Randy White - Night Vision

But from the sick feeling Squires got just thinking about it, he knew he couldn’t do it. Maybe later but not now. The reasons had to do with the girl’s irritating kindness… and also the haunting familiarity of her face.

Even so, it pissed him off the way this know-it-all wettail kept chattering away, so Squires decided to shut her up by saying, “I don’t want to burst your bubble, chula, but that Joan of Arc bullshit, it’s all just fairy-tale crap. You’re talking about the girl who carried a sword and dressed like a dude? It’s total bullshit.”

Instead of waiting for the girl to answer, he continued, “She’s a goddamn cartoon character, for Christ’s sake. Like Santa Claus and the Easter bunny. The Disney World people probably came up with that Joan of Arc stuff. What in the hell ever convinced you that she talks to you?”

Tula was a couple of steps behind Squires as they walked toward the RV, but she hurried ahead and grabbed the man’s wrist, which caused Squires to stop and peer down at her.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Tula told him, her expression fierce. “The Maiden is real. I can show you in the history books! She led King Charles’s army, carrying her banner and sword. She forced the English sinners out of France. At first, even the king didn’t believe that she was sent by God, but the Maiden proved it to him.”

Tula gave the man’s wrist as shake. “She was a great leader and her soldiers loved her. The Maiden lived a pure life. She died a virgin, as a woman without a husband should. Have you committed so many sins that you don’t want to believe such a good person could exist?”

Squires didn’t know what to say. He felt ridiculous, allowing himself to be lectured by this skinny little teenager with her boy’s haircut, breasts just beginning to blossom.

“And something else,” the girl continued, giving the man’s wrist another shake. “Stop calling me a chula. My name is Tula. Please show me respect. And no more profanity! It hurts me when you use those words. Why do you intentionally hurt me when you know I care for you? I want to help you to be happy again, but then you say such awful things!”

Harris Squires got a funny feeling in his throat when the girl said that. It was stupid to react that way, he knew it, but there it was.

He stood silently as he watched the girl march off toward the truck, then turn with hands on her hips before saying to him, “If we’re going to Immokalee, let’s go. But you can’t go like that-not into a church. You have to change your clothes.”

Squires growled, “What?” He was carrying his shirt in his hand, wearing baggy shorts and flip-flops.

The girl didn’t back down. “If you hadn’t thrown me into your truck this morning without even asking, I would have brought my extra shirt. But you have clean clothes hanging in the trailer. I saw them.”

Squires thought about arguing, maybe even threaten to slap the girl’s face to let her know who was in charge. But then he thought, The hell with it.

The little brat was exhausting. Besides, it wouldn’t kill him to get cleaned up a little. It might even make him feel better, because his shirt was soaked with sweat-he could smell its hormonal stink-and he hadn’t showered since almost having his ass eaten off by Fifi the night before.

“You mind if I take a little nap first?” he said to the girl, being sarcastic, but he meant it. He was suddenly very tired despite the fresh D-bomb juice and testosterone pulsing through him.

“Will you put those steel things on my wrists again, the handcuffs?” the girl asked. It made her nervous, the idea of being alone with the man in the trailer. He might start drinking again. Drink himself into a different mood, and Squires might even try to force her into his bed-Tula would have preferred a bullet in the head to the horror of a man’s hands on her body.

But then she studied the giant’s face, seeing how empty and tired he looked, and decided no, he would not hurt her. Not now, at least. So the girl added, “If you think you have to chain me, I won’t fight you. If it will allow you to sleep for a little while, I think it’s what you should do. I won’t mind.”

The Maiden had been imprisoned in chains, and Tula felt an unexpected thrill at the thought of sharing the experience. It was exciting, the prospect of being locked up alone, but safe with God and Jehanne in her head, while the giant slept nearby.

But the man disappointed her by saying, “If you promise to shut your mouth for a little bit, I don’t care what you do. Run off and get eaten by panthers, that’s your decision. Just stop your damn talking for a while. My ears are starting to hurt.”

Four hours later, when Squires exited the trailer wearing slacks and a polo shirt instead of shorts and flip-flops, his hair wet and slicked back, Tula tried to compliment him by saying, “You look very nice. Blue is a nice color, it shows your eyes. When you were sleeping, you looked so peaceful, I hated to wake you. But it’s getting late.”

The girl was nervous because Squires was carrying the iPhone she had used an hour ago to type a quick message to her patron, Tomlinson, while the giant slept. She had done it just to let him know that she was safe and not in trouble. It was the first text Tula had ever attempted and she had hit the sEND button accidentally before she was done.

Would the big man notice?

Tula watched Squires glance at the phone, then held her breath as he looked at it more closely.

“That’s weird,” he said, swiping his fingers over the screen. “Usually, I don’t get service out here at the camp, but it looks like someone called. No message, though-probably because of the shitty reception.”

Tula relaxed a little when the man swore again softly, adding, “It was Frankie, I bet. I bet she is one pissed-off chick. If I’m lucky, I won’t never see her again.”

As they approached the truck, the redheaded woman with muscles was still on Squires’s mind because he asked the girl, sounding serious, “Tell me something. At Red Citrus, you ever talk to Frankie? Did she ever try to get you off alone?”

“I saw her at the trailer park twice,” Tula said. “I had a bad feeling about her, though. So I stayed away from her.”

Squires was interested. “A bad feeling? What do you mean by that?”

“A feeling that there is something dark in the woman’s brain. That’s the only way I can explain it. She scared me. I’m glad you don’t want to see that woman again. I think she is a bad influence for you. And she’s too old, anyway. A man who looks like Hercules could choose any woman in the world. You should marry a nice woman. A young girl who cares about you and can cook you food.”

Realizing how that sounded, Tula threw her hand over her mouth, embarrassed.

But Squires didn’t appear to notice. Sounding like it was hard for him to believe, the man said, “That surprises me. Frankie never said even a single word to you?”

“Her eyes watched me when she saw me,” the girl replied. “I could tell she wanted to speak with me, but I didn’t give her the chance. Her eyes are very blue. I felt like she was trying to see through my clothing. And that there might be something bad inside her. Maybe evil, I’m not sure. So I stayed away.

The man appeared satisfied, maybe even relieved. “Good,” he said. “That was real smart of you. Never ever let that bitch get you alone.”

Squires grunted as Tula, getting into the truck, tried to buoy his spirits by saying, “There’s no need to worry about the redheaded woman now. The Maiden is my protector. Now she is your protector, too.”

“Sure, yeah, right,” the man replied. “Whatever you say, sis. But if you really want to impress me, try shutting that mouth of yours for a while.”