Burn Daughters Read online

  “Why did she chop the chicken’s head off?” Evie sobbed. “It didn’t do anything to her. Why did she hurt it?”

  “To eat it, retard,” Brooke told her. “Where do you think the chicken tenders you eat every day for lunch comes from? Somebody has to do the dirty work.”

  “That’s enough,” I snapped. “She gets it.”

  Evie wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “I hate her!” Evie said, looking back out the window.

  Brooke shrugged a shoulder. “You all like fried chicken, don’t even pretend you don’t.”

  “I swear you don’t have a sympathetic bone in your body,” Clay told her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “And neither do you.”

  They stared each other down. The room chilled. The muscles in Clay’s jaw worked under the surface.

  “Check it out,” David said, hugging Emily. He lifted her and spun her around. “Battle-axe is taking her chicken-n-noodles inside, which means we’re out of here!” He set Emily down on her feet and bumped knuckles with Clay.

  The tension in the room dissolved.

  “Did you hear that?” I tugged on the tip of Evie’s hair hanging down her back. “We’re going home.” I never thought I would be happy to say those words.

  “I’m ready to see Momma,” Evie admitted.

  I surprised myself by agreeing. “Me too.”

  Even Brooke relaxed, smiling at the two of us.

  When the woman disappeared around the front side of her house, we opened the door and ascended the front steps, keeping a close watch on her home. We darted across the yard toward the tree line, staying low to the ground. I could hear the dogs barking inside the house, see them in the windows when I dared look that way over my shoulder. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, like we were all moving in slow motion, and that we would never reach the end of the yard or the safety of the woods.

  The soles of our shoes pounded the ground. Our breaths came out in quick jabs. The house grew smaller and farther away.

  We made it to the edge of the trees.

  Clay and David pressed down on the sagging barbed wire for us to crawl over. I was straddling the rusty wire when the front door of the woman’s house opened.

  My heart stopped. I held my breath.

  “Oh shit,” Clay muttered. “Keep going,” he urged the others.

  Evie turned to swing her leg the rest of the way over when the barbed wire snagged her jeans, entangling her. I worked at getting her leg free, keeping an eye on the woman. “Go,” I told the others. “We’ll catch up.”

  “No.” Clay stepped in to help me unsnag Evie. “You go. I’ll get this,” he told me.

  “I’m not leaving my sister again,” I snapped.

  Clay eyes widened. “Okay, chill, I get it, but the more you work yourself up, the clumsier you’re going to be.” He gestured at Evie. She was panicking. “For her sake, don’t let fear take control.”

  He was right. My hands shook. I couldn’t focus. I fumbled; my mind was drugged with fear.

  Clay jerked the barbed wire and ripped her jeans. Evie cried out. And the dogs came at us, barreling out the front door of the woman’s house. I froze. Paralyzed. A German Shepherd cut to the left the instant he was free. He leaped from the side of the porch, his thick body gliding through the air before he landed solidly on the ground, his huge front paws anchored, his head low. He looked like a black wolf sniffing the air for fresh blood. His soulless eyes slid straight to us. The Shepherd found what he was looking for, knowing we were there all along. Growling deeply, he came at us.

  One by one, the remaining dogs took to the stairs, snapping and barking, crashing into each other, fighting for the lead. The German Shepherd cut in front of the pack, and almost as if he spoke to the others, they calmed down and followed his lead. The pack slowed. The hair along their backs raised.

  The German Shepherd’s stare was fixed on us, his teeth bared. His coat was black as oil, his tongue as red as blood.

  He stalked us. Patient. We were his prey, trembling rabbits, vulnerable and out in the open, waiting to be picked off one by one.

  The German Shepherd paused, one paw up, ear slicked back.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God.” Emily kept repeating the same words. She slung her hands frantically. “Whatdawedo, whatdawedo!”

  “Quiet!” Clay told her.

  “Quiet. How?”

  I slowly pulled Evie back within the boundaries of the yard already knowing what Evie and I were going to do.

  We were going to run, but not into the woods. There we would be tracked. Hunted.

  The abandoned house was closer than Clay’s truck and a better option. I was already familiar with it. It was a decision I made in the moment, for the safety of my sister and me. I reacted without thinking and made the first move. I snatched Evie, my hand going to her mouth anticipating a scream. The scream never made it beyond my palm. Her breaths came out hard and ragged, her saliva dampening the inside of my cupped hand.

  I squeezed until my fingertips dug into the meaty flesh of her cheek, a tight clamp over her mouth.

  Never run from a dog. They smell fear.

  “Do what I say,” I muttered in Evie’s ear. “Don’t overthink it. Just move when I do.” If her feet tangled, I hoisted her up and kept going, not once looking back until I knew it was safe enough.

  I dragged Evie, hearing footsteps behind us. My heart was in my throat. I performed on pure raw adrenaline, my fear of dogs causing me to run as I’d never run before. If I hadn’t been so frightened and panicked I probably would have reasoned out that most dogs are territorial. Meaning once you leave their domain, they give up the chase. If I’d been thinking more clearly there’s a lot of things I would have done differently. The smartest thing we could’ve done at the fence was keep going, and eventually the dogs would have given up.

  Instead, I lead us all right back into hell.

  A scream pierced the air.

  A high, petrified scream.

  I stopped and turned around.

  There, frozen, was Emily, her mouth open in terror.

  David lay flat on his back on the ground a few feet from the old house. The German Shepherds jaw was locked around his leg, halfway between his knee and ankle, in the meaty part of his calf. All you could see was the dogs muzzle, teeth buried deep in the flesh. He was dragging David, violently shaking his leg as if to detach it from the rest of him. He shook. Rattled. And pulled at David. Slowly extracting him from our group.

  “Its got hold of my leg! Get it off!” David shrieked. He frantically kicked at the dog with his other boot. “Turn loose, turn loose!”

  Deep growls came from inside the dog’s massive wide chest.

  The sight sent chills down my spine. I wish I tried to help, but I couldn’t. Fear had me rooted where I stood with my sister. There were no trees in which to crawl. Nothing to get up on or in. There was only us and the field between the abandoned house and the woman’s.

  Brooke hollered at the other five dogs creeping closer, baring their teeth.

  The dogs stayed back although the desire to participate was clear in their eyes. These were not normal house pets; they were starved killers out for blood.

  The smell of blood contaminated the air.

  David grabbed loose skin on the dog’s neck and twisted its fur, continuing to wail, beating the dog with the other hand.

  Hollow sobs came from Emily.

  “Get away! Leave him alone!” Brooke yelled and waved her arms in the air, but the other dogs came at David intent on tearing him apart.

  They circled us.

  Caged us in.

  A boxer lunged and bit deeply into David’s ankle.

  David writhed and screamed in agony.

  Evie cried hysterically. I crushed her to my side, my hands shaking. I had to get us higher. I had to get us away. We couldn’t get bit. Not Evie. Not Me. Me. Me. Me. That’s all I could think about.

  “Help me,” Brooke told Emily, but Emily stood fr
ozen, arms hugging her chest, her face void of all color. She didn’t even look at David, only stared at the ground by her feet.

  “Get ‘em off of me,” David moaned. “Please, get ‘em off!”

  Clay’s foot connected with the dog’s rib cage. He kicked at it until he was out of breath. “Stop it! Leave him alone!”

  “They’re going to kill him! Somebody do something!” I screamed.

  Help would come. It had to. Surely, the old woman would help us. The woman was creepy, and there was no doubt we should have never been on her property, but she couldn’t have meant for her dogs to attack us. Surely, she would come out and call them off. That’s what any normal person would do. Surely, she didn’t want to cause us any pain.

  But no one came to help.

  Not the woman.

  Not our parents.

  Desperation kicked in. Blood rushed to my ears. David would die if we didn’t help. The other dogs wanted at him too bad. One dog we could take, two, we still had the upper hand, but if all the dogs attacked David it would be a matter of seconds before they tore him apart.

  I did nothing.

  Just watched and waited.

  “Go away,” Brooke cried at the dogs, flailing her arms.

  In one sudden fluid motion, Clay pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans. He climbed on the German Shepherd’s back and straddled it, his knees digging deep into its midsection. He wrapped the belt around the neck of the dog, made a noose and yanked.

  The dog released. Strangled. Its front paws lifted off the ground. The dog fought, twisting its body, wheezing for air that couldn’t get into its lungs.

  As the Shepherd panicked, the boxer tucked his tail and ran.

  “Now who’s in charge, big boy?” Clay’s face and the tips of his ears turned bright red. The muscles in his arms and along his neck flexed, bulging as he tightened the choker around the panicked, frightened dog’s neck.

  The other dogs retreated into the woods.

  “Kill it!” Brooke howled. “Kill it, Clay!”

  “Break its neck!” David joined in. “Do it! Don’t let him get away!”

  Clay tightened.

  He was going to do it. Kill the dog right then and there in front of us all, in front of Evie. It was clear the rage that consumed Clay at that moment. He wanted to do it. But then something passed over his face, a hesitation. Restraint. Maybe Clay saw a wriggling innocent puppy begging not to be murdered for being what he was…an animal. Life under the woman’s influence is all those dog knew. They reacted out of instinct. She’d made them want to kill.

  “Do it!” Brooke ordered.

  The screen door on the woman’s house flew open. “What’s gotten into you bastards?” Her voice screeched, old and shriveled like the rest of her. “What’s with all the yapping?” She stepped out onto the porch and saw David on the ground. She should’ve rushed to help.

  She didn’t.

  Clumsily, the woman charged down the steps, deep creases between her brows. “What are you doing with what’s mine? You git now, all of you!” Her hard eyes fell on us. She waved an arm in an attempt to run us off. We should have taken the chance. “You let him go this instant, you hear, you let him go!”

  “What?” Clay said. “No. Your dog mauled my friend!”

  “You got no business with him! Let him go!”

  “Call off all your dogs and I will,” Clay shouted still holding the belt tight. A few more moments and it would be too late; the neck of the wriggling dog would go limp, and there would be no decision left to make, no turning back.

  “I’ma gonna get my shot gun, you children are trespassing on private property!” the woman shouted. “This is my land!” The screen door slapped shut then flew wide open.

  POW!

  Evie squealed and covered her ears.

  Clay immediately released the belt.

  Birds scattered from the tree tops.

  “You let us be!” the woman warned, “Get off MY land!”

  As soon as the Shepherd’s front paws touched the ground, he yelped and tucked his tail, scattering with the rest of the dogs. Just like us, the woman’s dogs had no way of knowing if the next bullet would be meant for something alive and breathing.

  My ears rung with the quiet that settled around us, volcanic ash snowing down after a huge explosion.

  Clay helped an awkward, bloody David to his feet. “Don’t shoot, we’re leaving.”

  The woman’s untrusting gaze lingered on Clay as she sat her shotgun at shoulder level, pointing the end straight at him. Her heavy jowls rested against the finger holding the trigger. “What you come here for, you blasted children aim to steal from me?” In clunky black galoshes, she strode toward our group. Her dogs lingered by the edge of the woods. Pacing.

  She stopped a few feet away. One eye squinted down the barrel. Black coat hung off a pale, wrinkle-infested shoulder. She was going to shoot us. There was never any doubt the woman had it in her to kill.

  Out of my peripheral vision I caught sight of movement, the dogs. Her shout was like a whip to the dog's constant barking. “Shut up! All of you bastards shut up long enough for me to think!” She kicked at a dog that dared to come close. The dog yelped and ran. “Shut up I SAID!”

  A hush spread over the animals.

  The woman’s cold eyes bared down on us. “You come to steal from us?”

  “No, ma’am. Our truck broke down up the road,” Clay explained. “See. There. That way.” He pointed in the direction of the truck. “We’re from town.”

  “You stupid enough to hunt on my land? What gives you the right? Are you takers?”

  We glanced among ourselves.

  Takers?

  “No,” Clay said. “No taking. I swear, our truck broke down.”

  Brooke cursed, “Jesus, is she stupid?”

  The woman immediately jerked the end of the shotgun in Brooke’s direction. “I don’t like you.”

  I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the shot.

  Nothing happened.

  I opened my eyes.

  “I’m not stupid and I ain’t deaf, missy.” The woman nodded at Brooke. “Somebody ought to worsh your mouth out with soap and teach you to dress appropriate.”

  “All you’re doing is making it worse,” Clay told Brooke. “Let me handle this.” He stepped toward the woman. “Nobody said you were stupid, ma’am. We’re just trying to make you understand this is all one big misunderstanding. You see, we, my friends and I, were going to go muddin’. Innocent fun. You’re right. We should have never come up on your land. We mean no harm to anyone. We’re not taking anything. We didn’t mean to intrude on you and your family.”

  “You meant to hurt my family?” The woman’s attention slid briefly to the Shepherd waiting by the edge of the woods. Suddenly she shouted, “Just look at what you already did. Repent for your sins or I’m going to fill your hides with hot lead.”

  “Repent,” Brooke scoffed. “What the hell is she talking about?”

  “There’s no need.” Clay continued to shout. He held up a hand in a show of our willingness to compromise while steadying David with his other. They started taking small, awkward steps backward toward the old farmhouse.

  Evie and I did the same.

  “Don’t you move,” the woman warned. “You hear me, do not move! You hurt King!”

  “King? You mean your dog?” Clay looked oddly at the rest of us, then to the woman, who was waiting, paying no attention to David’s bleeding. “No ma’am,” Clay said. “We didn’t hurt him. He hurt us. We just came to use the phone.”

  “Liars! I have no phone. You come to steal what belongs to me and Father.”

  “No,” Clay insisted. “We didn’t come to steal anything. I SWEAR!” He reached behind him and discreetly crammed the hose further in his pocket. “We just need help. Our truck broke down, up the road.” He continued to work us toward the old abandoned house.

  “Lie to me and God will send you all to the botto
mless pit! You here? Now. Who sent you?”

  “No one.”

  David had one arm slung around Clay’s shoulder. Sweat coated his brows. “Listen here, I need medical attention. Your damn dog bit me. If you got a car you best go get it…if not and I lose the leg, you better bet your ass you will be looking at one major lawsuit.”

  “This is my land. You got no business here. God is going to deal with the likes of you.” The muscle under her eyes twitched. “Judgment is coming!”

  By then it was obvious to all of us that the woman didn’t operate on the same code of ethics as the rest of the world. She had been out here so long, isolated, that a strange face made her paranoid. Nothing we said would vindicate us in her eyes.

  David spit on the ground. “We’re going ‘round in circles here. Car. Now!”

  The end of the woman’s shotgun jumped. Unpredictable. Any moment the gun could go off.

  I had one foot on the first step of the old farmhouse. Evie and I could make it inside, and that’s what mattered to me. Like the woman, my family came first. I wasn’t certain about the others.

  My gaze landed on David whose arm was still slung over Clay’s shoulder. He avoided putting pressure on his injured leg. One leg of his jeans chewed away. Blood seeped through the pants leg. The material was torn, gaping, flapping down to reveal ripped flesh soaked with more iron rich blood. More blood trickled down his shoe where the boxer had mauled his ankle. I remember noticing the color of the blood, comparing it to the same blood that filled a vile from my vein once in the hospital. I’d asked the nurse why it was so dark, and she’d told me that was a good thing.

  My eyes slid to Clay. I thought about Momma and how she only thought about herself. Could I look in the mirror every day and see a selfish coward?

  I decided to go for it, but then Clay got the same look he had right before subduing the German Shepherd. Even Clay’s stance changed, becoming more confident, arrogant. He muttered something to David.

  I squeezed Evie’s hand to warn her something significant was about to happen. I could feel it.