The Fourth Trumpet (17 page)

Carrie let out a shrill cry before Eleazar could reply. Andrea yelped then winced. Richard, who’d finally crawled out of his sleeping bag, laughed. Andrea whirled on him and let loose her pent-up frustration.

“Don’t just sit there, you worthless hunk of nothing! Do something constructive! Fill the buckets! I had to use most of the water already, and we’ve only just begun!”

The kid scowled. “Stop freakin’! What th’ hell do I know about this mess? I ain’t never delivered no baby! Jeez!”

“Just get up off your sorry ass and help!”

“What? What can I do?”

“I
told
you what to do, you idiot!”

“Andrea,” Eleazar admonished in his quiet voice.

Andrea turned on her heel and faced the minister, who was bending over a very distraught Carrie. “What?” Her voice rose a decibel.

“Child, lower your voice. I need you to remain calm.”

Feeling like a deflating balloon, Andrea relaxed her shoulders and sighed. “Sorry. The creep just makes me so mad.”

“Yeah, well, you make—” Richard started to say but stopped when the old minister raised a hand.

“Son, do as Andrea asked. Fetch some water. We will need it. If not for this dear momma, then for us. Will you do that?”

Richard rolled his eyes but clambered to his feet. “Sure. Why the hell not? So what if them monsters out there get me. No great loss.”

Andrea wanted to slap him and remind him that Keith was somewhere out
there
. Alone. Foraging, while he sat huddled in a corner, pouting. Keith was risking his life so they could have much-needed supplies, and the punk was doing absolutely nothing constructive. But she stuffed her hands in her pockets and bit her tongue. Eleazar had asked her to stay calm, so she’d stay calm. For his sake.

Carrie shrieked, doubled over, then began panting. Eleazar raised his eyebrows and looked at Andrea. She swallowed what she thought might be her heart lodged in her throat and closed her eyes. The ordeal had begun. There was no turning back now. Carrie was going to have her baby, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

TWENTY-TWO

Four hours and seventeen minutes later, it was all over.

Eleazar and Andrea managed to pull a very tiny, very distressed baby girl into this world and get her to start breathing on her own. To Andrea’s untrained eyes, the baby seemed incredibly small—hardly big enough to survive. Carrie, after her last tremendous push, sank back against the cushions as though giving up. She didn’t even open her eyes when Andrea offered the tiny thing to her.

“Carrie. Look at her,” Andrea said quietly. “She’s beautiful.”

The young woman didn’t respond, only lay against the pillow with eyes closed. Andrea couldn’t tell if she slept or was just too exhausted to move. Either way, the new mother was unable to care for her baby. Or unwilling.

Andrea looked at Eleazar. “Why won’t she hold her baby? Is she sick? Cold as ice?”

The old man shook his head. “I fear she is too upset. She has been under so much stress, the dear child.”

Andrea nodded. “Yes, she’s been high-strung from the beginning. Keith said he had a hard time getting her here. Said she cried the whole time. She was really frightened when she couldn’t find her husband, and then all of this.”

“Such a series of unfortunate events. The poor child has been through tremendous stress, been frightened beyond reason. The stress and worry of losing her young husband at this most crucial time in her life has pushed her to the limit of her endurance, I am afraid. And then the darkness and frightening creatures—”

“Yes. I can’t wrap my mind around how it must feel to have delivered your first-born at a time like this.”

Eleazar patted her shoulder. “Nor can I, my dear, nor can I.”

Andrea looked at the tiny thing in her arms and sighed. “I guess she’ll be okay for a while. But surely she’ll need to nurse soon.”

“I am sure Carrie will rise to the occasion.”

“Let’s hope so.” Andrea laid the baby in a nest of pillows they’d brought from upstairs. “I wish we could bring a bed down here. Or get her up to one of the bedrooms. I think she’d be way more comfortable in a real bed.”

“She is fine for now. We are all exhausted. Let us rest for half an hour then see what needs to be done.”

“Okay. You’re right. I’m bushed.”

Eleazar stooped to gaze at the sleeping baby. He touched a rosy cheek with one long gnarled finger. “Such an angel.” He looked over at Richard, who had dragged a sleeping bag into the far corner and was lying with one arm across his face. “Richard, come look at this tiny miracle.”

“No, thanks. What I already seen grossed me out big time, man. I almost puked.”

Eleazar shook his head but smiled. Andrea rolled her eyes, bit her tongue, and gathered up the soiled sheets. “Wish we could throw these in the washer.”

“Perhaps, in a day or two, we will be able to wash them in the creek.”

Andrea smiled at the old man’s tenacious optimism, but her nose started to prickle and her eyes, water. “Yes. Perhaps.” She carried her bundle into the kitchen and tossed it out the back door. She’d deal with the mess later.

Returning to the living room, she stretched out on top of her sleeping bag and stared up at a dark ceiling. The single candle on the coffee table burned steadily but offered minimal light. No one made a sound. Each was absorbed with his or her own thoughts. Even the baby slept. She was a precious baby girl, whose mother refused to hold her. Andrea wanted to shake the young woman, distressed or not. They were all distressed, for heaven’s sake.

Closing her eyes and stifling a groan, Andrea turned on her side. A morbid thought rushed in and threatened to shatter her remaining courage. Would she and Keith ever have a child? Would they even get married? Keith might not make it back, safe and sound. Keith might be lying somewhere out in the darkness this very minute—alone, afraid, hurt, dying. Andrea turned to her side and faced the wall, away from Eleazar and the rest. She could hold back the tears no longer.

Oh, Keith, where are you? Are you all right? Are you coming back to me? Please, come back, Keith. Please don’t die out there. I couldn’t live another day if you didn’t come back. I’d die, too. I’d willingly die, too. I can’t live without you. Oh, Keith.

TWENTY-THREE

Something cold was pressing against Andrea’s forehead. She turned her head to avoid it, but the clammy thing persisted. “No, Thor,” she groaned. “Go away.” The licking stopped and a voice, far off and fuzzy-sounding, broke through her dawning awareness. It sounded like Aunt Claire.

Andrea opened her eyes.

“Well. Thank goodness. You had us worried there for a minute,” Aunt Claire said with apparent relief. “Mike, I think she’s going to be all right.”

Andrea couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Impossible! Aunt Claire, alive and well and talking to Uncle Mike. She struggled to sit up. “Aunt Claire! You’re back! You’re home!” Her eyes zipped around the room. “Where’s Thor?”

Her aunt looked taken aback for a second then smiled. Soothingly, but with a hint of concern, she clucked, “Thor? Never heard of it. And what’s this ‘back’ and ‘home’ business? We’re not the ones who’ve been away, young lady. You were out cold, there, for seven minutes; the longest seven minutes of my life.”

Berry appeared and plopped down on the couch at her feet. He pinched one stocking foot and grinned. “What a girl. That stunt was awesome. You planning a trip to Mexico?”

Andrea betrayed her utter bewilderment. “What are you
talking
about?”

“You’re going to make one heck of a matador, cuz.”

Shaking her head in dismay, she looked from her aunt to her cousin then back to her aunt again. “I don’t know
what
you’re talking about. I’ve been trapped here for days, no weeks. We lost track of time. It was so dark. And the
things
surrounded the house. We had to get water from the creek. And then the poor priest died, and Keith—” A shudder passed through her. “Oh, God! Where’s Keith?”

“Keith? Who’s Keith?” Berry wrinkled his nose.

Andrea struggled again to sit up, but Aunt Claire held her down. “Now, honey, you just take it easy.”

“No! I need to find him! Where’s Keith? Did he make it back? I need to find him!”

“Shh, I don’t know
what
you’re rambling on about,” Aunt Claire said, pushing the tangled hair off Andrea’s flushed face. “You’ve had quite an upset, dear. All that fuss about college. You left the house, fit to be tied—”

“Slammed the door,” Uncle Mike frowned.

“And then that horrid creature appeared—”

“And knocked you head over kiester,” Berry grinned.

Aunt Claire pursed her lips. “Hush, Berry. As I was saying, you were upset, left the house all in a tizzy and plain didn’t watch where you were going. Then that nasty, odious creature attacked and nearly trampled you to death.” She grimaced and fanned her face with one hand. “Anyway, you must have had a dream while you were asleep. You just dreamed about someone named Keith, dear.” She clucked her tongue. “But everything is all right now, sweetheart. We’ll just put all that fuss about college behind us, pretend it didn’t happen. Everything is all right. No monsters. Nobody named Keith. Nobody—who did you say died?”

“Father Joe.”

“
Father
Joe? A priest? A
Catholic
priest?
Here
?”

“Yes.”

Aunt Claire sniffed. “My goodness, you do have an imagination. No priest died
here
. Everything is just fine, just fine. Your eyes look good—pupils equal and reactive—and the knot on your head isn’t too bad. You’ll probably have a headache, but I’ll give you some aspirin.”

“We used up all the aspirin on Father Joe,” Andrea murmured.

“You what, dear?”

Uncle Mike chimed in. “You know you gave me another gray hair, don’t you? When Berry brought you in, draped over his shoulder like a damn sack of horse feed, we didn’t know whether you were dead or alive. Next time,
think
before you go storming out like a spitfire. Try using a little restraint.”

His wife glared at him. “Michael, I said that subject was closed. We are starting over—fresh start. Understand?”

Uncle Mike’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, sure, sure. Didn’t mean to snap.”

Andrea grimaced. “Yes, well, I
am
sorry I lost my temper and ran out of the house like that.”

“All water under the bridge,” Aunt Claire said, giving her husband another withering look.

“Fine, fine,” Uncle Mike muttered. He bent over Andrea and peered into her eyes. “So, how do you really feel?”

“Horribly and utterly confused. What
happened? How did I get hurt? And how long did you say I was unconscious?”

“Only about six or seven minutes, honey, but you scared us, all the same,” Aunt Claire said, still fanning her face with a hand.

“Heck, Mom, I’ve been knocked out for longer than that when I played football in high school,” Berry scoffed. “Remember?”

“Yes, I remember, and I worried then, too. Besides, your head is a lot thicker than Andrea’s.”

Berry laughed at his mother then turned to Andrea and made a face. “Oh, I think her head’s pretty solid.”

Ignoring her cousin, Andrea’s eyes foraged about the cheerful living room hungrily. “It looks so-so
normal
in here.” Then she noticed the tree outside the window. “Oh, there’re apples on the apple tree! How wonderful! I thought it was the dead of winter.”

Berry wrinkled his nose. “Mom, you sure she’s okay? Sounds positively demented to me.” He hooted. “Then again, she always sounds positively demented so how’s one to know?”

His mother wrinkled her nose. “Oh, she’s all right. Just a little shaken, is all. Anyway, I’ll take her in to see Dr. Adams if there’s even a hint of irregularity.”

“Then you better just go and get it over with because she’s always been a tad irregular,” the young man grinned.

“Enough, Bernard Michael Gardner.” Aunt Claire’s eyes were shooting sparks.

Andrea tried to smile but her mouth felt stiff. “Will somebody please explain to me what happened? Did you knock me out, Berry?”

His hands up in mock incredulity, Berry gasped. “
Moi
? How can you even suggest such a thing? I’m hurt. I’m wounded.” He chuckled. “You, my dear addle-brained cousin, ran head-long, smack-dab into Kellermann’s bull, Charlie.”

“I
what
?
Who
?”

“Charlie. You know. Kellermann’s bull? He broke through the fence—the
third
time, I might add—and charged after you in the woods behind the house.”

A flash of understanding hit Andrea and her eyes widened. “Yes, yes, I
do
remember.”

“Yeah, well, I nearly peed my pants when I saw what was happening.”

“Oh, Berry,” his mother chided. “For goodness sakes.”

“After you stormed out of the house, I followed, hoping to throw a muzzle on you.” He tweaked Andrea’s foot. “Man, you sure can get riled up, kiddo.”

Andrea glanced up at her aunt. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, like I said, it’s water under the bridge. We won’t discuss it any further. But you
will
be starting college this fall. Yes, you will.
Indeed
, you will. And there’s to be no further argument. We won’t be silly about it anymore. Okey-dokey?”

Andrea lowered her eyes. She hadn’t the energy to argue. In fact, she felt deflated and lifeless, like a popped balloon, like a withered blossom, like all the blood had been drained from her. “I remember hearing a noise behind me.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought it was you, Berry. Following me. And then-and then I saw it. That horrid, stupid bull.”

Aunt Claire’s face clouded. “Mike, I want you to call Hank Kellermann right this blessed minute and demand that he take better precautions against something like this ever happening again or we’ll-we’ll sue. We can joke about it now because it turned out all right, but it just as easily could have been a tragedy. I am sick and tired of that bull getting out of his pasture.”

“Will do, darlin’. I’ll call him.”

“Do it now.”