The Inheritance Paradox
Eight (Eugene’s Story)
THEY AWOKE in a tight embrace, their clothes still damp where they were pressed between them. The rain had stopped and even though it was early, the temperature had started to rise. About twenty others were packed in the narrow space beneath the bridge and the smell of bodies in tight quarters was beginning to mount. They found the places where they could relieve themselves and then started for the street above them.
The woman who had organized things under the bridge the night before invited everyone to her for a piece of bread, but that was all she had. No one else admitted to having any food. As they chewed, Eugene and Sasha climbed the riverbank and started across the bridge. The west side of the river was a stark contrast to the east. This area seemed hardly touched by the fire. They walked along a street that was ordinary except for the number of people on it. Empty wagons and teams were headed toward the burned-out city, apparently to recover what they could. There were occasional wagons with broken wheels or traces abandoned at the side of the street. Some of the people headed into the city looked less than reputable, but Eugene supposed he didn’t really know what looked disreputable in this timeframe. If he looked at himself, he’d make the same assessment.
Soon, they came to the railroad depot. A train was just pulling out and there were soldiers blocking the entrance of the station.
“Don’t leave Chicago!” a soldier called to crowds of people headed toward the station. “We need everyone to help clear and rebuild. The only trains that will be arriving in the next day or two are supply trains for rebuilding. Do not attempt to catch a freight train going south.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Eugene said. “We could have made a faster trip to Joliet.”
“I don’t know if I can walk that far. My ankle is still bothering me,” Sasha said.
“Maybe we can wrap it. Let me see what I have in my bag,” Eugene said. He hadn’t really looked in the knapsack Wells had given him.
You have a spare union suit. Tear a strip off of it.
“Ah, yes. I can cut a bit of my spare clothes. I wasn’t sure what I’d managed to bring with me. It was rather a hurried trip,” Eugene said.
“I can’t believe you are so kind,” Sasha said. “I can’t repay you.”
“I’m not asking for any payment,” Eugene said. “Let’s just say there is a lot in my life I need to make up for. I’ll do what I can to help you.”
“I want you to tell me all about that,” she said as he tore the strip of fabric and began binding her ankle to give it more stability. She wore lightweight boots that didn’t offer much support. Eugene managed to combine wrapping beneath the leather and over it to make her ankle more stable.
“You can still lean on me, or I’ll carry you when you need,” he said.
“Where did you come from?” Sasha asked. They turned south on the next street.
“Oh. Uh… Michigan,” Eugene said. “I kind of came out of the lake.”
Nice. Blame me.
“You just happened to get to me when I needed you most.”
You left me just when I needed you most.
“Found her,” Eugene growled.
So, we can rewrite the lyrics.
“Yes. You found me,” Sasha said. “I feel like maybe we’re connected in some way. You just happened to get to Chicago from Michigan, out of the lake, and wandered through a burned-out city until you found me trapped in a well-house.”
She’s beginning to sound like Lynn.
“Maybe we’re all connected if we let ourselves become aware of it,” Eugene said.
“Do you have a family in Michigan you are going back to?” Sasha asked.
She’s probing.
“Sort of. I’ll need to go back. I won’t leave until I get you safely to Joliet, though,” Eugene said.
“Hmm,” she hummed.
In only a hundred yards or so south of the train depot, they were back in burned rubble. Eugene saw she was still limping and offered to carry her again. She accepted the offer, climbing onto his back. He was quite aware of her soft body pressing against him, supported by his hands under her thighs. She hugged him tightly, seeming to acknowledge the contact as well. They didn’t rush the pace but continued steadily into the area known as The Patch.
They could see men prowling amidst the rubble, pulling out things of value they found.
“We should be cautious here,” Eugene said. “These people don’t look friendly.”
Do you blame them after what they’ve been through?
Eugene tightened the grip on his club beneath Sasha’s butt. She squirmed a little.
“Maybe I should walk again. I can make it and it will leave your hands free if needed,” she said.
Eugene set her down and placed an arm protectively around her to help support her. Occasionally there was a building still standing, unreasonably missed by the conflagration. Just ahead, they saw one such house. The outbuildings were burned and a cow was tethered nearby, attempting to find fodder in the charred grass. They saw an older woman standing at the door with a shotgun. Three men were advancing on her.
“You just stay away. This place ain’t burnt. It’s my home and you can’t have it.”
“We’ll leave you the house if you just let us have anything we want from inside,” said one of them. They seemed younger than most of the refugees to Eugene—hardly out of their teens, if that.
“I swear I’ll shoot you down before you set foot inside my home,” she yelled back at them.
“Aw, Granny. You don’t want to do that. Is that thing even loaded? You let us in or we’ll make sure this place joins the rest of the houses burnt up yesterday. Pretty unfair for an Irish woman to get off when your neighbors got burnt,” said the man who appeared to be leading the other two.
You should avoid this! Go around!
“Not a chance,” Eugene said. He let go of Sasha and gripped the club in both hands.
“I warn you!” the old woman said, raising the shotgun to her shoulder.
“Hey, you fellas,” Eugene yelled, coming up behind them. “You can’t go around stealing anything you want. This place doesn’t belong to you!”
“Mind your own affairs, beggar. We got here first. We’re taking this place and everything in it. She can’t even aim that gun straight.”
“Well, she’s not alone now,” Eugene said. He and Sasha circled around them next to the cow to stand between the woman and her aggressors.
“You’re choosing the wrong side in this war, old man. We take what we want,” said the youth.
“Like that girlie with you,” said one of the others. “You should have stayed away if your daughter’s precious to you.”
Eugene growled and hefted the charred branch he still carried.
“I’ve faced worse than you boys,” he said.
That’s kind of bravado. You attacked them by surprise. These punks are onto you.
“Girl, you come up here with Catherine,” the old woman said. “They’ll have to come through me to get you if they get past your man.”
Not knowing what else to do and having nothing to defend herself with, Sasha stepped up on the porch and the old woman whispered to her. She went into the house and appeared a minute later with a cleaver. She had something she could help defend with now.
“Just turn around and leave,” Eugene instructed them. “You don’t want this fight.”
Eugene’s heart was racing and he was fighting off panic himself. He’d never been a fighter. The attack behind the bar had not been a fair fight, as Galahad said. He’d surprised them. There was no surprise here.
The boys assessed the situation and decided they could take out Eugene first and then just have the women to deal with. They kept Eugene between them and the woman’s shotgun, believing correctly she would not risk shooting him. They pulled nasty-looking knives from their belts, and one made a feint toward him.
If you die, Wells won’t be able to fix you, even if I can get you back.
“Shut up,” Eugene spat. “I’m busy.”
“You’re gonna be busy,” the leader said. He lunged and Eugene hit the man’s knife hand, eliciting a cry of pain and anger.
“Just warming up,” Eugene said. “I can get hits off of you three all day long.”
The other two rushed toward him and he side-stepped, hitting one squarely in the jaw. He jerked back into his buddy, getting a cut on the arm. The first was back with the third and both attacked from opposite sides.
Remind me to make sure you always carry a bat.
The shotgun boomed beside Eugene. He jumped to the side, swinging at the third guy. He connected with the guy’s ear and dropped him to one knee. The first hood was screaming in pain on the ground, holding his leg. The old woman came down off the porch, still pointing the shotgun at the kid.
“You ain’t hurt! Crawl off my property, you curs,” she shouted. The one she’d shot tried to get up and reached out to his buddy who was holding a bleeding arm where the third guy had cut him.
“You son of a bitch!” the guy Eugene hit on the ear yelled. He swung upward with his knife.
Eugene’s makeshift bat wasn’t positioned correctly to get a good swing in. He tried to get it between them.
“Ow! Fuck!” the assailant screamed. “She cut my finger off!”
Before the knife had reached its target, Sasha had swung her cleaver at him. It was a lucky blow that hit his hand and cut the knife free. He clutched his hand to his chest and stumbled backwards with his buddies, cursing them all the way.
“You’ll regret this!” the one who’d been shot yelled. They continued screaming at them until they were out of sight.
“Thank you,” Eugene said, putting an arm around Sasha.
They’ll be back.
“Thank you both,” the older woman said. “Don’t know what I’d have done without you. I only had one barrel loaded with rock salt to keep the strays away from my chickens.”
“We couldn’t leave you to defend yourself alone,” Sasha said. “I’ll take this in the house and scrub the blood off it if you like.” She held up the bloody cleaver.
“Yes, yes. Come into the house, both of you. You look like you’re starving. Did you lose everything in the fire?”
“Yes. I’m afraid if Eugene hadn’t rescued me, I’d have lost my life as well,” Sasha said.
Eugene let her manage the conversation. He didn’t want to volunteer too much information to yet another person. He already felt obligated to tell only the truth to Sasha and wouldn’t go making up stories for the convenience of others.
“Let me go outside and start cleaning things up,” Eugene said. “I want to make sure I’m ready if more hoodlums show up.”
“Such a good man,” Catherine said. “My son will be back tomorrow or the next day. He drove the wagon to the country to get hay for Bessie. I’m afraid we’ll need to butcher the rest of the chickens before they starve, if they show up. I don’t want to lose the cow. The coal gloves are beside the door. They’ll protect your hands some.”
Eugene went outside and surveyed the property. There were remains of a barn, shed, and chicken coop. He had a feeling they’d be staying here a few days and the woman definitely needed help cleaning things up. He looked around at the burned buildings nearby. Some houses had partial walls still standing and some were burned to the ground. A few people were sorting through the ashes looking for what they could salvage. Eugene decided to start with the small barn and get it cleared. He pulled on the gloves and started to shift things and pile the remains of the timbers.
You can’t stay here. You need to get going.
“She needs help.” Eugene kept working steadily while Galahad prodded him.
The human race needs you to spread your genes.
“The human race needs me to be the least good person I can be, then. I’ll try to at least mix in some decency with my depravity.”
Wells misjudged you.
“He saw my record. I’m not a good person.”
So, you’ll try to be a better person while seducing an innocent woman.
“You don’t make either one easier.”
He continued scraping the timbers from the dirt floor of the barn and even found some unburned hay smothered under rubble. As soon as the barn floor was cleared and the rubble piled in one place, the cow wandered onto the dirt floor and began contentedly munching at the dry and smoky hay.
Eugene moved on to the shed and found a garden rake he could use to help with clearing the yard. As he did so, he saw tiny sprouts of grass popping through the dirt already. It was amazing to see renewal in the wake of such destruction.
“Eugene! Honey, come wash up for dinner,” Sasha called from the back door.
Eugene smiled at her and leaned his rake against the wall before stomping the ash and dirt from his boots and stepping inside. Sasha pumped at the kitchen sink while he scrubbed his hands and face. She handed him a towel.
“That’s very domestic of you,” he smiled. “Thank you.”
“I should learn how to treat a man,” she said cryptically. “Come to the table. Catherine has shown me how to make chicken and dumplings.”
They entered the dining room where Catherine was setting out bowls and spoons for them.
“Early this morning, I went out and found three chickens under the porch. There was nothing for them to eat, so I butchered them and put them in the oven,” she said. “Oh, Eugene, after dinner could you bring a bucket of coal up from the coal cellar? They convinced us two years ago it was easier to buy coal from the railroad than hire men to go to the country and chop wood for the winter. If the house had burned, the coal would keep going for weeks.”
“Certainly. I’ll bring up what’s needed,” Eugene said. “This dish is tasty. You had vegetables, too?”
“Well, there was more to be harvested in the garden, but I don’t know what might be left out there now. I already had Jimmy bring in everything we could put in the root cellar,” Catherine said. “The boy is seventeen and went early this morning to the farms west of town to get some hay and scratch. I sent him with enough money to get us some timbers to rebuild the barn if he doesn’t gamble it all away.”
“Where is your daughter?” Sasha asked.
“Married last spring and moved to Evansville. Her husband is a teacher at the Bible Institute up there and they have a little one on the way,” Catherine said, obviously proud of her daughter.
“I found some hay for the cow that was undamaged. I don’t think she’ll stray,” Eugene said. “I’ll take a bucket of water out to her after dinner.”
“When this day has ended, you must bathe and I’ll give you some clothes. You aren’t much different in size from my son or possibly my husband, rest his soul. And you, sweetheart, I’m sure my daughter left a frock or two you can wear while we get your clothes washed and hung out.”
“That is so kind of you, Miss Catherine. We don’t want to impose on you,” Sasha said.
“Oh, I would appreciate you staying a day or two until things settle down a little. We’re going to have a hard time of it since the fire started down here. People hate the Irish already, you know.”
“We’ll be happy to stay and help clean up,” Sasha said.
Oh, no!
“I’ll work on cleaning up the shed and the chicken coop tomorrow,” Eugene added.
You can’t stay!
“You take me away and I will never travel again,” Eugene said beneath his breath. He knew Galahad said he didn’t have to speak out loud, but it irritated him to think the computer could read his mind.
Catherine raised an eyebrow.
The doctor won’t like it.
“He’ll get over it.”
“What’s that, dear?” Catherine asked.
“Oh, Eugene often has conversations with his conscience,” Sasha jumped in. “He says his conscience doesn’t listen, but I think he is the better for it.”
“It’s a good man who has a conscience in this day and age. Even if he doesn’t listen to it,” Catherine said.
“I’ll go out and get water for the cow and bring up the coal,” Eugene said.
“We’ll put a kettle of water on to boil so you can bathe,” Catherine said. “We’re lucky we can still pump water from the system. We lost water yesterday for most of the day. The channel is filling back up now because no one is drawing from it.”
I wouldn’t drink it if I were you. It’s probably being channeled from the river.
“Boil first,” Eugene said. “Got it.”
He went out to take care of the cow and discovered a couple of chickens sharing the hay seeds.
The water was filthy when Eugene finished bathing. He was appalled to find that Sasha intended to use the water after him. She did not, however, wash her hair.
If the water isn’t safe to drink, why would you immerse your body in it?
“That makes too much sense,” Eugene said as he donned a fresh, though slightly torn, union suit.
He planned to simply stay in the room he’d been given for the rest of the night, so didn’t dress. Catherine said it had been her daughter Anna’s room. Eugene had just pulled the blanket back to crawl into the narrow bed when Sasha pushed the bedroom door open.
“Sasha! I’m scarcely dressed for polite company!” he said.
She stood before him in a long flannel gown.
“Nor am I,” she said, eyeing the bed. “Please let me get under the covers to hide my embarrassment.”
“Certainly. I’ll sleep over in the chair. Or in Jimmy’s room, I suppose. I thought Catherine said to come in here,” Eugene said.
“She did. Catherine assumed we were married, or at least a couple,” Sasha said. “I’m sorry, Eugene. I didn’t correct her.”
“That doesn’t seem proper,” he said, trying to figure out his feelings on the prospect of spending the night with Sasha.
“Eugene, you held me through the night and made me feel secure last night. Won’t you please hold me again tonight? I… I owe you my life.”
At least one thing is going right!
“Oh, dear. It’s a difficult circumstance. I will not take advantage of you,” Eugene said.
Yes! You must!
“I know you are an honorable man. I am not offering to repay you with my intimacy, but I am drawn to you in ways I have only read about in the romance novels of Austen and the Brontes. Please, just hold me for the night.”
Eugene slipped into the bed next to Sasha. In the narrow bed, there was no choice but to hold her close to him and eventually, they slept while spooned together.
In the morning, Eugene woke with the light, hearing Catherine already stirring below. He looked at the lovely young woman in his arms, her breasts pressed against his hand, and was moved with tenderness. He gently kissed her head and slipped out of bed, dressing as quickly and quietly as he could before leaving the room.
“Good morning, Eugene,” Catherine greeted him. “The coffee will boil in a minute.”
“I’ll slip out and check on the cow and chickens,” he said. Of course, he planned to use the outhouse located at the side of the house as well.
He went out, used the facility, and checked on the cow. She was peacefully chewing her cud and the three chickens warbled slightly as he probed beneath them to retrieve three eggs. These he took into the house and gave to Catherine. She handed him a mug of coffee.
“Sit, young man. I’ve learned to know Sasha as we worked together yesterday, but you’ve been very quiet. I want to know all about you,” Catherine said.
Less said the better.
“There is not really much to know about me,” Eugene said. “I traveled from Michigan just in time to walk through the hot coals of the fire along the lake and to find Sasha trapped in a well-house. From there, you have been quite acquainted with my story.”
“I trust your intentions toward Sasha are honorable. Otherwise, I would not have given you the same room last night.”
“That was a surprise. I assure you, she is still pure—at least as pure as when I found her.”
“Don’t doubt that. Surely, you cannot be unaware that she has fallen in love with you.”
“I became her hero when I rescued her and carried her out of the city. I’m sure she mistakes a little hero worship for love.”
“How blind young men can be!” Catherine exclaimed. “What do you plan to do?”
“I plan to escort her to her family in Joliet. Then, sadly, I must return to Michigan. I do not have a choice in that,” Eugene said.
“Really?”
Really!
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You could have a nice life with Sasha.”
“Such a life, no matter how attractive, would come at the expense of others. I must continue my mission. I’m told this one has been a waste,” Eugene said.
You could make it less of a waste.
“By your conscience?”
“Yes.”
“In Ireland we had people who were guided by the Fae or spirits. I believe what Sasha calls your conscience is more separate than that, isn’t it.”
Careful!
“It might be more a more literal voice in my head than most people have. It’s not always good.”
“Yes, exactly. And it tells you, you must go back to Michigan.”
“Much more than the voice tells me I must go back. If I stay here, I will die.”
“She will attempt to convince you. Good luck with that.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
