Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (6 page)

BOOK: Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men
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“What’s so special about that woman?”

“Just be glad you won’t get to meet her.”

“What about her?” I asked.

“I was locked up for nine years with the worst criminals in Vermont... that’s scarier than it sounds.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Those guys are nothing compared to Kathleen Shannard.”

“She sounds lovely. But... the plan?”

“Gary’s probably gone home for the night, since like the rest of humanity he hates being around those girls longer than he has to. If we can immobilize those two twits we should be able to get help before anyone else realizes what’s happened.”

“Immobilize?”

“Don’t worry... I’m not a murderer. Uh... anymore. We’ll restrain them. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“We’re not drugging them.”

“Figure of speech. Now let me find something for that padlock.”

We made our way to the house, armed with the best weapons we could find in the tack room. Pouchon had a shavings fork and a small knife, while I carried a stack of leather reins and a roll of black electrical tape.

The house was dark aside from one small lamp light coming from upstairs.

“The kitchen door,” Pouchon said. “They always leave it open with just the screen.”

“You pay close attention,” I said.

“Sometimes they put us to work out here, too. Maybe it’s a test, to see if we’re really as docile as we look.”

“Test didn’t work, I see.”

“I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long time.”

We snuck into the dark kitchen. Pouchon had us pause for a moment to adjust from the lack of moonlight inside.

We climbed up the stairs slowly; Pouchon seemed to know just where to step to minimize the creaking. I followed his footsteps as closely as I could.

We split up, Pouchon grabbing a couple of reins and heading left towards the bedroom that had light peeking under the door. I headed to the right. I opened the bedroom door and saw Cadance, asleep in her bed with a stuffed My Little Pony clutched in her arms.

I took the leather straps and walked into the bedroom. I was at least six inches taller a good thirty pounds heavier, but I was worried that my nerves would make me hesitate.

It was hard to think of the teenage girl with the pink horsey as a monster, but she’d held me down while they’d drugged me. She’d wanted to see me turned into a brainless monster.

She deserved it.

I put the electrical tape on the dresser and snuck up beside the bed. I grabbed Cadance by the neck and awkwardly flipped her onto her front. I had her wrists bound before she’d even figured out what was happening. I bound her ankles next, and pulled them up to meet her hands.

I’d hogtied Cadance in less than thirty seconds. I’d missed out on a career in rodeo.

I heard a woman’s scream from the other room. It was loud but muffled. It frightened me despite me being in on the plan.

She kept screaming, for almost a minute. She was in pain.

Pouchon wasn’t doing what I’d thought he’d be doing. He’d lied.

“Oh, god,” Cadance said. “My sister...”

“She must be putting up one hell of a fight,” I said. “Don’t worry... he doesn’t want to hurt her.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“I’m saving my friends. You did this to yourself.”

“Come on... this wasn’t my fault. You can’t do this.”

“And so why us, then?” I asked. “What did we do to deserve this?”

“We needed you. That’s... that’s all it was.”

“Why?”

“You already know why. We needed new workers to replace the
macoutes
.”

“What makes us good workers? You just head over state lines to grab a handful mediocre high school basketball players?”

“Yes.”

“How did you even find us?”

“Uh... YouTube. You guys did a video, that cinnamon challenge thing. We saw the uniforms so we knew where to find you. Shannard saw it and she got all weird about it... three dumb girls... strong and fit, but not strong enough to be dangerous.”

“Dumb girls?”

“Well... cinnamon challenge...”

Pouchon strode into the room.

“That girl is worthless,” he said.

“Did you hurt her?” I asked.

“She’s okay.” He took a minute to check my work. “Nice job... this little bitch isn’t going anywhere.”

“Easy, Pouchon,” I said. “You’ve scared her enough as it is.”

“There’s no such thing as being too scared.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, okay... now it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“What are you talking about?”

He pushed me onto the bed.

For some reason that was the moment Cadance started to cry.

“I wrote a story, Amanda,” Pouchon said as he rolled me onto my stomach. “I’ve had two months in this place to plot it out.”

He bound my wrists with one of the reins he still had. He hadn't used them on Tiara.

“Please don’t,” I said.

“Please,” Cadance said. “Oh god... please...”

“Shut up,” Pouchon said. “1:33 AM. Two of the
macoutes
escape when their cell is left unlocked by Cadance being careless. No surprise there.” He started to bind my ankles. “2:14 AM. The sound of a girl’s screams brings Tiara down to the stable to investigate. She discovers that two of the young girls have been attacked and eaten by the two
macoutes
.”

“That won’t work,” I said. “You can’t just throw a couple of zombies into a stall and hope they eat whoever’s inside.” At least I hoped it didn’t work that way.

“My first draft had Tiara screaming but then escaping for a second round. I was under the impression that she had... more star power? But I’ve decided to rewrite that part.”

“What does that mean?” Cadance asked.

“What do you think it means? The zombies are going to eat her.”

“Or so you’re hoping,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it, Amanda. I’m a do-it-yourselfer.”

“What?”

“Who do you think ate Rarity?”

“Oh my god...” I said.

Cadance started to sob.

Pouchon tied my ankles and wrists together. “3:01 AM. Cadance comes to the stable to look for her missing sister. She discovers the scene and decides that she needs to rescue that one poor girl who wasn’t zombified.” He tapped the back of my head. “That’s you. She lets you out and the two of you run to the house, carelessly leaving the door to the stables open.”

“That’s a lot of carelessness,” I said. “Pretty big plot holes.”

“5:22 AM. The two
macoutes
eventually find their way to the house and discover the two girls cowering in a bedroom. The zombies do what zombies do.” He grinned. “That’s the part where I get to eat you.”

"Then what?"

"Doesn't matter as far as you're concerned."

"Indulge me," I said. "Maybe the extra terror of the story will make me that much tastier."

"You’re being ridiculous. Don’t be ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Either way, Gary shows up in the morning and
chomp
. Then Daddy gets home a little later and, well,
chomp chomp chomp
."

"And so then the zombies run off into the night and you disappear. But won't they just think you're one of the three escaped zombies?"

"I guess I left out the part about the safe buried under the round pen and the millions of dollars in ill-gotten teddy bear money. Did I not mention the teddy bear money?"

"You inferred it earlier. I guess that was enough."

"Ha! I like you, Amanda."

"Then try not eating me."

“Oh god,” Cadance said again.

"I'm a murderer,” Pouchon said. “You know... a murderer who eats people."

"I don't get why these idiots would've picked you for this," I said.

"That's an endemic problem in the US Penal System. Some inmates learn how to be better lockpickers or gang bangers... I perfected a different skill. You know... I'll bet they don't churn out monsters like me in Scandinavian prisons."

"I'll be sure to set up a Facebook page about that if you let me live."

He chuckled again. I felt like I was trying to survive based on pure entertainment value. It was a better strategy than Cadance’s “sob till you pass out” approach.

"Take the money," I said. "We'll rewrite the story. You'll be the hero who saved me and tied up these girls so I could run and get help. Then you felt you had to run away; they won't look too hard for you."

Pouchon looked me over for a minute. “Maybe that could have worked,” he said, “but it won’t work now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already took a big honking bite out of Tiara.”

“Why?” Cadance screamed. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“Shut up,” Pouchon said. He pulled a pink sock from his flared-pants pocket and shoved it in her mouth. “Do you know what they were going to do, Amanda? They were going to kill us.”

“Kill you? Why?”

“Because they knew it was just a matter of time before the
macoutes
attacked again.”

“But it wasn’t the
macoutes
. You’re the psycho face chomper.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure...”

“Once they had you girls up and working, they were going to starve us to death in those concrete cells.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“They talked about it right in front of me. Big bad Kathleen Shannard herself, on and on with every damned detail. But why not? I was just a brainless zombie, remember?” He grabbed Cadance by the hair and jerked her head off the mattress. “Remember?”

“Don’t kill her,” I said. “She’s just a kid.”

“That’s a slippery slope, Amanda. You’re pretty much a kid, too. Hell, you can’t even drink a beer yet. And that tasty dish in the other room isn’t much older...”

“Come on...”

“She deserved it. And so does this little bitch. They took us from that prison and brought us here, and strapped us to that table and injected us with that poison...”

“Then you know what you should do? Rewrite the goddamn story. Take this little bitch down to the stables and strap her to that table. Let’s pump her full of enough of that green piss that she turns into a leprechaun. Make her feel it, Pouchon.”

He started to laugh. “Inmate doesn’t mean idiot, Amanda. Do you think I’m going to fall for some stupid distraction?”

“I don’t have a lot of options here.”

“No... you really don’t.” He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I like you, Amanda.”

“You said that already.”

“This isn’t about you... or about this little twit. It’s about me taking out every one of those animals. It’s about me taking a chunk out of Kathleen Shannard’s neck.”

“A little lab work won’t get in the way of that,” I said.

He grinned. “I think you’re right.”

He left the room.

I twisted my body over to get my hands as close to Cadance’s knots as I could. I couldn’t see the rope and I’d barely found the loop to start pulling apart when Pouchon came back into the room clutching Tiara in his arms. She was bound with silk scarves but hogtied like us, or like Cadance, really, since she had the matching sock.

He dropped her onto the bed.

The right side of her face was bloody, but her eyes were open and she was conscious, a gaping red tear where her ear had once been.

“She’s still alive,” I said.

“You’re a smart one,” Pouchon replied. “It’s not time yet. I had a schedule.”

“So the medical examiner will wonder why her ear was chomped off an hour before your alleged zombie attack.”

“Yeah... you’re right,” Pouchon said. “Good thing you’re giving my script a little polish.”

“Are you going to bite off my ear, too?”

“I don’t want to...”

“Then don’t.”

He grabbed Cadance and picked her up. “She’s nice and light,” he said. “You girls be good, okay? Seriously... if you try to escape I’ll cut your tongues out and make them into toffee or something.”

He carried her out of the room.

I waited a couple of minutes, in case he was testing us.

I heard Tiara spit out her sock.

“He’ll do us in for certain,” she said.

“Oh, ya think?”

She started scuttling over to me. “We best hurry, Amanda.”

“Yeah. In two shakes of a lamb’s tail would be best, right guvna?”

She started pulling at my knots.

I tried to do the same to hers.

We both sucked at it.

“Cadence has a pair of scissors in her nightstand,” Tiara said.

“Why?”

“Scrapbooking. Does it really matter?”

“I hope I made it into her zombie collage.”

“I’ll see if I can get the drawer open.” She dragged herself over to the nightstand and started to fiddle with the knob.

She knocked it over.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

I rolled off the bed. I got the knob open pretty easily, and then I felt around in the drawer until I found the metal shears. I started dragging the leather reins against the edge of the scissor blade.

“Hurry up,” she said.

“Do you know how long this is going to take me? Sawing through leather with a pair of scrapbooking scissors?”

“Feck you. Have you seen my ear?”

“Yeah... that sucks... sorry.”

BOOK: Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men
2.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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