Page 165 of Everything Under the Sun

“What does this mean, anyway?” I asked. “’The Iron Feather’.”

“Gotta have a warrior name,” he said, grinning. “I just liked the way it sounded, I guess. Would you rather something like ‘The Dangerous Pit Viper’?” (I giggled.) “Want to practice some while we wait for Jeffrey?”

I looked out at the streaming rain and the pools forming atop sections of the grass.

“In that?” I said, my eyebrows crinkled.

“Sure, why not?” Setting his staff against the porch railing, Atticus stripped off his shirt, took up the staff again on his way down the steps, and moved out into the downpour. “Not afraid of a little rain, are yah?”

I smirked, and then ran down the steps to join him.

We practiced long after the rain stopped falling, until my wrists ached from the shock of collision that ran up the wood and into my hands; and the way I held the staff, too tightly at times. It would take a while to get the hang of its use, but Atticus was patient.

And despite knife-defense being too close for comfort, Atticus taught me that, too, because it was true about the lack of ammunition, and he wanted me to have as much experience in the use of as many weapons as I could.

We practiced well into the afternoon—still no Jeffrey.

I was sitting on the soaked grass, crossed legs painted with mud, and I peered out at the pond.

“Something’s wrong,” I said. “I have a bad feeling.”

Atticus reached out his hand and lifted me to my feet.

“Let’s go check on Jeffrey.”

We packed lightly for the two-hour hike.

ATTICUS

I didn’t want to admit it to Thais, but Jeffrey’s absence worried me—like her, I had a bad feeling. I worried what we might find once we made it to the treehouse. Did someone attack Jeffrey’s family? If so, were they still there? Were Jeffrey, Esra, and June, still alive? These questions plagued me the whole way. And when we approached the supply cabin, I pushed Thais behind me and raised my gun out in front of me.

There were no signs of intruders; nothing had been destroyed; there weren’t even any footprints in the mud save our own; the supply cabin was still intact, and padlocked I saw when we made our way around to the back door near the edge of the bluff. No mud on the porch or the steps—no one had been here since the rain at least.

We left the cabin and walked the short distance through the woods toward the treehouse. Nothing was out of place—except for the makeshift elevator; it had been lowered to the ground and the fenced door left open, indicating Esra or June—maybe both—had left the treehouse. Jeffrey never used the elevator.

“Jeffrey!” Thais called out.

There was no response.

Then I glimpsed movement in the trees, past the skeletal remains of the old cabin that had burnt to the ground, and I took my binoculars from my backpack. I saw Esra first, toting a shovel over his shoulder, and then Jeffrey standing off to one side, his face hidden by tree limbs.

“Is it them?” Thais whispered.

I nodded, and that bad feeling settled deep in my gut.

53

ATTICUS

I raised my hands in the air to show Esra who we were—I could see Miss Mary pointed right at us.

“Is everything okay?” I called out, and Esra lowered the shotgun.

I took Thais by the hand and we made our way over.

“Grandma June is dead,” Jeffrey said. He sat on the ground next to a wooden casket with his legs out in front of him, his back hunched over. He sniffled and dragged his fingers covered in dirt across his eyes, leaving a streak over one eyelid.

Thais sat down next to him. She draped an arm around him, pulled his body close. He was shoeless, his manly feet crusted with dried mud. His blue jeans and T-shirt were damp.

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