L Akers - Shoot Like a Girl

She opened a bottle and poured six liquid-gel capsules into her hand. “Don’t swallow them. Open the gel cap and pour the liquid right onto your tooth. That might help, too. But you have infection and that’s the biggest problem. You need to get the infection out . Do you have antibiotics?”

“Not really,” Grayson fudged. He was holding out partly for Puck, who didn’t seem to need them—yet—and partly for just in case there was another person even more hurt or sick later. The cayenne pepper he’d used on Puck had some antibiotic properties and Puck was healthy. He may not need them at all. But someone else might; someone worse off than Grayson.

She put her hands on her ample hips. “If you have them, you need to use them. Infection can kill you. But you’re the boss of you , and you seem a bit stubborn, so…”

She turned to a basket of vegetables and plucked out a bulb of garlic and put it next to the two bottles.

“Apply freshly extracted garlic juice, or make a garlic paste, and put it around the tooth for five minutes, then rinse it out with water. You can also add garlic juice into a cup of water and gargle with it a few times a day. Add as much garlic into your food as you can. It will combat the infection and strengthen your immune system. You have a garden, yes?”

Grayson nodded.

“Then I hope you have more garlic.”

“What order do I do this in?”

“Do the garlic first, several times a day to work out the infection. Rinse it out, then use the clove oil. If that doesn’t help the pain, use the Advil.”

She pushed the two bottles, the garlic, and the Advil toward Grayson. “Bring me any dried gravy mix you have—at least six packs—or a bottle of Soy Sauce, or three rolls of toilet paper, or… chocolate. You be fair to me, okay?”

Grayson nodded in agreement, hoping like hell Jake had any of this at his house to trade. He stood up to leave.

“You’ll be back, and when you do, bring a bottle of whisky. I’ll share it with you before I pull it, and I may need to stitch you up, too.”

Grayson cringed, and turned to leave. There was no way in hell he was letting this woman near him with a needle.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Neva smiled. “See you later.”

Grayson flinched. Her own mouth was a graveyard of crooked, rotten teeth and gaps. He’d need to find a new dentist… and soon.

IdaBelle was leading the woman with the snoring problem in as he was making his way out. He moved aside to let her through the kitchen door, and accidentally dropped the Advil. As he squatted down to pick them up, he listened to the whiny woman.

“Good lord, I hope you can help me. I can’t get a lick of sleep. My husband snores. Loudly . Without power, the CPAP machine isn’t working. Do you have anything for snoring?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Neva step over to a drawer, open it and remove something. He was interested because he too snored. Some nights, Olivia jabbed and poked him every half hour.

Neva handed the items to the woman. “There.”

The woman scoffed. “Seriously? This is all you have?”

“Other than voodoo or spells? Yes.”

Grayson choked back a laugh as the woman pocketed the ear plugs, roughly dropped her roll of toilet paper on the table, and stomped out.

His chuckle petered off when he realized there was no way Neva could have heard that comment about the voodoo and spells. The door had been closed and they were outside when the woman had said it.

Still, the look on the woman’s stunned and guilty face was hilarious.

Unfortunately, Grayson wouldn’t be laughing the next time he came face to face with Neva.

“Dadgummit,” Elmer yelled, swinging his shotgun in frustration.

He turned to Emma. “Did you see that? They got my fricken’ truck !” he yelled.

“Why was it so loud?” she asked.

“Dadblame muffler needs replaced,” he answered, staring down the road.

Emma nodded. “Did you see it had stuff in it? I think it was your stuff.”

“Yup. It was loaded to the huckleberries,” he said, and kicked at a rock on the ground. It went flying. “Now where in tarnation is that woman?”

“I don’t know where else she could be. We’ve been in the barn and the house.”

Elmer grunted his disapproval, and looked the opposite direction from the way the men had gone. “Probably walked all the way down to Rose’s to argue about that darn book again. It’s purt-near two miles that way—too far for her to be taking off on foot. But I’m glad she wasn’t here when they showed up,” he admitted.

But something didn’t feel right. Elmer could feel dread creeping up his spine, even as he tried to convince himself that Edith was just off visiting. Just in case, he decided to check again. He took off at a fast pace. When he stepped up on the back porch, he yelled through the screen door. Maybe she was just hiding. “Edith! They’re gone. Come out!”

There was no answer.

He went in and opened their pantry. It was empty. He slammed the door shut. One by one he opened the kitchen cabinets. There wasn’t so much as a can of coffee left. Edith was going to be mad as a wet hen. And hungry, too.

He sighed heavily and turned to go check out the bedrooms. In his closet, he had a stockpile of ammo for his shotty and Edith’s little pistol that those ruffians probably stole already. He also had some 9mm for another pistol that he knew he owned, he just couldn’t remember where in the dickens he’d put it.

He cringed at the mess of the walls in the living room. Looks like he’d have a long way to go before he ever finished his honey-do list when Edith saw this. He hoped that she’d be so happy to see him, that she’d not rip him a new one over the damage he’d done in her house with the shotty.

Stomping into the empty bedroom, he saw Edith’s book on the dresser and froze. Next to it was her pocketbook, as she called it. More like a suitcase… and she never left home without it. Not even to walk to the neighbors.

“Edith!” he yelled in panic, and ran in to the spare room. Something didn’t feel right—it felt all wrong.

She wasn’t there.

He ran into the bathroom. “Edith?” A scene from that horrible old movie popped into his mind. He held his breath and jerked open the shower curtain from around the tub, his heart in his throat.

But she wasn’t there either.

Running out of the house, he told Emma, “She’s here somewhere. Found her book and her purse. Help me find her, please, help me.” Elmer knew it in his heart; his life was about to change. He was frantic.

Out in the yard, he clutched his chest as he rushed to the barn, praying to be wrong.

But as he’d already been in the barn earlier, he knew she wasn’t there, and he was right.

He climbed into the loft anyway, calling her name, nearly sliding down the ladder with every mis-step.

She wasn’t there either.

Behind the barn, and around the entire house, back to where they started.

The only signs of life were her chickens and the strange piglet, now rooting around in the remains of a fire. Why would Edith light a fire? She never lit fires…

He stood alone on the back porch. Where could she have gone? It was going to be dark soon, in minutes, actually. If she was at Rose’s, she needed to be getting home.

But she wouldn’t go to Rose’s without that dadblasted book. He just knew it. What else would they gab about? He wondered if maybe she’d been laying down in the back of the truck. Maybe he didn’t see her when they tore out like their britches were on fire.