Darkness upon the Land

When Alexia heard the first barrage of gunfire and Darius’s yelling, she immediately caught her breath and focused on remaining calm. Adrian, who had just sat down beside Jinx on the milking stand, uttered a small squeal and jumped.

“We’ll be okay.” She then had to calm the girl. “But let’s put Jinx back out in the pasture with Bliss.”

As they released the alert and snorting goat back out the door she’d come in, Alexia recognized the ring of breaking glass as the gunfire continued.

“Are they shooting at the house?” Adrian whimpered.

“We’ll be safe in here.” She almost surprised herself at how well she was maintaining her composure. All her practice at keeping her emotions in check may have helped, but she suspected her desire to keep the girl safe was playing the larger role. “Go into the stall with the kids. It’ll be even safer there.”

Snuffling a little as she obeyed, Adrian sat in the straw while the two hungry, happy bucks, oblivious to the danger outside, bounded to her and tried to nibble at her clothes and fingers. Alexia cracked open the door of the barn to peek outside.

She couldn’t see any part of the front yard, but did spy Reuben scrambling up the side of the back galerie. Her pulse rate started to shoot up, but she gasped a deep breath and ducked back into the barn.

“What’s happening?” The girl asked as Alexia strode to the other corner of the barn.

“Rube’s going to start a fire.” She kneeled on one knee in front of the five-gallon, plastic bucket and pulled off its lid.

“What fire?”

“The big fire.” Having to remain calm for a whole new reason, she removed one of the Molotov cocktail bottles stored in the bucket. A few, all enclosed in containers, were stored in each of the buildings. Alexia didn’t really know how she might wind up using this one, but she wanted to be armed with more that “natural ability” if any attackers got past the initial defense and made it to the barn. It occurred to her the skinning knife Reuben had sharpened the night the kids were born was hanging nearby, but she wasn’t going to even consider trying to cut anybody.

She strode back into the milking parlor and grabbed a lighter from the shelf. Having a source of fire this close to the primitive bomb threatened to make her even more nervous, but with a deep breath she shoved the lighter into her pants pocket and returned to the housing end of the barn.

“I’m going to check up on what’s going on,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You stay put right here.”

Adrian nodded silently, and Alexia cracked open the door.

Her gaze immediately swept to the top of the roof, just in time to see Reuben curl against the chimney as another barrage of shooting sent pieces of brick flying around him. Oh God – keep him safe and keep her calm. If she inadvertently produced an outburst while holding the cocktail, she would break the bottle and waste the fuel.

She could make out only occasional words of what was shouted toward the house, but her hope began to swell when she spied strands of black smoke rising from beyond it. When was that can of paint thinner going to blow? Reuben shifted his position behind the chimney, and the next few seconds seemed to last for eternity.

Even with waiting for the blast, the spectacular boom of the explosion almost made her jump. She held the bottle even farther away while stepping out the door. She realized Reuben never saw her as he fired a few times with his slingshot, and then scrambled down the roof with a speed that initially worried her that he might be falling. When he leaped to the ground and charged around the corner of the house, she recalled their flight on the bridge at Baton Rouge. That man could have been a track star.

Her left ear was filled with the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked.

Alexia slowly turned her head toward the noise and lowered the bottle. A guy with brown skin and bristling hair stood at the corner of the barn, the weapon pointed directly at her. His black tee shirt and pants were made even darker by the water that still occasionally dripped from the sleeves. While everybody’s attention had been focused on the commotion at the front of the house, this individual had actually waded the long way through the swamp to approach them from the backside of their essential island.

Her motivation to remain calm was a bit compromised. Alexia slowly released the bottle she held at her side so that it dropped to the ground with a gentle thump. Hopefully it would remain safe there, because she needed to allow herself to get worked up if she had to use her ability.

“Who are you?” She managed to keep her voice level.

His response was the coarser version of “Your worst bleeping nightmare.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The gangster’s reply included more profanity and a derogatory term in regard to Alexia before he finished with, “Are you really that stupid? Shut up and start heading toward the house.”

She had no trouble remaining focused on the large pistol. Although she didn’t know enough about handguns to positively identify it, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was a .45 caliber. With hesitation, she took a couple of steps to the side and toward the house. If she used her talent, she needed to not be directly in front of him and in the line of fire.

Adrian’s voice emerged from the barn. “Is it over?”

The snarling grin that twisted the hoodlum’s mouth caused a shiver in Alexia’s core. Even as her concern for the girl’s safety spiked, she told herself to cultivate these sensations, savor them, and allow them to build into a tangible force. And somehow she had to strike a balance between exerting enough energy to knock him over and refraining from knocking herself out.

“Tell her to come out,” the creep drawled.

She took one more step to the side. “No.”

The ruffian jerked the pistol a little higher, and Alexia was certain he was now aiming right between her eyes. “Awfully cocky little –” There was that derogatory term again, which probably summed up his opinion that was all women were good for. “– aren’t you? Call her out or I’ll blow your head off and you won’t get to watch while I break her in.”

She clamped down on the jolt of repulsion that swept through her and added it to her simmering biochemical concoction. Alexia cleared her throat slightly and then spoke in a louder, although slightly tremulous voice.

“You’d better come out. We need to go to the house.”

A few seconds later the door opened as Adrian began stepping out. She froze when she saw the thug, and he swung the pistol toward her.

Adrian screamed.

Alexia’s response was automatic. Her right hand flew up toward the fiend, palm out in the gesture of trying to stop him, perhaps subconsciously aiming all her rage and fear.

“NO!”

The thug actually stumbled. For a second he looked bewildered, and swung the pistol in a wild, wide arc. Adrian, bright girl that she was, darted back into the barn and slammed the door shut.

Alexia trembled slightly. In her effort to keep herself functional she’d held back too much force. The gangster glared at her.

“Who did that?” He barked.

“Did what?” There was actually a hint of defiance in her tone. She wanted to become angrier. She wanted him to tip her over the edge.

He snarled more profanity and jerked the pistol back toward her. Every nerve in her body shrieked “Duck!”

The pistol fired as she dropped to her hands and knees. Somehow she choked back most of the force of her energy. If she went down and he got back up, Adrian would be left on her own.

She smelled gasoline seeping into the rag from the bottle near her hand.

“Alex!” Reuben’s yell reverberated with a tone of near hysteria.

The hoodlum swung the pistol to shoot at him.

She grabbed the cocktail and hurled it directly at the weapon in a desperate effort to knock it off target.

A fireball exploded right in front of her. Alexia toppled back, perhaps not only from the fright but also from the strength of the outburst that resulted. In an instant she realized the bottle must have struck the barrel of the pistol just as it fired.

The attacker, screaming in agony from the flames that enveloped much of his upper body, had been knocked to the ground. The pistol he dropped continued burning because it was covered by the viscous gasoline concoction Father Nick had told them about.

This was bad.

“Rube! Get back!” Alexia yelled as she discovered there was enough adrenaline left in her system to scramble toward the other end of the barn. “The gun’s on fire!”

As she cleared the corner and slammed herself against the wall, she spied Reuben dive behind the nearby shed. Her legs finished giving out from under her, but the echoing report that blasted behind them snapped her concentration back to high alert.

Reuben peeked around the shed, and with the rifle in his grip immediately ran to her as the gunman’s screams continued.

“Are you hurt?” He gasped.

She shook her head. “It’s just an outburst. Adrian’s in the barn. What about you?”

He leaned the rifle beside her, against the wall. “He missed. Hang in there. I’ll be back.”

He dashed off in the direction of the wailing. Alexia felt her head becoming lighter, but she struggled to maintain consciousness. She believed she heard yelling back and forth between Reuben and her mother, and then Doreen’s voice seemed to come from nearby, but nothing they said processed into real words. Then there was some more yelling and some thumping. Reuben reappeared, snatched the rifle, and stepped away. The wailing had subsided to moaning.

This time she heard him plainly say, “If he makes a move, blow his head off.” Then he mumbled something else and returned to her side.

“How’s Darius?” She managed to murmur as he gathered her up in his arms.

“Your mom’s tending to him,” Reuben grunted as he lurched to his feet. “That’s the only reason she’s not out here trying to filet Gunner right now.”

Her perception shrank again, so she couldn’t make note of anything else as he carried her to the house. Somebody apparently opened the back door for him as he crossed the galerie, and she believed it was little Clem who asked what had happened to her. Reuben simply responded, “She had an episode,” and took her to her mother’s bedroom. Initially he placed her upon the bed at an angle to remove her shoes, and then pulled her over so her feet could also rest upon the coverlet.

“You know,” he muttered, “I’d call that spectacular.” And he left.

Time meant nothing to Alexia as she lay upon the bed and settled into a more meditative state. Good, she wasn’t going to pass out, but she was still out of commission until she got something to eat and drink. Right on cue, Clem showed up with a plate of pemmican and a glass of water sweetened with honey.

She hadn’t even finished eating when shouting and shooting began in the back yard.