Never Never (4 page)

“Bring them however you can…wheel them in cages, drag them in chains…but bring them
alive
to the Dublin amphitheater.”

“The…opera house? Downtown?”

“That's right. What squad do you four belong?”

“G Squad, Sergeant.”

“Go gather your squad,” Hurley said. “Then report back here.”

He turned on his heel to redirect F Squad waiting at the parade grounds to join G in the hunt for the zoo animals. Waking the officers could wait.

After all, what kind of resurgent Roman army could there be without tossing a few superior officers to a hungry lion or two?

T
he journey
to the castle began on the coldest day of the year so far. Barely into the first week of October and two weeks after Gavin and Sophia's baby daughter Maggie was born, the little nunnery awoke to frost in the garden that refused to melt as the morning wore on.

Six men, fourteen women and thirteen children—most of them infants—left the convent on foot, pulling a sled of provisions, their backpacks loaded. The nuns had decided not to leave, at least for the time being. Sarah only agreed to go because she knew the nuns would be here if John came back.

As she watched Mike, a toddler in each arm and easily the tallest man in the group, line everyone up in the garden, it occurred to her that he might well have asked the nuns to stay behind knowing it would comfort Sarah.

No, strike that. Knowing it was his only chance to get me to leave
.

Terry, Kevin and Declan led the horses while Gavin and Tommy rode. The sled held the harnesses for the horses for when they got to the wagons hidden on the far side of the woods. Their first leg of the trip would be on foot through the thick forest, which was one of the main reasons why nobody easily discovered the nunnery. There was no road that led to it. On foot or horseback were the only ways to the convent's front gate.

Sarah held Sophia's newborn. The infant had pale red hair and dimples. She was good-natured and already slept through the night. Mike held Siobhan. He said it was because she was so much heavier but Sarah suspected it was because if Sarah carried her, Siobhan would cry. The fact that Mike and everyone else knew that Sarah's own baby hated her weighed heavily on her.

How can a child not want its own mother? John was never like this as a baby. Was there something wrong with Siobhan?

Sarah knew it was more likely it was something having to do with
her
.

Children and dogs
, her mother used to tell her.
They know good people from bad. They just do
.

“Sarah?”

Sarah turned to see Mother Angelina standing beside her, her eyes probing Sarah as if she would have all her secrets. Mac stood behind the nun. Sarah knew Mac felt that Angelina's personal protection—and indeed the safety of the whole convent—was his life's job. In part this was because he'd shot and killed the young man Angelina had raised and thought of as a son, but in greater part it was because Mac was a basically good person who'd done some terrible things and was trying to find his way back to redemption.

“I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye,” Sarah said.

“I know,” Angelina said. “And I'll keep your lad safe until you come for him.”

Tears filled Sarah's eyes. She glanced at Mac and he nodded solemnly.

“Aye,” he said. “With me life.”

“Thank you.”

Angelina hugged Sarah and caressed the sleeping baby's cheek. “We'll see you soon,” she said. “And I'm sure I won't even recognize this little one when we do.”

“It's time, Sarah,” Mike called. His words felt like a rope pulling her from all that was good and safe. Her face must have shown her feelings because Angelina kissed her cheek.

“All will be well, Sarah. With God's help. I know it.”

Sarah nodded and then turned away. She was the last one to leave the garden. An image of John playing ball with Gavin on the north side of the garden wall came to her. It had been a sunny day and their laughter had carried up and over the highest apple trees in the grove.

She couldn't help but feel that every step she took from this place was the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

F
iona settled
her two little girls in the back of the wagon. She and Nuala would take turns driving the horses although before the Crisis Nuala admitted she'd never even ridden a horse. Nuala's boys played in the back of the wagon with Fiona's girls and three other children from the camp and one of the young unwed mothers from the rape camp.

“Now play nicely,” Nuala said to the children as she handed out sandwiches they'd packed before they'd left the nunnery.

“When will we get there, Mummy?” Maeve asked, her worried face looking out at the fringe of trees and onto the pasture they would soon cross.

For Fiona, it was still too soon to look at little Maeve and not think of how her brave mother had died—needlessly, in pain and in terror. Fiona knew the other women in the camp had forgiven Mac, the foreman of the rape camp, but she still couldn't. She was sure that was a serious character flaw on her part and she prayed nightly to overcome the deficit. And then she'd watch Maeve do something new for the first time—a new word or master a simple game—and she'd be reminded that Bridget, the child's mother, would never see it.

“Soon enough,” Fiona said. “Eat your lunch and then nap if you can.” She turned to Nuala who held her baby in her arms and shook the reins to drive the team forward. After Mike and the other men had harnessed up the horses to the wagons, they'd ridden on ahead to reach the old compound. Fiona had a shotgun at her feet and the other three wagons were right behind her. The day was brisk but sunny, a perfect day for the beginning of a journey, she thought.

“Your sister-in-law's none too happy about any of this, is she?” Nuala asked as she looked in the direction of Sarah's wagon.

That was an understatement. Everyone in the group knew how Sarah felt. And when she and Mike were at odds with each other, everyone felt that too. A part of Fiona couldn't blame Sarah. She herself would hate leaving the nunnery if that was the only place her child knew to return to.

Life was so uncertain these days. It was all very well to say the nuns would tell John where they'd all gone when he arrived back—
if
he arrived—but a lot could happen between Oxford and the coast of Ireland.

“Sure Sarah is tougher than all of us,” Fiona said. “She'll sort it out.”

Now that they were free of the woods, Fiona could feel the warmth of the sun shining down on them. It felt good on her back through her jacket. They'd brought all the wool blankets they could carry and the four wagons were full of babies and children tucked warmly within.

“It's heartbreaking, so it is, to hear that baby cry every time Sarah touches it, and she its own mother,” Nuala said.

“Now Nuala O'Connell, I'll not have you gossiping about Sarah, so mind your tongue.”

“Whisht, it's just what everyone's saying.”

“I don't care what they're saying. I don't have to hear it.” Fiona knew she was being sharper than she needed to be. Nuala's hurt silence told her that. Of course Fiona knew what people were saying. Hadn't she seen the very same thing over and over again with her own eyes? Something was wrong with Sarah and even her little lass sensed it.

Fiona clucked to the horses and brought them into a trot. The pastures on both sides of the road were brown and barren as they passed.

But whatever was wrong, Fiona could only pray it wasn't because Sarah was right about not leaving.

T
he pastures
they passed were bleak and colorless. Sarah remembered picking sloe berries near here at the beginning of summer. She could hear Liddy and Mary laughing together in the back of the wagon.

After what those two endured last winter, it was a miracle they could ever laugh again,
Sarah thought. They were sisters, and close. Both had given birth to babies of rape and Liddy had lost her husband because he couldn't deal with it all.

And yet there they were, tweaking their babies' cheeks and giggling over nonsense as if the world hadn't erupted last winter and swallowed them up, changing their lives forever. So many of the other women rescued from the rape camp had similar experiences—and yet today here they were looking forward to their new home with excitement and anticipation.

How was that possible?

Many of the rescued women were without husbands. Mike had taken it upon himself to look after the ones who had children and had encouraged Sarah and Fiona to reach out to the childless women. There were fourteen women and thirteen children and babies. And only six men.

Twenty in total. Not an unwieldy number as communities went. A little unbalanced, unfortunately, gender wise. It wasn't just that the men were stronger and could do a longer day's work, but most of the women had newborn babies at their breasts.

The word
vulnerable
came to mind, Sarah thought grimly.

It had only been three weeks since they'd last visited the compound. The day John had flown away to Oxford. As Sarah drove her wagon to line up with the others, she felt a shiver slide down her spine at the memory. She shook the feeling away. She knew she'd relive that day when she saw the compound again and she was determined not to dwell on it.

John was gone. He'd be back at Christmas. If not sooner. Oxford wasn't that far from the Irish coast.
Even if he's on foot. But if he can manage to get his hands on a horse, he could already be at the coast—

“All right then, Sarah?”

She looked up to see Mike trot over on his big bay. They hadn't spoken much in the days of preparation for the trip and she was surprised to see him now. The men and some of the women were already dragging supplies out the front gate of the compound

“Fine,” she said but couldn't force a smile.
He's getting what he wants
.
He doesn't get the cherry on top too.

Mike came alongside the wagon. Sophia sat next to Sarah with her newborn in her arms. Siobhan was in the back with four more children and two women.

“It's a good time for everyone to hop out and stretch their legs,” he said, nodding to the back of the wagon where the children began to scramble out. “Not for long, mind,” he called to them.

Sarah stared at the compound gate. She'd seen it more than a few times since Mac's gang had lit it on fire but the feeling of loss was always the same. Archie had died in the gravel on the main compound pathway last spring. Every time she thought of him it hurt like a razor blade to her insides.

Some things never get better with time.

Sarah knew they couldn't bring too much this trip. The four wagons were already stuffed to the limit with people and essentials. Once they were settled they would have to come back to retrieve everything else.

“How much are we bringing?” she asked.

“We'll leave the baby chairs and encyclopedias for now.” Mike laughed but Sarah didn't join in. It was true she'd brought many useless things back from America last year. And the raid by the Garda last winter had stripped the place of most of their armory except for a few hidden guns and ammunition. What was left—basic medicine, iron cookware, disposable diapers, several cases of wine and whisky and even Coca-Cola, along with water purification devices, seeds, sugar, and peanut butter—would all eventually come with them to the new place.

Sophia handed Sarah the baby while she climbed down and stretched the kinks out of her back. Sarah used the distraction to focus on little Maggie until Mike moved to the back of the wagon. Someone handed Siobhan up to him and he rode away with her through the compound gates. As she watched him leave, she felt some of her tension leave too.

From where she sat in the wagon, Sarah could see the winding road that led to the gate, flanked on one side by thick woods, and on the other by the rolling pasture where they used to keep their sheep and goats. Where the flock was now was anybody's guess.

The pasture was bordered on the road side by a low sloping knee wall. Beyond it a half mile by horseback was the little cottage where she and David and John had lived. She gazed in that direction. David was buried in the pasture near where he was killed. Mike and John had put up a marker.
David Woodson Loving husband and father
. Sarah's eyes burned with unshed tears and Maggie began to cry.

So much had happened in the five years since she'd come to Ireland. So much loss.

“Shall I take her, Sarah?” Sophia said as she walked over. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at Sarah.

“You might want to gather up the others,” Sarah said, shaking herself out of her mood. “I see Mike coming back with a load for our wagon. He'll be wanting to leave soon.”

Sophia held out her arms for the baby and Sarah handed her down.

“I'll get the rest of them,” Sophia called over her shoulder as she walked into the compound.

Mike rode up with Siobhan and directed a crew of three men carrying a stack of crates to put them in the back of Sarah's wagon. Siobhan's face was lit up with glee, her pudgy little hands gripping Mike's large hand that held her firmly on his lap and her hair shining in the sunlight.

So she does know how to laugh
, Sarah thought, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.

“Did you eat something?” Mike asked Sarah as he transferred Siobhan to her. Immediately the baby began to squirm and reach for Mike.

Kind of hard to compete with a horsey-back ride
, Sarah thought. But she knew that wasn't the whole problem.

“We did,” she said. “Are we about ready to leave?”

“Aye, nearly. If we can get twenty miles down the road, I'll feel good about it. We'll have a hot meal tonight when we stop.”

Sarah nodded and Mike, after the briefest of hesitations, turned away. Twenty minutes later, all the wagons were loaded and headed back down the road. Sarah couldn't resist a backward glance at the compound, their Ameriland.

So much had happened there over the years and so much good had been hoped for. And just like everything else, it was gone now too.

M
ike did
another headcount as he rode from the tail of their wagon train to the lead. Everyone was in good spirits—well, most everyone—and the weather was holding so far, please God. He didn't have any illusions that they'd make the entire trip without some of it in a downpour but he was grateful that they could start out with adventure in their hearts and dry socks in their boots.

The road was empty. They hadn't seen another sign of life since they'd left the convent. Mike looked up at the sky as he realized they had at least four more hours before they'd need to find a place to stop for the night. The wagons were in good shape, the kiddies alternately singing or sleeping, the women all holding up as usual and doing what needed doing.

Every time he rode by Sarah's wagon, she made a point of not looking at him. As long as he'd known her he'd never known her to be this mad this long. Not even when he'd gone and got himself engaged to Aideen Malone. In fact, as Mike recalled, they'd very nearly come to blows then but as anybody with sense will tell you, wanting to wring someone's neck didn't mean you didn't care.

The way Sarah was treating him now—not looking at him, hardly speaking to him—was a thousand times worse than if she'd thrown a frying pan or taken a broom to him.

Make that a million times worse.

Mike knew well enough that it wasn't just leaving John behind that bothered her. And it wasn't just that the baby screamed every time Sarah touched her. Siobhan's birth had instilled a fear in Sarah that she hadn't had before. It was an irrational fear that some things just couldn't be made safe no matter where you went or how hard you tried.

“Mike?” Declan rode up to him, his eyes wide and startled. Mike had worried Declan didn't have the balance to ride a horse but he hadn't the heart to tell him to ride in the wagon.

“Everything okay?” Mike asked.

“I'll catch up with you,” Declan said. “I need to go into the woods for a bit. All right?”

It killed Mike to hear his friend ask permission to go take a leak in the woods. “Sure, Dec. We can wait. We have time.”

“Nay, I won't be long.” Declan slid off his horse and looked around holding his reins as if unsure what to do with them. Mike held out his hand and Declan handed the reins to him, grinning with embarrassment. He turned and entered the woods.

Fiona's wagon pulled up beside Mike.

“Where's Declan going?” she asked as she watched her husband's retreating back.

“Going to take a piss if that's all right with his missus,” Mike said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, go on with the pair of ye,” Fiona said with annoyance and snapped the reins on the back of her horse.

Mike turned and led Declan's horse toward the head of the group.

“Oy! Gavin!” he called to his son. Gavin turned from the lead where he rode side by side with Tommy and trotted back to his father.

“I need one of ye to take up the rear. I want to get as many kilometers under our belts as we can while we still have daylight.”

Gavin nodded and trotted to the last wagon. Mike noted it was Sarah's wagon.

Fifteen minutes later Declan still hadn't reappeared. Annoyed with himself for not tying Declan's horse to a bush back where they'd left him, Mike took Gavin's place at the back and sent the lad down the road to find his uncle.

A nervous sensation crept up Mike's spine as he watched Gavin disappear. Why had he let Declan go off by himself? The poor bastard was probably stumbling around lost in the woods. It was all well and good to treat Declan as if nothing had happened and he wasn't changed, but dammit, that wasn't the truth.

Mike alternately turned in his saddle to watch the road behind him to catch a glimpse of either Gavin or Declan, or stare at Sarah's ramrod straight back as she drove her wagon and pretended Mike wasn't riding behind her.

He'd get it sorted out once they were settled at the new place.
Plenty of time for dealing with all this shite then
. And who knows? Maybe she'd be over it by then. Maybe things would be back to normal.

Sarah stopped her wagon. When Mike looked up to see why he saw that all the wagons were stopped. She twisted around in her seat to look at him. The sudden cessation of movement seemed to wake up the little ones who'd been napping and now Mike heard whimpers and whines erupting from most of the wagons.

Up ahead, he saw Fiona was standing on the seat of her wagon, her hands on her hips. Hoping she'd set the brake first, Mike trotted up to talk with her.

“Where's Declan?” she demanded. “He's been gone too long.”

“No worries, Fi. I sent Gavin back to collect him.”

She nodded as if this information was exactly what she already knew, handed the reins to Nuala, and climbed down from the wagon.

“Now, Fiona,” Mike said with exasperation. “This isn't necessary…”

Fiona grabbed the reins of Declan's horse from Mike's hands and mounted up. Not bothering to adjust the stirrup lengths, she pulled both leathers up and crossed them in front of her on the saddle, turned the horse's head and put him into a canter back the way they'd come.

A part of Mike knew she was right. Declan had been gone too long.

“Mike,” Nuala said from the wagon. “I can't drive this thing
and
hold the baby too.”

“The brake's on,” Mike said. “Just sit tight.” He trotted to the end of the line of wagons.

Sarah was standing up in her wagon now. “Where did Fiona go? What's going on?”

“Declan might have gotten disoriented in the woods. Fiona's gone to find him.”

“You shouldn't have let him go alone.”

She was right but Mike felt his defenses shoot up.

“Would ye have me hold his knob for him, Sarah?”

She flushed at his language but didn't back down. “I'm just surprised you thought he could handle peeing by himself.”

“I'll not row with you here,” he growled.

A couple men from the other wagons walked up to Mike.

“What do you want us to do?” one of them asked.

Surely the worst that could have happened was that Declan was lost? Was it possible he was hurt?

Mike looked down the road as if he could somehow
will
the three to appear.