Chapter 46: Helena

Chapter 46: Helena
A numbness unlike anything Helena had ever experienced invaded her entire being. The huffing of lungs as the men dragged away her father’s lifeless body came to her from a distance; Troy’s commands to Daniel existed in another slice of time and space altogether. The world went blurry around her as if she was going to drop into unconsciousness but nothing happened. Even the inside of her mind was locked in a state of shock.
“And don’t forget the god damned brake when you park the van,” Troy was saying as Helena sat in a hunched ball facing away from the carnage she tried not to witness. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. It’s gonna roll off the cliff one of these days and I’m gonna have to kill you.”
“Bet ya said the same thing to this guy,” Daniel quipped in retort, lugging what was left of Helena’s father out the front door.
Helena tightened visibly at the comment and Troy made it all worse by putting a hand on her shoulder. As if he could ever comfort her even before all this.
“He wasn’t a good man, your dad,” Troy said. He was doing his best to sound benevolent but his voice had the crisp venom of a practiced murderer. “He certainly wasn’t sparing any tears for you.”
“Don’t touch me.” Helena jerked her shoulder out of his grasp. Troy didn’t fight her on this. “Don’t even talk to me.”
“Sure, baby girl. You’re going to need a minute to get over this. I know how women are.”
Helena stood upright and started towards the kitchen. The door that led outside faced the end of the property line where a guardrail of trees blocked the view beyond the edge of the bluff. She stared straight ahead as if she was back in her old house, the home she had taken for granted such a short time ago, and could see the seemingly infinite Pacific Ocean. The further west she could go.
Mia was crossing the lawn with an empty laundry basket on her hip. Helena glanced at her then away in one motion. She wasn’t able to see the expression on Mia’s face but she felt how tired they both were, how long the day was despite having just started. Helena’s legs faltered and she crumpled to the half-brown grass, staring into space and wondering again if maybe this was all a terrible dream.
She wasn’t sure how long she was out there, tucked into the shade thrown by the main house and hardly hearing a sound outside of the pounding of her own heart. The light was changing glacially around her, swapping spots of brightness and shadow in a constant game of musical chairs. The men entered and exited the house from the front door; the van disappeared and reappeared like languid magic. Finally, Mia came outside to see if Helena needed anything, her hard face somehow even more rigid than before.
“Let me make you something to eat,” she said.
There was no comfort in her posture or how she spoke but Helena was flooded with tenderness at this offer. She nodded and took Mia’s outstretched hand.
The kitchen was dark compared to the light from the cloudless day. Helena’s eyes took a long time to adjust so for a few minutes, Mia worked in silhouette. A couple of pots were churning away on the stovetop and Mia stirred one as a grumble erupted out of her.
“God only knows where Isla is,” she said. “She’s usually not the kind to go tearing around the woods for no reason but maybe she got cabin fever or something today and decided to burn off some excess energy.”
Helena wanted to say that it didn’t seem like either one of them had any energy to spare, which was clearly by design. Keeping them busy and tired kept them complacent, even if Mia was prone to irate outbursts.
“You don’t have to live this way,” Helena said suddenly. She surprised herself and since she hadn’t spoken at all for hours, the vibrations in her chest and throat felt out of place. “We could put an end to this.”
Mia’s head dropped and she continued stirring what was on the stove. Helena wondered if she dared not make eye contact with her; if Mia knew that Helena would be able to see how desperate her situation was in just the color of her irises, the dilation of her pupils.
“I’m almost done with dinner for everyone but I can put together a snack for you in a minute if you don’t mind waiting,” Mia told her as if Helena hadn’t said a damn thing.
“Ok, I’ll be in my room.”
She retreated to her windowless hideaway and sat on the bare mattress, her hand pressing into the spot where she had put the baggie. Time was running shorter than she had expected. She fished it out from its hole and shoved it into the cup of her bra.
When Mia came to find her, Helena had steeled herself for whatever was about to happen. Whether the plan worked or not was immaterial at that point. Action had to be taken or it would be too late. Helena never thought she’d be someone who would rather go down fighting than sitting in wait but a tectonic shift had taken place inside of her; she felt the fault lines of her body rattling open, grinding against each other; changing the composition from core to surface.
“It’s not much but I thought you might not want something as greasy as what the boys eat.” Mia lofted a dish in the air and placed it on the counter in front of Helena. “If you’re still hungry, I can-”
“This is perfect, thanks.”
Mia watched her for a long beat then exhaled through her nose, a defeated gust escaping from her. “I’m going to take in the laundry. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Helena gave a tight smile in thanks as Mia drifted out the back door. A window of opportunity had presented itself and she had to move quickly. She pulled the baggie out of her bra and dumped the contents into one of the pots on the stove. The white powder clumped together at first but as she stirred it, the pieces broke apart and nothing looked out of place. She buried the bag deep in the trash and went back to her plate, eating placidly as Mia returned from her chore.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Helena said, though she had only made a small dent in the meal. Mia’s eyes traced around the plate, suspiciously or not Helena couldn’t tell, but then she nodded and started to transfer the prepared meal to serving trays.
As dinner was laid out on the table, the men began to appear. Helena thought they looked less like wolves and more like vultures, strippers of carrion as opposed to predators perched on the zenith of the food chain. Only Troy came close to the approximation of a hunter with his merciless gaze and mouth crowded with ravenous teeth. He met Helena’s expression of unmitigated hatred and tilted his head in greeting.
“I’m hungry as hell, ladies,” he said, taking a seat at the table.
“Well, it’s ready so help yourself.” Mia gestured to the spread in front of them. She seemed so drained, lackluster. “Where’s Daniel?”
“He should be back soon. Just finishing up an errand.”
Troy winked at Helena and she fought back a shudder, pushing out of her head the intrusive thoughts of what that errand might have entailed.
The men ate without pause or conversation. Helena kept her focus on the children who were eating slowly but were still taking in a decent amount of the drug. Or at least she assumed. She had very little knowledge about what the powder was going to do and she hoped that they wouldn’t be harmed but also, she didn’t care. They were innocents in this war yet her compassion was wearing thin. Innocents get struck down in crossfire all the time.
Helena noticed that Mia wasn’t eating. She was staring down at her plate, occasionally moving an item or two around then going back to staring. Eventually, she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and brought it to her mouth, chewing it slowly and letting her eyes go unfocused.
Now the main concern was Daniel. And Isla wherever she was. Helena saw one of the kids start to droop in his chair, a heaviness overtaking his features. It didn’t matter where Daniel and Isla were, she figured. Once the drugs kicked in, she needed to get a signal.
Out the dining room window, headlights bounced through the trees. The van pulled up alongside the house and Daniel hopped from the driver’s side then ambled to the front door. His face was sweaty and dazzling as he took a seat at the table. The events of the day had flushed life into his skin.
As Daniel served himself, Mia asked if anyone had seen Isla that day. The other men just shook their heads but Daniel paused midaction, considering the question quite seriously.
“You haven’t seen her since when?” His plate was in front of him. Helena began to swallow and sweat. “I saw her at breakfast but not since then.”
Across the table, one of the men was taking on the same drooping effect as the kid. Time was running out and Helena knew she couldn’t wait until she was positive Daniel was going to be drugged as well. The signal had to be sent.
Helena stood up silently and started towards the long hallway.
“Hey,” Troy barked, “where do you think you’re going?”
“Just the bathroom,” Helena replied coldly. She didn’t meet his eyes when she spoke, hoping that her affected, disturbed mood would keep suspicion at bay. He only had to believe her for a short time longer.
Troy muttered permission, which nearly stopped Helena dead in her tracks. If he hadn’t said she could, was she really expected to sit back down and wait until he allowed for it?
Helena locked the bathroom door, slid open the window, and wriggled herself through the tight opening. Her hips made it by a fraction of an inch. Once outside, she tore off towards the van. Much of that morning was a blur but she remembered Troy chiding Daniel about not putting on the brake and a van crashing into the guardrail of trees would probably be a clear enough signal.
She released the brake, took the van out of gear, and went to the back of it to push. It was heavy and hardly budged but she kept at it, feeling the blood and adrenaline and the sheer rage of what she had been going through power her body. The tires inched forward; she shoved harder. As soon as they started to roll, she sprinted to the house and pulled herself back through the bathroom window.
“God damn it, Daniel!” she heard from the living room then the stampede of feet heading out the front door just as the van crashed into the trees at the bluff, the metallic sound of her signal reverberating through the woods, impossible to ignore.