The Tempest by A.J. Scudiere (story read aloud .txt) 📗

“No, no. No, we just wanted to know how you were doing after the storms.” The fawning voice hit the rule of threes—anything said three times in a row was definitely a lie.

“That’s bullshit,” the voice replied, growing angrier.

Though Joule desperately wanted to lift her head and peer over the edge of the loft to see what was going on, she didn't dare.

“You assholes didn't come knock on my door, where you would have found me. I would have told you I was fine. No. You came straight here and crept into my barn. What are you looking for?”

The silence that filled the space spoke volumes, dragging out until Joule heard it punctuated by the telltale ch-chunk of a shotgun being cocked.

Her eyes flew wide, but there wasn’t much time to react, not for her and not for the people down below. As the man spoke, she imagined him lifting the butt of the gun against his shoulder and aiming it. “I asked you a question.”

Somehow she felt better knowing it was the accusing man who held the gun. Still, she looked to Jerry who shrugged and shook his head rapidly. Joule didn't know if that meant he didn't know what was going on or maybe if he didn't know what the noise was. But that couldn't be the case—the hard chunk of a shotgun being racked was an almost universally unmistakable sound.

“I don't want you two here. Now get out of my barn.”

Slow shuffling down below let her know that the two who had come in first were finally leaving, albeit reluctantly. She lifted her head slowly, ever so slightly, until she could see the top half of the opening the sliding barn doors left, revealing the world beyond. She could see the edge of the white, wood-sided farmhouse and one black shutter. She could see a corner of the paddock and one brown cow that seemed to have a tense need to push herself into the fencing. And she watched as one woman with caramel hair and a ponytail trailing over her denim jacket walked out the door. Next came a man in overalls, a cap on his head, his shoulders hunched in anger as he exited the barn.

The older man followed behind them, holding the shotgun up and aimed, just as Joule had thought.

She lowered her head. That had been a dumb move. She’d wanted to see what was going on, but she didn't know any of these people. Seeing the backs of their heads gave her no more information than listening had, and they could have looked up and seen her. But now she heard the barn doors being slid slowly shut as car doors—or more likely truck doors—slammed somewhere in the distance and an engine revved.

Slowly letting her breath out, though she knew it wasn’t yet time to be relieved, she felt some of the tension drain from her muscles though she knew she shouldn’t yet relax yet. She figured her body might have surpassed its capacity to stay alert. Even so, she tried not to make a sound as she turned toward Jerry and saw that he, too, had lifted his head just a little. Maybe he could identify the intruders.

As the second barn door slid into place and tapped the first, her lungs fully exhaled, her breath whooshing out. Her grip on Toto lessened just a little, now that they knew the old man was home, and that he didn't like the people who'd come looking for them. By her estimate, it had to be the Larkins, because who else would look for escapees?

She was feeling a little safer with all three of the barn intruders gone—though she and Jerry were the real intruders. But she was also feeling a little more concerned. If no one had been home, it would be easier to get out of the barn. Now they'd have to make alternate plans. She didn't remember seeing another door to the barn, but didn't there have to be one?

Then again, she had noticed that the Larkin’s house was older and hadn't really been built to code. Did this barn have to be? She had to follow rules and regulations quite precisely when designing and building; that was half of her job at Helio Systems, creating something and then being sure it fit into regs. But it seemed the further out into the countryside they got, the more things were overlooked or grandfathered in.

Her stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts with the reminder of the necessity of nature. Toto meowed at her again, also hungry. And while she had a granola bar still waiting—probably smushed—in her pocket, she was out of tuna.

She and Jerry stared at each other for a while. Joule didn’t know if he simply had nothing to say or if, like her, he was waiting out the clock to see if anything happened. Joule tucked herself low to the haybale and tried to remember any other ways out of the barn, but it had been dark when they’d come in.

After an interminable wait, which may have been only a few minutes, she swung her legs over the side of the hay bale, feeling the poke of a thousand straws in the back of her jeans and under her butt as she did it. She was opening her mouth to ask if the barn owner was one of the people that Jerry might trust when she heard the sudden squeal of the door again as it flew open. Far too quickly for her to duck and hide. Below her, a horse whinnied at the intrusion.

The man with the gun was back.

56

Cage wasn't ready to deal with what he saw.

“Oh my God.” Deveron was still on his knees, his words almost slurring together as, this time, his hands reached out toward the body. He only made it halfway to touching the corpse’s clothing before he snatched his fingers back in close to his own body.

Once again, it was clear