Chapter 4

She came to him, that night. In the smoky, dusty, almost smothering warmth of the attic loft she left her bed and climbed in with him, waking him from a deep slumber. He froze, realizing instantly what was happening. She curled up and nestled beneath his arm, settling in, finally quiet. His every sense was attuned to her, he was painfully aware of her every move, every noise ... every smell. At last he heard her gentle, even breathing, and realized that she was asleep. That was it? He was both disappointed, and relieved. Sure, he thought, crawl right in. You can sleep with me anytime. He carefully put his arm around her warm, soft body, and hugged her to him. He loved her more in that instant than he’d ever loved anybody or anything, before the Fall or after. Shit, he thought, don’t let me lose this. Don’t let her leave, or let anything happen to her. If you are there, if you exist, oh great gaseous invertebrate, give me this, this last grasp of life, of youth. Let me hold onto her, let me hold her in my arms every night until I die. Give me this, sweet jesus, just give me this.

The next morning it was just like nothing had happened. They had a nice jerky breakfast, and Clipper dug on his tunnel for an hour. They went hunting, passing time until early afternoon. Clipper, to his great pleasure, shot another deer, a doe, this time. They dragged it back home. Clipper felt they were fixed up for the winter, now. He’d always be able to get rabbits and squirrels, too, of course. He still wanted that pig, though.

A week later found them exploring up a bit higher, near the tree line. They did have neighbors, he realized. Maybe three miles to the East and half a mile higher up a large stone house stood. Smoke was pouring from the chimney. They spied on it from a half a mile away and didn’t get any closer. He didn’t want to get shot. A house like that, he figured, had guns. And dogs. The house and the neighboring barns and out buildings made it look like wealthy people lived there. Nowadays, wealth was possessions, food and livestock. These people even had cows, for god’s sake. He hungered for a taste of fresh milk. If they had all this, they had the means of protecting it, though. He pulled Girl back into the woods, and they went on. He fixed the location of the place on the mental map of the mountain he was making in his head.

Clipper kicked himself later, at the ease with which they were ambushed. He was ten feet in front of Girl, headed along a ridge, when, maybe twenty feet in front of him a man stepped out from behind a tree and pointed a rifle at him. A gaunt, bony motherfucker. But he had a gun. Clipper had his bow down, but he had an arrow nocked. As he let himself fall to the side he yanked it back and fired from the hip, and to his satisfaction saw the arrow suddenly sprout from the man’s waist. The man screamed a long high scream. Clipper turned to figure out where Girl was, and saw her already huddled on the ground. And, shit. Behind her were two more men, close behind, coming fast and hard. One was swinging a machete, and the other was brandishing an ax. Shit, he thought, fumbling for another arrow as he sat on the ground. Shit.

He knew he couldn’t shoot from the ground, the bow was too long. He wasted a valuable second or two scissoring himself to his feet, feeling muscles and joints scream in protest. He knew he would never make it. The men were less than fifteen feet away, running hard.

Girl was just about back to her feet by now, also. She had seen him see the men behind her, and turned to face them. He saw her arm swing out in a long arc, and a man screamed and tumbled as her knife buried itself in his eye socket. Holy shit! Thought Clipper, impressed. The girl picks up quick! Jeezus!

The third man froze, after that. He knew it was over. He could have taken one of them out, but the other would get him. He opened his fingers, and the ax dropped to the ground. He slowly raised his hands up into the air, the universal symbol of surrender. Clipper had his second arrow ready, and his bow pulled back by then. All he had to do was relax his fingers slightly, and the man would die. The man knew it.

Clipper was pissed off. Why did these dumb fucks try this shit? Why were so many people forcing him to kill them? Should he let this man live? To come back later and cause trouble, maybe set their cabin on fire as they slept? Shit, shit.

“You stupid motherfucker,” he said. The man didn’t move or reply.

“Turn around and run,” Clipper said. “I’m going to count to five, and shoot. If you’re lucky or fast you’ll live. One.”

The man wheeled and took off down the mountain. Clipper looked at Girl, standing ten feet from him, still panting. She nodded her head. He took that to mean that she was okay with it, whatever he did.