Angel Of Mercy

Chapter 9

Something was different. Karin knew that from the minute she woke up that morning, but it was so unusual that took her a few moments to figure out what it was.

She felt good.

NO, not perfect. Her head still ached a little, and her forehead was turning several interesting shades of orange and yellow. But most of the pain was gone, replaced by a nagging itch that she was not totally successful at leaving alone. There were the usual minor aches and pains from her joints or from old injuries. But, overall, she felt good.

And that had not happened in a very long time.

She was also quite hungry. Normally, Karin waited until hunger almost overwhelmed her before dragging out some of those survival rations and mechanically stuffing them in to her mouth. But this time, she dragged herself out of bed and in to her kitchen and ate a real breakfast. Of some dried fruits and nuts and a little of the canned bacon.

Oh! Why did I try this stuff, she thought, grimacing in disgust? Now what sick sadistic man ever thought about canning bacon?

She gave up fast on the bacon, though. Not good, she thought, staring at the remainder of the canned food with disgust and a slight queasy feeling. According to its date, it should not have expired, but still ...

Leave it up to my old man to try this stuff. There's one for the compost heap, Karin told herself. I bet the bears won't even eat this when I dump it out.

Finishing her breakfast, she put the scraps, mostly the horrible fake bacon, in to the pail she used for just such a purpose. Then, she rounded up her empty plastic containers, and pulled out the foldable cart from the kitchen closet. She loaded it up and headed outside, Time to go fetch more water.

The rain barrels were situated out back of the house. At first, the long rips in the cloths Karin used to help filter the water did not concern her. Occasionally, a thirsty bear might come along, and not bother to remove her filter but tear straight through it. But After she had filled her last container and heaved it in to the cart, something next to the barrels caught her eye. One barrel had a very small slow leak, and in the damp soil, there was a footprint. A large footprint that did not resemble a bear.

Maybe ... maybe it was Maurice?

But the print did not match Maurice's foot, and she knew it.

Her good feeling was rapidly evaporating, being replaced by a definite feeling of being plain old spooked. As she rushed to refill all her water containers, her eyes kept scanning her surroundings. She thought she felt eyes on her back as she worked.

But if he/she or it doesn't want me to see, I won't, she thought. Not until it's too late, anyway.

"Stop that!" she hissed out loud to herself. "Karin Evans, now you just stop that!"

But the sound of her own hoarse whispering voice creeped her out even more. She grabbed the handles of her cart and marched around to the front of her house. But before she could go inside, a rock came whizzing past her face.

With an involuntary cry of fright, Karin ducked, but not fast enough. It grazed her cheek, drawing out a long thin line of blood. Wincing, Karin touched her fingertips to the spot. They came back red.

"Son of a ..."

Without thinking, she bent down and seized the rock, cutting her hand on a very sharp edge, a finely-honed edge. The think could have done a lot more damage than just a scratch, she thought.

Remembering her miserable childhood, and the only few good memories those of playing ball with her older brothers, she gripped the rock harder, ignoring the sharp pain. The rock became slick with her own blood. Then, with a scream of fear and rage, mostly rage, she wound up and hurled it as hard as she could in the direction she thought it had come. She did not really expect it to find its mark, but it made her feel a little better, anyway.