WnW 2.3

I lurched out of bed, my mind buzzing with a euphoric feeling. Hand to my mouth, I clumsily left the room and crossed the hall to the bathroom where I sank to my knees and vomited into the toilet. My body shuddered in waves. Emptying my stomach wasn’t sufficient, I continued to dry heave, spit dripping off my lips. The giddy feeling was still there. I coughed and heaved again. My throat burned.

I started to feel normal again after what felt like hours of leaning over the toilet. I curled my fingers around the seat. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. They were just stupid dreams, as if my mind wasn’t satisfied with the trauma Chase had left me with, always thinking about his cruel smile.

I stripped down and turned the shower on. The water was icy cold but it felt cleansing, helping me drive down the bad thoughts. I hadn’t been able to return to normal since the incident with Chase. Recent events plucked at my anger and it always took me by surprise how quickly it rose to the top. I had tried to choke Chase out, and even when Aaron had been evasive to my questions yesterday I had felt the heat rising to my chest. I wasn’t an angry person. It felt like I was losing control, becoming something I wasn’t. You’re an adult, I told myself. Act like one.

After my shower, I walked to the kitchen, hearing a voice inside. Beth was there, kneading dough on the counter, her hands covered in flour. The baby was sitting in a high chair next to her and Beth talked to the baby as she worked. “Good! Did you see where she went?” The baby stared out the kitchen window for a moment, then pointed. “That’s right! You’re doing so well!” The baby gave an open mouth smile to her mother. Then the baby noticed me and stopped to stare. Beth turned and gave me a tight smile. “Good morning, Nick.”

“Good morning.”

She looked down to keep working the dough. “Do you need something to eat?”

My stomach felt like it had squeezed itself into a tiny little knot. “Just some water, please.”

Beth pointed to a cupboard. “Cups in there, the tap water is safe to drink.”

I went over, collected a cup and filled it, watching Beth work. The baby was still staring at me. I waved a hand, trying to get a reaction. Nothing. Aren’t babies supposed to be obsessed with faces? This one wouldn’t take their eyes off my chest.

“If you’re up for it, you could help Joseph out with the morning chores. He’s in the barn.”

“Joseph?”

“One of our farmhands. Helps Aaron with the cattle.”

“Sure,” I agreed. Anything to take my mind off of things. 

Stepping outside, I felt the sun’s warm rays on my neck. As I was crossing the yard I spotted a calico cat sitting on an old tire, tail swishing as it watched the wheat move in the breeze. I approached it slowly, watching its ears turn to pay attention to me. I held my hand near its head and let it sniff me. Satisfied with the greeting, it let me scratch its head. I missed my cat, Nip. I hoped Mom was remembering to feed him, even if she was distressed at my disappearance. Don’t worry, Mom. I tried to project my thoughts. I’m safe. I’ll be home soon. For a moment, it felt like I could feel her response, a stirring in my chest.

My eyes were drawn to a structure way out on the other side of the wheat field. I could only see the top of it. The roof was slanted and had a steeple made of weathered stone. It looked quite old, a forgotten chapel perhaps, fallen into disrepair. I rubbed my shoulder. My body ached strangely. Maybe it was residual trauma from the crash.

It was hard to pull myself away from the view, but I did and walked over to the barn. The inside was a little cooler, shaded from the sun. I walked down the path between the pens, kicking bits of straw, looking at the animals. The majority of them contained cows, which stood motionless as they watched me, aside from their tails which swatted bugs. Some horses and pigs were here too. I held out a hand to one of the horses and it shied away, moving to the back of the pen.

There was a rustling sound behind me. Turning, I saw a shaft of light, well-defined by the rising cloud of dust. The light came from a hatch that had opened in the ceiling, right over top of one of the cow pens. Some hay came raining down through the hatch and the cow moved over to investigate the growing pile. The hatch banged shut and I heard footsteps on the floor above.

In the back of the barn was a ladder to get up to the second floor. Passing by where Aaron’s gun was mounted menacingly, I climbed up and pushed open the wood panel that covered the top.

The second floor of the barn was brightly lit. There was a square window, large enough to pass a large hay bale through, that was letting in the sunlight. A man was working on the other end, using a pitchfork to shovel hay into a hatch in the floor. He noticed me come up and stopped, wiping sweat from his brow.

He waved. “Rick, was it?”

“Nick.”

“Nick, sorry.” He smiled. “I’m Joseph.” He looked around the age of a high school graduate. He was wearing rugged jeans and looked to be trying to grow out his moustache, although it didn’t quite meet up with his beard. “Want to lend a hand? You can start throwing some hay through the hatches on that side.”

I went over to the stack of small square hay bales and picked one up by the cord, grunting under the weight, I shuffled over to a hatch and plunked it down.

“So, you met the Cathrows?”

“Yeah,” I replied, pulling open the hatch and peering down. There was a wide manger below. There was a cow already sticking its head into it, finding some grains left there.

“Did you eat with them?”

I glanced up at him. Joseph continued to work, not looking up. “Uh, yeah?” I said.

He spat down the hatch and slammed it shut. “They pray to the soil. Don’t you think that’s weird?” He sounded angry.

I shrugged and shook some hay loose from the bale, watching it fall gently onto the cow’s head. “People have different beliefs. I just got here, I don’t wanna judge.”

Joseph snorted. “Well I grew up here and let me tell you, it’s weird shit. I thought someone new would agree with that. Aaron’s a creep and he’s got everyone spouting the same stuff.”

“Do you live around here too?” I asked.

“Glenry. Right next door. Last year my parents went over to meet the new neighbours. After a couple months, they were like different people. Whatever Aaron is preaching about at their meetings, I don’t wanna know.”

I shut the hatch. “I’m not against religion. I grew up with parents that believed different things.”

Joseph shook his head fiercely. “You don’t get it.” He peered out the window, then beckoned me over. “Look.”

I looked down and saw that a vehicle had pulled up to the house. Beth was greeting them and moved to the truck to assist a woman getting into a wheelchair. The woman was missing a leg from the knee down. The two of them were chatting warmly.

“That’s Carol,” Joseph said quietly. “That leg she’s missing? She still had it a year ago. I swear, every time I see one of the neighbours, they’re missing some part of their body. Most of the time it’s something less noticeable, like an ear or some teeth. And they pray just like he does. One day I wake up and my mom is missing a finger. Pops and her smiled like they were grateful it happened. Even though it’s like they’re slowly getting eaten away.”

I stared at Carol. “But nobody in the Cathrow family is missing anything.”

“I pointed that shit out to my parents, but they lost their temper and shouted at me that Aaron sacrifices greatly, whatever that means.”

Beth shifted the baby to her other hip and their face came into view. They were staring directly at me, up on the second floor of the barn. My heart beat faster and I turned away from the window. “I’m just trying to get home. I don’t wanna get involved in a cult or whatever.” 

“Well don’t question Aaron about it. He gets angry when you pry too much.”

I returned to moving hay bales. “I’ve experienced that.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Joseph held up his pinky finger. It was a joint shorter than it should have been and the tip ended in heavy scarring instead of a fingernail. “Aaron shoved it in the threshing machine,” he said bitterly. “I asked too many questions about why I never see him butcher the cattle.”

“Jesus. Did you report him?” I asked.

Joseph just glared at his finger, squeezing his hand into a fist. “Cops said they’d come ask some questions. They never showed up.”

There were some shouts coming from outside. Curious I peered out the window, but the noises were coming from around the corner of the barn. One of the voices sounded young. They were yelling in pain. I turned to the ladder.

“I wouldn’t get involved if I were you.”

I looked back at Joseph. His mouth was drawn into a thin line. 

The kid cried out again and I broke my stare and went down the ladder, walking around to the side of the barn hidden from the house. Aaron’s voice grew clearer, “Get up!” he shouted. “You think you’re tough? Actin’ out, skippin’ work? Then show me.”

I turned the corner and saw a young boy with dark hair sitting on the ground, holding his elbow. I recognized him from the family photos. Jason had tangled black hair and he wore a fierce expression. He stared with loathing at his father. Aaron scowled back. He gestured with both hands. “C’mon. Man up, son. You started this.”

Jason got to his feet. He yelled and charged at Aaron, who stood several feet taller than him. Aaron caught the boy’s punch and twisted his wrist behind his back. Jason cried out in pain and frustration but Aaron didn’t release him. “C’mon, boy!” he taunted. “You think you’re strong enough? Prove it. C’mon!” He pressed harder on the arm, making Jason sink to his knees.

My anger flared watching the abuse. “Hey!” I shouted.

Aaron looked up from his son, regarding me with scorn.

“You think you’re strong cause you’re fighting a kid?” I asked. “Let him go.”

Aaron’s muscles stood out on his skin as he steadily held Jason down. “Someone’s gotta pay for his disobedience. Are you volunteerin’?”

“Sure. Let him go.”

Jason bolted the moment Aaron released him, crawling under the fence and into the field where he disappeared into the grain.

I wavered under Aaron’s intense gaze. He raised his knuckles. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

I raised my arms, placatingly. They shook as Aaron got closer. “Hold on. You need to know-”

All I saw was a blur and suddenly my head wrenched to look at the red barn wall as pain ran like lightning through my skull. My cheek throbbed and I held my hand to it as I staggered back.

Aaron looked at his fist. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re soft.”

“What the fuck,” I said, unable to breathe in properly. 

“We ain’t talkin’, boy.” Aaron said, settling back into a boxer’s stance. “You wanted this. Finish your plate.”