Free Everybody's Daughter by Michael John Sullivan Page A

here now.”
    There was no answer. “Your dad is going to be furious with you.” And me. “Don’t make me come down there and drag your sorry …” She stopped short, realizing she was on sacred ground.
    She climbed down a few steps and waved her hands in disgust. What is that odor? It smells like a dead animal.
    “Elizabeth, are you okay?” She descended two more steps and froze.
    What is that sound?
    A cold, biting gust of wind shoved her back.
    “Elizabeth?”
    Hiss.
    “What is that?”
    She bent over, her face now further inside the stairway that led into the tunnel. “Elizabeth, can you hear me? Do you need help?”
    “Stay away!” Connie stumbled back up the stairs on her backside, one shoe falling down into the tunnel.
    A cobra’s head lurched forward and opened its mouth wide.
    “No!” She backtracked all the way to the wall and watched the heinous head creep out. It slithered toward her.
    “No. Stop. No.”
    She grabbed the bucket of holy water and tossed it at the charging snake, soaking it.
    The cobra withered and recoiled in pain. Its skin sizzled and charred, then turned to dust.
    Connie stared in horror, glued to the wall, her hands stretched out in case the snake somehow managed another attack.
    Elizabeth, I hope you’re not down there.

Chapter Seven
    Leah was up earlier than usual, washed and dressed, kneeling in the garden, praying. She whispered in soft murmurs, lifting her head skyward, pleading. Having cried herself to sleep, mouth parched, she dragged herself over to the well where the man named Michael lay. His face rested on the spongy ground, muddy from the moist dirt which surrounded the leaking well.
    Unsure whether this man was dead or drunk, she approached him with caution, one hand out to protect herself, the other pressing the water jug tightly against her body. She bent over and tilted her head sideways to see if he was breathing.
    A rush of pity engulfed her as she noticed a crust of mud above his eyes. “I am sorry for striking you. Are you hurt?”
    He didn’t answer.
    Why is he still here? I wonder if he is lost? Maybe he has nowhere to sleep? But why would he come here? I can unde r stand him but he is not from our town. He looks different from the men in our village. His face. His clothes. His hair. He smells strange, like a woman.
    A brief bout of dizziness staggered her. She held her stomach with one hand as a sharp pain punched her side. She leaned over and took a short breath. A sour taste snaked its way up her throat and into her mouth. The jug slipped from her hand and the ceramic vessel clattered against the side of the well.
    “Who’s that – ?” The man, Michael, awoke, sounding startled.
    She hoisted the jug and stumbled away, her steps uneven and choppy. The jug slid from her hands, weighing her down. She managed to steady it.
    “Wait,” Michael yelled from behind. “Let me help you. The water is heavy. I promise I’ll leave once I help you.”
    She regained her balance and gave a feeble wave. She lifted the jug off the ground with one big burst of energy, swayed sideways a few steps, and collapsed. The side of her face struck the dirt. The jug crashed, splattering the water all over and her world went black.
    “Leah,” Michael screamed in panic.
    He ran to where she lay and rolled her gently onto her back. “Are you okay? Can you hear me? Talk to me.” He leaned closer to her chest, placing his head on her side, listening for a heartbeat. She was still breathing and he felt a rush of relief. He touched her cheeks tenderly. “Say something.”
    Her face was flushed red, reminding him of the times when Elizabeth was a child and her fever would spike. He placed a hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
    He picked her up and carried her past the fig tree and into the house. Near the doorway to her bedroom, he stopped a moment.
    Forgive me, Leah, but I have no choice. There’s no way I can carry you up another flight. And no, I don’t think