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Chap 2- First post of 2019!

Updated: Sep 7, 2020

Hi everybody! My first post of 2019 is another fiction post from my novel. Please let me know what you think.


Chap 2- Breaking In

Siah was bone tired. She felt like she could sleep for days. She wished she could. She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking. She needed to eat.

“O Lord, please…” she half sobbed. “I need help.” She couldn’t keep this up and she knew it. She was going into full blown adrenal fatigue and if something didn’t change soon she was going to have a full blown breakdown. That could not happen.

Why had God told her to turn down that job offer?

“God, what happened today, that can never happen again. Ever.”

She needed to call her contact and tell him she was done.

She couldn’t take Sharlie back into that closet. She wouldn’t.

“God, Please, I need help…”

She had barely managed to turn the key in the lock when a large hand grabbed her around the back of her neck and shoved her from behind. Sharlie screeched in her ear as she fell on her side. Looking up, she saw the same boy from yesterday morning, the big one with the birth marks, standing over her, pointing the barrel of his gun straight into her face- again.

He had the smaller boys left arm slung over his shoulder and was half carrying him as he bled all over her floor. He’d been shot in the chest.

“You say you’re a doctor,” He snarled as he flicked the semi-automatic at her.

“Fix him.”

Don’t be afraid, he will help you.

That didn’t make any sense, but, as if on automatic, her doctor switch turned on and she was filled with energy. She got up off the floor and slung the boys other arm over her shoulder.

“Get him onto that mat.”

The Holy Spirit, it had to be, she did not have this much strength in her.

Laying the boy on the mats, she turned on a small battery operated lamp she saved for emergencies and began tearing his coat and blood soaked shirt off him.

The bullet had entered the right side of his chest near the shoulder, just under the clavicle. It looked to have gone clean through him, miraculously, without breaking any bones; as far as gunshots to the chest go, that was the best you could hope for.

“Get a fire going, I’m going to need all the light I can get.”

She got up, ran into the kitchen and rummaged for supplies.

She found a suitable poker fast enough but where was that penlight?

She was vaguely aware of the tall teenager looming next to her, gun ready.

She stopped her rummaging and looked up at him.

“Is the fire going?” He said nothing as he gave her a deadly glare that wasn’t fooling her for a minute. This violent boy was terrified for his little brother’s life.

“If your brother goes into shock, he will die. If I don’t disinfect and heat this iron poker fast enough to cauterize the wound, he will die. Understand?”

He just clenched his jaw.

“Now go get a fire going in there and I’ll be in as soon as I’m done getting what I need in here.” She turned the burner to her little propane gas stove on and set the poker on top of it. She took Sharlie off her back and quickly changed her into her pajamas.

The child had been remarkably quiet during the entire break-in.

“Mama, what’s happen?”

She shrugged off her own coat.

“There’s a boy out there, he’s hurt real bad and I have to make him better, so you might hear some scary sounds.”

The child looked at her very seriously. She was used to scary sounds at the clinic.

“Now go to sleep baby.”

“You’re not gonna read me story?” Her heart broke at the disappointed look on her little girls face. Story time was one of the few times when Sharlie received her undivided attention. “I’ll be back to read to you later, after I make him better.”

She tucked her into the sheets.

“Ok, I love you mama.”

“And I love you more, but Jesus loves you most.”

She kissed and hugged the child before tucking her in.

Her gaze drifted to the floorboard under her bed.

She could end this, right now. Or at least neutralize the threat… No.

She exhaled slowly. She had her orders. Leaving her daughter in the bedroom, she steeled herself; time to get to work. She rummaged in the bathroom and loaded supplies into several plastic bins she kept under the counter, peppering the boy with questions as she went.

“Do you have the fire going?” Plastic bins, plastic bins, where were they?

“Yes.”

“Is he conscious?” There they were. “No.”

Where was that spray bottle? “Is his breathing clear or raspy?”

Finally, found it. “Raspy.”

“How long ago was he shot?” She wiped the tweezers with alcohol.

“A few minutes ago.”

She turned on the faucet and filled the plastic bin up.

“How long ago did he lose consciousness?” There was silence for a moment before he answered.

“Just when I got to your porch.”

They’d deal with that later.

Finding everything she needed, she hurried to the living room.

The big one had made a fine fire. He looked at the assorted junk she was carrying as if questioning her sanity. He was still holding the gun on her.

Well, too bad for him. She took out the scissors and handed him the penlight.

“Hold this directly over the wound and direct the light as I tell you.”

She knelt over the boy and cut off the rest of his shirt, tossing it into the bin as she cleaned and inspected the injury.

“Keep the light on the wound. Direct it at whatever I’m looking at.”

She was actually looking for the piece of fabric that had been blown out by the bullet.

It might have been blown out of the exit wound but she had to know.

Finally, she saw it. Pulling it out with her tweezers, she placed it carefully on the plate she had brought out of the kitchen and squirted it with the spray bottle as she straightened it out. It was a perfect circle.

Thank God.

She cleaned both ends of the wound with the alcohol, then went to go check on the poker, it was red hot now.

“I’m going to have to insert this into the wound to cauterize it.

He will scream and convulse. You’re going to have to hold him still. Can you do that?”

For the first time, the man sized boy looked scared, but he nodded and put the gun away as he held down his brothers arms. She braced herself.

“Lord, hold my hands and use them well. In Jesus name, Amen!”

The big one looked at her with a brow raised as she embedded the poker into the smaller boy’s chest. He screamed and struggled before passing back out again.

As focused on her task as she was, the anguished look on the older boys face as his brother screamed did not escape her.

Thirty minutes later she had cauterized, cleaned and was bandaged the wound as best she could. No arteries seemed to have been hit, the heart wasn’t touched, there were no broken bones, as far as gunshots to the chest go, this was a best case scenario.

If no infection set in, he’d be left with nothing more than a nice scar. Considering how badly scarred the boy already was though, he probably would’ve preferred not to have another. When she had first cut through the boys’ clothing, she had seen the burn scars, so evident on the periphery of his face and down his neck were extensive, going down and across his torso and shoulders with the worst of it on his back. It looked as if someone had literally poured gasoline on him while he lay on his stomach and lit a match. The palms of his hands and wrists were burned also. It was easy to imagine how that had happened. He had tried to put out the flames himself.

She didn’t bother stopping the tears as she’d cleaned and bandaged the boy. He couldn’t be more than twelve, thirteen at most- and these scars were not recent.

What kind of monster did this to a child?

Looking past the gun the older one held on her again, she saw similar burn scars on his hands. He had tried to put out the flames as well. The wounds on their skin looked to have healed well enough; the scars within plainly never had.

She wiped her face dry, she had work to do. Right now her biggest fear for the boy was plain blood loss. The amount of blood on her carpet alone was alarming; if it was any indication as to what he’d left on the street, he’d lost a substantial amount.

In any case he was too weak to move. Unless the brother could give him blood. She turned to the boy still holding a Sig to her head.

“Do you know what your blood type is?”

“What?”

“Your blood type? For you and your brother, do you know it?”

“No.” She stood and looked at the boy on her cushions as she thought out loud.

“I’ll have to go get the transfusion supplies from the clinic and bring it back here.”

The oversized boy lifted the gun straight at her head again.

“You’re not going anywhere until he is up and walking.” He seethed.

She’d had enough of this. He put the gun closer to her head, almost at her temple.

His mistake.

In one deft movement that would’ve made her grandfather proud, she twisted the gun out of his hand, ejected the clip, emptied the chamber, and threw the cheap piece into the fire. She shoved the loaded magazine at him as he looked from her, to the fire, to her in shock.

“You can burn your hand if you want, but I have a patient to treat.”

Her index finger in front of her, she got as much in his face as their height differences allowed.

“And don’t you EVER pull a gun on me again.”

The little one began to moan.She knelt and checked his pulse, the older one looking at her as if she’d just blown his mind.

*

His mind was blown. This woman was beyond weird. The whole time he’d had the gun on her she hadn’t once seemed scared. When she’d started to cry, he’d thought it was because she was finally scared of him, but now he knew- she wasn’t.

Whenever he pulled a gun on someone, especially a woman, they usually looked only at it, not him, and did whatever he wanted. This lady hardly seemed to notice the gun, she just ignored it and looked him straight in the eye every time.

Whoever this chick was, she was not normal.

*

Siah left the big boy by the fire and went to check on Sharlie.

She was more upset over the break in her routine than the screams she’d heard.

She wasn’t surprised. Spending as much time as she did at the clinic, the little girl wasn’t overly alarmed by agonized cries. “Is he better?”

Siah settled into the mattress before answering. “He will be sweetheart, but he’s not going to be able to go home for a long time. So he’ll be staying with us. He and his brother will sleep in the living room.”

The little girl looked very serious as Siah read her their story and tucked her in for the night.

“Let’s pray for him.” Sharlie suddenly declared.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

They bowed their heads as Sharlie prayed.

“Jesus. Please make that boy better. Make his hurts better, in Jesus name, Amen!”

“Amen!” Siah squished her face into her little girls’, making her giggle.

She sang her Jesus loves me and snuggled her under the covers.

Sharlie drifted to sleep, Siah brushing her hand across the little girls beautiful gold curls. She prayed silently as she did every night for her Hueritas health, safety- and for her to be brave and strong when the time came that she was neither.

Thank you Lord for protecting Sharlie today. She rubbed her tiny cheek and blew out a stress filled breath. She was more upset at what had happened this afternoon than what was happening right now.

No question, God was giving her a peace about those boys.

She wanted to sleep herself, her body was screaming for rest, but she had a patient to treat.

Going back into the living room, she found the big one sitting by the fire where she’d left him. He looked up at her oddly. She didn’t return his gaze.

She knelt down over the battered, scarred, scrawny boy on her mats, laid her hands on him- and prayed. She had done all her medical training allowed for, the rest was up to God. She prayed the bullet had missed everything vital, she prayed for complete healing, she prayed for God to do a miracle; that Jesus would show himself to this boy and change his heart.

She thought back to yesterday morning when she’d tried to stop that fight.

The boy on her floor had exploded with rage, killing in an instant.

The big one, he’d simply been more controlled. Even now, silent as a statue, she could feel him seething in icy rage as he sat there against the wall.

Fire and ice the both of them. He’d watched her, the big one, intermittently leaning back against the wall at his brother’s head, allowing himself only a few short rests.

Though he seemed mystified by her actions of laying hands and praying over his brother, he made no move to stop her. She was combing her fingers through the little ones hair, absently wondering when the last time he’d had a bath when she found herself giving voice to her prayers.

“Lord Jesus, clean this boy inside and out. Take out his stony heart of sin and fill him with a new heart of compassion. I pray Lord Jesus show him yourself and-”

That was when the big one lost it. He bolted to his feet, spewing down at her in the vilest language she’d ever heard. And that was saying something.

*

The woman sprang to her feet and got in his face.

“Enough!” she commanded. He took a step back and clamped his mouth shut

In Jesus name I command you Satan come out of that boy! In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, I command you to leave him now!”

Eric felt himself writhing on the inside, almost convulsing in his organs.

No, it was deeper than that, like it was in his soul. He didn’t think he had one.

The Doc kept screaming the same words at him over and over, he felt himself cursing her out, but he wasn’t doing it. It was like he wasn’t in control of his own mouth, his own face. Finally he felt himself stop screaming. He swore he felt something physically come out of him. He fell in a heap, exhausted. He looked up at the woman- and felt like he was seeing her clearly for the first time, like some kind of screen had been moved off his eyes. What had just happened? Doc knelt over him with a tired smile and put a pillow under his head.

“And now you see clearly.”

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