Going Gone, Book 2 of the Irish End Games (13 page)

“That's just it, Sarah,” Evvie said. “I am very much
not
safe here. I have come to ask you if I might accompany you on your journey to Ireland.”

T
hank God for Aideen
.

Mike propped himself up in the bed and watched her as she sat by the window sewing. In the four days that he'd been forced to stay with her after the mob beating he'd learned that bringing tea to prisoners was only one of the many jobs the woman did to cobble together a living for her and her Taffy. She sewed, she manned market booths for owners with reason to be away, she tutored children, she ran errands, polished shoes, sold homemade muffins along with the wild berries she and Taffy picked in the summer time.

She was a hardworking, down to earth kind of girl. The sort of woman Fiona would bond with immediately. He grinned ruefully. Put a gun in her hand and give her a cheeky attitude and she'd look a whole lot like Sarah, too.

The crowd had been grateful for the pre-rally entertainment. They'd broken his nose, three ribs and loosened a few teeth. Not too bad, considering.

They could've taken his horse and his gun.

They could've killed him and thrown his body in the channel.

Aideen had heard the roar of the crowd and followed it to its source. While she had to wait until the mob had largely finished with him, Mike had no doubt it was her insistence that he was
not
pro-American and that he did not, in fact, even
know
any Americans that accounted for the fact that they allowed him to leave with her. Everyone knew Aideen. There was no way she would be harboring a Yank-lover.

As he watched her now, he realized that she never smiled or sang or hummed unless someone was watching—including little Taffy. He'd not realized that until he'd had occasion to watch her for nearly four straight days from his cot.

Aideen wasn't just unhappy like many people were since The Crisis.

Aideen was miserable.

Mike shifted his position and let a groan escape at the effort. She was on her feet, tossing down her sewing and approaching his bed.

“Can I help you?”

He waved her away. He'd already had the distinct displeasure several times before of having her help him to a spot in the alley where he could relieve himself. If he could manage anything going forward that had to do with his person or his pain, by God he would.

“Where's Taffy?” he said, gasping, trying to distract her from his struggles.

She frowned and watched him until he settled into a position, then went back to her chair and picked up the pants she was mending for someone in town. “She's napping. I'll be getting her up in a bit.”

Mike knew that Taffy never went out to the farm with Aideen. In fact, Aideen paid hard-earned money to have a woman watch her while she went. He thought that was odd. As hard as Aideen worked for her money?

Damned odd.

“You tell your da I'll be back tomorrow?”

She nodded. “He wasn't well pleased that you've been gone so long. But it couldn't be helped.” She got up and went across the room for a leather pouch. She drew out a bag of small gold coins, the new tender in post-Crisis Ireland. She walked over to Mike and set it next to him on the bed. “You'll have enough by next week,” she said.

Mike thanked her but didn't touch the money. When he thought how hard she had to work—and the dump she and Taffy lived in—it almost felt wrong to be taking gold from her hands so that he could move on. He shook himself out of the thought. He'd already pushed back his time line by another five days. And when every day counted for so much, he wasn't even sure there was any point now.

“She must mean a lot to you,” Aideen said. “Your American.”

“She's a good friend. And she has a son who needs her.”

“Oh, that's good then. No husband to worry about her except for you?”

Mike glanced in her direction but she was looking at the stitches she was making in the seam. “Her husband was killed two weeks ago.”

Aideen looked up. “So now you're taking care of her.”

“Someone has to.”

“I didn't know it worked like that,” Aideen said. Mike detected the slightest trace of bitterness in her voice. “It's good though if it does…in your world.”

Mike wasn't sure what to say or if he should ask her about her husband. From the looks of Taffy, it was a mixed-race marriage and likely there had been some grief over that. Especially in this town. He found himself wondering exactly
how
her husband had died.

The next day, he rode back to her father's farm with her in the pony trap. With his ribs still mending, it would have been too painful to have attempted the trip on Petey's back. Another week or so—about what he had left to work in his agreement with Fionn—and he should be okay for riding.

When he got back to the farm, he spent some time settling Petey back in the stalls with the other animals. Aideen, usually so welcoming, had behaved almost standoffish when they got back to the farm and Mike, taking the hint, stayed in the barn and out of the way until she was ready to leave. He wasn't surprised if she was sick of him. It had been quite an imposition nursing him for the last several days. When he finally came into the house for his supper, he was surprised to see that she'd already left without saying goodbye.

Old Fionn wasn't much of a talker, which suited Mike. He ladled up the goat stew that Aideen had made and settled in front of the fireplace with the old man. To his left, the door to the single bedroom in the farmhouse was open and Mike noticed the bedclothes were rumpled, as if the old tosser had been napping all day instead of working. Mike shrugged and dug into his meal.

It wasn't his business what the old bastard did when Mike wasn't around.

Like his first week on the farm, Mike's schedule began to take on almost a comforting routine of early morning rising and hard work that left him tired in a good way. The sun was rarely out these fall days, but when it was it was hard not to feel the glory of being alive. Mike surprised himself at how much he enjoyed the work on the farm. So different in many ways from fishing, but still outdoors for all that. He worked the land at Donovan's Lot just as hard and just as relentlessly as he did here on Fionn's farm. But the stress and worry of providing for so many weighed on him and sapped the joy that a simple day's labor gave him here.

Sunday came and Aideen didn't show.

The old guy opened cans of beans for their supper and said nothing of it.

Should he worry? Was Aideen just held up? He looked at Fionn spooning out his dinner straight from the can. He didn't seem at all phased by her nonappearance.
So was this typical?

Mildly concerned but not ready to go riding into town to find her, Mike focused on finishing his week's work. His ribs were still sore but didn't inhibit his getting the chores done that Fionn was paying him for. The closer Mike got to payday, the more anxious he became about leaving and what he would do once he was on the other side.

When Wednesday came and still Aideen didn't come, he confronted Fionn.

“Do you think she's in trouble?”

Fionn frowned over his meal of cold beans. “In trouble how?”

“Because she hasn't shown up twice in a row now.”

“Oh, she'll be here tomorrow.”

Mike frowned. “How do you know that?”

“It's your last day, innit? She'll come to make sure you get your pay.” He looked up all of a sudden with a fierce look on his face. “You're not tupping her, are ya?”

“Settle down, granddad,” Mike said, trying to keep his voice light. “I'm not doing anything to her. Except being very grateful to have met her.”

Fionn grunted and directed his attention back to his beans.

Mike went to bed early that night. One more day and he'd be on his way. One more day and he'd be on the ferry and then in Wales. He looked out the window of the barn at the moon waxing big and pale over the barnyard and wondered where Sarah was tonight.

Hang on, girl
, he thought.
I'm coming
.

F
ionn was right
; Aideen did come the next day. Mike was so happy to see her, after worrying about her for nearly a week, that he didn't even mind that she seemed a little more businesslike with him than usual. The day had been a long one, with Fionn pushing him to do more than he normally did, trying to get a little extra out of him for his last day, Mike knew.

When Aideen drove into the frontcourt in front of the farmhouse in her pony trap, Mike called to her. “We missed you, lass. I'll be riding back with you if you'll give me a tick to wash up?”

She nodded without smiling. He could see her father waiting for her on the porch. Fionn went into the house without waiting for her.

Strange family
, Mike thought as he went back to the barn for the bucket of clear spring water he'd brought up to wash with.

The water was cold and he was anxious to be gone. Both of those were responsible for the fact that Mike was at Aideen's pony trap and ready to go long before anyone would logically expect him to be. And both of those facts were the reason that Aideen, not expecting Mike to be ready yet, came down the steps of the porch thinking she was alone, her face mottled by tears and pulling down the hem of her skirt.

Fionn came out and stood on the porch. He wasn't smiling, but he was rearranging the front of his trousers.

At first Mike just stared at the scene and refused to believe what he was thinking. But when he caught Aideen's eye and she looked away in guilt and shame, he knew.

That sorry feckin' bastard…

“Mike, no!” Aideen grabbed his arm. Mike hadn't even realized he was climbing the porch stairs. He watched Fionn back away and slam the door. He heard the bolt fall.

“Son of a bitch!” He turned to Aideen.

“Let's just go, please,” she begged him. “I've got the rest of the money and you never have to see him again.”

“Whereas you do?”

“Mike, just get in the cart and let's go. Please.”

Fighting every instinct that told him to go in that house and beat the ever loving shite out of that toad of a man who cowered behind the door, Mike turned away and lashed Petey's reins to the back of the cart. He got in next to Aideen and took the reins from her and urged the little pony onward.

He waited until they were a good mile away from the cottage, waited until she had stopped crying and her tears were dry.

“Why, Aideen?”

She took a long withering breath and let it out slowly. “Unlike the lucky women in your world, Mike Donovan, I have no knight in shining armor to swoop in and take me away from all this. I have a daughter. She has to eat.”

“He pays for your apartment?”

Aideen nodded and looked as if she would start crying again. “It was all I could do to get him to allow me to leave at all. You think mending and picking blueberries is a living?” She turned on Mike. “You think I can feed my child on that? I'm doing everything I can to ensure I don't end up going back there to live.”

“You can't do that.”

“Well, thank you, but pep talks don't pay the bills. I'll do what I have to.”

“Is there someplace else you could live?”

She hesitated. “Not really. I…I have an auntie in Wales. A cousin came through last month to say they were doing well and that I was welcome to come but…”

“You don't have the ferry fare.”

Aideen laughed with mirth. “Absurd, isn't it? I sit at my window and stare out to sea and think, ‘Right over there is a sane life, a happier life. Right over there and right out of reach.'”

“That's why you never bring Taffy to your father's.”

Aideen put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes but Mike could hear her words. “He started in on me when I was her age.”

“Son of bitch.”

“He's already starting to demand I bring her with me.”

“Alright, I get the picture.”

“I'm sorry, Mike.”

“What in the world for? For having a shite for a father? For loving your daughter and wantin' to protect her?”

She broke down again and sobbed, and except for the sounds of her heartbreak only the wind through the early evening air flitting through the trees could be heard.

When Mike pulled up to the house of the woman minding Taffy, he put a hand out to stop Aideen from jumping out of the cart.

“How much did I earn for my passage?”

Aideen frowned as if she didn't understand the question. “Enough for you and your horse.”

“And if I were a woman and a wee child instead?”

“Mike, no.”

“It's either that or you let me go back and shoot the blackguard.”

Aideen's eyes filled with tears and he could see vibrant hope fill her face for the first time since he'd met her. “But what about the woman you're looking for? How will you get to Wales?”

“I'll get there, Aideen,” Mike said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Or I won't. Go get your bairn. First things first.”

Aideen threw her arms around him and held him like he was her lifeline. “God bless you, Mike Donovan, for coming into my life. I prayed for deliverance and he answered by sending you to me.”

As her shoulders began to shake, Mike could feel her tears begin again.

2
0 Days after the attack
.

Evvie had no possessions except for the clothes on her back. When they left the village early the next morning, Sarah quickly fashioned a walking stick for the old woman and positioned her ahead of her on the path at least until they were well clear of the village.

It had taken all the willpower Sarah possessed not to tell Lexi what she thought of her. But even with the Glock backing her up, it occurred to her that people so coldblooded that they would routinely kill their elders to save on food would probably have no trouble killing a lone traveler intent on notifying the authorities or threatening to reveal their whereabouts to any bandits she encountered. She had seen Adwen on more than one occasion eyeing her backpack with what looked distinctly like covetous longing.

Evvie's revelation had stunned Sarah. While it was true she noticed there weren't many old people in the community, she had assumed it was because it was a hard life. When Evvie told her it was because the elderly were taken out and slain on the eve of their seventieth birthday in order to preserve the community's resources for the younger and hardier members, Sarah was sorry to discover that she had no hesitation in believing it. Evvie was much older than seventy. She said that had been a special allowance as a result of her relationship to Adwen.

The community had no issues with Sarah taking the old woman with her.

Just as long as she never come back.

“We're not monsters,” Lexi said as Sarah stood in the doorway of her cabin before leaving. “We are doing what's necessary to survive.”

“Thank you for all that you have done for me,” Sarah said. The words tasted sour in her mouth but she felt them necessary to say. People who would kill their own mothers could kill a stranger for a shiny new backpack.

“Good luck in finding your way home to your boy,” Lexi said, scooping up her own boy in her arms. She never addressed or looked in the direction of Evvie as she walked toward them from the lodge where she had spent the night. Sarah smiled at the little boy in Lexi's arms and turned to hand Evvie the walking stick.

The sooner they were out of this evil place, the better.

“
I
met
some Yanks during the War,” Evvie said when they stopped to rest on a mossy boulder overlooking a breathtaking valley of firs and oak trees. “I was only a child but they were all so handsome. They gave me gum.”

She looked at Sarah, who was taking an inventory of their food. They had walked five miles before Evvie started to give out. “Can you imagine? Gum! We didn't have jam or eggs or decent bread at home, but I had Juicy Fruit chewing gum. I can still taste it. Like an explosion of all good things ready to happen.”

Sarah looked over at her. “How old were you?”

“Eight. I'll never forget it. After that, we used to chase after them whenever we saw them and yell out,
got any gum, chum
? The Yanks loved it.”

“You know you coming with me might make it a little trickier for Mark to find you.”

“It'll be even trickier if I'm dead.”

Good point.

“I don't even know what to say about all that back there.”

Evvie shrugged. “Lexi insisted it wasn't personal. Two men and three women were murdered this spring.” She paused. “Friends of mine.”

“Dear God. Your own daughter!”

“Well, one of the men killed this spring was Adwen's father,” Evvie said. “Although I'm told they never got along.”

“I'm looking forward to you meeting Mike's group. And John. You'll live with us, of course. I mean, if you want to.”

“I would love that. I don't suppose your group has any kind of medical supplies, do they?”

Sarah frowned. “I don't really know. Do you need medicine?”

“Oh, it's nothing. I was on blood pressure medication a few months back.”

“You ran out, I guess.”

“Other people have it much worse, I'm sure. How much longer, do you think?”

Sarah looked out over the valley and shrugged helplessly. “I think we have to get to the edge of that.”

“Oh, my.”

“Yeah, at this rate…I don't know.”

“I'm slowing you down terribly, aren't I, dear?”

“Not really.”

“I know I am.”

“It can't be helped, Evvie. It is what it is, you know?”

“It will take as long as it takes.”

Sarah smiled at her. “Yeah, something like that.” She packed up the backpack and handed Evvie a thermos she'd stolen from Adwen's bed after she found out he was killing all the old people in the village. A part of her was hoping very much he came after to her to try to reclaim it. “I'll give you a toot of this if you think you'll still be able to walk a few more miles today. Once it's gone, I'll fill it with water.”

Evvie took the thermos and the smallest of ladylike sips from it. She handed it back. “Good to go, Miz Scarlett,” she said.

T
hey managed
another two miles that day before stopping for the night. Sarah had to consciously fight down her frustration.
It is what it is,
she told herself.

She found an old campground near a creek still swollen from the recent rains. There was a wooden lean-to damaged by the elements and lack of maintenance in the last year, but very serviceable. Sarah pulled out the two wool blankets that Lexi had allowed her mother to take and spread them on the ground.

“There's plenty of leaves around here,” she said to Evvie, who instantly began gathering them in the long apron she still wore around her waist.

“It's the most useful I've felt in a year,” Evvie said stooping to pick up the leaves.

“They'll help cushion our beds tonight and maybe we can get some to burn.”

“You have a flint?”

“I do, but I've never used one.”

“Oh dear.”

Sarah looked at Evvie and smiled encouragingly. It had been a cold day that was only made bearable by their constant motion. With the fading light, the dropping temperature crept into their bones. A fire would be necessary tonight if they were to get any rest at all.

“Well, peckers up, dearie,” Evvie said. “I'm sure we'll manage. Is there any food left?”

Sarah spread out their provisions. Several sticks of goat jerky, some cooked rabbit, and a few apples. Although hardly a feast, Sarah knew they wouldn't go to bed hungry. Tomorrow she would need to hunt something.

Before the sun left the sky completely, Sarah set to work to build a fire. She created a small pile of dried leaves on top of kindling that Evvie had collected. She took out her knife and began slashing it against the flint to get a spark. After a few moments, Evvie settled herself down next to her and spread out her skirts around her.

“May I make a suggestion, dear?”

Sarah turned to her and saw in her face the expression of someone who was used to having her advice ignored, her suggestions mocked.

“Please,” Sarah said. She had never really watched David make a fire the few times they had needed to. She had no idea of what she was doing.

“I think you need to create a little house for the spark to jump into, you see?”

“Not really.” Sarah tried to hand the flint to Evvie, but the older woman gathered up the dry leaves in her hands and began kneading them to form a small mass the size and shape of a sparrow's nest.

“You jab two sticks in the ground so that they arc into each other like a pergola.”

Sarah watched with amazement and growing optimism as Evvie began to build her little structure of twigs and sticks. When she was done, it resembled an Indian teepee.

“Does the bird nest thing go inside?”

“All in due time.”

Sarah felt an evil, icy wind slice through the little campsite and she braced her back against it. She still only had a t-shirt, but today she also wore the blanket that Declan had given her wrapped around like a poncho. She blew warm breath on her fingers and realized that this fire wasn't just a means of comfort for her. As cold as it would get tonight, they might need it to ward off any aggressive wildlife in the area.

“Now, take your knife…my goodness that is a wicked looking thing. Wherever did you get it?”

“You don't want to know.”

“Anyway, in the middle of our bird's nest, put the flint flat side up and start scraping off bits of magnesium into the nest.”

“I would never have known to do this,” Sarah said as she began rubbing her knife edge against the flint.

“That's probably enough. Now turn the flint around to the round side and strike a spark into the nest.”

Sarah slashed the knife against the flint and sparks flew everywhere. “It works!”

“Yes, but it's even better if the sparks go in the nest where the magnesium is.”

“Yeah, good point.” Sarah bent over the little bundle of tinder and zeroed in on the black flakes of magnesium at the bottom. This time when she struck the flint, one of the sparks caught and lit up the nest with a small flame.

“We did it! Oh my God, Evvie, you're a genius!”

“Now pick up the nest and tuck it into our teepee, Sarah.”

Sarah could hear the excitement in Evvie's voice and wondered for a moment if Evvie was as surprised as she was they had made fire. She slid the burning nest into the bottom of the teepee and watched as the flames eagerly crept up the structure. She added more kindling and then a few larger sticks until there was clearly no danger the fire would go out.

“You totally just paid for your passage, Evvie,” Sarah said, holding her hands out to the campfire. “I swear I think I can do anything if I'm not starving or freezing my ass off.”

Evvie laughed and moved toward the fire, too. “Words to live by, petal,” she said. “Words to live by.”

That night they slept warm and with full stomachs. As usual when she wasn't concerned with immediate threats to her survival, Sarah fell asleep with thoughts of John and David…and Mike. She couldn't blame Mike for not coming. As far as he could tell she must have disappeared from the face of the Earth. Even if he made it as far as Correy's place—and she prayed he hadn't—there would be no way for him to pick up her trail from there. No, with twenty-one days between now and the day she was taken, there was no way her trail wasn't too cold to follow.

As much as he might want to, she knew Mike would never find her now. It was up to Sarah to find her own way home.

2
2 Days after the attack
.

The next morning she and Evvie woke to frost on the ground and a fire that had gone out sometime during the night. Shivering, Sarah went immediately to Evvie bundled up in the corner of the lean to where she must have crawled in the middle of the night when the fire went out. She touched the old woman's shoulder and was relieved when Evvie turned to face her.

“Sorry I don't have a latté to offer you,” Sarah said. “But if you want to wash your face before we head out, I'll go with you to the creek.”

Evvie nodded and struggled to a sitting position. “Will you start the fire again?”

Sarah looked at the campfire and saw that the wood had all burned. If she stopped to relight the fire, she would have to gather wood first. “Do you mind if we don't? I'm really hoping to make better time today.”

“Of course, dear,” Evvie said. “I'll look forward to it all the more this evening.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Sarah wasn't sure why she asked since they'd both obviously been pretty miserable the last part of the night. It just felt like the civilized thing to say.

“Very nicely, dear, until the fire went out.”

“What can we do to make it last longer?”

Evvie stood up and shook out her blanket as she peered in the direction of the creek. “Let me think on that,” she said, her eyes sparkling with life and mirth for the first time since Sarah had known her.

They walked nearly the whole rest of the day without stopping. Sarah knew that Evvie was pushing herself in order not to hold them up. They were so close now!

By Sarah's estimate, they were halfway through the Beacons. They had seen no other humans and, except for a few wild pigs that Sarah had half entertained the idea of going after with her sling shot, no animals either. The terrain was rough but not impassably so. A year earlier, day-trippers had walked these paths and picnicked along these streams and marveled at the many waterfalls.

But perhaps not in early November, Sarah reminded herself.

When it was time to stop, she could see that Evvie was totally done in. She took Evvie by the hand and led her to a clearing overlooking a small valley. They weren't near a stream, but Sarah had finally dumped out Adwen's hooch and filled the thermos with water so they didn't need to be. She spread out a blanket and insisted Evvie sit.

“But we've got hours yet of daylight,” Evvie said, her voice broken with short breaths.

“We've done enough for one day,” Sarah said firmly. She placed the knife and the flint in Evvie's lap. “When you feel up to it, put a fire together for us. I'll be back with dinner in an hour.”

“You're leaving?” The ragged fear in Evvie's voice snagged Sarah and she turned to the woman.

“Evvie, we're in this together, okay? I mean, would I leave my knife and flint after I just figured out how to make fire?”

Evvie looked at the tools in her lap and Sarah could see some of the anxiety ease from her face. “I…I guess not.”

Sarah came back and knelt by her. She put a hand on her shoulder. “You have every right not to trust people after what your dipshit daughter did to you, but that's not me. I will not leave you. Okay?”

Evvie looked into Sarah's face and her eyes were full to tears. “Okay,” she whispered through a tremulous smile.