Chapter 12

Emmalee

I couldn’t go backward, only forward. Couldn’t undo what I’d seen, what I knew, and how I felt. I could however do everything in my power to keep my family safe.

And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

WHILE WAITING FOR THE OTHERS

I knew my words confused my brother. That he didn’t understand why I was talking with such hatred.

Jam didn’t know what I knew. Didn’t know what a true bastard Bartholomew Shipley was. Didn’t know how we’d all been betrayed.

Barty’s-a-shit didn’t deserve to live, especially now that he was hiding behind the name of Carter Bain.

“Em, what’s going on?”

Jam’s question had me taking a breath. I didn’t want to talk about Barty’s-a-shit anymore. I didn’t want to remember what I’d seen him do. I wanted to close my mind. Shut out the pain.

Before I could do that I needed to first convey a strong message to my only living brother. “Don’t trust Carter, Jam. Whatever you do, don’t ever trust the son of a bitch.”

I heard my brother inhale sharply. Knew that he was going to question me further. The sound of Verena’s voice thankfully cut off Jam’s next words.

“What’s this?” I heard him ask. Then the sound of metal grating against metal met my ears. It sounded like Jam was shaking something heavy.

“Spark plugs,” Verena announced in a hurried voice. “We can’t risk them following us.”

I drew in a breath. I didn’t like the sound of that.

A few seconds later I heard the scrape of booted feet as someone pulled themselves up into the truck. There were a few gruff huffs. The truck swayed as yet more weight shifted the floor beneath me.

“I’ll take it,” Dirk’s voice said. Verena murmured a soft thanks and again the back of the truck bounced.

“We’ll stack them here,” Donahue’s voice echoed near to my ear. I shifted closer to Jam.

My guess was they were loading the steel strong boxes. The ones that held our supply of fyre eggs. It was obvious that we were leaving very little behind.

It took only a few minutes for the boxes to be loaded.

“That’s about it,” I heard Dirk announce, “we should be leaving soon. Where’s Carter?”

I cringed. Barty’s-a-shit was the one person we should definitely leave behind. Way behind.

“The booth,” Jam’s voice answered Dirk’s inquiry.

A moment later something landed heavily on my lap. I immediate reached out and felt the spiral coil of my lost notebook. I clutched it tight to my chest.

Barty’s-a-shit murmured under his breath as he settled down onto the truck’s floor beside me. My lips twitched into a snarl. I didn’t say thank you.

I heard Calvin’s ever present wheeze and a gasp of air as the elderly scientist pulled himself up and into the truck. I nodded in his direction and held up my hands. I couldn’t tell if he saw that I was holding the notebook as he shuffled by me.

“Thank you, Em,” I heard Calvin say. Then he coughed and swallowed loudly. “I’m glad to see that young Carter retrieved your notebook.”

“She’s not coming with us.” My sister’s voice suddenly demanded. It was harsh and unbending.

Stevron’s rough voice quickly refuted Angie’s words. “I will not leave without her.”

For the first time, in a very long time, I sensed Angie wavering. I could hear the slight catch to my sister’s breathing. I heard her sigh.

It was another few seconds before Angie capitulated. “Fine.”

I wondered who was the person that Stevron was willing to risk Angie’s wrath for? My sister had said ‘she’. Who was she?

The click of a rifle being cocked echoed through the night. My thoughts froze.

“Move and I’ll blow his damn head off.” The harsh, clipped words were those of a stranger. “The blind kid’s next.”

I was instantly grabbed. An explosion of pain ripped through me as my back connected with the metal sheet flooring of the truck. I caught the smell of Barty’s-a-shit as he rolled on top of me. I tried to push him off. He didn’t budge. His grip tightened on me.

The man’s voice continued. “I’m coming with you.”

“No bloody way, Char,” I heard Angie snarl.

The crack of something hard connecting with soft tissue had me stiffening. It sounded like the stranger had hit my sister with the butt of a weapon.

“Let me up,” I cried. I had to get to Angie.

Of course Barty’s-a-shit couldn’t hear me so my demand was ignored.

“Like I said.” The man’s voice growled. “I’m going with you. You, take the kid and get in the damned truck. You, pick her up and get into the cab. You’re driving.”

I felt the truck bounce again and since I didn’t smell the scent of bushberry I could only assume that Stevron had been the one directed to pick my sister up off the ground.

“You’ll be alright, kid.” It was Dirk’s voice I heard.

Since he was on the other side of Barty’s-a-shit, I could only assume that he was talking softly to whoever the ‘she’ was.

I couldn’t help but wonder as I elbowed Barty’s-a-shit sharply in the gut, who was the child?

The truck’s engine fired. We were on our way.

©Legend of the Sapphyre Wings by Janet Merritt