Promised Land by Brandon Dean

Author:Brandon Dean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indigo River Publishing
Published: 2020-02-14T20:39:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I don’t know if I can hold this guy up for much longer,” Hazel grunted through her teeth.

“We’re almost there,” I said, pausing mid-sentence to take a breath.

Hazel was holding Willard’s legs up between her arms and rib cage, supporting his lower thighs with her hands. I was on the opposite side, walking backward, doing the same with his upper half.

“Okay, gently now,” I said to Hazel as we approached the door of the toolshed. I laid Willard’s top half down slowly. Hazel followed my example but forewent any degree of gentleness, carelessly dropping his lower half on the ground.

“Phew! That was tiring!” she grunted, bending over and breathing heavily, her hands resting on her knees.

I opened the door of the toolshed and was greeted by a thick network of cobwebs. Inside, the shed itself was no more than a cramped, empty space, with nothing but a small amount of junk on a single shelf and an even smaller amount of sunlight peeking in through the wooden boards.

I dragged Willard into the shed by his arms and pulled him over to a vertical support post in the back of the shed. “You got any rope in here?” I asked.

Hazel felt around in the dark for a moment and walked over to hand me a piece of rope about six feet in length. “Is this enough?” she asked.

“Yeah, it should work,” I replied. I fed the rope through a small opening between the post and the wall. I propped Willard upright, with his back leaning against the post and his hands behind him as I tied the remaining rope around his wrists.

“Think that’ll hold him?” Hazel asked from the doorway.

“For as long as we need it to, it should. We need him gone as soon as possible.” I closed the shed door behind us, and we headed back to the house.

Once inside, we all assembled ourselves at the breakfast table, trying to work through a plan.

“What if we just leave him in there? Out of sight, out of mind,” Mom suggested.

“Oh, Amelia, that’s a little cruel, don’t you think?” Beverly tutted. “Maybe he just needs some understanding and kindness.”

“He came in here and ate all of our biscuits and tried to murder Clint in the backyard. I don’t think he gets any second chances,” Hazel argued.

“Yeah, all due respect, Beverly, I don’t think that’s such a good way to go about this,” I said. “It was a big enough mistake, me bringing him here in the first place.” I looked over at Mom, holding a sleeping Violet, her tiny snores sounding like a cat’s purr. “There’s too much at risk now, especially with the baby. I can’t let anything happen to any of you. I’m sorry.”

Beverly reached across the table to lay her hand on mine. “You have a big heart, Clint. That’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know he would be dangerous.”

“Thanks, Beverly. But it still doesn’t help figure out what we’re going to do with him,” I said, pausing for a moment before going on.

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