My Heart in My Hands

The Law Men weren’t supposed to come out here, out so far into this holler, but here they were. They started in large cities, full of millions of people, who eventually fought them off. They invaded the suburbs. The occasional family would fight back, but most would move on about their business or turn the other way. They thought to themselves that the white vans were only delivery vans, and the nice police officer was there to serve and protect. They infiltrated small towns, turning neighbor against neighbor until they fired guns between families in the street. 

The Law Men may have taken the state, but they would not take this holler.

The Regime is supposed to come down here, down yonder. These men are cowards who prey upon the weak, and I’m about to let them know how little I tolerate cowards. I’m the seventh son of the seventh son. They outlawed magic after they realized it worked. After their generals started dropping like flies from sickness, storms stopped their battalions. Word has it that one of their lead politicians became possessed and took their own life.

In my kitchen, I have all the rudimentary things —eye of newt, toe of frog, and whatnot — your jars of moon water and crystals, and more than enough banned books to have me federally charged and hauled off. But I also have the worst nightmare they’ll ever see.

As I see the van down the road, I cast a circle of salt and a pentagram of herbs, giving praise to Gia to ward and protect myself. I set the heart of my hunt next to the flowers on my altar. Like my ancestors with their pyramids, I take the hearts of my enemies. Not something I care to do, but it gives me some power. 

A spirit that seethes in pain, but only numbness fills my bones. Those emotions I’ve swallowed and shoved down until they felt hollow in my chest. 

*May you be still, and may you be silent. May no one tell of your tale.* I whisper, pulling the energy out over the cabin, chanting until my heart pounds. I pulled the energy outward and drove four nails into the heart, sealing it shut. I had to protect this house, this holler, the leading network from the mountain to the old town, one of the last bastions of community. The old mine tunnels under the house formed a network.

I take the meat, bless the altar, and blow out my candles before leaving the cabin. The trail behind my house travels for miles. It used to be the Appalachian Trail, before the Regime took over. Weeds and plants now grew over discarded beer cans between the dirt and stone path. 

I didn’t plan to take the trail; it was too easy for them to follow. I make my way through the twisting brambles and thorns and boulders, crawling up a steep ravine as they leave their van and take off toward the cabin. 

The cold wind blew past me. I curse that it’s winter and I can’t rely on the trees as cover.

I couldn’t hide for long, and I doubted I could outrun them. Fighting was my only choice. If only these agents knew what they were up against. 

I buried the heart under a tree. Blood pours from it and feeds the frozen roots, and the tree lives again. I pull that energy out and direct it toward the soldiers as I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. 

They screamed as the ground beneath them shifted. A boulder fell from underneath one man, pinning him to the ground. The other soldiers pointed their guns in sweeping motions through the forest. 

I gritted my teeth and breathed in the damp and chilly air, pulling on my willpower. I crept through the forest, avoiding the trails. I hunched down and crawled past a soldier, missing the sight on his rifle. This wasn’t my first rodeo, another battle in a war. I had won past battles and taken weapons and supplies as the spoils, sharing them among the town.

We were revolutionaries, fighting for what was left of our freedom. 

Lying flat, I breathed in the air; it smelled of wet earth and decay. Underneath the house, under the cellar, there lay a network of tunnels. These tunnels led deep within the mountains, the only place left to hide and escape.

Half a dozen guards stood in my way, making escape impossible. A young soldier called on his radio for backup. I took a deep breath and concentrated with all my strength. Energy arched in a thin silver line that led to his radio. I focused on the line and severed it, boosting energy into the spell. My head ached as another wave of dizziness hit me. 

The radio squawked in his hand, followed by feedback and a static hum. 

The young soldier cursed after yeeting his radio to the ground. Not much of a victory, but I would take the small ones where I could. I held my breath as I crept through the thick vegetation and boulders. The cellar sat five hundred feet away. 

I vomited as sweat poured from me despite the chill air. I was almost out of juice; I had used so much in my spells that getting up felt impossible. I sucked my breath in and moved forward. Jagged gravel cut through my hands and knees. Just three hundred feet left. I put my hand down to move forward when a twig snapped beneath it.

My heart leaped into my throat. The soldiers’ voices echoed around me as the Regime ran along the surrounding path. I lay flat and gathered what little energy I had around me, trying to make myself dim. A boot landed on my back. I thrashed beneath him, but the boot wedged even deeper between my shoulders. The cold muzzle of a gun bit into my back.

“I got him, but I need backup!”

I saw seven pairs of black boots, one by one, surrounding me. I screamed in frustration, only to be kicked in the ribs. The other officer tased me, and the shock of electricity coursed through my body. I channeled the pain outward. The electrical current moved through all seven soldiers’ bodies, and they fell writhing on the ground. 

Blood poured from my nostrils as darkness and pressure knocked me to the ground. My ears rang. It was now or never, and I couldn’t leave anyone alive. I had a grenade that I kept on me, stolen from an artillery tank moving through my property some time ago, another battle in the war.

I didn’t want to resort to this, but I had little choice. I pulled the pin and threw it into the pile of dazed soldiers and limped toward the cellar door. I shut the door behind me as the explosion knocked me off my feet and towards the ground.

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. The scent of blood and cordite filled the air. The men lay limp in a pile of bodies. I cleared through them till I found the commanding officer. 

His breaths were short and shallow as I pulled out my knife. I slit his throat and waited a few minutes to let the blood drain from his body. I cut a hole through his chest and pulled out his heart, and placed it on the altar. It’s good that I now have a replacement. I hated taking it, but he was dead, and I let nothing go to waste. 

A surge of power washed over me. The chills left my body, my head stopped aching, and I could go on. 

It would only be a matter of time before people discovered their secret police were not returning. So I packed a bag and ran to the cellar, finding the door that led to the tunnels underground. 

It would only be a matter of time before they found me. Until then, I would lie low in a cavern underneath the mountain, with my heart in my hand.