Page 24 of From the Noblest Motives
"Yes, ma'am. Someone tried to kill me there. Running away seemed best."
She pulled a chair up to the bed and set her cane against the table so she could hand him a glass of water. Her patience never wavered as she waited for him to figure out that he needed both hands and that he could only take little sips because of his smoke-raw throat.
"We saw your arrest. You looked high as winter clouds. And that bull-crap trial." Meemaw Sekhet pointed an arthritis-crooked finger at him. "Now you tell me the rest of this mess."
The trial felt like several years ago. His perception of time had warped in that strange, sterile prison. Carefully, sifting for the memories, Shudder told the story from his blindfolded journey to the prison, to the first threat, to the murder attempt that didn't end how someone wanted it to. He had to gloss over his journey through the forests, since all that lay shrouded in pain fog, but he told what he could.
"They probably don't know I'm gone yet, Meemaw. It should take them time to dig through the collapse and identify burn victims before they realize anyone's missing." Shudder let his head clunk back on the pillows, suddenly feeling like a hollowed melon. "But I can't stay here. The people who might come after me… I can't endanger you and your grands."
She took up her cane and set both hands atop it, regarding him steadily. "I've set the bone. Fixed the bleeds. But I'd want you here with me for a week before I'd call you healed. You're not strong enough for me to bust in on your cells and get it all done the once. But I'm not so proud to think I can keep you here if you don't want kept. Give me today. Give me tomorrow. Let's at least get you so you can stand again."
"All right, deal. That much time, I think we have."
Still she didn't move from the chair. "I hear rumors the government varis—they have a man can track your life instead of your foot trail."
A grin spread over Shudder's face and warmth through the hollows of his body. "I know him. Yes, he can. But if he comes looking for me, he won't be doing it for them. Nut-brown hair and deep, dark eyes. Trim. Compact. Handsome, especially if you get him to smile, though he doesn't smile very much some days."
The lines around her eyes crinkled, and she let out a soft cackle. "Particular friend of yours, is he?"
"Only in my dreams, but he is a friend. If he comes looking for me, please tell him I was here. And that… that I was fine."
"Don't ask me to lie for you, boy. Not to a friend." She rose and patted his shoulder. "Sleep if you can. I'll try another healing tonight."
Shudder drifted off to sleep, thinking about Damien and Blaze coming to find him and take him somewhere safe. Silly, of course, since they had to know how dangerous it would be to trail him, and nowhere would be safe. It was a wonderful thought, all the same.
Over the next two days, Meemaw Sekhet sat with him for short healing sessions, her hand on his broken leg, her eyes shut as if she'd drifted off. Most healers made healing look like effort. She made it look like peace.
When the sun came up on the third day, she splinted his leg and wrapped it tight, then had one of her older grandchildren help him stand. The leg held, for some definitions ofheld. He couldn't walk on it, but he didn't have to when he surfed. Standing would do.
The family brought him clothes—loose pants to go over the splint, a T-shirt, and a jacket for damp nights. A knit hat had to be found for him, since his scalp was raw still and had a rectangular patch with no stubble growth at all. Meemaw Sekhet muttered darkly about the loss of his sunshine curls. Shoes were more of a problem, since the left foot was horribly swollen still, but the granddaughters found him a hiking boot for his right foot and an oversized purple running shoe for the left. Not his usual style, but he appreciated the whimsy.
"South, boy." Meemaw Sekhet held his hand tight when he was outside her little house, ready to go. "South to poor, drowned Tallahassee. You see Floyd at the coracle dock. He'll have a place where they won't find you in the swamp. Nobody tracks in the swamps."
"Except Damien."
She gave him a sharp nod. "I'll tell him if he comes by. Be careful of gators."
"Yes, ma'am." He gave her hand a final squeeze. "Thank you. For everything. I think I'd be dead without you."
"Probably. Now go if you're going. Don't make an old woman cry."
He gave them all a wave and reached into the earth, grateful again that he could feel it at all. As he surfed away south, he swiped away a few tears of his own, trying to keep hope at the forefront. He was alive. He was free. No need for despair quite yet.
"There wasan incident at San Judas Tadeo," Dr. Parma announced when they all settled at the counter for breakfast.
Blaze had wondered why she'd delayed going into work, and now his lungs constricted with sudden dread. He couldn't stop the quaver in this voice as he said, "Incident is kinda vague, Doc. There wasn't anything on the news feeds."
"No. They're keeping this quiet." She patted Damien's arm before she went on, a Damien who was vibrating with anxiety. "There was an explosion in the kitchen that caused a fire, and, from what I can gather, a second explosion. The fire spread through the inmates' dining area. Several incarcerated individuals died in the fire."
"But not…"
Damien's whisper broke off, and Blaze reached a hand toward him, palm up, some part of him grateful that Damien seemed to steady himself when his fingers closed around Blaze's. Not that Blaze would admit it out loud, but he desperately needed someone to hold onto, too.
"Nothing's certain." Dr. Parma shook her head. "At least three inmates are unaccounted for—Shudder is one of them. The report our operatives intercepted states that bits of a prison uniform identifiable as Shudder's were found in the maintenance access area under the prison. The second explosion, they believe, opened a sizeable hole in the floor. The search team found one inmate's body in the rubble, but not Shudder's."
Not yet. Blaze dismissed that bleak thought with an internal snarl. "Shuds could be outside the prison, then. Hiding out somewhere."
Dr. Parma tipped her head. "It's possible. Though we have no evidence that he escaped."
