The Running Free part 7
Wave from Richard and Damian to hire crew to rescue Isla.
"Captain?" River's voice floated through Serenity. "Incoming wave."
"On my way, little one," Mal threw on a shirt and climbed the ladder from his room. He entered the cargo bay and sat on the edge of Wash's chair. "Who's it?" he asked.
"It hasn't come in yet," she replied.
"What?" Mal turned to face River. "Why would you call me up here if-" he was interrupted by a beep from the console indicating an incoming wave. Mal rolled his eyes a bit and shook his head.
"Captain Reynolds?" the man on the screen asked. He had sandy brown hair pulled back into a tight braid. The braid was long enough to hang over one shoulder. His eyes were red rimmed as though he'd been crying. The vest he wore was made of quills and trailed over a bare chest. He had some light scarring but was otherwise quite tan.
"Yes," Mal answered taking everything in at once.
"My name is Richard Zeeman and I would like to hire your crew to transport a passenger from Parth to St. Louis," Mal glanced to where River was playing with Wash's dinosaurs. She didn't look back at him but giggled aloud. Wash was trying to demonstrate the proper way to tilt the T-Rex when he attacked. River didn't put the 'vicious oomph' into it that Wash preferred. He kept closing his eyes and shaking his head at her in frustration. Hence, the giggling.
"It's my daughter. She's not well. She’s been missing several years and I have good reason to believe she was tortured," he paused and a masculine hand reached on screen to touch his shoulder. A squeeze of comfort then it disappeared. His eyes welled with tears.
"There's a ship for hire that's closer but your history as a Browncoat and certain aspects of the crew you’ve assembled won out," the man took a deep breath to keep from crying. "Money is no object. I want our girl home safe. I've failed her so many times before," the man broke down. He stood from the chair. Another tan man, this one with long red hair hanging loose about his shoulders, came to stand beside him. He rubbed the first man’s back in slow circles.
"It's all right, Richard," the red-head said.
"No, Damian, it's not," was his crying reply.
“But it will be,” Damian insisted, taking one of the seats in front of the camera. “It’s almost over.”
“How many times has this shit been almost over?” he nearly sneered. “How many times have things been over only to come back and bite us in the ass a few decades later?”
“Perhaps, my friend, we should focus on the issue at hand,” Damian glared at Richard until he took the seat beside him. "Forgive us," he said. "It’s been a huge adjustment. We thought she was dead.”
"I can see where that would take some getting’ used to. I got a boat ripe for a rescue mission. A crew rarin' to cause some mischief.”
"Thank you."
"But," Mal continued, "I need specifics. Not many cotton to me and mine already. And I don't aim ta endanger 'em for nothin’. Parth ain’t exactly what I’d call a hospitable place."
"I apologize for the location," Damian said. “It can’t be helped. I can assure you no trouble from the locals. But I assume you know the locals aren’t the problem.”
Mal nodded grimly. “I do. Better than most folk.”
Damian looked at something off screen for a few seconds then nodded. “Oh, and Captain Reynolds?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t make any contact with the authorities, please.”
Mal snorted a laugh and smiled. “No need to worry about that on this end.”
“We don’t know what Isla’s official status will be with the Alliance. They did declare her legally dead but they will decidedly not be friendly toward anyone helping her.”
“Are they ever friendly anyway?” Mal snorted.
“I suppose not,” a small smile crossed his face. He looked off screen again. "Did you read 'Serenity Valley: Misconceptions of War'?
"Can’t say that I have. Tend not to dwell on the past." He scowled back at River when she snorted loudly.
Damian and Richard shared a glance. Richard shrugged. Damian nodded and cleared his throat. "Well, in any case she helped write it. Its main purpose was to accuse the Alliance of tampering with the media, historical records, and soldier’s brains to come out looking shinier after the war."
Mal’s lips tightened. He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. "'Spect they don't like her at all then."
"No, they don't. They tried to block her from publishing it and she got around them." Damian quirked an eyebrow at Mal. "Can't stop the signal. Dong ma?"
"Reckon I do," Mal nodded.
"Well, her signal’s been stopped for quite some time. She's a free spirit, Captain. We didn't worry at first when she fell out of contact. She'd been working on a project. She wouldn't tell us anything about it. Said it was for our own safety. We assumed it was another writing project. How dangerous could that be? We humored her." Damian shook his head at their stupidity. Gave a derisive snort. "Our little Isla, an undercover reporter."
"It was another document she was working on," Richard spoke up. "A document about the government and their 'secret projects'. They caught her in a military facility with false ID. She was arrested for disturbing the peace, Captain. Trespassing, then resisting arrest. Nothing more."
Richard nodded. “They were moving her to a ‘more secure’ facility when their transport was attacked by Reavers. We found her arm. Just her arm. Reavers! They had to kill her. They don’t take hostages.” He teared up again. “My baby girl’s been at the mercy of fucking Reavers all these years!” He slammed a fist against the arm of his chair.
"They held her for years on some back water rock, allowing God knows what to happen to her!" Richard growled. "And we didn’t do shit!" Damian laid his hand on Richard's shoulder again. This small gesture seemed to have a calming affect.
Mal couldn’t keep his eyes from widening at the dent in the chair. This man was seriously worked up. Then again, he couldn’t imagine surviving an hour with Reavers. Years? Wo de ma.
Damian took over again while Richard convulsed in the chair. “She somehow managed to escape a few hours ago and steal a cargo boat from right under their noses. She sent an encrypted wave containing coordinates for where she landed. Said she was on her way home but she looked ill and now-” he paused. A single tear trickled down his cheek. The tear did not break him down as it had the sandy haired man. He straightened his spine and continued.
"We would head to Parth ourselves but we're a few days out. You're only hours away and time is of the essence. The ship emergency landed in the middle of nowhere and she's not responding to any waves." He cleared his throat.
"I'm sure you understand what it means for us to lay all this on the line. We're at your mercy, sir. Name your price."
"Fuel for starters," Mal said. He huffed out a sigh at having to admit how low they were. "We were headed to pick up supplies when we got your wave. We’ll get to her but we won’t get no where else."
"I can arrange that. I'll have supplies and fuel waiting for you," Damian nodded. "More will await your arrival on St. Louis." He looked at something off screen for a few seconds then nodded. “Oh, and Captain Reynolds?”
“Yes?”
He sighed and cleared his throat again. “You’ve a Jayne Cobb on board?”
Mal’s jaw tightened, one eyebrow quirked. He didn’t say anything, not sure if Jayne’s presence was a good thing or a bad thing. Knowing Jayne it leaned to the latter rather than the former. Maybe he could just sidestep it. “Don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Unfortunately, it’s quite relevant,” Damian squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Can we talk to him?”
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why?”
“I’d rather talk to him in person if possible,” he took a deep breath. “It’s going to be a difficult conversation if he’s anything like what I remember.”
“He’s prolly worse than you remember,” Mal grinned. “If the time he’s been with us is any indication, he gets worse as time goes by.”
River called Jayne to the cockpit and set the coordinates for the site of Isla's last wave as Mal and Damian hashed out exactly what supplies Serenity's crew would receive upon arriving in St. Louis. She left the captain to his ship. Wash stayed near his dinosaurs. Curiosity kept him in his seat.
She walked slowly down the corridor, fingertips trailing along the wall. She could feel each bit of the floor grate on the flats of her feet. The light seemed to bounce off the walls and reflect around her. She walked to the end furthest from the cockpit. The lights changed. It was darker. The walls and ceiling changed. There were dark swaths of fabric covering the corridor.
She turned and looked back at the cockpit. A young man leaned in the doorway arguing with a pretty young brunette. His long auburn hair was twisted into tight braids that reached well past his waist.
“You know you can’t do that,” he shook his head, sending the beads clinking around his buttocks.
“I know, Uncle Nate,” the teenager clenched her fists. “But I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna be a Marshal, too. She doesn’t let me do anything.”
Nate quickly shook his head at that. “You know that’s not true, Isla. What other twenty year old do you know that travels the ‘Verse? Has seen the things you’ve seen?”
“Not a single fucking one!” Isla exclaimed. “That’s the whole point! I don’t want this anymore. It’s really freakin’ weird to travel from planet to planet learning the history of the ‘Verse from your mom’s fuck buddies!”
He had a hurt look on his face. “When are you going to learn there’s no such thing as normal?” He leaned back against the wall and looked at her.
“Never,” she whispered. She looked into Nate’s bright violet eyes. Brighter even still in the quiet darkness of the deserted hallway. “She’ll never give me the chance.”
“She’s trying to make up for the time that was lost,” he defended Anita, as usual.
“Time we lost because of her. Time I spent wondering if she even knew we existed,” frustrated, Isla blew out a sigh. Nate had to suppress a laugh. He could never tell her how much she looked like her mother when she was pissed off. “Uncle Nate, I don’t even think of her as my mother. It’s really hard for me to be around her without freaking out.”
“I know,” he nodded. “I see you struggle with the dominance stuff and it tears me up. But she loves you. Her absence couldn’t be helped.”
“Right,” She retorted. “Cause taking a shuttle to visit your family once a year is too traumatic.”
“That’s not fair, young lady,” This boy looked no older than the pup. But he also looked angry now and pushed away from the wall. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what she went through.”
“I don’t know because she won’t talk to me about it!” Isla shouted. They were just inches from each other. Chests almost touching. River stepped closer. Not that she could do anything if it came to a fight. She giggled thinking that flashback visions probably could not be altered.
“Every fucking person on this yi da tuo da bian knows what happened except for me! And I’m the one that’s an asshole for treating her like she’s human and should own up to her mistakes! For thinking that she should get the fuck over herself.”
“You’re not treating her like she’s human right now,” Nate said quietly. “You have an empathy and compassion for other people that you don’t extend to her. From the second you decided she chose not to be around you, you’ve been against her.”
Isla thought about that for a moment. Nate was right. That’s why she rarely tried to argue with him. He was always right. Always knew the reasons both of them were upset. It was strange. Though, she supposed, living with the woman for a few centuries had given him some insight into her psyche.
He cocked his head at her. Then he leaned in and hugged her. She was stiff in his arms at first. Still riled up. He rested his head on hers. She breathed in the scent of him. He always calmed her down when she was fighting with Anita. She was pretty sure it was just the smell of him. The Uncle Nate scent that calmed her. Reminded her of when she was little and had a booboo. Just a little thing. Another little thing that Anita didn’t seem to think was a big deal. The very things Uncle Nate fussed over made a little one feel special. River listened to these thoughts drift through the girl’s head and wished she had an Uncle Nate.
Nate took her silence as reason to continue. “One of you will have to budge, Isla. One of you will have to give in someday. Trust me and do it before it’s too late.”
“I’m here aren’t I?” Isla squeezed Nate hard and rubbed his shoulder. “It’s her damn turn.”
“G’night, Uncle Nate,” she called over her shoulder. “Thanks for listening to me vent.” She walked away from the cockpit, down the corridor. Through River. River gasped and blinked. The hallway was back to normal. The captain was standing in the entrance where Nate and Isla had been.
“You okay, little one?”
“Getting that way.” She walked back to the captain.
“Good way to be gittin’.” He smiled down at her. She startled him by hugging him hard. His eyes widened and he awkwardly patted her head. She sniffed him loudly as she pulled away. Maybe, she had an Uncle Nate after all.
“I’m thinking so, too,” she smiled one of her odd bright smiles and drifted away. Mal shook his head and returned to the cockpit. His head shot back to the hallway when he heard Jayne yell.
“Mal!” he shouted, running up the corridor. “Mal! Gorramit!”
“What?” Mal yelled back. “What’s with all the damn yelling?” He caught sight of Jayne stomping quickly toward him with a knife in his hand. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We gotta go to Parth!” he nearly shouted. “We gotta go right now. Go!”
“We’re already headin’ for Parth. Just got a job there. What’s your deal?”
Jayne sat down hard in the middle of the hallway. He held the knife out to Mal. Mal took it gingerly between two fingers with an eyebrow raised.
“She’s alive,” Jayne sobbed. He put his head on his knees. “She’s alive but she’s not ok. Look.”
Mal looked down at the blade. It’s surface was not the reflection Mal expected. There was a girl lying in dirt. She was breathing shallowly. “I assume this is Isla?”
“What?” Jayne lifted his head. He jumped to his feet and slammed Mal against the wall. His hands were fisted in his shirt and one forearm squeezed his windpipe. The angle was wrong for a true chokehold. Mal’s feet dangled.
“Jayne,” he grunted. “You are going to want to put me down real gently so I don’t accidentally shoot you.” Then he cocked the hammer back on his trusty old pistol.
“Got some people on the link that wanna talk to you,” Mal said as he straightened the buttons of his red shirt.
Brighter than Sunshine~ Aqualung
Conversation about what we know about Parth. Slavers use it as a hide-out but aren’t averse to snatching tourists. The terra forming on this planet isn’t holding right. So the weather changes in a snap.
Serenity lands near the smoldering wreckage of the stolen cargo boat. They realize that it’s empty. There is no one around. Jayne runs around willy-nilly shouting for Isla and looking for tracks. {Why did Jackson decide to leave??? It would have to be a serious threat with Isla so sick and transportation on the way. Was he afraid of the wreckage drawing a crowd? Reavers or guards or slavers following?}
Mal sends Zoe, Kaylee, and River in Serenity to pick up the supplies. They wouldn’t leave her alone. He, Simon, and Jayne track Isla and her army on horses they rented in town. Jayne finds tracks of three people and several horses. He is tracking them easily and doesn’t explain the text book/ color/ aura tracking he is using. Isla taught him this method when they were children and playing hide and seek. They always had an alliance when they weren’t teamed up. They didn’t catch each other unless they couldn’t find anyone else at all.
He surmises that people are following Isla on horseback. They have to catch up before the horsemen find her.
Back at the town.
Zoe: Half the damn supplies they arranged for us are alive! What in the hell are we supposed to do with goats? Cap’n’s not gonna like it.
Kaylee (petting a goat): Aw, I think they’re kinda sweet. Look they’re friendly.
River: They’re supposed to be tasty, not friendly. I hope they packed a mop. Goats have ___ gallons of blood. Not to mention all the guts and meat. When she rips into these it’s going to be a mess.
The store clerk stares. Kaylee stares, hand stilled on the goat’s neck.
Zoe (to the clerk): She’s joking. Such a kidder. (nervous laugh) We should probably get goin’.
Back on the trail.
When the wind started blowing, Jayne became anxious. He knew what was about to go down. He told them they needed to find some shelter. He’d hoped they would find her before the shit hit the fan but it wasn’t going to happen. They found a cave and stayed in there listening to the wind for about ten minutes. Mal expressed concern about the women and Serenity but Jayne insisted they were fine. They just needed to wait it out. Simon and Mal jumped when Jayne screams in frustration and hurls a giant rock at the cave wall.
“Not again!” Jayne shouted. Mal and Simon shared a look. Simon shrugged.
Mal wondered again if he was losing it. Letting the girl pilot Serenity. Letting Jayne lead a rescue mission. But the clients had insisted Jayne be in charge.
When they came out of the cave, they could see that the area had been flattened by a tornado. Trees uprooted, boulders tumbled from where they were originally. Simon had never heard of a tornado. The weather on the core is so regulated that it is considered a myth. An old legend from Earth that Was.
“What happened here?” Simon asked.
“A twister?” Mal’s eyes were wide. He’d never actually been through one.
“That’s a myth,” Simon insisted as they got back on the horses. “Something to scare the settlers. Who would come to a planet with bad terra forming?”
“Ain’t no myth,” Jayne points around. “See for yourself. Some folks believe,” he actually paused for a minute, ran his hand down his face. If Isla had stood there she would see Jayne and an occasional glimpse of Angus. “I believe a twister is the finger of God. He uses them as transport for his angels. Removes their souls from danger if they’re in danger.”
Simon thought Jayne was crazy. “You expect me to believe you believe in God?”
The horses of the men they are trailing run by with fear in their eyes.
“I can’t start a discussion about God with a young pup like you right now. There’s work to be done here, son.” Simon shared another look with Mal. Was he hearing this twang in Jayne’s speech? This time Mal shrugged.
There was a circle of bodies laid out on the ground. Boulders near their heads. In the center of the men there was the unmistakable form of a skinny woman. She was spread eagle on the ground. But crumpled and not breathing. The angle of her head on her shoulders was obviously wrong.
Simon started to rush in but Jayne yelled for him to stop. He told Mal and Simon to wait. That they can’t go in the circle or the spirits of the fallen men will latch onto them. Simon and Mal just stared at him. But he was right about the wind, so they stay outside the circle.
Jayne dismounted and patted the borrowed horse. Dug in the saddlebags until he found, knowing Jayne, incredibly hard liquor. He took two shots. He pulled down a long length of rope and started twisting it together. When it had formed a good lasso, Jayne started twirling it around his head and whispering the words of a song. As he sang the song he walked in a circle around all the dead bodies.
West Indian Girl ~What Are You Afraid Of
I lost myself inside someone else.
I couldn’t see the lines between her and me.
On a darker road, the fear I’ve shown.
With eyes of stone, he walks alone.
What are you afraid of?
When all the years fade away
What are you made of?
From the ties that hold us down
What are you fighting for?
To feel them all
What are you dying for?
To be free.
Who tonight will change your life?
To jump on a plane and land a
Thousand miles away
Just to see what we came to be
What are you afraid of?
When all the years fade away
What are you made of?
From the ties that hold us down
What are you fighting for?
To feel them all
What are you dying for?
To be free.
Inside my eyes inside my eyes inside my eyes inside my eyes
Inside my eyes inside my eyes inside my eyes inside my eyes
There’s no chance of losing
There’s no chance at all
As time goes by I forget why
From a distant view it might still be true
There’s a part of me that lives for you.
What are you afraid of?
When all the years fade away
What are you made of?
From the ties that hold us down
What are you fighting for?
To feel them all
What are you dying for?
To be free.
An ever tightening circle. By the end of the song he had reached Isla’s obviously dead body. With tears flowing freely down his face he tossed the loop of the lasso high into the air. It fell with a thunk and moved the dust in a perfect circle around her crumpled body.
Jayne wiped the tears from his face and stepped into the circle of the lasso. He squatted over Isla’s lifeless form. His large hands cupped her face along her jaw line. (Again.) He choked on a sob as he straightened out her neck. (Again.) The sickening crunch of bone on bone made his stomach churn. (Again.) He pulled the big knife from its place on his holster. (Again.) Cut his hand in the same place as a small existing scar. (Again.) He watched as his blood welled up. Placed a fingertip into the blood and mixed it with the thumb of his right hand. He hated this part.
(It was like being there again. Standing in the desert looking at his wife. Well, her arm anyway. That was all they’d left. All he’d found. The arm band that matched his was still there. The tattoos and scars. Five fingernails painted a funky bright green. )
He looked up at the sky once then pushed Isla’s eyelids up with his left thumb and pointer finger. He tried not to stare at the lifeless glassy surface of her eyes. Shiny like a new marble. They were every color he’d ever seen. Two spiral rainbows that were quickly losing their color. Then he rubbed the blood into her eyes. (Again.) He drew a little four-leafed flower on her forehead. (Again.) He dabbed his finger in his blood again and rubbed this on his lips. (Again.) Up and down like a geisha, then across. (Again.) Pressed his lips to hers and blew as hard as he could. (Again.) Then he slammed his hand on her lips to hold the air in. (Again.) Pressed until he could feel her teeth cutting into her lips. (Again.) Her eyes closed as air rushed out of her nose. (Again.)
Jayne didn’t jump (this time) when her eyes popped open. There were no rainbows now. They were a dull silver color. No magic. It must have been needed elsewhere. Just eyes. He kept his hand over her mouth and moved it slightly to cover her nose as well. Held her down until she struggled for a breath. (Again.) He only released her when her fingertips scratched pitifully at his arm. He knew she was in there somewhere.
He picked her up. Stepped over the rope and whistled shortly. The horse that they just rented, that Jayne had never seen before, trotted over. He blew air into Isla’s curls. Ran his horsey lips down her cheek. Then he whinnied loudly and tossed his head.
“Can you go pick up the rope, please?” Jayne motioned at Simon. Simon jumped off his horse to obey. To his recollection he had never heard Jayne say please. Mal watched this with narrowed eyes.
“Put her down. I’ll grab my bag and take a look at her,” Simon said, handing Jayne the rope.
“Ain’t no modern doctorin’ to be done for silver poisonin’.”
“Silver poisoning is not serious. Let me at least take a look at her neck,” Simon said, hovering near Isla’s head.
“It will just have to work its way out of her system. She’s done it before but it wasn’t this severe. I’m sure she can do it again.”
Simon continued to protest. Wanting to look at her neck but Jayne just got on his horse. He pointed down at Simon. “You’re gonna get left, boy. Get on that horse and keep up.”
Mal watched the changes in Jayne with one narrowed eye.
They pushed the horses to the limit in Jayne’s rush to get back to a newly fully fueled Serenity and leave immediately for St. Louis.
Jayne carried Isla’s body onto Serenity. River sat at the controls. As soon as Mal gave her the go, she was in the air. She’d felt the witch’s power as soon as Jayne set foot on the ramp. The hair on her arms and neck had stood on end. Once they’d cleared atmo and she’d set the coordinates for St. Louis, she’d picked her feet up and draped her arms across her lap. Stared down at her hands and watched the geese march up and down her arms.
Simon wanted to do more tests on Isla and Jayne told him to get the fuck out. Damian and Richard agreed. They told Simon that he just doesn’t understand the magic. That he would do more harm than good with science. They need to let her sleep it off. She’ll wake up on her own when the time is right.
Richard told Simon the story of Dorothy, how when her soul got lost, she dreamt to find her way back home. Simon has never heard of the Wicked Witch of the West. Or Santa Claus.
Damian tells them that once the witch is dead, Isla can come home. That’s how it always works.
“Yeah,” Jayne snorted. He was taking off his shirt. “Always works. I’ll believe that when my farts smell like roses.” Jayne climbed into the bed next to Isla. He cut the dress off of her and pressed her against his bare chest.
“You know your farts will always smell like tulips, Cobb,” Richard growled.
“Damn right they will.”
River listened to all this with interest. She doesn’t tell them it’s going to be a little different this time.
The Car Wreck
She opened her eyes and groaned. Everything was fuzzy. She touched the bridge of her nose. It was wet and her glasses were gone. Her fingertips were red now. Slowly she moved each of her fingers and toes. Then, she moved her right arm. Her left was wrapped in the seat belt. Her arm was numb. Good or bad? She wasn’t sure. Carefully, she followed the line of the belt with her right fingertips. After prying her arm free she tried to open the door. Her left arm wasn’t working correctly. Neither was the door.
She reached across herself with her right hand and tried the handle again. No luck. The door was stuck. It was bowed in toward her. It wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. She looked around at the remains of her little car. She needed an escape route but she was having trouble focusing.
The passenger window had busted when the car flipped. Flipped? Yes, flipped. She remembered seeing something in the middle of the highway. It darted. She veered. The ground rushed at her windshield.
She suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. The smell of smoke was making her nauseas. Smoke. Smoke was a bad sign. She lifted one foot over the gearshift into the passenger side. Shoes were gone. That made her giggle.
She scooted until she was straddling the console. This put the rearview mirror directly in front of her face. She began to giggle again. The face peering back at her through a half mask of blood just looked so startled. She scooted into the passenger seat. The giggle became a chuckle. The giggle was a full-throated laugh by the time she pulled herself head first through the empty window.
The ground was soft as she laid face down trying to catch her breath. Something hard scratched at her tongue. She stopped laughing and dug her fingers into the dirt. She ran her tongue along the backs of her teeth to make sure none were missing. She coughed and spit.
Glass. She spit glass onto the ground. She watched as a beam of sunshine winked off the glass and temporarily blinded her. She giggled again. The blinding light brought back a glimpse of a memory. A shadow in profile against the glare of sunlight asking her a question. Apparently a very serious question. But she didn’t know the answer. Couldn’t understand the question. Didn’t recognize the profile. Could only laugh at the question asker. The question master. Or was he the question masker? She began to laugh again.
She stood from the dirt and took stock. She was wearing leopard print pajama bottoms and a pink wife beater. No bra, no shoes, no bracelets. Where the hell was her bracelet? Her watch? Her dad’s watch. She never left home without them.
She heard a truck coming. It slowed and she followed it. She ran into the street like a mad woman and caught up with the truck’s passenger door. Then things were spotty. A man and woman were there. They asked her if they should call anyone.
“I just wanna go home,” she answered. She refused to cry. The woman had a phone book in her hand.
“Who should I call?”
“Marshal Cobb.”
The woman flipped through the book. The girl could tell by the look on the woman’s face there was no Marshal Cobb in the book.
“Could he be in a different city?”
“Where am I?”
“Zion, Kentucky.”
“Try Elberfeld, Indiana.”
The woman shook her head. ‘Fuck me,’ the girl thought.
“Try Ft. Mill.”
Another negative head shake. Tears formed in the corner of her blue-green eyes. Her throat constricted. She didn’t even know anyone named Marshal. Why the hell had she said that?
“Can we call your dad for you?”
“He died last year,” she said. She pushed the hair out of her eyes. Normally she wore it in a ponytail. “Call my mom.”
She sat in the sheriff’s car staring at the streaks of dirt on her skin. Scars and hair she didn’t recognize. Freckles. She’d never had freckles before. They were all up and down her arms. Covering the shoulders left exposed by the wife beater.
She sat quietly looking at herself as the cop ran her info. Contacted her mother. Then he drove her back to the station. They offered her something to drink and she chose a Sunkist. It was tasty. She sat and stared at her hands until her mom and her mom’s boyfriend arrived. Lost time for a minute. The next thing she knew they were crossing the bridge from Kentucky to Indiana.
She remembered when she was little they would go to the drive-in in Kentucky. Every time they crossed the bridge her aunt would tell her the story of the Ohio people. How at night every person who had ever drowned in the Ohio River perched on the metal structure above.
“They wait,” Aunt Kat had said. “They wait for a car to come along with the windows down. And a pretty little girl sitting in the backseat. As soon as she starts to fall asleep,” she raised her hands up and curled her fingers to look like claws. Bared her teeth and hissed. “As soon as she’s asleep, they snatch her up out of the car and carry her back to the river!” She’d tickled the girl til she was laughing so hard she was crying. “Back to the river she came from! To live the rest of her life playing in the mud with the mud people.”
She hadn’t crossed a bridge since then without scanning the upper supports for scary mud people. Occasionally, she’d thought she’d seen one. Laughed it off. Until just a few years ago, she’d dig her fingernails into her palms to distract herself. Dig til she was bloody. Startled, she realized she had done it again. She stared at the little half moons of blood on the palms of her hands.