Burn Daughters Page 13

  Brooke took possession of the pocket knife. “This is mine,” she announced.

  “Look,” David pinned one of the military medals to his shirts and stuck out his chest. He smiled. “Do I look like a hero?”

  Brooke snorted and rolled her eyes. “No. You look like a guy that just robbed some old fart’s chest. It’s going to more than a medal to make you a hero.”

  David’s response was to polish the war medal on the material of his shirt.

  Each of us took something from Old Man Keller.

  I wanted to close the chest, what contained the most intimate details of old man Keller’s gone life. We were disturbing some dead past, and I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t, because I was just as guilty. I had taken his journal.

  There it was, on the floor of the chest. Old Man Keller’s darkest secrets, a glimpse inside his head. It was filled with words he had written, words that might explain the woman and this place; might even explain the dogs.

  I caressed the journal. Felt the sleeve of leather. The raised gold cross in the center of the cover, the cross worn and stressed as if someone else’s fingers had rubbed it hundreds of times.

  It was intriguing. Instantly, I became infatuated with the journal. A hunger to know rising up. Would it give me answers?

  Evie nudged my side, showing me the harmonica laying in the palm of her hand. “Can I have this?”

  I nodded, not caring what she took, wanting only to open the journal and discover its secrets.

  Evie put the harmonica to her pursed lips and blew. The sound interrupted the others carelessly pulling things from the chest. I cracked the dusty, old journal open.

  How could I be so intrusive?

  How could I not?

  October, 1944

  She came to me last night in her sleeping gown. The evil inside of her purged itself in my chamber. Vile vomit. Putrid! Ugly and rancid like my Jezebel’s inappropriate thoughts toward her father. No virgin girl should cling to her father’s hip! It’s unnatural! Her bosom rubbing my most intimate part. Would no other man fall prey to the temptation? Oh the misery of my wile temptress. Her body screams to me.

  Reverend Rufus Alexander Keller.

  Chapter Ten

  The second night brought with it a familiar chill.

  “We can’t spend another cold night in this house.” Clay looked up the chimney. “I can see stars. There’s nothing blocking it. We’re gonna have to keep the fire small though. The old house is dry.”

  The joints in the brick were like loose sand, crumbling under our hands.

  We started with a few pages.

  Pages turned into books and then there was light.

  We gathered around the stone fireplace. Brooke with the handmade blanket. The only sound the crackle and pop from the fire and Evie playing the harmonica.

  Clay stayed near the fire occasionally poking at the glowing embers. Whenever the embers burnt out we found something else to tear apart and burn. “Need more, fire’s going out,” Clay instructed holding out a hand.

  David was stretched out on the floor, raised up on an arm. “I got an idea.” He reached for my journal.

  I angled my body away from him. “No! There’s a hundred other things in here you can burn.”

  “What is it with you and this creepy diary?”

  “It might tell us about the woman.”

  “Ok, as long as the woman doesn’t take possession of your body and you start hacking us up in our sleep,” David said.

  So instead of burning the journal, we disassembled the chest. I don’t know why we did it. Maybe it was our way of punishing the old man for his sins. But bit by bit we took apart what was left of his life. As if his life meant nothing.

  And it didn’t.

  Not now.

  Old Man Keller was long dead and there was no way he could come after us from his grave.

  We threw the pieces of cedar wood in the fire.

  The contents of the chest mingled with the rest of the debris in the room. Forgotten. Pushed aside. Abandoned. Their value diminishing by the light of the burning fire.

  The carcass of the chest gave off an aroma.

  Harsh smoke mingled with the past.

  I was remorseful accepting its heat. I was remorseful accepting anything Old Man Keller had to give.

  September, 1945

  My thoughts confirm she was created for my taking. A woman’s promise is binding only if her husband agrees. I am her husband.

  Reverend Rufus Alexander Keller

  “How long are you going to be pissed?” Brooke asked Clay.

  “I’m not pissed. You just can’t accept that it’s over.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said, standing up. “I have a confession to make. The reason Clay is acting like such an ass toward me is I cheated on him.”

  “No,” David said, looking at Clay. “You didn’t tell me the bitch cheated on you. I thought we were buddies, and you neglected to offer proof she’s a slut.”

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Your big mouth would’ve spread it all over town.”

  “It’s a big deal. The girl you dated for what, two years, cheated on you. Well, I must say, I’m shocked she owned up to it.”

  “She didn’t,” Emily joined in. “Thomas told Clay himself. She had no choice but to tell the truth.”

  “So, are you going to hate me forever?” Brooke asked Clay.

  “I don’t hate you,” snapped Clay.

  “I feel like shit about what I did, is that what you want to hear? And the way you’re acting is only making it worse.”

  His blue eyes shifted up; they were hard and unforgiving. “You want to do this now?”

  “Why not? It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

  Clay stood to face her. “I’m not pissed. I can’t be mad because I don’t care. I stopped caring a long time ago. If you want to know the truth, you’re a conceited bitch that spends way too much time absorbed with yourself to ever have a real relationship with anyone. I figured that out months ago, but like an idiot I was afraid to ditch you because I might hurt your feelings when really you don’t have any. And I didn’t want you tagging along today.” He spread his arms. “I didn’t ask you to come…you invited yourself.”

  She cut her eyes away from him, tears glistening in them. When she looked back at him those tears escaped and she wiped them from her cheek. She sat down on the floor, Indian style, staring hard into the fire.

  “You don’t know how much I wish I wouldn’t have come too,” she said. “It hurts that you don’t even care about my safety.”

  Clay sighed and dropped back down the floor with the rest of us. “I care about your safety.”

  “No. I’m pretty sure you’d feed me to the dogs.”

  “I don’t want to feed you to the dogs,” he muttered. “I just want you to back off and let me breathe.”

  “Fine, breathe.” Brooke looked around at each of us. “Who’s next to bare their soul, Millie, any secret crushes you want to share with the group?”

  Clay’s jaw flexed. “Leave her alone, Brooke. It’s not helping.”

  “Then what do you propose we talk about?”

  “David asked Brooke to come,” Emily blurted. “Just so you all know, he’s the one who invited her. He invites her everywhere we go.”

  “Because I’m your best friend,” Brooke returned. “Did you not want me to come?” Emily watched the fire dance, and did not reply. “Okay, then why didn’t you just say you didn’t want me here?”

  “I only invite her to make you happy,” David told Emily.

  An awkwardness settled in the room.

  “Why don’t we talk about something else,” Clay suggested. “Something that doesn’t involve past relationships.”

  “We could play a game,” Evie said.

  “A game?” David chuckled. “Like truth or dare. Sorry. I’m not up to it, peanut.” He reached over and ruffled her hair, favoring his wounded leg, hurting more t
han he let on, needing to appear tough in the eyes of others. He collapsed beside the fire. “I am up for a drink, though. Man I wish someone would have had foresight to bring the cooler. I could use some alcohol.”

  “Are you stupid,” Brooke asked David.

  “Um. No. But I think—”

  “Save it, Jacobs,” Brooke hissed. “Look around you, what do you see?”

  “Four plaster walls, stone fireplace, a bunch of ancient junk, and….” He peered over his shoulder, and a huge smile spread across his face.

  “Yep. How could you have forgotten so soon? You’re surrounded by moonshine.” Brooke picked up one of the glass jugs and popped the cork. She started to give it to David, but was intercepted by Clay.

  “Not a good idea.” Clay plugged the neck. “We don’t know how much longer we’re going to be trapped.”

  “Exactly. So give me the damn jug and let me enjoy the only good thing about any of this.”

  “Alcohol dehydrates,” Clay told him. “We don’t have any water.”

  “So. I’ll keep drinking. There’s plenty of it.”

  “You don’t understand. Three days is the longest a person can go without water. Drink that…you speed that dehydration process up. With the leg, possibly an infection, not a good idea.”

  “Well, damn,” David frowned. “Rain on my parade why don’t ya. Now what, we sit here and stare at each other? Sorry, but none of you are that interesting.”

  “Maybe we should listen to my sister, she may be on to something. I know I could use a distraction. It’s either a game or, like David suggested, we sit here and stare at each other.”

  “Okay,” Clay agreed. “Might keep me from thinking about smokes. What game, kid?”

  Evie sat Indian style, her face lit by the glow of the fire. She was excited. To her, it was the camp out we never experienced. “Let’s make one up.”

  “Okay, you have the floor….”

  Evie thought hard, then smiled brightly as an idea came to her. “How ‘bout we tell stuff nobody else knows.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what we were already doing?”

  “Nuh huh.” Evie scooted closer toward the group. “The game is, we all have to answer the same question.”

  “How’s that a game?” asked Brooke.

  “Back off, Brooke,” Clay warned her. He turned toward Evie. “What’s the question?”

  “Where do you feel safe?” Evie asked.

  “As opposed to being stuck in an old house surrounded by wolf dogs?” said Brooke.

  “Yeah, exactly, where would you be right now…if you weren’t here?”

  David promptly said, “Not at home that’s for sure.”

  Brooke mocked him. “Why not superstar? You’re revered at home. You’re the star player. Your parents adore you.”

  “My parents love the spotlight.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I don’t love being drilled every damn day over what I eat and if I get my miles in before a shitload of homework. It’s all about keeping in shape and maintaining the grades so I can play. My mother comes into my room every morning before the sun comes up with a handful of vitamins and a protein shake.” His face scrunched in disgust. “Jesus I hate those shakes. They’re nasty as hell. Some real food would be nice for a change. Double cheeseburgers with real mayo.”

  “I’ve seen you cram plenty of burgers in that large hole you call a mouth,” Brooke sneered. “You are far from deprived.”

  “Yeah, but I got to sneak it. And it’s not just the food, it’s going to the gym every morning before school. Sometimes I would like to sleep in. Be lazy. I don’t get that luxury. Hell, now that I think about it, a bad leg and Norman Bates mother might not be so bad. It’s kind of like a vacation.”

  “Oh, poor pitiful David. His parents give a shit,” said Brooke.

  “They only care about what I can do. Bet none of you know I’m on steroids.”

  “Seriously?” Brooke said. “You’re telling me those muscles aren’t real?”

  Clay covered up a laugh with a cough. “I wondered why your scrawny ass suddenly got bigger.”

  “Shut up, man. You’re just jealous.”

  Brooke threw Emily a smug look. “Guess I was right. Told you your boyfriend is on steroids.”

  “So you’re admitting I have muscles?” David laughed at Brooke. “Tell me, is that your natural color?”

  Brooke fought off a smile. “No comment.”

  “Thought so,” David returned. “Thing is my parents know the steroids are not safe, but you think they care? All they care about is the image. If I lose the leg, I’m nothing.”

  “You’re not going to lose your leg. It’s a dog bite. I think you’ll recover,” Brooke told him.

  “Ever hear of infection?” David cast his eyes at the floor. “Winners never quit. Quitters never win.”

  “If you lost your leg, your parents would still gobble your shit up like it’s a cure all. I’ve never seen such perky, devoted parents in my life. Being over at your house is nauseating. All the concern.”

  “I told you the concern is fake, and what does your pampered ass know, Queen Brooke?”

  Brooke shrugged. “Call me whatever you like. I don’t care. And honestly, no place is as bad as being home, ignored.”

  “Right, I bet you are daddy’s little girl. I bet you sit on daddy’s lap every night.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “What’s wrong?” David laughed. “Did I hit a nerve? You do, don’t you, kiss and love all over your daddy.”

  “You are such an asshole. I don’t understand what Emily sees in you.”

  David glanced sideways. Emily was sitting in the gloom, her legs pulled to her chest with her arms encircling them.

  “Whatever she saw, obviously she doesn’t see it anymore.”

  “This is a waste of time and energy,” Emily said.

  “You okay there, babe?” David asked her. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I just want to go to sleep. Let me go to sleep,” she told David.

  “Hang in there. I promise, I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “You better. You got us into this mess,” Brooke told him. “You just had to insist we go nosing around on someone else’s property. This is all your fault. And about my life, you don’t live in my house. There’s not enough hours in the day for the big time banker to dote on his daughter. There is, however, enough time to meet up with Kara his assistant, but that’s a different story. And my mother…she’s too busy at the spa and with her trainer to notice. So knock off the shit, David, nobody here cares what you think.”

  “Is that why you dress like a slut? For the attention?” David asked.

  “I dress the same as my mother.”

  “Then I feel sorry for you,” David said bluntly. For the first time since arriving on the Keller property, he gave Brooke a genuine smile. “You did help get the dogs off me.”

  Brooke wiped tears from her cheeks and softly laughed. “I should have let them eat your ass.”

  “Try living with a father who is obsessed with the end of the world,” Clay said.

  David snorted. “Nah, for real, Emerson. Are you saying ya’ll are Preppers?”

  Clay leaned back, resting the weight of his upper body on his elbows, a knee bent. “This goes no further than here. If it does—”

  “It won’t. Confessions of the dying stay in this room. Wait. Do ya’ll have one of those bunker things at your house? Where is it?”

  “I’m not allowed to say.”

  “Seriously? You can’t even tell you best bud. What if I need somewhere to get away from the zombies?”

  “It won’t be with us. Parents rules. There’s just enough saved for our family.”

  “Well, that’s shitty. How did I not know this?”

  “I figured you knew.”

  “Come on, Emerson, you knew I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not something you go around broadcasti
ng…or at least that’s what my parents say.”

  “I never saw this one coming. I mean...I knew your dad was obsessed with guns, knives, bows…let’s just say weapons in general, but wow. I guess it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. I watch The Walking Dead.” He gestured at his leg. “I can vouch for first aid skills.” He hiked up his pant leg, and turned his leg to give us all a better view of the stitches. “Know what it reminds me of?”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” said Brooke.

  “Reminds me of this woman that went in to get butt implants. Right in the middle of getting them the doctor ran out of anesthetic so he had to postpone the rest of the surgery for a later date. Know what the woman’s husband said to her when she got home? He said…looks like a half-ass job to me.” He glanced sideways at Clay. “I’m messing with you.” He clamped a hand on his friend's shoulder. “You did an awesome job, so, your parents might have a point. Be prepared for anything.”

  “It wouldn’t be so bad in moderation,” Clay said. “But my parents are so focused on preparation for what might happen they never live in the present moment and just chill. They expect me to be ready to kill if needed. I don’t want to kill anything. Nothing about my life is peaceful. It can’t be when you’re always expecting the worst. There’s too much fear in our house. If it weren’t for Mason and the fact that somebody has to push for his medicine to come before more supplies on the shelf—”

  “All the times I was at your house and I never noticed. I must be blind,” Brooke said.

  “You said it, not me,” Clay told her.

  “It’s pretty common these days,” David told his friend. “There’s so much bad shit in the world. Eventually, something’s gotta come undone.”

  Brooke looked to me. “Alright, Reid, where’s your safe place, home? I bet it is. I bet you have the perfect cookie-cutter parents. You just look the type.”