“You’re going out, too?” Willa asked, suddenly worried about what might be lurking in the woods. It was bad that Everett had gone missing, she supposed, but it was much worse for her mama to be venturing out into a menacing situation. The problem was, Willa couldn’t reveal why it might be more menacing than usual.
“Yes. Pops is part of the emergency protocol, so you two will be on your own for a few hours. Can I count on you to behave yourselves?”
Harlan nodded. Willa nodded more slowly. She watched Mama reach for a holstered Smith & Wesson she kept on top of the kitchen cabinet. After slipping on the canvas belt, she checked the slots where the extra clips were stored. Everything was in place. All the firearms in the village received a thorough cleaning every month and ammunition levels were checked weekly. Not only every gun, but every bullet in Whitaker Holler was accounted for, and if used, updated as such in Serena Jo’s inventory binder.
That binder was practically the Bible in their house.
“You two go back to bed and stay there. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Willa replied.
Once the front door was closed, Willa turned to her brother. “I sure hope Mister Fergus made it back.”
Chapter 10
Fergus
Fergus had just finished washing his face and had slipped into the clean pajamas Skeeter left out for him, when a knock sounded at the cabin’s door. The old man’s gentle snores came to a sudden halt.
Serena Jo didn’t wait her father to open the door. Fergus felt her eyes appraise him in the light of a lantern she held aloft.
“You don’t look sick to me,” she said.
“I’m better now. You should have seen me twenty-four hours ago. I took diarrhea to an entirely new level, and my projectile vomiting set a land-speed record.”
“Hmmm,” she said, then turned to her father who scrambled out of bed.
“What’s wrong?” Skeeter’s eyes squinted in the lamplight.
“Everett’s gone missing. He was on patrol with Otis in the northwest quadrant. I’m initiating the emergency protocol. Are you up for it?”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.”
“You can come with me,” she said, her expression softening as she watched the old man slip into his patched overalls and shrugged on a heavy flannel jacket.
“Emergency protocol?” Fergus asked.
“Yes. If you weren’t sick, you’d be going too. I don’t smell vomit or diarrhea in here, so I assume you did all that in the privies.” Her disconcerting gaze focused on him as Skeeter laced up his boots.
“Indeed. About this emergency protocol...what does it entail?”
“It’s a bit like circling the wagons. One Scout is assigned to each search party. Each search party is comprised of three people. We’re spread a bit thin because at least a dozen others who can shoot remain in the village to protect the children. The search parties are each assigned a sector. We can cover more ground that way. Once you’ve fully earned my trust in regard to our operations here, you’ll be assigned a squad and a firearm. Until then, you’ll stay in the village.”
The revolver Ray had gifted him earlier that morning was hidden under a floorboard in Skeeter’s cabin. Visions of Lizzy skulking about in the forest and abducting the muscle-bound Everett made Fergus slightly nauseated. Perhaps that helped sell the cover story of his illness.
“There is something you can do, though,” she continued.
“Anything.”
“Check on my kids. They’re supposed to be in bed, but I’m not naïve. Willadean will want to sneak out and insert herself into the unfolding drama.” When Serena Jo spoke about her daughter, all the sharp angles of her face softened, and a love that was paradoxically fierce and gentle revealed itself.
If mama grizzlies appeared in human form, they would look exactly like Whitaker Holler’s leader.
“Of course,” he replied. “It would be my pleasure.”
She nodded, then turned to leave. Fergus tapped Skeeter lightly on the shoulder as the old man headed toward the door.
“Be extra careful, Skeeter. The woods are dangerous. More so now than yesterday.” He spoke the words in a low key, barely a whisper.
Skeeter winked. “Yep. I know,” he said, then followed his daughter into the night.
It had happened. It always seemed to happen these days. The thought of harm coming to the old man, the children, or their stoic mother summoned twisting knots in his stomach. He’d come to Tennessee to study Chicxulub’s survivors and perhaps find new recruits for Cthor-Vangt. He was doing that, yes, but he was also becoming emotionally invested. In a very short period of time, he had become attached to these folks.
He sighed, then pulled his jacket over the pajamas and trotted into the night.
***
“Holy cow, Mister Fergus. That woman sounds scary as hell.”
Fergus gave Willadean a wry grin. “Child, you have no idea. Now that I’ve told you all this, do you agree to put aside the blood oath and tell your mother what we know? This has become larger than us. If Lizzy abducted Everett, she could do it again, and the next time it might be someone we like.”
The manner in which the impressive young brain struggled with the dilemma was revealed through a series of shifting facial expressions. Harlan sat next to his sister in the warm glow of the candlelit kitchen, watching her mental process.
Fergus watched him watch her. The boy remained a mystery, but an
