Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Jenny - Day 986

“Whew!” The smaller of the two rubbed his hands together. “Shit, man, how much longer ‘til we’re relieved and back inside.”

His counterpart flipped his wrist over toward the fire. “Looks like maybe fifteen minutes.” He scoffed. “If they’re even still awake.”

“If they’re late, even a minute, I’m gonna kick their asses.”

“Like hell you are…” They broke into a fit of laughter.

“Well, if that don’t work, I say we hand our two new friends our rifles and let them ”—The smaller Guard thumbed back toward the house—“stand out here in the cold. Hell, they’re gonna be out here anyway…”

Must be talking about Matt and Grant. They’re still here. Jenny studied the house. Underneath the deck. The windows. The yard. Still unable to zero in on Matt and Grant, she continued to listen in, hoping for some clues.

“…Don’t think they’d run off at this point, doubt they’d know their way back. Probably be too scared to try headin’ home anyways.”

“Probably freeze to death.”

“Not sure Haverty would care if they did.”

“I’m not willing to test it.” The larger Guard shook his head. “With my luck, I’d be reassigned to guarding the moonshine camp. Heard the place changes a man in no time.”

“Probably from getting blitzed out of their minds, then having to come back to reality once the tour’s over.”

“Doubt they’re drinkin’ it. They guard the shit like gold.”

“Gold ain’t shit anymore.”

“Damn it, you know what I mean.”

The two carried on with their conversation, and Jenny listened, shivering, nervous her trembling body would somehow alert them to her presence. Squatting down, she tried to preserve her body heat. At least the trees blocked some of the wind, but not enough to stop the numbness crawling from her toes and up her legs, prickling at her fingertips. Something’s gotta give here. Not sure how much longer I’m gonna be able to do this.

Some time passed.

“It been fifteen minutes yet?”

He checked his watch. “Nope. Twenty.”

“Shit, man, you fall asleep standing there?” The Guard scraped his rifle from the wheelbarrow and traipsed off toward the house.

His partner did the same. “Wait up. Who takes our place?”

“Not my problem.”

Monitoring their path to the house, she waited, sucking in quick breaths to prepare herself for the impending task—she couldn’t help her body from leaning closer to the fence, eager. Their long march up the back steps of the deck chipped away at Jenny’s patience. Maybe I should have shot them… Their voices carried, nonchalant, oblivious to her presence, her intentions. Hurry up! She readied her footing as the back door creaked open and the two finally disappeared into the house.

Within seconds an argument erupted inside.

Here’s my chance! Jenny bounded over the chain-link fence and stumbled forward, crashing against the base of a pine tree. Damn it! Flustered, she peeled herself from the ground and brushed the pine needles from her clothes. She took her rifle across the yard. Alone as far as she could tell. Cautiously, she padded over to the edge of the lawn. There! —Underneath the deck, nothing to distinguish between the night and the shadows— The perfect hiding place…

“Just get out there!” The argument continued to echo from inside the house, drowning out the crunch of her footsteps along the fence line. She couldn’t make out the other half of the yelling. All she knew was the two were growing louder, moving toward the back door. Fearing she’d be caught, Jenny scrambled underneath the deck—her first step sinking into a layer of gravel. The unexpected noise made her cringe.

“Back to back? Another shift? You gotta be shitting me!” His voice sounded as if it were right above her. Careful to remain unnoticed, she tiptoed into the shadows beneath the stairs, to wait, to listen. “Throw the boy in the rotation. He’s gotta damn rifle too, you know. If he’s supposed to be a scout someday, he’s gotta start learning. There’s no better time than now.”

A crunch of gravel, but not her feet. Jenny whipped her head around—only the night behind her as far as she could tell. She retreated from the stairs, feeling along the brick to guide her feet toward the noise.

“You expect me to send him out there alone?”

“He ain’t scared. Gonna be a scout, right kid?” he continued to argue.

“En. E.” A struggling voice came from the darkness—each syllable sounded as if forced through a gag.

The pounding of her heart shot into her throat. What the… She inched the muzzle of the rifle toward the voice underneath the deck. The struggling voice rose with panic.

“Grant…? Matt…?” she whispered.

The struggling voice sounded in agreement.

The deck creaked—a pair of boots now above her.

“See, he’s got this. It’s time to get out of the house, kid.” Another set of boots stepped out. “Now without Mommy and Daddy around to protect you, you’ll finally get a taste of what it’s like to earn your keep. How you like that, huh?”

Jenny didn’t hear a response.

“Nothing? Spoiled—”

“I’m not above doing anything.”

“Well then listen up cause you’re only getting the spiel once. Both the prisoners are here below the deck. All you have to do is make sure they’re still breathing every once and awhile. The rest of the time, warm up by the fire and shoot anything that moves out there. Pretty simple, so don’t fuck it up.”

“And how long’s the shift?” the scout asked.

I know I know that voice… She racked her brain. One of the Guards from River’s Edge? It’s gotta be…

“We’ll get you when your time’s up.”

“Alright…”

“Oh, and make sure you throw a couple more logs on the fire. You’re gonna need it. That woodpile’s back by the fence. Last thing I need is to find you out here dead and frozen to the ground.”

The back door slammed shut.

Each step crackled as the scout descended into the yard. Jenny kept the rifle’s muzzle trained on the newcomer’s thin frame once he rounded the front end of the deck. Don’t do anything stupid, guy. I’m not losing my friends again. The scout stomped over to the wheelbarrow and leaned his rifle against it. Just leave us alone, and we’ll be on our way.

She let her rifle hang from its sling and backed up toward her friends, eyes forward, one of her hands grasping at the air behind her. A shoulder. Quickly, she knelt down, blindly feeling for what secured him in place. Around his wrists, she found a rope, maybe two, in an elaborate knot woven into some metal apparatus attached to the house. She stripped the gloves from her hands to feel along the rope binding the two wrists together. Holding them in place, Jenny exhaled before taking the knife from her cargo pocket. Don’t mess this up. Doing her best to distinguish flesh from fiber, she wriggled the blade into place. “Hold still,” she whispered and began to saw the rope, mindful not to yank the knife and slice into something unintended. It broke with a satisfying snap.

“Hey,” Matt whispered after removing his own gag. “Where the hell’s Danny?”

She stuffed her hand over his mouth—“Get Grant”—and handed him the knife before taking hold of the rifle again. To her left, Matt worked to free Grant while she fixed her attention back to the fire. Shit… She forced a lump down into her stomach. The wheelbarrow sat unattended. Taking hold of Matt’s coat, she gave a violent shake to get his attention back to the yard.

“Wha—” he tried.