The Painting

#44 Hiding - I Bhfolach

Less than a minute later as I stood over an unconscious two hundred pound just shy of six foot man and silently thanked whatever part of me that took over. I remember spying the nearest item, the thick ceramic bowl I used earlier to store shucked peas. What I don't recall is picking it up or smashing it over Smith's bald head. I tried to picture it and feel the shattering of the bowl as it broke over the crown of our assailants skull.

As I stared at the man who lay on the tiled floor surrounded by shards of coral colored clay and bright green peas Lyle rose from the floor. I followed a tiny trickle of blood from Monroe's head find a crack in the tile.

"He's not dead." Lyle remarked quietly taking the knife that lay a few feet from his outstretched hand before lifting his ruined jacket and pulling the gun from his waistband.

I didn't know if I should breathe a sigh of relief or of fear, maybe better to do both. Good news - I narrowly avoided killing a man. Bad news, he was still alive and with a few hours rest would be well enough to make another attempt at my life.

"May," Lyle snapped her fingers in my face. "I need you to grab that rope and tie him to the stove door." She pointed at a bundle of drying herbs that hung from the bay window.

I walked numbly to the plants, the light shone through the thinning fragile leaves giving a warm glow around their fading green. I untied the rope that held the stems together and didn't bother to pick them up as they fell to the floor. The sweet smell of sage filled the air and I helped Lyle lug Smith to the stove and tie his arms tightly behind his back looping the thick material around the handle of the oven.

Once we finished I followed her silently to the hallway. She held the gun at her side every few steps checking to make sure I was safety behind her. As we neared the door way a tangle of shadowed forms came into view. The sun was cut off from all windows except for a single square situated in the doorway. A cube of dim yellow light fell onto two of the three bodies.

Both breathing, their chests rising and falling in unison. Ivy sat up against the wooden molding clutching her shoulder, Beth rested in her lap her long black hair cascading over Ivy's thighs making it look as if she were only a torso. Ivy turned to us and feigned a painful smile.

"May go upstairs. Under the mattress in the bedroom is a knapsack." Lyle touched my shoulder lightly before pulling away and kneeling down to the two women.

"He's out." Ivy managed pointing weakly with her elbow at the uniformed man.

The man lay sprawled on his back and as I rounded the stairs a glint of light reflected off something at his side. A badge? I squinted at his uniform, my snap judgement after observing him with Smith was that he was a security agent Monroe had sent. Upon studying his navy blue button down and organized utility belt my heart did another flip.

He was a cop.

"And Beth?" Lyle pressed running her hand over Beth's forehead where blood had dried at her temple.

"She'll come around." Ivy gave another tight smile, this time she turned her gaze to me as I stood watching from the landing.

I returned downstairs with the knapsack and handed it to Lyle. The police man was gone and when I turned to Lyle she motioned into the kitchen where I assumed she tied him as well. We stood in the living room where Beth lay with her eyes closed, her head rested on the pillow below which I hid Mo Soileireacht. I resisted the urge to go to it instead focusing on Lyle and what she needed next. Lyle sat next to Ivy and just as I'd done days before she ripped the sleeve of the woman's shirt. Then taking a piece of an already ripped blanket she tied a makeshift tourniquet around her arm.