L Akers - Fight Like a Man

They all huddled up and leaned in close, drawing strength from each other to beat down the gruesome memory of Mei lying dead in a puddle of blood with her long black hair in a halo around her. And Mei laying in a hole in the ground with her arms crossed over her thin chest, the picture of the pig-tailed little girl tucked beneath them and a silly bandana tied around her head. And Mei’s face as it disappeared under a cascade of dirt, peaceful, and finally free from her suffering.

Each of them thought about what they’d been through on their girl-trip.

Worst vacation ever.

But finally, it was over, and soon they thought, they’d all be safe at last; away from all this madness.

—But they couldn’t be more wrong.

OZZIE WHINED and scratched at the bedroom door. Grayson mumbled and fumbled out of the bed, finally giving up on sleep and giving in to him.

Damn it, it’s past midnight.

He’d be glad when Olivia was home to take care of them; he’d had no idea how exhausting it was to spend the day letting the dog out, then letting the dog in, then letting the dog out, then letting the dog in…

Guilt pinched his conscience as he realized he was making a fuss over nothing. The dog had needs. And he loved the hairy beast anyway. He’d kept Grayson sane while he’d been alone with his worry over his family. It wasn’t Ozzie’s fault that Grayson had never got around to putting in a doggy-door. That was going on his honey-do list as soon as the world righted itself. They’d all benefit from that. Besides, he couldn’t sleep worth a damn for the worry picking at his brain.

“Come on then, Oz.” He patted the dog on his way out the bedroom door.

Suddenly, he remembered Jake was there.

He could barely believe it. Finally, he and Ozzie weren’t alone anymore. He tried to push away the selfish thought that he’d rather have his brother there instead. Jake’s arrival had been dampened with the bad news he was carrying about Dusty and Rickey.

Shocking news.

News he wasn’t looking forward to telling Emma.

But at least Jake would be here to share that burden. Grayson was glad to see him. He was family too, even if not by blood. And he was damn handy to have around. Hopefully Jake was just the first to arrive, and soon he’d hold his wife and daughter again. Wherever the girls were sleeping tonight, he prayed they were all safe and comfortable and that come daybreak, they’d be coming down the driveway, right into his arms.

And hopefully their wives wouldn’t freak out over the fact there were half-naked women sleeping across the hall— wait, hopefully they weren’t half-naked. He needed to get his mind right…

Grayson stumbled through the dark house as quietly as he could and opened the front door, stepping out onto the porch. Ozzie ran down the steps to do his business while Grayson stepped up to the side railing and did the same, yawning and stretching while he watered the flowers—thinking that was the only thing he could appreciate about Olivia being gone; he could pee outside without her nagging at him.

She didn’t understand that he was also marking his territory, just like Ozzie. Some animals would shy away from human urine, so she was keeping him from doing his duty as man of the house when she insisted he use the bathroom. He could hear her now… ‘Grayson, I can’t believe you walked right past two toilets just to pee outside! You’re going to kill my flowers!’

He looked up at the moon and howled quietly while he peed.

Then, he gave it a shake and chuckled. She’ll never know.

“—Hi, Mr. Gray Man,” a voice rang out of the darkness like a shot.

“Son of a gun , Puck!” Grayson jumped and nearly fell off the porch trying to pull his pants up and turn away from Puck—who was up in a tree—at the same time.

Puck shimmied down the tree, fast as a monkey, and dropped into a crouch to rub Ozzie.

Grayson took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You startled me, boy. Don’t you know it ain’t polite to sneak up on a man at the butt crack of midnight?”

Puck giggled. “You said butt-crack.”

Grayson ran his hands through his hair, and a muscle jumped in his jaw, reminding his tooth to scream in pain. “What are you doing up there?”

The smile disappeared from Puck’s face. “I came to see Ozzie. Are you mad?”

Ozzie ran to the porch and grabbed his ball and came back, sliding in and dropping it at Puck’s feet, slobberingly delirious to see the kid. Puck snatched it up, apparently forgetting he was in the middle of a conversation. Grayson noticed he was limping as he ran away with the dog in pursuit.

He looked at the dark sky and gave a silent prayer; a plea for patience to deal with Puck without losing his temper and scaring the kid again, and then he muttered in an exaggeratedly-polite tone to himself—practicing, “Why yes, Puck, I am annoyed. I don’t especially like to show off my pecker to just anyone, you see. I’d much rather have dinner and a movie first, if I had my rather.”

The screen door slamming on his way back into the house punctuated his sarcasm the way his quiet voice couldn’t. Now that Ozzie had woken him, and Puck was here, it was going to be awhile before he could go back to sleep. He’d just lay awake and worry about Olivia and Graysie if he tried. May as well sit up a spell.

Time for coffee.

Twenty minutes later Grayson sat beside his brother-in-law, Jake, on the porch, sipping on a cup of java. He gave silent thanks for the Coleman camp stove and his percolator. At least some things were still quick and easy, and he had plenty of fuel for it.

The smell of coffee—with a side of worry and a slam of the screen door—had dragged Jake out of bed too. He said he wasn’t able to sleep anyway. Grayson was sure the same thoughts were keeping them both up.

When Jake had arrived earlier, with two women in tow, Grayson had wanted to punch him in the face and hug him at the same time.

After a brief shouting match about where he’d been and who’d been responsible for letting the gas go bad—and it damn well was Jake’s fault—they’d stumbled together for a very non-manly hug crowned with damp eyes.

Now they sat in near-silence, other than the crickets and cicadas, and Grayson wanted to fill it with words—words with a grown-up. Finally. Not a full-grown kid or a dog.

He really wanted to hash out the what-if’s about the women and Graysie again, but he knew he and Jake would come to the same conclusion. There were at least a half dozen ways to get to and from the beach. The chance they’d find the girls on the road was slim to none, and they didn’t have enough gas to try all the different routes; not even close.

He couldn’t help still being a bit angry with Jake about the gas he’d let go bad.

Better to talk about something else.

He searched his thoughts for something—anything. But with no news, no visitors other than Puck, and no way to watch TV, he had nothing. His only thoughts were on their family or the event that turned out the lights, and what it might be.

Or Trump.

He could talk about the mysteries of Trump all day. After reluctantly voting for the outrageously non-political Trump, just to do his part to keep Hillary out of office, he was shocked to actually see the man keeping his promises and getting things done, if you could look past his unpolished rhetoric, immature tweets and personal attacks on his own staff and the media. If the left could look past it, they might see he really did seem to be making America better—against all odds.