with stores, restaurants and one gas station.

Macy pulled into a vacant lot behind a store before entering the main streets.

“Everyone knows everyone, you’ll stick out,” she said.

I got out of the truck and slung a backpack over my shoulders. Nyx and Atlas hopped down and I walked around to the driver’s side.

“Is there a place you can stay for a few days? You shouldn’t go back to the house right away.”

She frowned at me but after a moment nodded. “Thank you for the help, Macy.”

“Sure,”

she sighed. “Sorry about all that,”

she grumbled, gesturing to my side.

I flashed her a quick smile and nodded back at Nyx. “He’s right—I deserved it.”

I grew serious again. “You should forget you ever saw us. For your safety, we were never here, understand?”

She looked between the three of us and nodded. Atlas pulled the revolver out of his pants and handed it to her. He gave her a curt nod and Nyx waved as she pulled out of the lot and gave us one last look in her rearview mirror before she turned a corner.

“Now what?”

Atlas asked.

“I have no intention of staying here,”

I said, looking around. “We need to find a car.”

We saw a truck parked in the next lot and walked over. It was unlocked. Nyx went to dive under the steering but Atlas dropped the visor and the keys fell onto the seat.

“No one locks their shit in these kinds of places,” he said.

We climbed in and Nyx took off while I spread out the map on the dash and gave him directions.

“Where are we headed?”

“We’re actually a few hours from a friend of mine,” I said.

By a few hours, it ended up being eight and since we didn’t have money for gas; we ended up running out with two hours to go. We were on a two-lane highway deep in the mountains on the other side of the valley and after consulting the map; we ditched the truck and struck out on foot.