Evolution

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sometimes, what we can’t see and what we can’t hear is more frightening than the horrors that stare you in the face. You stay on edge, your imagination heightens the terror. Before you are mentally aware of your own fear it becomes crippling. Granny Mae feared the silence.

The long barrel swung to and fro as she slowly walked deeper into the sunshine. the rays seemed to absorb themselves deep into her retinas and the smell of untarnished fresh air wafted in her nostrils, making it real. It Proved to Granny Mae that the decision she made and the consequences of that decision was coming to pass right in front of her eyes.

She inhaled slowly, feeling her chest cavity expand and decrease mass. She thought of the innocent child and her kind brother sitting in her home at this very moment, counting on her to save them. She couldn’t help but smile, it has been many years since anyone truly needed her.

Granny Mae closed her eyes for a suspended moment, thinking of mistakes she made as a mother and thought of her own dear Jessica. Little Jessica, her pride and joy taken from her before her time by cruel fate. An illness never before seen by modern medicine claimed her little girl.

She fell into many years of depression, lost hope, and helplessness. Granny Mae was a heartbroken mess. But as they say, time heals all wounds. She didn’t truly believe this, because some wounds never truly heal, but the human brain is a truly amazing thing. With enough time even the most severe heartache tends to become numb and painful memories can be repressed deep into the dark recesses that require a key to unlock. Alex was that key. It was time to end the misery.

The mousey teen walked into Granny Mae's life, a spitting image of her own Jessica, demeanor and all, Fates little push to do it right, to save Jessica. So it was never a moment of Doubt, no internal struggle, or uncertainty. Alex needs saved, Jessica needed saved, and by god, Granny Mae needs saved. A second chance to truly live with herself and die in peace.

Her hands shook and the shotgun felt weighted. She gently lowered the weapon and gripped it comfortably. She scanned the landscape for any sign of life, good or bad. Off in the distance she could hear tiny scratches of the unknown. Barely audible, but a good start. She stopped and placed the butt of the gun on the ground. Taking a deep breath, she held it, listening intently to all the faint sounds nature had to offer.

Exhaling in a heavy whoosh, Granny Mae headed towards the the unknown scratching. She still had a lot of skill as a hunter, growing up in the country and helping her Pa hunt deer and wild turkey, she knew the sounds of wildlife means a food source has been located.

“Now don’t you go getting all sentimental on me Irene!” she whispered to herself.

She felt a queasy shutter wash over her at her own thoughts. “Food source” She couldn’t believe she has become so unattached to the rest of humanity that she could bring herself to refer to a teenager in need as nothing more than nutrition to mother nature.  What has the years done to me?  When did I become like this? Granny Mae keep her gaze at the ground, seemingly analyzing every blade of grass, wishing her own brain would cease its ruthless attack on her soul.

After ten minutes and the realization that time has not been kind to her, she lowered her body to the cool ground. laying the gun beside her, she crossed her legs and felt her body throb.

“I’m too old for this shit!”

She inhaled deeply and held it once again, listening intently to any sounds that polluted the air. The tiny scratches now blended with heavier screeches. Still vast in its distance from her, Granny Mae let out her breath and laid her body to the ground, resting her aching back. She knew she was on the right path. She was willing to go the distance, brave enough to face the unknown, but just too weak to do it at the moment.

Too weak. This was painful. Irene Norwood, surviving more things in her life than most will ever even fathom. Surviving atrocities and doing so while being a mother and wife, a writer and an activist. She was able to write a novel, cook supper, protest, and help her daughter with her schoolwork and still have enough energy to do housework. Irene Norwood...too weak?

“I will never be too weak do you hear me? NEVER!”

Her legs wobbled as she struggled to stand. She sank the stock of the shotgun deep into the soft earth, using it as a makeshift cane, supporting her frail body weight. After a brief moment, Granny Mae was on her feet. She took it one step at a time, her whole body rejecting the concept of pushing on further into the day. Her plan was simple...she was gonna be too stubborn to fail. It didn’t matter how badly her body ached and how badly she wanted to quit and rest. She flat refused.

The sounds were closer now. On trembling legs, she moved at the speed of a pissed off snail, but still she moved. Her vision was getting blurry and her stomach was growling. Her resolution was starting to fade. The sun was starting to set on the horizon.

No. Not the sun. What was going on? She felt light. Too light. Her gun was no longer heavy and the sun was no longer bright. The noises were louder and echoing in her ears. She felt her body drop, a harsh reality of her own limitations. Pain shot through her body as she collided with the earth. A loud snap, a scream escaping her lungs, and peaceful sleep. That is how she remembered it.

Panic crept through her. Through blurry vision, she could see the teen. She could see the creatures. She could see the attention her screams brought her and she could see how wrong she was. She wishes she could go back to not seeing what horrors await her. One pull after another, she dragged her broken body through the grass. Her arms sank deep in the mud and her hands grabbed the lush grass like large handfuls of hair. Desperately trying to make it the gun before they made it to her. Granny Mae and her race for survival.