04-10-2018, 07:37 PM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKn_HIPo4W8
Krifk. Krifk. Krifk.
The rhythmic sound of her shovel filled the silent night, interrupted only by sobs and crickets and the occasional wild dog’s howl. Victoria had no frame of reference for what time it was. She was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. Not until she had finished. She had discarded her hat, her coat, everything but a loose, sleeveless tunic and trousers, both of which were soaked in sweat and tears. She was too numb to notice that the chilly night air was causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to stand straight up, nor that the chill had covered her skin in goosebumps.
She hopped, placing her foot on the edge of the trowel and forcing it into the dry earth.
Krifk.
She she kept digging. She had lost feeling in her arms an hour ago. Her hands were sore bloodied with broken calluses. But her rubber appendages dug even still.
Her emerald eyes flickered over to Jacob. She had brought out his mattress. She… she didn’t wanna just lay him out in the dirt. He’d be spending the rest of his time in the dirt. He deserved something a little nicer for a bit while he worked. Not far from where she dug, Tempest grazed at the dry grass, her eyes low, watching Vic and Jacob with eyes that knew. She had not fought. She had not struggled against the young girl as they rode off to her childhood home.
She was, perhaps, the only thing keeping Vic together right now.
Flint had tried to come with her, but she refused. This was something she needed to do, and she needed to be alone. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. Not even the old man.
And then it came again. Another wave of sorrow, flooding up her throat and seizing her breath. She brace both hands on the shovel as the wave of sad and fatigue stole her legs from her as she crumpled around the device, half stuck in the earth below. She made an ugly sound, somewhere between a sob, a gasp for breath, and dry heave.
And her eyes couldn’t stop looking at Uncle Jake. The only father she’d ever known.
And now he’s gone.
The fit lasted for minutes before she regained control of her body and shakily stood once again.
Krifk. Krifk. Krifk.
Minutes turned to hours as she finally buried a grave big enough for Uncle Jake. She took a moment to collect herself, her face dirty and slick with dried tears and dirt.
She moved over to Jake, her legs protesting at every step. She dropped down to her knees and looked down at her motionless uncle. He seemed calm, in his own way. His eyes almost seem to have melted shut. As if they had never been opened. As if they had never crinkled up at her when she had hit her first bullseye, tied her first lasso, fallen off her first horse. As if they had never cried when she had broken her first bone, contorted in anger when she kissed her first boy, glowed with pride when she’d helped on her first raid.
And now, they’d never be open again.
“Oh, Uncle Jake,” she said, barely audible as she buried her face into his jacket. It was his favorite jacket. It was, even though it looked just like all the other jackets he had. She still knew this one was his favorite, no questions asked. He deserved to wear it forever. She sobbed and sobbed into that jacket, just as she had as a child so many times. She closed her eyes and sniffled until everything went dark.
~~~
CAWW
Her eyes jolted open, falling back on her haunches. The sun had started to rise already, banishing the chill of the night. She looked around in a panic, getting her bearings. She looked up to see a circle of about seven vultures circling around the old homestead.
Around Uncle Jake.
She saw red. Scrambling across the dusty grass, she reached for the holsters that held her and Jacob’s weapons. She grabbed a pistol and hoisted it in the air, pointing at the cloud of sons-o’-bitches in the air.
BANG. In a puff of black feathers, one of the bald scavengers was blasted out of the sky, the others screaming and fleeing every which way.
BANG BANG BANG.
She unloaded the weapon into the air, then reached for the next one. And the next one. Two birds and two streams of tears later, she had unloaded all of the weapons and dispersed the vultures. She crumpled back down to her knees and wept into the pile of weapons that had been given to her by her Uncle. The weapons that were once used by her Pa and her Pop.
After a moment, she stood back up, leaving the weapons where they laid, and moving back to Jacob. Kneeling down next to her uncle, she shifted her posture and positioned herself to stand. She slid her hands under Jacob’s upper and lower back. She was not an exceptionally strong woman, and her bones were aching with fatigue and stress, but neither was Jacob a large man. Her muscles screamed out in aching pain as she stood up, gently lifting Jacob in her arms. She moved over towards the grave, a grim, defeated expression on her face. “Ain’t none of them buzzards gonna git you, Uncle Jake. Not on my watch.”
She stepped down into the grave and laid the man who had been her father by choice down in the dirt. She had put a pillow down there last night, though she was so delirious she had barely remembered. She smiled and sniffled once again as she climbed back up out of the hole. She was afraid to look back. She was afraid she might just climb in and curl up next to him. Let the buzzards eat her and save her uncle.
Krifk. Krifk. Krifk. Back to work.
Shovel by shovel, she poured dirt back into the grave. With each scoop, she got closer and closer to never seeing her uncle again.
She threw the shovel back down and leapt back down into the narrow chasm and dropped to her knees next to him and sobbed. But this time, there were no more tears.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without ya, Uncle Jake,” she said, her voice shaking and nearly incoherent. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without ya. I need ya. I need ya. I know I ain’t never called you Pa before, Uncle Jake, but you was. You was my Pa, and I’m so sorry I ain’t never got to tell ya that. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
She repeated the mantra into the dead man’s chest, her voice blurring more and more with each repetition. Her body convulsed with despair as she gripped the half-covered man’s jacket, praying to whatever was listening that he might open his eyes, that he might cough and blow the dust from his moustache and ask what the devil he’s doing down here.
But he didn’t. He didn’t and it killed her.
Time passed, though she didn’t care how much. As she reclaimed her senses once more, she leaned up and kissed Jacob on the cheek, her lips cracked and dry from overwork.
Her arms shakily climbed back out of the grave and continued her grim work. She tuned out of where she was as she buried him. She didn’t even remember the exact shovelful of dirt that had concealed the last bit of her uncle’s corpse.
Suddenly, the grave was full.
She walked away for a brief moment and returned with two identical planks of wood. She knelt down in the dirt in front of the grave and planted the two planks into the ground in an X formation, quickly lashing them together with a hondo knot. She laid her uncle’s rifle across the memorial and placed his old hat on the right-most plank. Finally, she reached down into her trouser pocket and extracted one of the cigarettes that her uncle was so fond of. She lit it with a spark from her flint and steel. She took a deep drag off of the cigarette, just like she had seen Jake and Flint do so many times, and coughed violently. She covered her mouth and laughed. “Reckon I don’t know why y’all do this all the time,” she said sadly. She knelt down once more and placed the lit cigarette on the mound of dirt. Her eyes flickered over a few feet to his right, where a similar, older monument was already set.
“I hope y’all’re happy, wherever you are,” she said with a smile. “Make sure you take care o’ Uncle Jake, alright Pop?” She reached up and covered her face, her lip quiverring. “I… I hope Uncle Jake’s stories don’t make ya cross wit’ me, Pop. I swear I just wanna make y’all proud. I swear I’ll take care’o Ma. I swear on my life, ya hear?”
She turned away, no longer able to look at the memorials for her father and her Pa. She collected her things and threw herself back together. Tempest had stood by, resting with Vic, keeping vigil with Vic. She couldn’t ask for a better friend right now.
“Sorry that took so long, old girl,” Vic said, brushing a hand through the stormchaser’s mane. “You ready to git? We’ll stop off an’ git ya some food an’ water ‘fore we go anywhere too far, but we’s got ground to make up fer if we’re gonna catch up with Flint an’ the others. We gotta go see Ma. Gotta go tell her. Think ya can help me with that, old girl?”
Tempest snorted in agreement, turning her body so that Vic could mount up.
She placed a foot in the stirrup, but turned back at the memorial. Taking her foot off the stirrup again, she ran back over the the monument. She reached down and plucked her father’s hat from the memorial and placed her own hat on it instead. Jacob’s hat was a bit bigger than her head, and it smelled like cigarettes and whisky, but she didn't mind.
“Ain’t never gonna forget you, Pa. No sir.”
And as she rode off on Tempest, she realized that she needed her mother more than anything right then and there, at that exact moment.