“Somebody turn that damn thing off!”

There was of course no response from the empty space and the offending mechanism sat across the room purposely out of reach, continuing its klaxon-like bleating.

Charlotte rolled out of bed and strode over to the phone, not caring that she was unclothed. If whoever was on the other end happened to be offended by the sight of her nudity they could go attempt sexual acts not possible for the greater majority of the male of the species.

No such luck of course, it was the familiar grizzled face that greeted her whenever her services were required.

“Dammit Tommy, don’t you know what time it is?” She did her best to scowl but it was hard with the grin he was sporting.

“Well when I got back from lunch at Papillion it was about 1:30 so… maybe 2? Pretty sure its daylight out for a bit yet though!”

“And this is important for what reason exactly?” She deliberately moved back a bit from the phone to give Tommy more of an eyeful and was rewarded with the widening of his eyes as he realized her state of dress.

“Um… what?”

She allowed herself a small smile. “Where’s the body?”

He regained his focus. “Well that’s the thing… we don’t exactly have one…”

“Right… so… no body? Body parts maybe?”

“Not exactly….”

“Well what exactly do we have then?” At this point she was beginning to realize that the sunlight streaming into her face was entirely too bright for someone who’d had as much to drink as she’d had last night and popped on a set of sport shades that came easily to hand. She briefly wondered where they’d come from and then was reminded by a mild bit of discomfort exactly who had left them.

“Well I don’t quite know how to explain it… you just have to see for yourself. Mel should be there in 5 minutes or so to get you so grab your kit. You’re gonna love this one!”

His face winked off the phone before she could respond but she was already turning toward the bathroom with a sense of desperation quickly building. 10 minutes later she strolled out of the bathroom, hair still wet and precisely as clothed as she had been going in… minus the shades.

“Well now I wouldn’t complain if I had that view every morning!”

Charlotte looked over at the diminutive figure with an old briar pipe in her hand and blew a raspberry.

“Please, you’d have a coronary trying to keep up with me if I were even a little bi!”

She chuckled and relit her pipe. “Yeah but I’d die a happy woman! Now get dressed, I’ve got breakfast waiting on Gunther.”

“We’re in a rush then?”

“Eh, no more than usual really… but I added a couple new mods and I wanted to give him a chance to stretch his legs a bit. Besides, it’s a little choppy and I wasn’t in the mood for a beating today.”

“Still haven’t got Helga back together then?” Charlotte was busy throwing on clothes with seeming wild abandon but when she finished and settled a small infinity necklace just into the top of her partially exposed cleavage it looked like she’d just spent an hour agonizing over the right outfit.

“I’ll never figure out how you do that…”

“What? Just put some clothes on?”

“No, pick the perfect clothes and the perfect jewelry and even the perfect shades! Most women have to work at that!”

“It’s a talent?” She smirked in Mel’s direction, settled her shades in place and grabbed her go bag. “Shall we go?”

They made their way over a deliberately creaky looking walkway and out onto the equally alarming dock where a sleek trimaran waited. It rode fairly low in the water so it was an easy step down for Charlotte but she turned and assisted the smaller woman.

They both strapped in and the noise of a turboprop spooling up was muted as a clear canopy closed over the cockpit and cool conditioned air cleared the humidity. Charlotte opened the container offered and stared at its contents with a quizzical expression on her face. “What the hell is this?”

“I’ll tell you after you eat it…” Mel smirked in her direction as she busied herself with clearing the inlet into open ocean. There was a little bumpiness as they hit the previously mentioned chop but Mel deployed hydroplanes as soon as the depth was sufficient and poured on the throttle. The craft quickly rose up onto its planes and the ride became extremely smooth although their speed was steadily increasing.

Charlotte had finished the offered meal within a couple of minutes and decided her tea was finally drinkable so she pulled out the bag and squeezed to get the last bit out. After a sip and a heartfelt sigh she repeated the question.

“What did I just eat? I know there was grapefruit in there but aside from that…”

“Just grapefruit, avocado and a little Italian dressing.” Mel grinned at her.

“But I detest avocado! Erm… at least I thought I did. I may have to reconsider after eating that…”

“See, all you need is to open your mind a bit!” with that Mel smoothly ramped up the throttles until they were moving along at a fairly stupid speed. “We’ll be there in another 5 minutes so you might as well sit back and enjoy the ride… we just passed Breach Inlet and we’ll be hitting the harbor in a minute. They make me slow way down… idiots.”

True to her word, she throttled back to a speed just sufficient to keep them up on the planes as they passed the tip of Sullivan’s Island and entered the harbor channel properly, slipping past a laden freighter and swooping around to the passenger docks. Mel held position just long enough for Charlotte to clamber ashore before pulling away at what was for her a fairly sedate speed. A young uniformed officer held the door of an unmarked sedan for her and then drove as quickly as midafternoon traffic would allow toward Broad St.

“I’ll have to drop you off a little ways away Charlie, the perimeter is pretty large. You’re going to want these” He handed her a pair of disposable cleanroom booties which she slipped on before exiting the vehicle and ducking under the police tape. She looked back and flashed a smile.

“Thanks Markie. Tell your grandma I said hi and I’ll come visit next week, ok? The uniform looks really good on you kiddo!”

He beamed with pride. “I never woulda made it without you three pushing me Charlie. I’ll make you proud!”

“Markie I couldn’t be more proud of you already and your grandmother feels the same way. You just be yourself, that’s all. Let Mike take care of you a little more, you know he wants to. He understands more than you think…”

“I know…” He sighed “Its just… hard for me.”

“You know you can always give me or Mel a call if you need.”

“Mostly I don’t need anymore. Mike is good for me that way… and you’re right, he does understand. Its just that… we went through ten kinds of hell together and sometimes we can trigger each other, ya know?”

“And you don’t think there’s a reason I’m single? Yeah, I know…”

“I’ll tell grandma like you said. This is a nasty one…”

“Yeah I kinda figured from the booties. Now go home to your husband, I know you’re off shift already.”

“Yes Ma’am!” He threw a salute and rolled away laughing at her return gesture.

Charlotte turned and made her way down the street until the crime scene revealed itself. It wasn’t exactly hard to find.

“Tommy when you said you didn’t exactly have a body I definitely did not think along these lines! Talk about going Postal!” She shook her head as she surveyed the scene. The steps that ran along the front of the Post Office were sprayed with gore reaching halfway up the windows. It had leaked out across the sidewalk and into the storm drains before congealing in place and becoming a sort of chunky jelly.

“Well you know we never call you for normal stuff Charlie. We still can’t quite figure out how it was even done! Nobody saw or heard anything, there’s nothing on video and you know this street has mad surveillance cameras! We got as far as figuring out they probably used a woodchipper but that’s it.”

“How long till you have the DNA profile?”

“Profiles, multiple. 3 of them and no matches yet” He gestured at the scene. “Woulda taken one hell of a fat guy to make a mess this size”

“So all 3 profiles were male?”

“That’s the only similarity. Aside from that, we’ve got a Pacific Islander, a Northern European and a West African so they could be from pretty much anywhere. In a few hours they are going to be mostly in the drain…” He looked almost mournful at the idea, affronted that nature would be so inconsiderate as to wipe away his crime scene before he was done with it.

“You know, you could strain everything that gets into the drains… might get some particulates you’d miss otherwise…” She was scanning the scene, taking all the imagery she could get from her very expensive detection and photographic gear.

“Yeah I thought about that… rains gonna be too heavy for anything I’ve got as a filter though.”

“Try multiple layers of cloth, like muslin, something like that.” She paused for a moment. “Hey the distribution here looks pretty even. Have yawl been able to tell where one guy ends and the next one begins?”

He goggled at her for a moment. “Um… I don’t know. I’ll make sure we have a mapped survey before it rains.”

“Thanks Tommy, you’re a champ. Can you forward me everything you have? I’ve got a few things to take care of so I’ll be in town for a few more hours. Call if you need, ok?” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and made her way past the crime scene tape, stashing her booties in a plastic baggie and putting them in her purse after marking it. She strode along East Bay until reaching an alleyway which concealed the entry to a restaurant.

As she stepped inside she was greeted immediately by a warm tenor “Miss Charlotte, how nice to see you today. Would you like your usual place?”

“Good to see you too Jervy. The usual spot is fine. How’s May doing?” They walked up the staircase as they talked.

“She’s doing well, mending up just fine. I will never understand why that girl likes to do crazy things like jump out of a perfectly good airplane…” He shook his head mournfully.

“Right, nothing at all like top fuel dragsters then?” She smirked at him.

“Nothing at all alike! I stay on the ground at all times!” He protested.

“I seem to recall a car that got about 30 feet off the ground one day…”

“Well yeah but it wasn’t supposed to do that!” He chuckled ruefully. “Point taken. Glass houses and stones, yada yada…”

She slid into the chair he held for her and turned away the offered menu. “I don’t need it today Jervy. Can you see if Yves has some of his special roast and maybe just something light? Whatever he’s working on will do just fine. Tell May I asked her to call, will you?”

“I’ll do that. Girl needs to spend more time outside of that lab anyway. Its not good to spend so much time working. A night out partying with you lot is exactly what she needs. Thanks Miss Charlotte!”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re the one who has to tend the hangover!”

“I think I’ve got just a bit of experience tending my daughter’s hangovers. Never fear, my Bloody Mary’s will save the day after!” They shared a grin and he moved off toward the kitchen while she pulled out a tablet and began working away at the imagery she had gathered earlier. A detail caught her eye, fine droplets reaching above the larger more visible splashes of gore.

Flipping through a few filtered views she pulled out further detail and noted what she found, dashing a note off to Tommy to ensure they took samples all the way up the face of the building and on the roof as well as across the street and on the roof there. She didn’t have a clear idea what she was looking at but the details had triggered the beginnings of one.

She looked up from her tablet and noticed that a carafe and cup had appeared so took the opportunity to pour herself a cup ad then spooned sugar into it before taking a deep breath of the vapor and then a cautious sip. A little sigh of contentment escaped as she turned her attention back to her work, finally putting the tablet away as Yves appeared with a plate.

“Hiya Yves, whatcha got today?”

“Just a small treat. Shrimp ceviche and a cup of she-crab soup. Interested in company for lunch?”
He flashed a million watt smile and her resolve to work suddenly fled.

“Of course, have a seat. Will you eat?” she saw Jervy arrive with a plate identical to her own. “Nevermind…”

He chuckled at her and she felt a familiar little tingle from the joy in it. “Sorry I ran out this morning… after last night I thought you’d want to sleep in a little and I had to be here….”

She reached over to touch his hand. “You just have to come back to make it up to me then… and maybe to get your shades…” She ended with a little teasing lilt and he swallowed hard.

“I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you. Maybe one day you will let me do a little more than stay the night, eh?” He took her hand in his and caressed the back of it gently with his thumb causing little thrills of pleasure.

“You know better than that Yves.” She slipped her hand free and picked up her spoon.

“I do Cherie, but you can’t blame a guy for trying. Maybe one day you will decide to share your life with someone and I would like to have a shot at being that someone.”

“I’m flattered Yves and I do have feelings for you… but you have to understand how hard that is for me. Maybe one day…”

“As you wish.” He joined her in eating and they sat in companionable silence until finishing.

“Thank you for leaving the cilantro out of my ceviche. It was wonderful but the soup is the true star! That was superb Yves, thank you.” She grinned at him and he returned the smile.

“Anything for you Cherie. I heard about the gore-fest over there, any ideas yet?”

She brought him up to speed on what was known so far and he shook his head. “Even in the army I never heard of such a thing! At least Thomas had the sense to call you. I’m sure you’ll have it figured out soon.”

“Your faith is touching. I’ve got a few things to attend to before I head back home.” She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before rising and making her way out. Yves followed her out of sight with a wistful gaze before rising and bussing their table, heading back into the kitchen to continue preparing for dinner.

Charlotte emerged into the afternoon heat and made her way over a couple of streets to a concealed parking garage, waving at the attendant as she entered. She strapped on the gleaming vehicle that awaited, the door pulling down to close with a satisfyingly muffled thump as it seated and the locks engaged. The vehicle came alive and slid almost silently out of its space, rising on its suspension to give greater ground clearance.

Another wave to the attendant as she left and she was making her way off the peninsula, grateful for the soft and forgiving suspension which smoothed the uneven streets. Once she pulled onto the expressway to James Island speed increased and her car lowered itself, changing to highway mode. She kept herself to 75 miles per hour, confident the built in countermeasures would deflect radar and lidar but aware that she could only push it so far in this sort of traffic.

Afternoon rush hour had yet to begin so within a few minutes she made her way over to highway 17 and was soon out of town, traffic thinning as she passed Dodge’s. 20 minutes and some very aggressive driving later she crossed onto Edisto Island and soon pulled into a garage under a massively built beach house, plugging the car in before she made her way up into the house itself. Physical needs took priority and had her hurrying for the bathroom, exiting a moment later with a feeling of relief.

She wasn’t sure why she had felt the need to come to this house right now. It made her remember things she would rather forget, torments that had very nearly killed her before her husband and captor had a careless moment and enabled her to snatch a small paring knife. She concealed it until he got close enough and lashed out, catching him across the carotid artery.

He had backed away, blood fountaining from the wound and tried to hold it as he began to lose strength and sat on the floor abruptly. She sobbed and clutched her weapon with convulsive strength, watching him bleed out onto the cold tiles and wishing she could feel something other than relief as the blood spread between the cracks and reached in her direction. She crouched there for a very long time until the grey of morning made its way across the sky and reason came back to her slowly.

She managed to get his phone out of his pocket but screamed in frustration when she couldn’t unlock it. A search of his rapidly cooling corpse was futile and she began to wonder if she would be trapped here to die of starvation with a rotting corpse. The house was built like a fortress and locked down tightly with massive security doors, bullet resistant glass on the windows. She had tried for months to break out when he left but nothing she could do would more than scar the finish around a door or two.

Several hours of fruitless searching had her on the ragged edge of utter exhaustion, almost ready to admit defeat. The depression that came over her was so overwhelming she almost missed the muffled knocking at the door to the garage staircase.

“Mr Mcnair, is everything ok? This is deputy Rowling.”

There was a moment of silence and then the knock came again, louder. “Mr Mcnair, your car was crashed through your garage door, are you ok in there?”

When she first heard the knocking she could only assume it had been one of the men who had come to rape and torture her but after a moment she began to unfreeze. Even if it was one of the men, at least she wouldn’t starve to death in the prison this house was. The feeling of relief was so strong it was everything she cold to gather enough strength to go stumbling toward the door and weakly pound on it.

“Help me please. He’s dead and I can’t get out and I’ve been here so long…” She collapsed in tears, slumping against the door. She woke with a start at renewed pounding on the door.

“Miss, you need to move as far away from the door as you can ok? We’re about to tear it out of the wall and we don’t want you to get hurt. Can you get around a corner or behind something?”

She did as instructed going around a corner and peering past to see the door. “Okay, I’m safe now!” She yelled as loudly as she could manage.

“Okay, stay safe, we‘re starting now!”

He proved true to his word as the whine of hydraulics in the garage built to a crescendo and the door began to slowly pull away, dragging a fair portion of wall with it. It finally tore away with a rending screech and a thunderous fall down the stairs.

Before she could even move men came through the door dressed in full body armor, pointing weapons in every direction. In just a moment they declared the house clear except for the corpse and the woman huddled against a wall sobbing, trembling with fear. She was a fearsome sight, covered in blood, congealed blood matting her hair to her head, completely naked and clutching a tiny paring knife.

One of the men in regular uniform sat down a few feet in front of her, crossing his legs and sitting silently until she looked up.

“I’m Deputy Rowling. I was the one knocking on the door. I know this is hard for you but you need to tell me something, ok?”

His expression was gentle and she nodded.

“Do you need a doctor right away?” He watched her expression lose its slight relaxation and become something like terror as she shook her head violently.

“Okay, but you do have an awful lot of blood on you…” His tone was doubtful.

“Not mine…” she managed to get out.

“Okay, can you give me the knife? Nobody here is going to hurt you, I promise.” He watched unmoving as she looked down at the knife in her hands as if seeing it for the first time before she convulsively threw it away from her to clatter on the hardwood in the living area.

“Will you let the paramedics take a look at you? You might not be bleeding but you like you’ve been beaten half to death.” He drew another man near.

“This is Kenneth. He’s a paramedic and he’ll give you a quick examination, ok?” She nodded, still fearful but too exhausted to continue fighting.

With gentle movements Kenneth helped her to unfold herself and examined her while using wipes to remove as much of the blood as possible. His expressions as her bruises were uncovered gained a glittering hardness and she could tell he was becoming angry.

“I’m sorry. I’m too much trouble. Just leave me alone, I’ll be ok… I’ve had worse.” She was still tense, resisting slightly when he tried to maneuver an arm or leg to examine and clean it after taking swabs.

“Girl if you’ve had worse I’m amazed you’re alive. We really need to get you to the trauma center at MUSC as quickly as possible. The helo will be here in ten minutes and you need to go with them, ok?” He was wiping the last of the blood from her face and she gave a murmur of assent, too numb to give much more of a response.

He stayed with her and when they tried to transfer her to a backboard for transport she resisted, insisting on walking. It wasn’t much of a walk, more like managing to move her feet while Kenneth supported her weight. Moving slowly they made it out to the beach where the helo waited and as soon as everyone was secured they lifted and made best speed to Charleston.

Soon they were landing and the hustle of triage began in earnest. She suffered silently, only whimpering occasionally when one of her old breaks was handled carelessly. A sedative was offered once she’d told her story to the police and the doctors what seemed like a thousand times and finally, thankfully, the pain began to recede until it was a dull roar rather than the screaming agony it had been and she was able to begin to relax.

Relaxed or not, every time someone touched her even lightly she flinched away. Finally after what seemed like days of tests and machines she was left alone in a room with the lights dimmed after being given another sedative. Even with chemical assistance she lay there for hours, replaying the worst of the ordeals in her mind, feeling each remembered agony as keenly as she had when it happened. That was the closest she had come to a dream in a very long time.

Over the months the whole story came out, lurid details of her suffering in captivity, even doubts as to how much she could have suffered. They pointed to photos of their happy honeymoon, their years spent travelling the globe as a glamourous couple and the idyllic life they had shared. No one ever seemed to mention the threats to her loved ones, the wrath that left her unable to hide some of the bruises and the weeks she would spend away from the public eye while the latest healed.

No one had taken it amiss when her usual months long absences turned into a year, then two. By then all of her friends had faded away, their overtures being coolly rebuffed by her husband or simply unanswered. She had been utterly alone with no one to care that she lived or died and the knowledge had eaten at her soul. The only thing that kept her going was the birds she could see from the windows, the fact that she could see life existed outside her prison.

Once or twice a week he would bring food, never more than just enough for a week if she ate sparingly. He didn’t trust her to cook for him, she had shrieked and fought her defiance until he simply beat her into submission. Eventually she learned to try to please him but it never mattered, the beatings never grew less brutal, the rape never less painful and humiliating. 5 years of hell, of terror and pain and she was finally free, at least in body.

Bones that had set badly had to be rebroken and allowed to heal properly and after that there was physical therapy, a slow agonizing crawl to simply be able to walk again. Once the bandages from reconstructive surgery came off she had to get used to a new face in the mirror. She had to admit that a lot of the flaws she had seen in her own hypercritical self-examination had been corrected. She was perhaps a little too flawless, everything in perfect proportion, the scarring completely hidden.

She had the beach house repaired but did not return. Instead she found a small island in the marshes that had a dilapidated old shack and a dangerous looking old dock. She paid a great deal of money to have it turned into a self sufficient fortress while retaining the abandoned look. The pier still looked like it would fall down at a stiff breeze but in reality would be untouched by a category 5 hurricane… as would the rest of her home.

It became her refuge as she gradually learned to move, to run, to fight. She studied exhaustively, devouring everything she could on any subject. She hunted and fished for food in the surrounding marshes as her physical condition improved and by the time she was ready to rejoin the world 3 years later she was an entirely different person from the trusting little girl desperate for validation of her identity as a woman.

Her hair had regrown to the small of her back and she was at a peak of physical fitness few ever attained. She never competed formally but her times for running, biking or swimming almost any distance were world class for male athletes, much less for other female ones.

In all this time she had not spoken to a soul, did not even speak to herself. She didn’t see another human being the entire time, having her meds delivered to a mailbox she checked once a month. It suited her, gave her time to heal from the years of horror and pain, time to learn not to hate herself all over again. Nothing could change her now instinctive distrust of others though.

The little girl who had felt free to tell her parents she wasn’t a boy, couldn’t pretend to be one anymore and been sure they would love her and help her be who she truly was.. That trusting little girl was gone forever and in her place was a grown woman with a need, a hunger, to bring men like the one who had killed her parents and stolen her from everything she had ever known to justice. A woman who wore the scars of her survival proudly.

Eventually she began to make her way to town, gradually acclimating to being around other people again, learning not to flinch when someone came too close, learning to speak again in a way. At first just enough to order a meal, in a voice almost too low to be heard as she looked downward, never meeting anyone’s eyes. She would eat quickly and neatly, never leaving a crumb or slight smear of sauce and then disappear, leaving a tip often larger than her bill.

No one knew her name, no one knew where she lived, only that she would arrive in a hired sedan and leave the same way. Only the staff at the various restaurants she patronized recognized her and they all deferred to her desire for silence, only speaking to her when she asked a question. She enrolled in postgraduate studies at three of the universities in her area, splitting her time between the Citadel, University of Charleston and the Medical University of South Carolina, completing multiple post grad degrees and proceeding to add doctorates in diverse fields.

In all this time, she never spoke unless spoken to, and only the minimum of words required. Her classmates knew her only as the ghost who seemed to always fade from sight even in the middle of a crowded room. None of them even knew her name and more than a few thought she could not speak at all.

She moved though the world as though she were not truly part of it, in some ways as though she simply didn’t exist. She didn’t want it to be that way, she wanted to have friends who she could share everything with, a normal life, someone to love and to trust with all of her being. She wondered if that had been taken away from her forever by that monster. Had she killed him only to spend the rest of her days in a prison of his making?

One day she arrived home to find an old wooden canoe tied up to her dock with an old woman who appeared to be taking a nap. Her skin was the color of dark milk chocolate and the wrinkles in her face seemed like a roadmap to a long and adventurous life. As Charlotte let her boat silently drift to kiss the dock and tied off the woman sat up and smiled.

It was an extravagant smile, one that told stories of love and life and pain and loss but mostly of endurance. “Its good to see you child.”

Charlotte was dumbfounded. Here in front of her was a woman she had thought long dead, the woman who had rocked Marcus and her in their cradles and sung to them of wild and magical worlds, of the marshes and the demons and spirits who dwelt within.

“Grandmother! How? I thought you were gone, dead… Oh god I’m so happy to see you!” She almost fell into the water trying to hug between boats until they clambered onto the dock and stood there for what seemed like ages clinging to each other.

Finally the older woman held her at arm’s length, examining her from head to toe. “For a dead girl, you look pretty good!”

“Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated Grams… it was a close run thing though. I can’t tell you how many times your words kept me from killing myself. I survived though, and I killed the raping bastard that killed my parents and stole me.” The steely tone in her voice was tempered with pain.

“I know you did child, and I’m proud of you… you did the Lord’s work that day. I’m worried about you though, you keep to yourself too much. Marcus does too since he got home from the war. I think it’d be good for the 2 of you to have a few drinks together, maybe start to learn how to talk again, you know?”

She must have seen the look on Charlotte’s face. “I know better than to try getting you two together hon… he and Mike are good together. I just think you might be able to help each other out a little. Neither one of you says a single word you don’t absolutely have to and you’ve both closed yourself off from everyone. You’re both hurting and I don’t know how to help. I never could help Henry, god rest his soul. He climbed into a bottle when he got home from Vietnam and just never came out. I don’t want that for my grandson…”

“Grams you know I’ll do everything I can to help. I’d rather keep my home a secret though. Maybe at your house?”

The old woman shook her head “It was the boy who found the place so nevermind secrets. He misses you child, you’re the sister he never got to have. Now I’m gonna go get him, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Why don’t you pull up some of those oysters you’ve got hanging in the water and get em on for a roast? I’ll bring Marcus and the beer but after that I’ll leave you two alone ok?”

“That actually sounds like a really good idea, thanks Grams.” They hugged again and the older woman paddled away seeming like she hadn’t a care in the world. Charlotte watched her until trees obscured her from sight and then went about getting things ready. She carefully built a fire on a concrete slab she’d left bare for the purpose, covering it with a sheet of corrugated metal roofing and setting a bucket full of water soaked burlap bags beside the fire. All preparation finished, she sat in a lawn chair watching the beginnings of a glorious sunset over the marsh, allowing her mind to wander with the noises of seabirds and the flipping splashes of schooling shrimp.

Over the past few years she had learned to be still within herself, to sit there as one with nature, breathing in tune with the land and water itself, feeling the myriad of small lives that surrounded her refuge, the refuge they shared with her. The slow quiet dip of a paddle into the water, the slight ripple that formed at the bow announced the arrival of the canoe and its silent cargo.

True to her word, the older woman unloaded a large cooler of beer along with 2 bottles of single malt before paddling away without a word, leaving her grandson standing awkwardly on the pier.

Charlotte wordlessly waved toward a chair and handed him a beer before she began to scatter the oysters onto the tin and cover them with the wet burlap. Another layer of tin went atop that and they sat in silence for a time while the oysters steamed. By the time the first batch was ready they had both finished a six pack and shared a shot each but the only words that had passed between them came when they clinked shot glasses and toasted “Absent Companions”.

Two wounded souls found companionship in a way that they had not for many years as dusk turned to darkness, lit only by the dim glow of their fire and fireflies off in the marsh. When the time came they removed the top layer of sheeting and sacks and each donned a heavy glove on one hand, picking up a stubby thick handled and bladed knife in the other. For a time they simply sat there, shucking oysters and slurping the liquor like the nectar of the sea that it was before letting the oysters slide on down to have a swim in beer.

The shells were flung out into the night in every direction to help establish new wild beds, a ritual humanity had followed since arriving in this place tens of thousands of years before. Together they spread a second layer to steam and then sat in the darkness again.

“I’m glad you killed that bastard.”

She paused, considering for a long moment. “I’m not. I haven’t slept the night through since I got off the meds. No matter how much he did to me I can’t get it out of my head, him pleading for me to save him and me hating him so badly that I wanted him to bleed forever. It doesn’t matter that there was nothing I could do anyway…”

She trailed off, sure she’d said too much and was surprised when he reached over and enveloped her in a hug. “Welcome to the soldier side Charlie…I’m sorry it had to be that way. I’m sorry I went off and signed up and wasn’t there to protect my little sister from that bastard.”

“It wasn’t your fault Markie… you had to go deal with your own demons, kill your own monsters. I know why you left and if you remember I’m the one who told you to do it. Don’t ever be sorry on my account big brother. The thing that matters is that we are both still here. We both lived through our own hells and came out the other side.”

“I don’t think you ever really get out of hell Charlie. It eats its way into your soul and never leaves.”

The darkness and sounds of the marsh enveloped them as they sat there, each trying to gather the courage to say what needed to be said. She was the one to break the silence first.

“I’m so sorry I got between you and Mike, caused you both so much trouble… I’m sorry I convinced him to sign up. He missed you so badly once you were gone and it became clear to both of us that it was truly you he was in love with. Its my fault you both had to go into that hellhole…” She was crying silently, tears glistening on her cheeks in reflected firelight.

“Never apologize Charlie. Shit happens and we both made it through mostly intact. Its not your fault some intel weenie fucked us over… but Mike and I made it out of there because we had to get back to you. We both love you Charlie, you’re our sister and so much more…” He was crying too now.

“Charlie we thought you were dead… no one had seen or heard of you for years… We even had a funeral, burned a boat and everything… We had no idea you were 60 miles away…”

This time it was her who moved over and enveloped him in a hug, stroking his hair as he cried against her chest. Finally she pulled his face up and forced him to meet her eyes.

“Markie, its not your fault. You and Mike did everything you could but not even the locals knew I was being held there… It was just luck he was so eager to beat on me that he didn’t wait for his garage door to open. I would have starved to death in that prison if that deputy hadn’t thought to check things out.” She stroked his check and then kissed it. “I’m touched by the Viking funeral. Thank you, both of you for that.”

“Grams lit the pyre.”

“Sounds like her.” She climbed off his lap and plopped herself into her own chair. “Now we’ve got us another bushel of oysters to kill and we’ve only just touched the whiskey.” She raised her voice so it carried into the darkness. “Mike I know you’re out there, I heard your bow ripple. Get on over here and give me a hug and then show your husband some love, will you?”

“Yes Ma’am!” came from the darkness and she could hear as he dug in with his paddle, quickly pulling up and tying off before stepping ashore. “I wanted you two to have a little time first…”

“Thank you for that Mike, you’re an angel.” She hugged him hard. “Now sit down, lets have a drink and get down to some serious eating!”

2 additional bushels were consumed and by the time dawn broke the whiskey was gone and the last beer was being drained. Charlotte showed them to a large bedroom with a king sized bed and helped both of them roll into it, watching them snuggle into each other with contented sighs before making her way into her own bed and falling fast asleep, still clothed and drooling into her pillow.