#4: Secrets

... Appearantly, yes: Something els CAN go wrong.

            “Ow!” Luther cried as Atticus slapped a ham slice against the youth’s face.

            Randy watched, shaking his head.  Luther looked as though he had been put through a meat grinder.

            They were in Atticus’s living room, Randy near a roaring fire, Luther laying on the couch, and Atticus pacing nearby.

            “You couldn’t resist, could you?” Atticus snarled.  “You just had to push it.”

            “I wasn’t pushin’,” Luther said bluntly, trying to remove the blame from himself.

            “You know what he could have done to you, what his kind is capable of,” the uncle shouted.

            “Atticus…” Luther sighed.

            “No, Lu.  I’m supposed to protect you.  How can I, though?  You never listen to me!  I told you not to get too close to the townsfolk; I told you not to mess with affairs that did not concern us.  Did you listen to me?  No, you would never do that!  Look what it’s gotten you, Luther,” Atticus scolded.

            “Atticus…” Luther warned softly.

            “Your parents would be so mad if they knew!  Especially your mother.  After everything she’s gone through, you’re putting a sweet girl like Madison under that yoke.  You know it’s true, Lu.  If it happened to my sister, it could happen to her!  Do you want that, Luther?” Atticus continued.

            “Shut up!” Luther shouted.

            The room fell quiet as Luther shook, his fists clenched in anger and his eyes helplessly focused on Randy.  Atticus glanced towards the confused teenager.  Luther tried to even out his breathing.  As he did, he whispered in a language foreign to Randy, causing Atticus to sigh and mutter back in the same tongue.  Luther returned his attention to Randy again; his fear was replaced once more by his fun-loving nature.

            He grinned, “Why don’t you head out, Randy?  I’m sure you’re mom’s waitin’ for you.”

            “Come back up to the manor tonight, okay?” Atticus grumbled.

            Randy sighed and trudged out of his friend’s house.  He looked up at the sky, where the sun was just rising, painting the sky red and orange in its presence.  Shadows swept across the streets like empty promises: they could be seen but had no intention of ever being filled.  Randy, much like these shadows, felt the despair of a meaningless existence.

            His mother was lying.  Anicta was lying.  Luther was lying.  He could trust no one to tell him the truth any longer.  On top of all of the lies were painful truths coming to light, weighing down his soul with the pressure of expectation and fear.  His father was a werewolf.  His best friend would soon be a father himself.  And worst of all, his mother was probably going to die.

            Randy looked up at the sky, like he was expecting it to tell him what to do.  His faith, his will, and his strength were gone, lost to the world.  Randy felt alone, even though most of the country, most of the world, was trying to endure the same paralyzing agony.  But even as long as he waited, fighting down a lump in his throat and a pain in his chest, the sky did not answer him.

            Defeated, the young man shuffled towards his house.  In the distance, he noticed a hooded figure heading towards him.  He watched it as it approached, weaving from side to side and stumbling over the folds of its long cloak.  With a sigh, Randy called out to it.

            “Excuse me, sir?”

            The figure jerked upright.  The hood fell, revealing the person’s face.

            To Randy’s surprise, he noticed that a girl was under the fabric, not a man.  Copper-colored hair fluttered loosely around her face.  Her eyes were a bright amber color, like animal eyes.  She grinned at Randy with vibrant red lips.

            “Sorry, sir,” she sang.  “Could you but tell me where I may find a place to rest a spell?  I am tired much.”

            Randy shook slightly, nervous about helping the foreign girl.  At least, he had judged she was not local due to her accent.

            “Ah, not really,” Randy muttered.  “If you know anyone in town, maybe.”

            “Ayah!  I know the jukro, the pale one with the white hairs?” she half-asked Randy.

            “Luther?”

            “Ayah, Jukro-Luther!  You know him, then?”

            “Umm,” Randy hummed, “Yes?”

            “Then you take me there, ayah?”

            The girl smiled at Randy, whether pleasantly or menacingly, he could not tell.  Her hair looked fine yet tangled at the ends, where it brushed her shoulders.  Her cheek was smudged with dirt, and her fingers were brown from the same substance.  When Randy did not answer, the girl brushed her hair behind one ear.

            “Maybe,” she whispered, “if you are not want to bother him, I might can stay with you?”

            Randy bit his lip.  The girl seemed humble, though he did spot a tiny coin purse on her belt.  He thought about Luther’s remarks about him, about his anxiety, and about his mother.  The girl’s smile had faded by the time he looked back at her.

            “My house is closer anyway,” he smirked.

            The girl smiled brightly once again as Randy turned to lead her to his house.  The shadows that had covered the ground were slowly fading into daylight, and the citizens of the town were beginning to venture out of their houses and into the streets.  Randy’s guest looked at them in amazement.

            “They are so colored,” she sighed.  “Light makes them look so brightly, ayah?”

            “Colorful?  Where do you come from?” Randy snickered.  “We’re just lower class.  You should see Madison’s clothes.”

            “Ayah.  We do not have these white colors.  They are too much standing out in the dark.”

            Randy opened the door to his house, ushering the guest in before him.  He then entered after her.

            Randy could hear his mother coughing as she came down the hallway.

            “Randy?” she rasped.  “Is that you?”

            “Hi, Mom,” he called to her.  “I brought a guest.  She says she knows Luther, but he’s probably asleep, so…”

            As he spoke, he watched the girl look around and remove her cloak.  Her skin was the color of an apricot or a peach.  Randy noted with fascination that she did not wear a dress but had on instead a long tunic and trousers that were a few inches short and showed her ankles.  In place of proper shoes, she wore wooden planks on the bottom of her feet secured by thin leather straps that wound around her toes and up her legs.  Randy’s mother saw her as she came into the kitchen.  She turned to Randy and smiled.

            “She’s very lovely,” she whispered to him, “even if a bit off.”

            Randy smirked and kissed his mother’s cheek.

            “Can she rest in your bed if she’s tired?” he asked.

            “Of course.”

            “Okay.  I’m going to sleep, then.  Goodnight.”

            Randy listened as he walked towards his room.

            “What’s your name, now?”

            “I’m called Hannah.  What are you called?”

            “I’m Mrs. Walker.”

            Stretching, Randy went into his room and collapsed on his bed.  No time passed before he was sound asleep.

 

            Randy sleepily blinked his eyes open.  Outside his window, he saw the sun hanging low in the sky.  He could smell something coming from the kitchen, but did not know what it was.  Smiling, Randy pushed himself out of the bed, rubbed his eyes, and staggered half-awake out of his room.

            Entering the kitchen, he saw his mother sitting at the table, eating a strange-looking meat dish.  Next to her, another plate of the same food was untouched.  Randy’s mother looked up at him.

            “Oh, Hannah made this.  It’s very good, Randy.  You must try it,” she smiled.

            Randy sat next to his mother and picked at the food with a fork.

            “You look much better,” he noted.

            “I feel better,” the mother laughed.  “Hannah, the girl you brought here, has been helping me clean all day.  She has so much energy!  Oh, Randy, she’s wonderful.  I don’t know how you found her, but she’s amazing.”

            Randy smiled nervously and took a small bite of meat.  Unlike the smoked poultry he was used to, it was tender and flavorful.  He tasted a few mild spices that he could not identify, giving just the right amount of flavor.  He took his time chewing, trying to place the ethnicity of the dish, but was unable.  He, like his mother had indicated, felt energized and rested.  His hand throbbed less as well.  After the first bite, the rest of the plate was quickly gone.  He stood up, and his mother passed him both of their plates.

            “Take these out to Hannah, dear,” she said.  “She’s washing up clothes and dishes out by the old pump.”

            “Okay.  See you after work.”

            “Bye, honey.”

            Randy carried the two plates out of the house and began walking towards the manor.  On his way, he stopped at a well with a pump and a trough two blocks from his house.  The girl with the copper hair was there, as promised, finishing up on a stack of dishes.  A large lump of wet clothes were piled in a basket beside her.  As he approached, Randy heard her whistling a foreign tune.

            “Hello,” she smiled at him, ending her song abruptly.

            “Hey.”

            “I’ll have those.”

            Randy gave her the plates and asked, “Did you still want to see Luther?”

            Hannah shook her head.

            “Not today.  Your mother needs her sleeping, if she’s having the Ash Plague.”

            “Ash Plague?” Randy panicked.

            Hannah kept her eyes on her work.

            “Ayah.  Her fingers is all grey-like.  Did you not notice it?”

            Randy shook his head slowly and rubbed his neck.

            “I’m sorr- “

            “Stop,” Randy demanded.  “I need to go to work.  I guess that I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “Ayah…”

            Randy turned promptly away from the copper-haired girl.  For a while, he looked calm, though his breathes were slow and forced.  Once he was away from Hannah’s sight, however, he felt his hands clench, shaking, and his breath became irregular and fast.  His injured hand burned, but he did not release it.  He did not cry, either; how could he?  Tears were a sign of weakness, and Randy refused to be weak.  If he wanted to keep his new job, he had no choice but hold it in and stay strong.

            He had begun to calm himself as he approached the manor gates.  As he had promised, Atticus waited just inside for Randy to arrive.  Randy sucked down a deep breath and waved, and Luther’s uncle opened the gate with a nod of his own.

            “How’s everything today?” Atticus asked nonchalantly.

            “Oh,” Randy shrugged, “been better.  Met a friend of yours, though: Hannah?”

            Atticus scratched his chin in thought, then asked, “You did, now?  Reddish hair, kinda tall, likes to work a lot?”

            “I think so.”

            “I’ll be,” Atticus chortled.  “We haven’t seen her in about three years, I think…”

            “She called Luther some name, like jerko or something.”

            “Jukro?”

            Randy nodded and pressed, “What is that?”

            “It’s a close friend, so close you admire and protect him, maybe even worship him.”

            Randy furrowed his brow, skeptical.  His boss had answered so quickly that Randy was certain that he had prepared for it.  The only reason to prepare for a simple question like that, Randy knew, was because the answer was a lie.  But he continued to follow Atticus around the plantation, occasionally flexing his hands with a wince from his recent injury.

            It was a minute before Randy realized that Atticus seemed distracted.  He asked his boss what was wrong, but Atticus just shook his head.

            “I don’t know.  I think I hear something.”

            “You do that a lot,” Randy muttered.

            Atticus grumbled back, “Head that way.  I’m going along the fence.  We’ll meet back at the slave houses, okay?”

            Randy nodded and left Atticus to go into the wheat fields, towards the trees around the slave houses.  For the longest time, the only sounds were the wheat stalks rustling and Randy breathing.  He would stop every so often to look all around, making sure he did not miss a thing.  At one point, he glimpsed something bright and yellow glittering from the shadows.  He did a double take, but the thing was gone.  Dismissing it as the moonlight or some sort of reflection, Randy continued through the field in search of anything that seemed off.

            Randy was ready to give up when he heard a sharp, low voice followed by a soft whimper.  He turned towards the noise, which had appeared to come from the trees, and slowly tracked it down.

            It was not long before Randy found the source of the noises.  Hidden behind a sapling, he looked into a particularly dense patch of trees.  Either Seth or Matt stood next to a tree, a whip in one hand and a nearly empty bottle in the other.  He had his back to Randy, and he chuckled as he raised the bottle to his face.  Randy turned his attention to a small creature clinging desperately to a different tree just a few feet away.  It was shaking and breathing heavily, Randy noticed.  He could not make out a face, but he knew that it was a girl.  Randy took a small step back, ready to report back to Atticus, when the man flicked his wrist, sending the point of the whip towards the cowering girl, who cried out in pain when it struck her shoulder.

            The man laughed cruelly and, dropping his whip, finished his bottle off as the girl sobbed quietly, her red hand gripping her bloody shoulder in agony.  Once the bottle was empty, the man threw it at the tree, where it shattered, causing the girl to yelp.  The man began to stagger towards the shadow, and Randy got ready to run for Atticus again.

            “You’re going to be quiet this time, right?” he hissed.

            The girl whimpered.  The man - Randy was pretty sure it was Seth - grabbed the girl’s fiery red hair and pulled her into the light.  Randy’s breath caught.      Seth flung her to the ground and she yelped once more.  It was Anicta.

            Randy thrust himself out of the shrubs and towards Seth with a wild cry.  The elder man barely had time to turn when Randy’s broken hand connected violently with one of his shoulders.  Randy let loose a blood-curdling shriek as he felt his bones slip out of place again, and Seth roared in pain of his own as his left arm fell limp at his side.  Seth whipped around, swinging his good arm at Randy’s head and smashing his ear.  Momentarily, Randy was deafened, and stars danced in front of his eyes.  He blinked painfully, trying to regain his vision, but something heavy collided with the back of his head.  Pain filled Randy’s mouth, and he tasted blood.  He attempted to push himself up with his good hand, though his sight was still terribly fuzzy.  He could see Seth glaring down at him and raising one foot to stomp on him again.  He could see Anicta crying, clinging to her ratted clothes, stained green, white, and red by her tormentor.  He could see a rustling in the foliage behind Seth just as the man stamped down his foot once more on Randy’s head.

            Darkness.

 

            “Please,” a soft voice cried in Randy’s hears, hoarse and strained. “Randy, please, please wake up…”

            Numbness faded from his body, giving way to nearly intolerable pain.  He wanted to scream, but it hurt to move his jaw.  Instead, a gargled moan pushed up from Randy’s throat, reviving the taste of iron and salt on his tongue.

            “Oh, Randy…  Randy, I’m so sorry…”

            The young man struggled past the pain in his head to open his eyes, just a sliver, to see who was speaking.

            Anicta hovered over him, upside down.  She stood over him like a Favored One, her hair like a fuzzy crown around her head and her face scrunched in pain and worry.  He also saw Atticus kneeling down next to him to examine his face.

            “Don’t move, Randy,” Atticus whispered.  “Take it easy.  Does this hurt?”

            Randy felt a pressure on one side of his head, but no more pain came from it.

            “No…” Randy bubbled.

            “Here?”

            Randy shrieked when Atticus pushed on the other side of his head, right above the ear that Seth had hammered.  Anicta leaned down and put her own hands on Randy’s ears, pushing Atticus away from him.

            “Stop it, stop it! You’re hurting him,” she cried to Atticus.

            Randy closed his eyes, sighing as the throbbing in his brain slowly, slowly lessened.  Above him, Anicta bit her lip as her dull green eyes clouded over with the beginnings of tears.  Atticus watched her intently.

            “When did this start?” he asked.

            Anicta brushed some hair from Randy’s face with a sniffle and ignored the question.

            “An…” Randy whispered.

            Anicta squeezed her eyes shut and confessed, “A- a few nights ago.  I th-thought I’d left something in… in the field, so… I-I went to look for it.  He grabbed me, and…  and he’s been pulling me aside since last night for this.”

            She let go of Randy and pushed herself up with great difficulty.  Atticus sighed and watched her as she stumbled towards another tree, grabbing the branches tightly so that she could hold herself up.  Randy slowly pushed himself into sitting position.

            “You okay?” Atticus asked him.

            Randy nodded, “Yeah.  I think I’m gonna be fine.”

            Randy stood up and staggered after Anicta, Atticus at his heels.  When he reached the tree, he pulled Anicta towards him and into a tight embrace.  She did not return the gesture.  She did not cry, smile, fight, or speak.  She seemed somewhat dead and kept her eyes to the ground.

            “I’m sorry, An,” Randy breathed in her ear.

            Anicta shook her head.

            “This is my life, Randy.  I’ll get used to it; it’s not like I’ll ever get out.  I’m just a slave.  I’ve been this way as long as I remember,” she mumbled.  “This is all I know.”

            “An- Anicta?”

            Randy turned to listen to Atticus, but Anicta continued to stare at the dirt and the grass.

            “My niece…,” he began, “my Shana.  I don’t think that I could- could call myself her uncle if I didn’t say that you’re wrong.”

            Anicta raised her eyes to look at him.  Atticus took a deep breath and continued.

            “Shana always said that things would get better, that balance and justice would return to this land.  I think she’s right.  Someday, somehow, you’re going to be a free lady, An.”

            Anica gulped loudly and replied, “Somehow, I don’t think that free is the same as happy.”

Author's Note

Before you say anything, I totally hate myself for EVERYTHING I did to Mrs. Walker and Anicta. I also want to make it up to you all. Keep reading!

Reviews

[Brandon]

Some of the word choice seems inappropriate for the context, such as smirking, snickering, and humming. Smirking and snickering have too much negative connotation for the situations in which they are used.

This scene draws some confusion:

' Randy shook his head slowly and rubbed his neck.
“I’m sorr- “
“Stop,” Randy demanded. '

Who says "I'm sorr-?" and why does Randy react so vehemently to an apparently kind girl helping his family?

Overall this chapter was rather confusing, but I have hopes the next will clear it up.