Chapter 9 - Split Skin [https://cdn.midjourney.com/1c7acb06-f4e7-40b8-bc8a-04ab269a9b80/0_3.png]
Jeremiah reached for her and rested his hand gently on her calf. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”
“The fuck it’s not. Causing women to bleed isn’t foreplay. Not where I’m from.” Palm red with blood, she turned her open hand toward Jeremiah, showing him the damage.
Frustrated and angry, Red snapped, “I didn’t do that.”
Brow furrowed, Jeremiah let her go, and she stumbled away from him. She said, “The hell you didn’t. You were holding me right there.” Clumsily, she gathered her clothes as a trickle of blood tickled her ankle. “I’m done with this hillbilly shit.”
Red stared at her. “You can’t just leave.”
“I can.” Leaning against a tree, she pulled on her jeans. “And you are going to drive me back into town.” With her underwear stuffed in her pocket, she struggled to put on her shirt.
“We aren’t done here.” Red stood up, but made no move toward his clothing. “We aren’t going anywhere yet. We’ve barely started.”
Frowning at his cousin, Jeremiah said, “Ease up.”
As tendrils of fear wound out from her belly, Kennedy sneered at Red. With her red palm thrust in his direction like an accusation, she said, “Fuck you.”
Unashamed of his nakedness, Red stood unsteady and still drunk. “Are you going to walk to town?”
Because her cut itched and stung, Kennedy bent and pressed her panties against her bleeding ankle. “What the hell did you cut me with?”
Red growled. “I said I didn’t do that to you. Clueless.”
All the smoke and lust were gone from her system. She glared at him. Her ankle was still bleeding. Red shook his body, and she could swear he was wider across the chest. Moonlight could make things look funny. Naked, his cock jutted from his body with the condom clinging to him like a snake’s skin. Aware that she had placed herself in a dangerous position, her survival instincts sobered her up. When Red took an assertive step toward her, she held her ground.
From behind Red’s truck came the gruff sound of a clearing throat.
Shit. Two was a bad scene. Three would be worse, much worse. Jeremiah watched from the ground. Calmly, the newcomer walked around the truck toward them, cradling a rifle. He was tall and wide, in his early thirties. What were they feeding the boys out in these woods? Did they raise them on straight gravel and squirrel meat?
Scowling, Red said, “Ranger Retard.” He turned from her and said, “Fool,” under his breath. Red reached for his jeans. With his gun resting in his arms, the dark-haired stranger nodded to her and stepped toward their dwindling fire.
Jeremiah shrugged, seated on the ground, shirt open. “We didn’t do anything she didn’t want, Terry.” He sat unconcerned about his exposed cock. “She was into it until her ankle bled.” He gestured toward her right foot.
Red said, “She doesn’t know shit. Wandered out here from the city. She doesn’t even know she’s in heat.”
Kennedy bristled. “What the hell? Just because I fucked you doesn’t mean I’m an animal in heat.”
The new guy was big, scary big, with sharp intelligent blue eyes and tawny skin. He bent and picked up her phone from where it lay in the leaves and sticks. She took it from him and shoved it in her back pocket.
When he got a whiff of her breath, he twisted his face away from her. Leveling a dark look at the men, he said, “Drunk?” His speech wasn’t clear, but the meaning was plain enough, and his tone was angry.
“Doc, the three of us were just having fun.” Jeremiah pulled up his jeans.
While his cousin was dressing, Red said with a shrug, “Friday night, man.”
When Terry gestured for her to come with him, she took a step in his direction. Staying with the cousins didn’t seem wise.
Red sneered and stretched. “Don’t lie and say her scent ain’t what got you out here roaming.” His back cracked. “You ain’t no different from us.”
Scowling, Terry touched her mid-back with his fingertips.
She looked up at him. “So, where is your car?”
He gestured toward a well-worn path.
Kennedy sighed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Grumbling, she headed deeper into the woods, like Little Red Riding Hood. “I’m in flip-flops, you know.”
Quietly, he gestured behind them, reminding her of her other choice. So she trudged on, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. When the path opened into a clearing, the stars blanketed the sky, stealing her breath with their beauty. Before she could ask where they were going, he pointed to a cabin.
His gun resting on his shoulder, he moved ahead of her, taking easy strides through the high grass toward what she assumed was his house. An old beat-up Ford sat next to the place.
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She said, “Thank God. You can just drop me off at the hotel.” She quick-stepped to keep up with his long strides. “Thank you, Terry.”
When he pointed to her ankle and pantomimed washing his hands, she shook her head no.
“I can wash in my hotel room. You don’t have to bother.”
Waving off her answer, he kept walking.
“Seriously, I’m ready to return to the local version of civilization. Enough adventure for me tonight.” Her head was clearing. “I know I was stupid.”
Two ruts in the grass marked the driveway that led up to the small cabin. The porch light was a beacon illuminating the pale wood floorboards and a wiry older woman standing on the porch. A flush of relief spread through Kennedy.
Terry climbed the stairs to the cabin and paused in front of the woman. There was a resemblance between them that was undeniable. After he placed his gun by the cabin door, he moved his hands in fluid gestures that reminded Kennedy of sign language.
With a snort of derision, his mother shook her head. “Terry, why are you always bringing home strays?”
Kennedy said, “I’m not a stray. I just need a ride into town.”
The woman’s gaze lingered on her chest and her braless state, mouth thinning in disapproval. Kennedy crossed her arms over herself. She had been going to a sleazy bar, not planning on meeting someone’s mom.
Holding her thick braid in one hand, the old woman watched her with steel-gray eyes. She wasn’t having any of that shit. “You can’t be too bright, wandering around in the woods. Do you know what time it is?”
“I don’t.” Kennedy realized she appeared to be a fool and probably was one. “We closed the bar. I was dancing with these two cousins. One was a redhead.” Terry ignored them and entered the cabin.
“Holy hell, you came out into the woods with the Triggs boys?” His Mom lit a cigarette and sat down in her rocking chair. “So, you ain’t got much taste either, do you?” She took a pull. “You might as well have a seat.”
Kennedy tried to explain. “We’d been drinking.”
“Ain’t no mystery in that. Their family has had stills in these hills for generations.” Smoke curled from her lips. “The younger one ain’t so bad. He is more like his ma. Sit while you wait on my son.” She flicked her fingers toward the wooden porch. Kennedy stepped closer. Focused on the blood, his mother said, “He’ll tend to that before you go.”
Now that the bleeding had slowed, Kennedy wasn’t worried about the minor cut. “Is your son deaf?” The step creaked as she sat down and tucked one ankle over the other. There was no way to hide her white trash flip-flops and dirty feet.
“He’s got palate damage. It makes it hard for him to say certain things. He’s shy about that. Don’t mistake his fumbling with words as a lack of intelligence.”
“They called him, Doc. Is he one?”
“Veterinarian.”
Kennedy shut her mouth.
“Terry should have left you with them.” The old woman tipped her chair back and rocked.
Kennedy sighed as she picked a few pine needles out of her hair. “Maybe. It’s been a strange night. This week nothing has gone how I thought it would.” A tiny bit of pine tar stuck to her fingers, sticky and fragrant.
As soon as Terry came back onto the porch carrying a bowl of water, ointment, and a cloth, he pointed to the bench by the railing. He kept his eyes off her as much as possible. Was he shy or just disgusted with her?
The sooner she let him tend her, the faster she could get to the hotel, change her bus ticket, and get the hell home. Kennedy wobbled when she tried to stand up, and the Vet reached for her arm to stabilize her, his hand shockingly warm. She sank onto the bench, defeated. When he knelt to explore her ankle, there were no smiles. His touch was practical.
Every time the old woman’s lake ice eyes looked in Kennedy’s direction, cold crept across her skin.
His mother said, “Why are you here? You didn’t grow up on this mountain.”
“I thought I might find information about my birth parents.” His fingertips were gentle as he bathed her wound, and she was tempted to reach out and touch his bent head. Is this how he kept from being bitten at work? Those cautious, careful fingers.
“Died young?” His mother’s voice broke through her thoughts. The orange light of her cigarette lit her face.
“How did you know?”
“A lot of young folks die around here. We lose them as they turn the corner into full adulthood.” She rested the back of her head against the rocker. “Could have lost my boy too, but we found him in time. Sometimes the young ones squirt out the next generation before they burn their lamps out. Happens more regularly than one would think. You’re old, though. You must be a late bloomer.”
Along the tree line, the bushes moved, and Kennedy could hear a massive animal. “Is that a moose?”
The old lady looked at the trees. “Bear.”
When Terry lifted his hands from drying her ankle, he signed to his mother, gestures fluid and expressive.
She corrected. “Two Bears.”
“Shouldn’t you go inside? Aren’t they dangerous?” Now that the cut on her ankle was clean, she was ready to go. Uneasy, she looked at Terry as he spread a bitter-smelling ointment across her skin, surprised by the sting. The smell reminded her of her mother’s smoothies.
The old woman said, “We are fine.” She picked a bit of tobacco off her lip. “They’ve had enough trouble for one night.”
Shuddering, Kennedy wondered how close they had come to a violent tragedy. Things could have gone worse if a bear had interrupted their party instead of the Vet.
“Terry wants to know why you have that tattoo.”
From the bottom of her foot to her knee, Kennedy had a geometric tattoo on the outside of her calf. Since her birth parents had worn the mark, she’d copied the pattern to feel close to them. While they waited for her answer, she fished in her pocket for her wallet. The picture was still there. Unfortunately, the edges were a little beat up, but her parents were clear. Her mother’s smile was a mirror of her own. When she looked at the two teenagers getting ready to leap into the lake, she could imagine their love. “My birth folks.”
His mother took the picture with interest. Tilting the photograph so that the porch light hit the surface, she considered. “That’s June Merril’s girl. She slipped skin and never came back. I’d heard she’d had a sprout, but I didn’t know that it had lived.” She showed the picture to Terry. “I think she killed the Duncan boy when she got lost to herself and unknowing. Or something killed the Duncan boy out in the woods that year.”
Terry signed to her, and she nodded.
As if holding a relic, the woman offered Kennedy the photo back. “You ain’t got no people here. The Merrill family left the path. They never have trouble anymore. Their kids just ease into adulthood and have bland, simple lives. Seven years after the wild consumed your mother, they moved away. They blamed it on sin, or their God, or a lack of faith. Your kin won’t care for you showing up and reminding them of things they have put away.” The old woman pointed to Kennedy’s tattoo. “Such as those patterns. Your Ma was going renegade when she marked herself in that way.”
Making a sound of disapproval, Terry worked to get words out. His mouth twisted, and he tried to make each sound distinct. “Natural.”
His mother’s lips tightened, deepening the lines around her mouth. “Madness and death at the hands of wild animals can’t be called natural.”
He shrugged and placed the last butterfly bandage on Kennedy’s cut. He shook his head and looked at his mother.
“We ain’t keeping her.”