#8 (Part II)

#8 The Appraisal (Part  II)

     A moment later shadow blocked the slim line of light from under the bedroom door.  “It is all right, Ms. Applewhite.  Let me in.”

      I did not let go of the comforter.  My hands trembled, and turning the lock became a chore.  Thunder pulled me into the living room, his arm draped over my shoulders.

      “Damn to her!”  The man belonging to the icy voice snarled, a hand going to his mouth and nose.  He glowered at me with baleful black eyes.  “Damn to her, and damn to you!”

      The old man sitting on the couch began to rise.

      The icy voiced man shoved past the old man, toppling the oldster back to the cushions.  He said something else over his shoulder, but it was garbled and broken.  The front door slammed shut behind him.

     “A wise trick.”  The oldster adjusted his cane and stood again.  “Wrapping yourself in goose-down when so many of his ilk are allergic to it.”

      “Is that what I did?”  I couldn’t help the relief in my voice.  I looked up at Thunder.  “Is that bad?”

      “He won’t come near you now.  He’s probably on his way to the clinic for treatment.”

      “I thought you said he was military.  Don’t those in the military have an infirmary or their own doctors to check in with first?”  I was curious about this glimpse into Thunder’s life.  Too much of what Thunder said confused me.  “At least I didn’t run.  I wanted to.  That is worth something, right?”

      “Worth, I think, less than it could be.”  The deep voice said.

      I looked up and around, pulling the comforter closer to me.  I could only but stare at the man standing there.  I could see at once the similarities in the eyes and face this newcomer had to Thorn.  But ti was the huge man's clothes that confused me - clothes no sane man would wear.  “Once more,” I told Thunder, “I must admit this makes no sense to me at all.  Your brother is a . . . a convict?”