CHAPTER 9
ARE YOU STILL SCARED?

　
TONIGHT　
　

　　THE MOMENT EBEN AND STELLA WALKED OUT THE DOOR, Freya leapt into action. She made sure that Ben was okay and then she left him with Helen as she went outside to retrieve her medical bags from the car. Jake helped her carry them inside, and then she set them on one of the desks so she could grab what she would need to treat a gunshot wound.

　　"Baby, I'm gonna need you to go with Jake, okay?" Freya said when her son had drifted to her side again. It was obvious Ben just wanted to be near her. To be wrapped in his mother's safe embrace after what happened. And even though Freya would rather console her son, she had no other choice but to help the prisoner. She made an oath when she became a doctor. An oath to help everyone no matter what. So she was going to do what she could for the prisoner⎯⎯even if she would hate every moment of it.

　　Ben looked up at her and frowned, and the sight broke her heart. Freya put everything down and cupped his face in her hands. "I promise I'll be quick, okay? And then I'll come and sit with you." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Now go sit with Jake, baby. I'm going to need your Grandma's help with the prisoner."

　　Reluctantly, Ben moved away toward his uncle. Jake wrapped an arm around his nephew and guided him over to their grandmother's desk. They sat down, and Jake pulled out a comic book from Ben's backpack to distract the boy while Freya worked.

　　Turning away, Freya grabbed everything she would need from the medical bags and then looked at Helen. "You ready?"

　　Helen nodded. "Let's get this over with."

　　They entered the holding-cell together, and Freya placed everything on the cot beside Helen, who sat down on the edge of the mattress. They both pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and Freya began with approaching the Stranger with a pair of scissors.

　　"Listen here, and listen carefully," she said, and the prisoner looked her in the eye. "If you even think about trying anything, Helen there will use the taser and you'll be pissing bolts for the rest of your life. Got it?"

　　The Stranger grinned, and a shiver ran down her spine.

　　Freya shook her head and crouched down in front of the prisoner. She began by cutting away at the fabric of his shirt so she could see the wound more clearly. "Well, good news, it went straight through. Doesn't look like it fragmented at all."

　　"Oh, good," Helen said, her tone suggesting that she wanted to be out of the holding-cell and away from the prisoner as soon as possible. "Then this will be quick."

　　"Hand me the saline," Freya said, reaching out her hand. Helen grabbed the bottle of saline and some gauze. She took them and began by soaking the gauze before dabbing at the blood and grime along the prisoner's skin, cleaning the area so she could then suture him without infection.

　　The moment the saline came in contact with the wound, the prisoner hissed in pain and jolted away. The movement caused Freya to gasp and fall backwards on her bottom, but she then realized that the prisoner wasn't going anywhere, the pair of handcuffs keeping him bound to the bars. She had nothing to worry about.

　　Freya let out a breath before getting back into her crouched position and leaning forward to continue cleaning the wound. "The more you move, the longer this will take. Do us both a favour and stay the fuck still," she told him.

　　Of course, the prisoner didn't listen. He moved every time she touched the wound with the gauze.

　　"Helen, the suture kit," Freya said, turning around to face the woman. She nodded and took the saline bottle and gauze, handing Freya what she needed.

　　"What, no drugs, doc?" The Stranger asked.

　　"Nope," Freya said, before beginning the sutures. The prisoner gritted his teeth, breathing heavily through the pain. Once she was finished, she stood to her feet and walked out and around the other side of the holding-cell to clean and suture the other entrance of the wound.

　　When she was done cleaning and suturing the gunshot wound, Freya got to her feet and entered the holding-cell again. She grabbed a fresh set of bandages and wrapped the prisoner's arm before moving to help Helen clean everything up.

　　The two of them quickly left the cell when they were done, and as Freya put everything back into her medical bag, Helen grabbed the keys and locked the holding-cell. Afterwards, Freya plopped down at her husband's desk and Ben made his way over.

　　"Is he going to die?" Ben asked.

　　Freya looked at him, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if her son wanted the prisoner to die or if he was genuinely concerned. But then she saw the look in his eyes and she knew. "No, baby, he isn't going to die," she assured, reaching out and pulling him close.

　　"So Dad didn't kill him?"

　　"No, your father didn't kill him," Freya shook her head, holding him close. "I healed him. He'll be okay now."

　　Ben nodded, turning his head to look at the prisoner, a far away look in his brown eyes.

　　Freya noticed that look and she frowned. She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. "I'm sorry you had to see that. But you know that it was the only way to save Uncle Jake, right? Your father did what he thought was necessary to save your uncle's life, and in the end, he made the right call."

　　"Would you have done it?"

　　The question caused her to grow silent, and she hesitated before giving him an answer. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "Nobody can be sure what they are capable of until the moment it happens. But I would like to think that I would. I would do anything to protect my family, you know that."

　　Ben looked down.

　　She titled his chin up so their eyes could meet. "Are you still scared?"

　　Her son hesitated before nodding.

　　"What scares you?" Freya asked.

　　"Dad," Ben admitted, almost shamefully. Fresh tears burst in his eyes. "I never saw him so angry before, mom. It was like . . . it was like it wasn't even dad."

　　Freya's heart broke right then and there, and she couldn't help but feel like it was all her fault. If she hadn't suggested they stop by the station after going to the diner then none of this would have happened. Her son never would have seen his father shoot a man and then throw up against the bars and handcuff him, and he never would be scared of his own father. But now her son was traumatized because she had let him stay at the station much longer than she intended.

　　"Oh, sweetheart," Freya cried with him. She pulled him into her arms, and Ben sank into her embrace, crying. "You never have to be afraid of your father." She caressed her fingers through his dark hair. "He would never dream of hurting you in a million years. He loves you more than anything in this world. And don't you ever forget that."

　　Ben nodded against her, and she only held him tighter, closing her eyes as she smoothed her hand up and down his back in a calming manner. She prayed that this day wouldn't traumatize her son forever. That one day he would realize why his father had to do what he did and wouldn't be so scared. But for now, she just held her little boy close to her heart and wiped away his tears.

　
━━━━━━
　

　　THE ROADS WERE DARK AND EMPTY. There wasn't a soul around as Stella Keaton drove through town, and the lighting was dim, for the back-up generators throughout town had only lit a few street lamps here and there. The drive was silent except for the heater and the sound of the chains on the 4x4's tires digging through the heavy heaps of snow.

　　Stella kept glancing at Eben as she drove down the road, waiting for him to speak. All she knew was that Gus Lambert was dead and someone had slaughtered all of the Riises sled dogs in their kennels. He hadn't given her any specific details, but she could tell that her friend was shaken. Whatever he saw today scared him, and that worried her, for he didn't scare easily.

　　"Stop!" Eben said, lifting his gun.

　　Her brows furrowed. "What?"

　　"Stop the fucking truck, Stella!"

　　The tone of his voice made her slow to a stop, and she turned to look at him, panic seeping into her veins. Eben reached over as soon as they had come to a stop, and he flicked the windshield wipers onto rapid speed, killed the lights, and leaned forward in his seat to stare out the window.

　　"What is it?" Stella asked, her heart racing.

　　"I know I saw something out there," Eben told her. "Along the street."

　　"Night goggles still in the back?" Stella asked, and she received a silent nod from the Sheriff in response. She reached behind the seats and found them straight away. Simultaneously, they both stepped out of the truck and she lifted the goggles to her eyes.

　　Everything had been tainted green by the goggles, and for a moment, it hurt her eyes. But once her eyes had adjusted, she could make out a dark shadow moving through the snow at remarkable speed. She couldn't identify what it was or who it was, but the sight was enough to frighten her.

　　Lowering the goggles, Stella breathlessly glanced at her friend. "Get in the truck, Eben."

　　"What?"

　　"Get in the fucking truck!" Stella shouted. She turned on her heel and ran for the 4x4, climbing inside and slamming her door shut. Eben reacted immediately and ran for the truck, the gun still in his hands.

　　After throwing the goggles into the backseat and flipping on the lights, Stella drove away just as Eben had gotten inside. As he slammed his door shut, she did a three-point turn, and left the way they had come.

　　"How many?" Eben asked, glancing over their shoulders out the back window. But he couldn't see anything. It was too dark.

　　Stella shrugged. "Maybe⎯⎯"

　　She was cut off as something hit the roof of the truck, startling them both and erupting a gasp from Stella. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and then their eyes connected when they heard shuffling above their heads. Something was moving up there.

　　Eben lifted his pistol as Stella frantically turned the steering wheel left and right, attempting to dislodge whatever was on the roof. And then something started pounding on the roof, making dents in the metal and erupting another startled gasp from Stella. She looked up through one of the holes and saw something moving around.

　　It was then Eben started shooting, and the noise was loud, echoing in the truck. Their ears rang, but they didn't let that bother them. When Eben had fired off his sixth round, they heard something slam against the roof and then slip off the back of the vehicle.

　　He shot it.

　　Stella straightened the wheel and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal, speeding away as Eben turned around and watched the dark shadow roll down the road. "What. The hell. Was that." Her heart was racing more than it ever has before.

　　He turned around in his seat and reached out, touching her arm. "Hey, ease up a little."

　　Stella didn't even realize how fast she had been going until he spoke. She released a shaky breath and loosened her grip on the steering wheel, easing up on the gas a bit.

　　Eben leaned back in his seat and ejected the magazine clip, and he held the pistol tightly as he injected a new one. The barrel was still hot, and as he stared at the empty magazine in his lap, Eben couldn't help but think of Ben and how scared his son had been when he shot the Stranger. He never wanted to show Ben that side of himself, but now he had, and he could never take that back. His son would always remember the day his father shot someone.

　　Stella could tell something was bothering him. "You okay?"

　　"Fucking dandy."

　　"Eben, just what the hell⎯⎯?"

　　"Look," Eben said, pointing ahead at the flickering orange light in the distance. As they got closer, they realized it was a burning car on the side of the road. "Can you get by?"

　　"They might need⎯⎯"

　　"If anyone was inside, they're dead," Eben told her, and deep down, Stella knew that he was right. They didn't even know how long ago the car had crashed and burned.

　　Stella turned to the right, maneuvering around the burning vehicle. Even with the windows up, they could feel the heat coming off the car. They shared a brief look before turning to look out the windshield again.

　　What the fuck is happening in my town? Eben thought as they went by the vehicle.

　　"Eben?"

　　He looked at her, and he could see how scared she was. "What is it?"

　　"Bad feeling," Stella shivered as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white underneath her gloves.

　　"We should get to the diner," Eben suggested. "I told everyone without a jenny to go there. And I shouldn't have, that was stupid. It's way too exposed."

　　Stella nodded and flipped on the turn signal as she began heading toward the diner. She drove a little further, and then they heard noises in the distance. Their brows furrowed and they looked at each other as they tried to decipher what the noise was.

　　"Gunshots?" Stella said.

　　Eben nodded in agreement, holstering his pistol and lifting the shotgun. He pumped a round into the chamber. "Keep driving."

　　"What're you doing?"

　　"Just keep driving."

　　"Eben, what the hell is this? I'm scared."

　　"Don't know," Eben said, glancing over at her before he opened up the passenger door. "And yeah, me too."

　　Stella kept driving at a steady speed while Eben stood out the opened door, shotgun locked and loaded. He glanced at the roof, just to make sure the dark shadow was really gone, and then looked out at the streets of Barrow. He was ready for anything.

　　The wheels crunched through the snow, and it wasn't long before they heard more gunfire, quickly followed by a howl or a scream. Eben aimed the shotgun in the direction of the gunfire, his heart hammering. But they never saw anything.

　　Eventually, they passed the small church in town. The doors were open and there was blood everywhere. The minister lay sprawled out on the front steps, soaked in his own blood, and his separated head was hung on the doorknob by its hair. The sight reminded Eben of Gus Lambert, and he had to look away before he got sick.

　　They heard more gunshots, only this time it sounded as though several weapons were being fired all at once and in every direction.

　　"Eben?" Stella was scared.

　　"Where's it coming from?" Eben asked. His head whipped all over as he searched for the source of the gunfire. "Where's it coming from?"

　　"Everywhere," Stella told him, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. Her hands were shaking slightly. "Eben . . . Freya and the others. What if something . . ."

　　Eben climbed back inside the truck and closed the door. He sat there for a moment, cursing silently as he thought of his family and how they were alone right now. What the fuck was I thinking?

　　He quickly plucked the walkie-talkie from his jacket pocket. "Freya? Helen? Jake? Come in. Listen to me, take the keys and lock all the doors. Get the taser and lay the prisoner out straight away⎯⎯I don't want him awake in there with you. Then get the spare shotgun and hide. You hear me?"

　　When he lifted his finger from the transmitter, all he could hear was the sound of screaming. Screams that belonged to his family. The people he loved. He could hear other noises in the background, but Eben couldn't identify any of them except for maybe one. Ben was sobbing.

　　Helen's voice was the closest to the walkie-talkie, and they could hear it loud and clear as though she was with them in the truck. "Eben! Eben, help⎯⎯!"

　　"No!"

　　"Mom!"

　　Helen screamed again, but this time, she didn't say his name. It was just pain. And then came a mixture of terrified screams and sobs from Freya, Ben, and Jake. Tears sprung in Eben's eyes at the sound of them.

　　"No," he whispered, dropping the walkie-talkie out of shock as he stared off into the distance. His heart was hammering against his ribcage and his lungs were aching, but he never reached for his inhaler.

　　He didn't have to tell Stella to hurry. She was already pressing down on the accelerator and making an odd turn in the snow, heading straight for the station. Straight for his family. And all he could do was sit there, silent tears in his brown eyes.

　　Please, he prayed, don't take my family.

　
━━━━━━
　

　　WHEN THEY FINALLY MADE IT BACK TO THE STATION, they sat inside the truck, silence falling over them. Stella kept the engine running in case something came at them, or in case his family ran out the door and they needed to make a quick getaway.

　　Eben wanted nothing more than to storm inside, guns ablazing. But he knew that wasn't a good idea. He'd only get himself or his family killed doing that. So he just sat there, leg bouncing, finger on the trigger, waiting until they knew the station was clear so they could go inside.

　　"Looks quiet," Stella observed in a whisper.

　　The station was still dim with electricity powered by the generator, and the front door was open, the top hinge broken and bent awkwardly, barely holding onto the door frame. And the snow at the door made it obvious there had been a struggle there.

　　No blood, Eben thought in relief. At least I can't see any blood . . . but then he remembered Helen's final scream and the way Ben was sobbing in the background, and he knew there had to be blood somewhere.

　　"Whatever happened here⎯⎯" Stella began, but he cut her off.

　　"Don't." Eben shook his head and ripped the door open, stepping out into the snow. He lifted the shotgun and cautiously started making his way toward the front door. Stella followed in pursuit, drawing her pistol and flipping the safety off.

　　"Go," she whispered. And he did.

　　They made sure the lobby and hallways were clear before heading further inside the building. His heart was hammering, and even before he kicked open the door to the office, he could smell the blood. He took a breath before storming inside, Stella hot on his heels.

　　The windows were shattered, the shards scattered across the floor. Snow was coming inside. Chairs were knocked over, tables had been moved, papers were on the floor, and there was blood on the wall. So much blood. It dripped down the paint, forming a massive puddle on the floor.

　　Eben felt sick to his stomach as he stared at all the blood. Someone had died. But he didn't know who it was. There wasn't even a body. Just like with Gus Lambert. The entire room was empty except for the prisoner. He was still in his holding-cell, arm bandaged neatly. Freya had obviously treated the wound after they left.

　　"No, no, no," Eben whispered, shaking his head. Images of his family, sprawled out, dead on the floor, blood pooling around them flashed behind his closed eyelids. He quickly opened his eyes again and tried to push the images away. They're okay. They have to be. Please, God, be okay.

　　Eben slowly approached his desk, reaching down and picking up the broken picture frame that was on the floor. It was of him and Freya. He stared at her smile, and his heart shattered into pieces. He ran his fingers over the picture, a sob lodged in the back of his throat. Eben prayed that the love of his life wasn't dead. That she and Ben and everyone else had made it out okay.

　　But Helen's scream. Ben's sobs . . .

　　He dropped the picture frame after a moment and his vision became hazy as he quickly stood to his feet. And as Eben reached for his inhaler, he saw Stella's eyes go from sad to furious in a matter of seconds.

　　"Freya!" Stella called out.

　　No response.

　　Eben cleared his throat as he looked around the room. "Ben? Ben, are you here? Jake? Helen?"

　　Again, no response. He swallowed his sobs and headed straight for the holding-cell, pocketing his inhaler and drawing his pistol. Eben didn't care how many bullets he had to put into the Stranger. This time, he was going to get some fucking answers.

　　"They didn't take me," the Stranger said. He didn't even try to laugh or mock Eben like before. All he did was sit there, wallowing in his own self-pity, on the verge of tears.

　　"Who did they take?" Eben asked.

　　"They didn't take me," the Stranger repeated, and this time his tears fell down his greasy, unshaven cheeks.

　　Eben shook his head, knees growing weak as he stumbled backwards. But then he clenched his jaw and stepped forward, aiming his pistol at the Stranger's leg. "Where's my family?"

　　"Eben, if we shoot we may attract attention."

　　"I want attention," Eben said. "I want to ask where my family has gone."

　　"They didn't take me . . . they just laughed . . . after all I did, they just laughed . . ."

　　"Where's my family, you fuck?" The Stranger cried out as Eben reached down and grabbed his arm, squeezing where he shot. Blood seeped through the bandages Freya had applied, but he didn't even care. Eben just wanted answers. "Who are they?! Who the hell did this?!"

　　Stella's eyes were wide. She had never seen him this way before. "Eben . . ."

　　"Finish me," the prisoner pleaded. "Kill me, please."

　　Eben was tempted to pull the trigger, but he didn't. He was desperate for answers. "Tell me who they are."

　　The Stranger remained silent, lowering his head, tears slipping down his cheeks.

　　"We can't just leave him."

　　"We can," Eben said without hesitation. "We have to find my family, Stella, and get help. There's no time to bring this fucker with us."

　　"Finish me off." The prisoner was all but begging now, and his words caused them to look at each other. Stella shook her head slightly, knowing that Eben was itching to pull the trigger. But she knew that if Eben killed the prisoner right here and now that it would haunt him forever.

　　Eben lifted the gun and placed it against the man's forehead. He held it there for several moments. But when the man finally sighed, he removed his finger from the trigger and lowered the gun. He crouched down instead, grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt and looking him in the eye. "You stay here and get whatever's coming to you." Then, in one swift movement, he knocked the prisoner out cold with the butt of his gun.

　　"Eben⎯⎯"

　　He stood and moved past her. "Not a word, Stella. I could have killed him. Easily. And if you weren't standing there . . ." He looked down at his feet, his eyes closing briefly.

　　"Where now?" Stella asked, watching her friend carefully to make sure he was okay.

　　Eben opened his eyes and looked at her. "We need to check the diner, make sure people are holding up. Ask if any of them have seen my family. We'll deal with him when we're ready."

a/n: i literally just want to comfort eben right now. like can you imagine hearing your family scream like that over a walkie-talkie and feeling so helpless because you're not there to help them? and then show up and find blood? my man deserves the biggest hug 🥺