Burn Daughters Read online

  I was about to tell them about Frank, and Momma’s drinking when Evie blurted out, “Our mother is an alcoholic.”

  Brooke replied, “Isn’t everybody’s? Mine prefers wine with her meals, in between her meals, and right before bed. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother without a glass of wine. Unless she’s out taking care of her selfish needs.”

  “Our mother prefers anything that will get her drunk,” my sister announced. “She’s not picky. She’s addicted to men too.”

  “Evie!” I said, astonished at her grasp on things.

  “It’s true and you know it. Frank makes me sick. I don’t like the way he looks at you or talks to you.”

  I’d always assumed my sister was too young to understand. I guess I was wrong. Even she knew Frank was a pervert. I wondered if Momma saw it too, but chose to ignore it for the sake of having a body to sleep next to every night.

  “So,” David stretched out. “I guess the conclusion here is….”

  “None of us have a safe place.” Emily completed David’s sentence.

  It got quiet. One of those moments when everyone around the campfire has nothing to say.

  “Who’s going to take the first shift protecting the barricade?” David asked.

  “I guess I will,” Brooke said, pushing to her feet. “Since I’m not wanted anyway.”

  “Maybe I should take the first shift,” Clay said.

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you up, Clay. I swear.”

  ***

  I forced my eyes open, not certain if I was dreaming, or if corn was really popping. There was a deep rumble. Thunder. I got to my feet. “Wake up!” I yelled. Rain hammered the roof overhead.

  I shook Clay awake. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Water.”

  We all gathered by the window in disbelief. Something we’d seen hundreds of times never knowing how precious it was. Water. A miracle when we needed one the most. I could already taste it. Cool over my tongue. Quenching the desert that had taken up residence in my mouth.

  Clay emptied the contents of one of the moonshine bottles, dumping it out the window. He reached, extending the neck of the bottle to catch the rain pouring off the tin. He instructed Emily to empty another bottle, flicking his wrist with impatience. “Hurry up. We don’t know how long it will last.”

  Thunder rolled. I pulled Evie to me and smiled. Thank you, thank you, thunder. The sound was overwhelmingly magnificent.

  Clay passed a half-full jug back, and Brooke snatched it up, guzzling until her thirst was quenched. She passed it to David who gave it to Emily. Emily passed it to Evie. Evie’s throat moved with each swallow.

  When it was my turn, I shut my eyes and drank. I could not stop….

  David emptied one of the water-filled jugs over his head and shook his hair around, flinging water everywhere. “Lookout, Em.”

  She didn’t laugh. “You got me wet.”

  I washed my face and neck with the rain, and flicked some in Evie’s face. She did the same to me. Soon, we were all filling jugs and dumping water on one another, the rain continuing to provide what we so desperately needed. It felt great to cut loose. The only one who didn’t participate was Clay. He was staring at us, disappointed.

  Then the rain ended.

  “STOP!” Clay yelled.

  I lowered the rim of the jug I had poised beside my mouth, and wiped the rainwater from my lips with the back of my hand.

  Clay plucked the jugs from our hands. He was red-faced. “We are going to ration this out. Water is a necessity.”

  “I’m curious,” David said. “Who was the first to hear the rain?”

  “Mill woke me,” Clay said, arranging the jugs on the floor. “She heard it.”

  David looked at Brooke. “What the hell were you doing? Wasn’t it your turn to keep watch?”

  “I was in the other room checking on the dogs,” she told him.

  “No, you were dead on your ass asleep,” David said. “I guess now we know who we can’t trust.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday: Time had slowed to a nauseating crawl. We lounged near the smoldering fire, but thankful for the water. To us, it was a small victory. That simple little spring shower had renewed our hope that we would be saved.

  Clay kept a constant eye on the water-filled jugs, and on David’s leg. It wasn’t looking good, even I could see that. There were red streaks on his skin. The wound was infected. David had blood poisoning. When those red streaks reached his heart, he’d be dead.

  Emily suddenly sat up and asked, “Do you hear it?”

  “Hear what?”

  I thought she’d finally lost her mind but, then I heard it too. A chopping sound in the distance. The noise grew louder, joined by the sound of the motor.

  “What is it?”

  Rising up on her knees to look out the window, Emily shouted, “It’s a helicopter!” She jumped to her feet and waved her arms out the window. “Hey! Down here! Down here!” She looked back around at us, standing there watching her. “I knew it,” she said. “They’re looking for us. We’re getting out of here! We’re really getting out of her!”

  The helicopter flew directly over the house, and then it flew away. The sound of freedom grew fainter and fainter.

  Emily pushed herself from the window and stormed across the room. “They can’t hear us.”

  “Hold up,” Clay said, blocking her pathway to the staircase. “You can’t just run out there.”

  Emily pushed him away. “It’s our only chance.”

  Clay took hold of her arms. “The dogs, Em, they’re still down there.”

  “They won’t come back,” Emily reasoned.

  “How will you get past the dogs?”

  “Then you do something besides sitting around here all day.” She looked back at David sitting against the wall, his injured leg stretching out stiff and red in front of him. “It was you two dumbasses who brought us here.” She laughed sarcastically when Clay and David remained silent. “Just what I thought. You think you’re so smart and have all the answers. You have NO answers.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, stepping beside Clay and looking hard at Emily. “They are looking for us, and they’re not going to stop until they find us. The helicopter flew over once. It will fly over again. Next time, we’ll be ready.”

  “Ready how?” she asked.

  I ran my eyes along the row of corked glass jugs that still contained moonshine. “We make a fire large enough to be seen.”

  “Before we do that, let’s crown you Queen Hine-ass,” Brooke growled. She had come into the hallway and was standing behind me. I stepped closer to Clay to give her more room.

  “We need to build a big, visible fire with lots of smoke,” I said, ignoring her comment. “How do we do that, Clay?”

  At first he didn’t answer me and I thought Emily had hurt his ego to the point of shutting him down, which was exactly what we didn’t need. Without Clay, we were lost.

  “An explosion,” he said eventually.

  “How do we make an explosion?” I asked, wanting him to get involved and take the lead.

  He looked around the room, focusing on old man Keller’s stash of illegal alcohol. “We can take one of these jugs of moonshine and stuff a rag in the top. We’ll have ourselves a fire bomb.” He gestured in my direction. “I think the shed near the barn is close enough to the house. I know I can throw the jug far enough to hit it. Moonshine’s very flammable. With all the trash around the shed, it’s gonna go up quick.”

  “Let’s do it,” I said.

  “For me to be able to reach the building,” Clay said, “we’ve got to pour some of this out.”

  Brooke snatched the glass jug out of his hands. “I have an idea,” she scooted past him.

  “Be careful with that, it’s flammable,” Clay called out to Brooke. “This whole place could go up in flames. This old house is dry as a bone.”

  “Yeah
.” Brooke snorted. “What am I going to light it with…my ass?” She made a show of uncorking the jug and held it out over the balusters. “Drink up, pooches.” She poured a steady stream of moonshine until half of it was gone. We heard a dog yelp down below. When Brooke turned there was a look of satisfaction on her face.

  “Why did you do that?” Clay asked.

  Brooke shrugged. “I gave one of those crusty bastards a drink.”

  “Did it make you feel better?”

  “Maybe they won’t be circling below the balcony anymore, like vultures.”

  “But I just told you this stuff is very flammable.” Clay scrubbed his face with his hands and exhaled. “If this place would catch fire…how would we get David out of here? We can’t move him.”

  Brooke elbowed me out of the way and handed Clay the jug. Clay uncorked it, gathered up one of the drapes, and soaked it in the moonshine. When it was dripping with alcohol, he stuffed the rag into the neck of the jug.

  “David don’t look so good,” said Emily. “This better work.”

  “We have to stay ready to catch that helicopter next time it flies over.” Clay said.

  Emily lowered her voice. “Can David hear us talking about him?”

  We heard movement in the other room. “Probably,” Clay replied. “This house is paper thin.”

  “We’re running out of time,” Emily said.

  “That’s why we have to keep it together so when the helicopter goes over we’ll be ready.” Clay stood and reached in his pocket for his lighter. He patted his back pockets. No lighter.

  Suddenly there was a loud cry. We all heard it.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Brooke.

  “David!” Emily shrieked.

  Clay darted through the bedroom door. We were right behind him.

  David leaned against the window casing gazing down into the yard. There was no emotion in him.

  “David!” What happened?” Emily ran to his side. He turned and looked at her, his eyes cold and disconnected. Sweat soaked his forehead. His lips were bloodless. Then he turned and nodded at us. In his eyes was a look of satisfaction.

  We all gathered at the window. Down in the yard something was ablaze, we could feel the heat on our faces. Whatever it was, it was alive, at least for a few more moments, and it was squealing.

  “Saw an opportunity to get one of these bastards,” he told us, gesturing down below.

  Emily gasped. “Oh my God, it’s on fire!”

  The yard filled with dogs. The burning dog plowed into another. Then the second dog caught fire, its tail end enveloped by flames.

  I was pushed against the window by the weight of the others needing to see. Evie snuck her way through a small opening. I covered her eyes only to have her attempting to pry my hands away. “Stop it,” I told her.

  It was horrific and sad. David smirked, starring down. “Shit. How did I get lucky enough to get two of ‘em?”

  “Oh shit, that’s the one I poured moonshine on,” Brooke said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Both dogs were in intense pain.

  The one David torched, and the one Brooke accidently soaked.

  The air was thick with the smell of burnt fur. Combined with my hunger, it made me nauseous. The smell and the dogs’ groans made my stomach hurt more. The two dogs on fire ran around the yard with their tails tucked. They rolled. They bit at the flames. Rolling. They collided into one another. No sense of direction about them. The other dogs jumped in and out of the other two, eluding the flames themselves. The rest of the pack howled like hyenas. Taunting. Nipping and nervous. Clearly they’d all been abused by the woman. The flaming dogs’ yelps and cries became moans and whimpers, and then silence.

  The pack paced in a circle around the black corpses.

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “The same thing they’re doing with us, waiting on an opportunity to eat,” David replied.

  The dogs stopped pacing. Their heads turned from the corpses toward the main house.

  “What are they looking at?” asked Brooke.

  “Is it her? Is it the woman? Is she coming?” asked Evie. Tears welled in her eyes.

  David pressed his nose to the glass, and turned his head trying to see more of the yard.

  Evie panicked. “It’s her. It’s the woman, she’s coming!”

  The pack of dogs darted across the yard and out of our sight, leaving alone the carcasses of the two smoldering dogs.

  “That’s strange,” David said. “Where are they going?” He turned from the window, his eyes searching the room. He stepped away from the window. “Where’s Em?”

  “She was just here,” I told him.

  “Em!” David hollered, hobbling toward the bedroom door, cursing under his breath.

  We moved past him and his slow pace, into the second bedroom on the other side of the house gathering around the window to see what was happening.

  We followed him into the other end of the house. David’s leg slowed him down. Clay went straight for the window, where he could see what was happening.

  “Holy shit,” Brooke said. She backed away from the window, covering her mouth, giving me and Clay clear access. I held Evie at a distance, so she could not see whatever was going on below. I knew it could not be good.

  “Oh my God!” The cry escaped me, and sent Evie into tears. I rolled away from the window, clinging to Evie. I could not let her see it. I wish I had not seen it. I wish I could have torn that memory from my head and buried it deep in the ground.

  Clay gasped, but said nothing. He turned as David approached, and planted his hands on his friend’s chest. “Man, you don’t want to see this.”

  “Get outta my way, Emerson, or I’m going through you.”

  Their eyes locked. Clay nodded and stepped aside.

  David propped himself against the sill. His head moved back and forth, his eyes searching. “No!” he bellowed, when his eyes hit the hell at the back of the farmhouse. I knew what he saw there. Emily. Only her clothes were recognizable, the rest of her torn apart, shredded. Dog meat. She didn’t even have time to scream. David punched away what panes were left in the window.

  “GET OFF HER! GET OFF HER!” But the pack cared nothing of David’s words. Nothing could end what was happening. David’s fist pounded the wall. He yelled, “Over here, you sick bastards! Leave her alone!” He picked up anything within reach and tossed it. His entire body tensed and shook, sweat dripping from his forehead. He sunk to the ground, his leg bleeding, his eyes tearing.

  “Why the hell’d she do it?” Brooke asked no one in particular.

  David clawed the back of his head with his hands, sobbing. “They will pay for what they’ve done. I promised her I would protect her.”

  I choked back vomit and kneeled eye to eye with my sister. She was crying uncontrollably. “Don’t let them eat me! Don’t let them eat me!” she wailed.

  I cupped Evie’s face with my hands, and checked to be sure every freckle was where it should be. “I won’t,” I told her. “They’re not going to get you, I swear. I won’t let them.”

  “But you can’t stop them,” she told me. “No one can stop them.”

  “Sh.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “They’re not going to get you. I promise.”

  Brooke fell to her knees. Clay stared at Evie, taking in her words as solid truth. I knew then we were all doomed. I knew then it was only a matter of time and we would all go the way of Emily.

  “I promised Em I would protect her,” David repeated. “I didn’t protect her. I didn’t.” David started rocking.

  The room fell silent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I cradled Evie in my lap, gently stroking her head. “We have to be patient,” I told her. “They’ll come.”

  “I’m so hungry, Millie. Can you die from not eating? My belly hurts.” The questions kept coming, most I had no answer to. “Are we going to die? Are we?”

  I had no answer.


  I was hungry and weak. We were all hungry and weak. My muscles ached. My body burned. I was heavy with guilt for bringing Evie into a nightmare.

  The stress of not being able to help my sister, I felt so guilty. How could I have brought her into this?

  Clay worked on draping something over the window. He pulled old pictures off the wall, stealing the nails they were suspended from to cover the horrific scene visible beyond the window.

  “Who do you think this woman is?” Clay turned the photo for all of us to see before sitting it on the floor. He paused to study the other black and whites hanging on the walls. A shrine. Why hadn’t the photos been moved over the other house? Why leave them here? Forgotten and collecting dust like everything else. Clay rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s our woman?”

  “Maybe it’s her mother,” I offered.

  “Maybe.” Clay pulled the drape over the window, and we all left the room, closing the door tight behind us. We would not enter it again. It was too close to the memory of Emily and her gruesome end. Clay wrapped an arm around me, and placed a hand on Evie’s shoulder, guiding us across the hallway.

  “The bastards are back in the foyer,” David announced. I lowered my head, listening. He was right. I could hear their panting. The wet-dog smell had returned.

  “Great,” said Brooke. She did not follow us into the room. Instead, she made her way to the landing. None of us said a thing to her. We were not worried that she would make the same mistake as Emily. None of us would. Running away from these dogs was not possible. There were too many. They were too fast.

  Clay had David sit in the rocking chair. His leg had opened up and was bleeding. He had a fever. Seeing what happened to Emily only made his condition worse.

  “Look what I found.” Brooke entered the bedroom, holding up a section of metal pipe about five feet long. “It was in the broom closet by the bench out there.”

  “What do you intend to do with that?” Clay asked.

  “I think it’s long enough,” Brooke said studying the pipe.

  “Long enough for what?”

  “To reach those damn dogs.”

  Clay raised a brow. “And after you reach them, then what?”