TRIBES Read online

  TRIBES

  By

  Mia Frances

  Text Copyright © 2019

  Mary Vigliante Szydlowski

  All rights reserved. This book or any

  portion thereof may not be reproduced

  or used in any manner whatsoever without

  the express written permission of the

  publisher except for the use of brief

  quotations in a book review.

  To my BFF Frank,

  I couldn't do any of this without you!

  Thank you for your continued love and support!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  A Note From Mia Frances

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Alex glared at the reflections in the rearview mirror. A battle was raging just behind her. Children screaming and trading blows, slaps landing with loud whacks. Cat and Tori seemed oblivious to the racket. Perhaps over the years they'd grown accustomed to this kind of unruly behavior, motherhood rendering them blind, deaf, and dumb. Alex, however, her senses attuned to calm and quiet, couldn't cope with the nerve-shattering cacophony of being stuck in a vehicle for almost two hours with a gang of wailing, ill-mannered brats. Another hour of this and she'd be ready for the asylum!

  She glanced over at her sisters, waiting for one of them to reprimand the children. Fat chance! They were engaged in an animated conversation about something or other, unconcerned about the mayhem going on behind them. Alex's head was pounding. She turned her eyes back to the road. Inviting them up for the weekend had been a mistake. How could she be expected to maintain her sanity with seven unruly children running underfoot, tearing the camp apart? She loved her nieces and nephews, but they were more easily tolerated in small doses of no more than an hour or two at a time. Right now, she was trying to control her temper and refrain from saying something she'd later regret.

  This had been her idea so she had no one to blame but herself. The road to hell was paved with good intentions she reminded herself. And this would certainly be hell, that's for sure. What in God's name had she been thinking? Matt had been less than enthusiastic when she'd suggested it. He didn't get on all that well with Stan and Brian, her sisters' husbands, but Alex had been insistent. In the end, he'd grudgingly relented, saying he'd try to be pleasant, but he wasn't promising anything.

  She'd done it for Tori. Her younger sister had been despondent of late. Given to bouts of depression and daylong crying jags. Alex thought a change of scenery and being with people who loved her would do more to dispel the doldrums than the antidepressants the doctors were force-feeding her. Cat concurred, so the plans for this weekend's fiasco were set in motion. With the Columbus Day holiday on Monday and the kids off from school tomorrow for a teachers' conference day, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. They'd packed up the rented minibus, picked the kids up from their respective schools and started out. She looked at the clock in the dash. It was already past five. She'd hoped to be nearing the camp by now, but hadn't counted on having to stop every twenty minutes to let someone out to pee in the woods.

  Alex knew exactly what Tori's problem was…the miserable dick she was married to! Brian was a cold fish. Judgmental. Unemotional. He was a bully and a perfectionist. Impeccable in his dress, speech, and manners. He expected the same from his wife. Sadly, Tori never seemed to measure up to his exacting standards. She paid dearly for her failings. His criticism was cruel and unrelenting. Over the years, under his constant barrage, Tori had become silent and withdrawn. Retreating into a shell. Living out her days in quiet desperation.

  Alex smiled when she heard the sound of Tori's laughter. She seemed more at ease now than she had in months. Alex felt ashamed. It was selfish to bemoan four lousy days of inconvenience when it could help her sister. This was what she needed…to be away from that overbearing asshole, even if only for a day. Unfortunately, tomorrow night when Brian and the others drove up to join them, things would revert to normal: Tori sitting quietly in a corner, afraid to utter a word, trying her best to blend into the woodwork as she sipped drink after drink, in a futile attempt to dull the pain.

  He'd taken away every ounce of her self-respect, made her feel like a brainless idiot. He'd fostered her dependence, insisting she was irresponsible, disorganized, and inept. So naive and ignorant that she couldn't be trusted to make even the most minor decisions on her own. Convinced he was right, Tori never offered an opinion, never did anything without first consulting and clearing it with Brian. He was an abusive prick, but she clung to the bastard, as though to life itself, terrified at the prospect that he'd leave her one day. The shelter he provided from the so-called cruelties of the world had become a prison; but she couldn't see it. Alex's solution was to get Tori out of the house. Have her get a job or go back to school to get her Masters. Even sign up for some volunteer work…something, anything to get her away from him. But as many times as she'd broached the subject, Alex couldn't make any headway with her sister. Like a frightened baby bird, Tori was afraid to leave the nest and test her wings.

  Alex slowed down. The little village of North Creek looked awfully quiet today, as if it had been abandoned. Fall was a relatively peaceful time in the Adirondacks. A respite between the crush of summer tourists and the influx of winter skiers and snowmobilers. But there were still a lot of nature lovers who ventured up now, making the pilgrimage from the city to gaze at the awesome splendor of the fall foliage. Columbus Day weekend was peak leaf-peeping time. Where was everybody?

  As she drove by the tiny cluster of buildings that dotted the opposite bank of the Hudson, she suddenly found herself feeling apprehensive, unable to detect any movement or signs of life. It was as though the village had been emptied of people.

  She stared ahead at the open expanse of road and then into her side view mirror. Alex could see no cars approaching from either direction. How odd. But now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen another car since passing through Warrensburg, some 20 miles back. She glanced at the clock again. It was nearly 5:30. The villages that dotted the mountains were sleepy little burgs, rarely more than a wide place in the road. They were given to rolling up the sidewalks as soon as the sun went down, but North Creek wasn't like that. It had a bustling main street lined with several stores, a post office, a bank, a restaurant, some churches, and even a traffic light.

  Over the din of children's voices, humming tires, and radio static, she heard Cat begin her saved and sure routine. Alex winced. She'd hoped her sister would have the good sense to keep her mouth shut for once. No such luck!

  If Tori's crutch was booze and pills, then Cat's was religion. A year ago, she'd been a pathetic, unhappy woman, running from doctor to doctor seeking a cure for her chronic pain, depression, anxiety attacks, and a host of other ailments. For years, she'd walked the razor's edge, teetering perilously on the brink of a complete mental meltdown. But then, as if by magic, she found God.

  The transformation had been nothing sho
rt of miraculous. The pills disappeared down the toilet and she rose from her sickbed like Lazarus from the grave. Doctor visits were replaced by prayer meetings and Bible study classes, and her illnesses by prayer and immersion in the scripture. She was still a Catholic, or so she claimed, but to Alex's way of thinking, Cat was behaving like some Bible-thumping, fundamentalist, religious fanatic.

  Deciding that her baptism didn't conform to scriptural teachings, she underwent the rite again, this time being dunked in a church friend's swimming pool. Saying she'd been "born again in Christ's blood" and baptized by the Holy Spirit, she spoke in tongues and now belonged to a group that spent their spare time praying over the sick and dying, claiming they could cure disease by the laying of hands. Big sister was now a faith healer. She claimed she could cure cancer. Yeah right! Good luck with that!

  Alex tried to keep a straight face when Cat began her usual spiel, warning of impending Armageddon and judgement day.

  Cat was no less neurotic now than she'd been before. It's just that the focus had changed. She'd stopped worrying herself sick about the well-being of her body and instead had turned her attention to the salvation of her soul.

  Cat didn't limit the quest for redemption to just her; she wanted to drag everyone she knew and loved to heaven with her, a kind of family reunion in the hereafter. The woman couldn't utter five sentences anymore without bringing God into the conversation. It was beyond annoying, not to mention boring, as she continually warned everyone within earshot of the fate that awaited heathens like Alex. Alex liked her sister better as a complaining hypochondriac, than she did a self-righteous, holier-than-thou religious zealot! Still, she shouldn't knock it. It was better to have Cat walking around in glassy-eyed rapture, trying to convert souls to Jesus, than to have her in the depths of despair threatening to slash her wrists.

  Thank God for Stan! Nobody, but nobody, would have put up with her shit all these years. Matt called him a wimp, but Alex thought he was a frigging saint. He'd stuck with her through all the bad times. Caring for the house and kids when she took to her bed for months at a time. Sinking deeper into debt as she scuttled from doctor to doctor and the medical bills mounted. Maintaining his patience and kindness in the face of her verbal abuse. He was devoted to her. Loved her no matter what. Stan took all the turmoil and drama in stride, even her newfound devotion to religion. Alex thought he needed to put his foot down and read her sister the riot act. Tell her to knock it the hell off!

  Her parents were probably rolling over in their graves at what had become of their children. Not one of them could be considered normal. All the Macri girls were prone to depression, anxiety, and neurosis to one degree or another. Perhaps it was something in their genes, or maybe it was the way they'd been raised. Three Italian-American princesses, pretty and precocious, thinking they had the world by the ass only to find that happy endings were the stuff of fairy tales and not reality. Of all of them, Alex was the most successful, the most grounded. Perhaps it was because she wasn't as pretty as her drop-dead gorgeous sisters were. Or because she was the shy and bookish middle child. At any rate, life hadn't been nearly as devastating an ordeal for her as it had been for her siblings. She hadn't expected much and so she wasn't disappointed. Alex was the practical one, "the smart one," as her father used to say. She'd been a compliant child. Responsible. Obedient. Always doing exactly what was expected of her. She'd moved seamlessly from college to career, while her sisters opted for marriage and families. Both Stan and Brian were old fashioned. Neither of her sisters had ever had a career or held down a real job. Their husbands, both several years older, didn't want them to. The men had thriving businesses and insisted that at least while the kids were young, their wives content themselves with being housewives and stay-at-home moms. Never particularly motivated when it came to working, her sisters had readily agreed. Judging by her nieces' and nephews' behavior today, Alex couldn't help thinking the stay-at-home mom gig wasn't working out as well as planned.

  By contrast, Alex had lived at home with her folks after college, protected from harm and temptation. Not that she had time for any temptation. When she wasn't laboring at her job 24/7, she was taking classes and working on getting her Masters. That left little time for dating or meeting anyone. She didn't move out on her own until she was almost 28. People thought she'd get a life then, meet somebody, get married; but the only thing that changed was that she had to cook her own meals and do her own laundry now that her mother wasn't around to do it for her. She hadn't been adverse to dating; she just didn't know how to go about meeting anyone. All of her friends were either married, engaged, or had moved away, so girls nights out were few and far between. She was too shy to go to a club or bar by herself so she stayed home, curled up with a good book. Alex tried a couple of dating apps and did meet a few guys that way. But most of them turned out to be older, fatter, balder, or poorer than what they posted online. She eventually gave up, deciding it was preferable to remain single rather than settle for someone who couldn't be trusted to tell the truth.

  Finally, when everyone was sure Alex would die an old maid, lo and behold…she got married!

  She had no illusions, Matt hadn't been Prince Charming, come to carry her off to the land of happily ever after, but he was, for all intents and purposes, acceptable as a husband. Theirs was a marriage of companionship rather than passion.

  Nearly 40, his Irish Catholic parents were pushing him to find a wife and give them grandchildren. At the same time, Alex's folks were getting desperate, wondering what would become of their spinster daughter when they were gone.

  One day their mothers met over tea at a diocesan wide meeting of the Rosary Altar Society. Commiserating about the sad state of their children's marital prospects, they struck on the idea of introducing them. Alex being virtuous, intelligent, and even-tempered and Matt being smart, sober, and hardworking, it seemed like a match made in heaven to their families. Alex, however, felt differently. Her mother's matchmaking efforts embarrassed her. Made her feel like a milk cow being auctioned off to the highest bidder.

  Their first date had been a Knights of Columbus dinner dance, in the company of both sets of parents. Alex felt like she'd stepped into a time warp. During the cocktail hour, Mrs. Ryan, Matt's mother, had sat beside Alex, gushing about her son's sterling qualities. Matt fared little better that evening, enduring her mother's boasting about Alex being the valedictorian of her high school class and having graduated Phi Beta Kappa from college. She also threw in that Alex made a truly delicious lasagna and had cooked the entire Thanksgiving dinner last year. Alex had been mortified. From such an inauspicious beginning, it seemed unlikely that they'd wind up getting married, but they did. Though Alex was less keen on the idea than Matt was.

  Matt was handsome. Tall with black hair and light blue eyes. You only had to look at him to know he was Irish. His looks were never the issue. It was his philosophy of life that she took exception to. Staunchly Catholic and a knee-jerk conservative, with all that implied, he was the antithesis of Alex, who with age had pulled away from the church and its dictums, and whose political ideology was, to say the least, left leaning and progressive. But that wasn't the only problem; Matt had no appreciation of ballet, fine art, or classical music. All things she loved. To make matters worse, Matt thought feminism and the Me Too movement, demands for universal health care, pay equity, and social justice were radical left-wing plots designed to destroy the country. Worse still, he frequently behaved like a pea-brained Neanderthal and bigoted misogynist.

  He wasn't the man of her dreams. Not by a long shot! But in the end, her parents' constant harping wore her down and she'd taken the long trek down the aisle with him, suppressing her misgivings. Over the years, the senior Macris had become experts at manipulating their children. The pressure never let up. Her father constantly reminded her that at her age, almost 31, marriage proposals would be few and far between. She was past the age of being choosy. She had to settle for what she could get! If she'
d heard once what a good provider Matt would be, she'd heard it a thousand times. Alex didn't need a good provider. She could provide for herself she told them. But they weren't buying it. Every woman needs a husband they countered. Not being married wasn't an option as far as they were concerned…unless of course Alex wanted to go into a convent and become a nun. Otherwise they wanted her to get on board with the program! "Think positive," her mother repeated like a broken record. "He's handsome. He's educated. Makes a good living. And he's Catholic. What more do you want?"

  The only interest they shared was a love of the outdoors. They were both fond of the mountains, of camping and fishing, and hiking wilderness trails. It seemed a flimsy basis on which to build a marriage, but, surprisingly enough, it was working. Her sisters had married for love and what had it gotten them? They certainly weren't happy. Far from it! Their differences aside, she and Matt got along better than most couples, at least so far. But then it had only been two years. Alex was grateful for that since divorce wasn't an option. Her parents would disown her. Matt loved her, or at least she thought he did. He rarely said it. He tried his best to make her happy though. What more could she require of a man? She loved him too, but not with the same intense passion they wrote about in the romance novels she favored. Still, the feeling was strong and constant and beggars can't be choosers. It is what it is!

  Alex looked into the side view mirror, than ahead again. Where was everybody? The few houses they'd passed seemed strangely empty, the drapes pulled or windows barricaded with sheets of plywood. What the hell? Perhaps they were camps closed down early in preparation for the ice and snow of the coming winter. Her hand left the wheel and began fiddling with the radio dial, hoping to bring in something more than static. She knew from experience that Sirius was spotty up here, as was cell phone reception. It had gone off over a half-hour ago and never come back on again. She couldn't find a station. What the hell was going on? She cocked her ear, something was coming through. She was picking up a radio station from Albany. But it was beeping. Beep. Beep. Beep. It sounded like the emergency alert system that they used to cut into TV shows during storms and floods. Beep. Beep. Beep. Alex strained to hear above the noise. It wasn't music. It was someone or something speaking. The voice was robotic. The words sounding garbled. She couldn't be sure, but it sounded like it said "seek shelter." Her eyes widened in alarm, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as she stared ahead at the desolate expanse of road that cut a swath through the forest. Her hand trembled as she turned up the volume. Startled at the sudden sound, everyone in the van quieted.