It was the time of year when Summer was starting to give way to Fall, the days verging on hot and sweltering, and the nights going to cold. But tonight, the warnings of the coming full-on Fall were clear in the fog that was swirling around the streets of Kalispell, a cursing and a blessing all at once, to Tully's thinking.
Of course, the thick mist helped to hide her movements as she lurked around the back alleys of town, looking for...whatever. Food wasn't as much of a need as it had been, there was usually something to be found behind the Lickskillet, an area that Tully kept pristine, slipping in after the cafe was closed, and making sure there was no trash, and that the weeds were pulled -- it was sort of an unspoken agreement. But with Fall came rain, then snow, and then Winter would be here, and Tully was on a quest to hunt down anything she might need to survive out the Winter in a amounted to a shack at the edge of town. Just what she gathered may or may not have been discards, but, to her thinking, shouldn't have been left out where she could scavenge them!
She hadn't gotten much tonight -- a few nuts and bolts that were shoved into the pockets of her britches, some material that could be stitched together for a blanket, or scarf, or maybe she'd get enough for a coat -- and while she was still wanting to hunt, the fog was getting dense enough that she couldn't see but a few feet, and it made searching for cast-offs difficult.
Still, there were a few hours of darkness left, so even though she was headed 'home', she was scouring behind the buildings as she went, feeling, more than seeing, her way.
"When a Man's Hungry, he Eats."
Two Months Ago...
Rick Brown looked over the men who were digging at the site, his gaze drifting from one to another. "That him?" He nodded to one particularly... robust man digging with a shovel. He had to be in his fifties, at least, and he weighed an easy hundred pounds more than he should. Yet he was digging with the best of them.
"Yeah," Arthur nodded, "Big Moe. Been here longer than I have. Been here since before the war. Well... not here. But somewhere."
"Looks like he works hard," Rick noted, "So how's he keep his weight up?"
"Moe makes all the other prisoners give him some of their food," Arthur said, "kinda like a tax."
"And they just let him take their food," Rick asked.
Arthur chuckled, 'Sometimes a new prisoner doesn't want to do it when they arrive. They change their minds pretty quick. Anyway, why'd the county send you to get him, Mister Brown?"
"Yeah, well..." Rick said, looking somewhat sheepish. "turns out there was some paperwork mix-up. His time was over two weeks ago."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up, "No foolin?"
Rick shook his head, "No foolin. Let's go give him the good news..."
Two Weeks Ago...
"Well, you done good work, Mr. Green. Good as your word." Festus began counting out coins onto his palm.
The big man fished out a dirty handkerchief, which he used to mop his brow. "Fixing fences ain't hardly the toughest work I done lately, Mr. Ferley. You know anyone else near town who might need a thing done? Maybe..." Something malevolent briefly passed over his features, "maybe some girls living alone, might need a helping hand."
Festus finished counting the coins and held them out, his brow furrowed in thought. "Well, there's some girls who live round Kalispell..."
Two Seconds Ago...
There it was, just visible through the deep mist: A coin, reflecting the meager light with a pale golden glint.
It was as though it had been placed there for her to find. A treasure, left by some benevolent being.
...Or perhaps by a mischievous spirit.
On approaching the coin, something else became apparent.
A shadowy form. Large. And surprisingly fast.
Then a large, meaty fist, parting the fog.
Powerful.
Jarring.
Meant to send a pretty little face to fall down beside the pretty little coin.
A coin which had been left by some benevolent being.
...Or maybe by a devil in the dark.
It was only by the whiff of a breeze that parted the veil of fog enough for the lamplight shining from the damp window of the building she was behind that allowed Tully to see the glitter of precious metal, a fleeting sign, but it caught her attention and beckoned her. It wasn't unusual to find coins behind the buildings on occasion, treasures dropped by unwitting owner who might or might not be disappointed when they found out that it was missing, depending on the denomination. Most were just pennies, but if she was lucky, it would be a nickle or a dime.
This one had said 'gold', although Tully was reluctant to believe that. Gold coins were very valuable, and should be more closely guarded than to simply be dropped in the dirt.
Expecting to find that it was some brass bauble that was teasing her, Tully bent to pick it up, only then noticing, as a breeze parted the fog again, the hulking figure standing right there...too close!
Tully barely had time to register what was happening, and to stumble back, when the fist connected with her jaw, sending her sprawling back in the dirt, stunned, her eyes watering, and her face hurting.
This wasn't Tully's first encounter with trouble, and she knew that she had to act -- fight or run -- so she kicked out before trying to roll and get to her feet.
"When a Man's Hungry, he Eats."
A fat hand reached out through the fog, pursuing the scrambling young woman.
She was not the first thing his hand had ever grasped for.
Moe Green had a hungry hand, hungrier even than his hungry mouth.
It had been hungry for as long as he could remember. At first, it could only reach Moe's own body. A hungry hand on his hungry flesh, grasping and rubbing until he came to a shuddering release.
But then his mother had found him. Shouted at him. Told him he was evil, for feeding his hungry hand.
That's when he'd realized that he could feed his hungry hand something new. His hungry hand found his mother, and fed itself on her flesh. She'd cried and cried, and then Moe's father had come home. Moe's father was so angry.
Anger could whet the appetite, and it did. Moe's hungry hand wasn't nearly sated, yet. He'd been a big teenager, as big as most men. As big as his father. He'd made his hungry hand into a fist, and found that he could sate his appetites in a new way.
His mother had never told anyone the truth. A robber, she'd said. What else could she say? 'My son uses his hungry hands on me? He used his hungry hands to kill his father?'
No. She'd stayed quiet, and Moe had found new uses for his hungry hands. He could take what he wanted from the world. He could gobble it up with his hungry hands. Little things from the dry goods store. Shiny things from the jewelry store. And finally gold from the bank.
Poor Moe's hungry hands finally grabbed up too much. He was sent to prison, where he had no women to sate his hunger. Well, men weren't as good, but they could feed you a bit. Sometimes they cried, and that was nice.
But now, finally, prison was done. Prison was done, and his hungry hands could feed again.
Poor Tully. He'd been watching her for days. Planning his meal.
Now his hungry hands would get their fill.
Moe would start by grabbing her scrambling ankle. Fast food, but he could be fast, too. A kick didn't bother him, none. Not when he was hungry.
He'd grab that ankle and eat her up. Toe to head, she'd be devoured by his hungry, hungry hands.
She was almost to her feet, almost ready to sprint away...
Almost...
At least Tully was almost to her feet when the big hand closed around her ankle, so when she sprawled out on the ground, her chin didn't hit so hard that it knocked her completely silly. A quick tug of her leg confirmed that she wasn't going to break the grip that way, so she rolled to her back as best she could, kicking out with her free foot, aiming for where she thought a face should be in the darkness.
Panic swelled in her chest, but she shoved that aside. Panic was for later, when this was over, one way or another.
"Leave me go!" she shouted, or at least that was the intention, but it came out as more of a squeak as she kicked again. The man might get what he wanted, but she was going to make sure it cost him. And another reason to tell Arabella that britches were better than skirts...
"Lemme!" Her fingers dug in her jacket pocket, closing over a small variety of bolts and nuts that she pulled out and threw at the man, for what good that might do.
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
The Kalispell Refuge for Christian Girls was shrouded in darkness, inside and out, but that did not mean that the place was empty. Indeed, there was a girl within for whom the darkness held no fear: for she walked in night always. It sometimes spooked Arabella, when she came back form a theatre rehearsal or work at the funeral parlour to find Frances at some domestic chore or reading from one of her 5-point bump books in the pitch-black: like some sightless albino fish at the bottom of the deepest rift in the Ocean, going about its cold, dead-eyed, dank business in a world devoid of all light from the surface.
Tonight was one such night: Frances was sorting out the clothes in her wardrobe: putting away some of the lighter smocks and seeing, or rather feeling, what she possessed for the coming cold winter months. It was midnight black in the bedroom, but could equally have been the most dazzling bright mid-day daylight outside for all she would know the difference. Except, she would feel the Sun on her face and arms: even on the dullest days she somehow felt the Sun, in a way that she could never feel the cold dead glow of the Moon.
@[Cuban Writer] Bongo
"When a Man's Hungry, he Eats."
The feeble kick of a scrambling girl meant nothing to Moe. Nor did her protestations matter in the least.
That only made him hungrier for her.
But as much as throwing a pocketful of small metal objects was the unlikeliest of tactics... that was what did the trick. The shotgun pattern of thrown scraps found its mark on Moe's fat face, and one edge of one rusty bolt bounced off of his right eyeball.
Even a big man- even a tough man like Moe- couldn't shrug off something that scratched his eye. It might even be that a blind person would recoil from such an injury. Before the night was over, there might be a chance to find out.
Moe did recoil, his hungry hand going to his face as he made a loud, unhappy sound. Tears streamed down his cheek as the whites of his eyes turned angry red, and there was plenty of time for his prize to scramble off and away into the thick mist that blanketed the night.
Moe gritted his teeth and straightened, blinking the tears away and trying to regain the vision of his damaged eye.
No matter. He'd been watching for days, now.
He knew where she would be going.
He'd just make a house call, and turn his meal into a buffet.
@[Bongo]
Javia
Her expectations hadn't been much, she was just looking for a distraction, so when she heard the startled cry and the grip on her ankle eased, Tully was taken aback, but that only lasted for the merest of heartbeats. Realizing she was free, she lurched to her feet and ran, not sure where she was going, not sure exactly where she was.
The darkness and fog had her disoriented, and that was only amplified by the panic that was trying to push past her reason.
Where was she?
Near the church, she knew that much, in a part of town that wasn't densely populated, that had more vacant lots and abandoned shacks than businesses. If she could get to the church, she could find refuge...even if God allowed the evil in, there would be places to hide, things she could use as weapons, besides nuts and bolts and the small knife hidden in her boot.
Fighting to stay calm, Tully peered through the fog -- it wouldn't do good to trip and hurt herself more -- and finally she saw the back steps to the church. Praying the door was unlocked, she scrambled up the stairs, and as she reached for the knob, all she could hear was her own breathing, and her her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Maybe he'd given up?
Relief washed over her as the knob turned under her hand and the door swung inward, and an instant later, she was inside, the door closed and locked behind her. Closing her eyes, she fought to control her breathing and regroup...this wasn't over yet, she knew, even if it was. She couldn't fully relax unto the morning sun chased off the fog, and light overtook the evil.
But she'd only drawn in a couple of shaky breaths when she realized her mistake. This wasn't the church...No, the aromas were of lavender and rose water, baked bread and herbs...
No, this wasn't the church, it was the Women and Children's shelter, it was the home of Arabella and Frances, and she'd brought the Devil to their doorstep.
For half a second, she thought to just leave, to find somewhere else, but she just couldn't bring herself to open the door, to go back out there. It was too late, and she just hoped the man had moved on.
"Arabella! Frances!" she called, "ya here? I need help!" Maybe they were at work still, though it wasn't likely at this time of night.
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
"Arabella! Frances!" she called, "ya here? I need help!" Maybe they were at work still, though it wasn't likely at this time of night.
Tully would have heard the thumping over head as Frances walked quickly to the door of the room she was in, open the door and start down the stairs with a worried "Tully? Is that you?"
The blind girl was worried, not for herself (not yet) but for the strange waif and stray girl who was, by dint of the mode of living she had been forced to adopt, most unlikely to ask for help from any body over any thing. Something must be very wrong.
she reached the bottom of the staircase and turned left and headed toward the front door. "Tully? Where are you? Please come to me, whatever is the matter?" she asked, reaching out a hand, lest she crash into the girl.
Bongo @[Cuban Writer]
"Frances!" Tully started to shuffle forward, her hands up to prevent her from running into anything unexpectedly. She'd been here enough to have some knowledge of the layout of the room, but with it so dark, and with the panic no longer having the force of immediate survival to hold it back, she couldn't bring the room into focus in her head.
"I'm here," her voice betrayed her fear. "It's dark, I can't...there's a man, he attacked me!" Now, her jaw and chin were starting to hurt, her head was aching, and she had to wonder if the darkness was just that, or something more. "I don't think he followed me, but I locked th' door."
Once she had guidance, be it a lamp or Frances, she could get them ready, just in case the man tried to get in. "Frances?" Now she knew what it was like to be blind...