Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A tale of Atomic Love (9 page)

“Let’s go do this, okay? Be with me, Lu. I need you for this.”

He nodded and they were on their way again, fingers laced.

Her home looked lonely. The grass was too long and her flowers were already starting to wilt. She shook her head.

“This place is all the joy I had, and he couldn’t water the flowers?” she said, and they skirted around to the back. She peeked in her window, saw Renan and a froth of black hair on the pillow next to him.

“He has company,” she said and frowned.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like
he wasn’t doing it before. But…I don’t know.”

She looked at Lu and her eyes were too bright.

“I was
kidnapped
, Lu. Tied to a metal chair. And he—”

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

“We’ll make them pay,” he whispered.

She took the spare key from a fake rock in the garden.

“Those are terrible places to hide keys,” Lu said. He bounced on his toes in anxious delight. “Everybody knows about them.”

“I know,” she said. “Half the time I’m hoping somebody w
ill break in and kill me.”

The key slid in smoothly, without a sound. She unlocked the door, slipped inside. Lu followed her on sneakered feet.

He chloroformed two rags.

“I usually don’t use it,” he had told her earlier.
“It’s your first time and it’s pretty tricky until you get the hang of it. No mistakes or regrets. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Now she held her cloth tightly in her white fingers, looking at Lu nervously.

He winked and grinned. She smiled back.

He pointed at her and then at Renan. Himself and the girl.

He’s yours,
he mouthed, and she nodded. Studied Renan’s sleeping form, his shaved head and ratty mustache. The softness of his lips belied the hardness of the rest of him.

She couldn’t look at the woman who belonged to the tight black curls on the pillow. She wouldn’t. There would be no ill will if she wasn’t here right now. Wrong place, wrong time.

She closed her mind, closed her heart to the sleeping woman. She didn’t exist anymore.

I almost thought I loved you once, for a while,
she thought, and Renan’s brows bunched up, his lips pursed, and he turned in his sleep like he heard her. Perhaps he had.

It was time.

She looked at Lu, and he looked back.

Now?
his raised eyebrows seemed to ask.

She nodded.

Now.

She held the chloroformed rag over Renan’s nose and mouth.

His eyes opened, too wide, staring at something in his nightmares, something standing at the foot of his bed or his mother’s old, undressed lovers, or whatever it was that made his eyes bug out and strange sounds come from his throat. He grabbed at Montessa, but she stepped deftly aside.

“Renan, sweetheart. It’s me. I’m home. Shh.”

He relaxed slightly at her voice, but then scrabbled at her hands, at the cloth, at his face. His muscles were already confused and weak with sleep, and the chloroform was more effective than she would have thought.

“Shhh, darling. Just some medicine for you. I missed you, sweetheart. I’m so glad to be home.”

The lies tasted like her lies always tasted. At first they had been bitter and acrid, but she was so used to them by now that they tasted sweet like frosting.
I’ll never leave you, Renan. I love you. I’ve never been happier.

He struggled and she soothed and soon his dark eyes fluttered shut again. His face was slack in a way she had never seen before. This was more than sleep. This was something darker and longer lasting.

She realized she was panting, and pushed her sweaty hair out of her face. She looked at Lu. He was crouched over the body of the woman, watching Montessa carefully.

“You did fine,” he said, and Montessa jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Shhh! Quiet!”

He grinned at her.

“Why? They’re out, baby.”

He lifted the woman’s arm by her wrist and dropped it. It fell heavily on the bed with the sound of wet meat.

Montessa bit her lip, staring at Renan and his new woman du jour.

“And now we…
what?”

“Kill them.”

“Lu, I don’t think—”

“You can do it. You know you need to do it. He saw you. He’ll come after you.”

She chilled, felt her stomach twist and suddenly felt like she needed to use the restroom.

“Montessa. You can do this.”

He turned back to the woman, took a second knife out of its sheath, and traced it along her dark skin.

Montessa took a deep breath. Another. Took Lu’s beautiful knife from his first and most important kill. Held it to her heart as if it were a stuffed animal from a boyfriend. As if it were the most
precious thing she had ever owned.

“Where do I start?”

“Make it quick. It’ll be easier for both of you. You can slit his throat, if you’d like.”

She felt herself go pale. Put her hand over her mouth.

Lu nodded.

“I didn’t think so. That’s something to ease into. Garrote him, baby. Or go up under his ribs and into his heart. I’ll show you where.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and put the knife on the bed. She walked out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. Funny how this was her house, but it seemed so unfamiliar. She knew where things were and what room led into what room and where all of the doorways would take her, but it wasn’t her home. It was a place she had never been before. An alien land. A dream.

Her feet took her to the fridge. She opened it and reached for the Diet Coke shoved in the back. There was one left, and little else. Of course Renan wouldn’t go shopping. He’d wait for her to come back so she could do it.
Or tell one of his little whores to do it instead.

She popped the top and
took a long swallow. Two. Held the cold can to her cheek and tried to pull herself together.

This was death. Not playtime. Not the sad little revenge of a teenager.
This was murder.

She wasn’t a murderer. She was a lot of things. Sad. Tired, mostly. Special. That last one made her laugh. Sure, she had a few little parlor tricks, but everybody had their secrets. Their things that made them tick.

Renan never made her feel like she was special.

She was singled out for his abuse, but that wasn’t being special. And he hit the other women, too. She’d seen enough split lips and sunglasses at night to know he was lavishing his particular type of charm on more than just herself.

She wasn’t even special enough to be his only punching bag.

His only lover.

She was his maid. His housekeeper. Somebody who worked enough to barely keep the lights turned on.

Renan
was her daddy, only much better-looking.

She shut the fridge and drained the rest of her drink. Threw the can in the recycling bin, and then smiled because nobody would ever recycle here again. Or clean, or do homework, or pay bills.

She was ready to kill him.

The woman was already flayed open by the time she came back. Montessa stared, the scarlet insides looking wet and ravenous and almost sexual. Lu’s hands were red nearly up to the elbows and his eyes were slightly unfocused, the pupils large.

“He’ll come to, soon,” he said. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his face in unintentional war paint. “You’d better hurry.”

“I’m ready.”

“Need some help?”

She shook her head, and he nodded. Communication without words. Forget being baptized earlier in salt: this was Montessa’s baptism in blood.

She kissed the tip of Lu’s First Kill knife, let her lips linger. Moved them carefully, saying a prayer. She learned to pray as a little girl, and still did from time to time. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate, but it seemed right.

She set the tip of the knife on Renan’s sternum, wondering if his skin was warm, wondering how long it would take to cool.

“Not there. More to the side. Under. Beneath the ribs, to the heart.”

Lu’s voice. His calm, melodious voice. Calm and beautiful, her True North.

She repositioned her knife.

“Atta girl. And lean hard. All of your weight. It’ll be more difficult than you think.”

The knife was so sharp. So cold and clean. Seeing the way that Renan’s blood oozed under its steely touch, it was like being plunged into a pond laced with ice. Falling unexpectedly into the river, and scrabbling over the rocks, coughing out water and oxygen and what was left of youthful hope and optimism. Barking up pieces of lung and tissue. Good-feeling and organs.

She watched the pulse in Renan’s neck, thought about the way she used to rest with her head on his chest, listening to his heart. It was the only time that she remembered really being happy with him. Knowing that he was there, alive, that his arm was thrown around her…

A woman as lonely as Montessa should really just get a dog.

The scream surprised her, a small feral sound somewhere deep in her throat, bursting up from the broken places inside and
rushing out through her mouth. She leaned on the knife, threw her weight against it, pushing into the floor with the balls of her feet, and felt the knife push, push, push until there was blood and her hands were slick. It was on her face, running down her neck. Renan made a noise, the most terrible of sounds, the most heart-wrenching and sickening imitation of a human voice, sobbing, jerking and choking, and then there was nothing.

Nothing.

“Okay, baby?”

She couldn’t answer. Her hands were glued to the
gory knife, wrapped around the handle so tight she could feel her blood pulsing through her fingers. Her working vascular system, carrying oxygen. Carrying nutrients. Firmly encased inside of her arteries and skin, not loosed and sliding in a pool like Renan’s blood.

Lu put one red hand on hers, and she realized she was sobbing.

“Come here,” he said, and gently tugged her hands from the blade. He wrapped her arms around his waist, wrapped his arms around her. He bent his forehead down to touch hers.

“I’m here,” he said and let her shake.

She tried to cover her face with her hands, but Lu held them down firmly.

“They’re bloody,” he said, and she collapsed against him again, crying, holding on to his body through the thin cotton of his shirt.

Her tears soaked his clothes, and Lu became afraid. Afraid that this was too much for her, that it wasn’t the liberation that he had experienced, but something frightening and ugly and evil.

Maybe it wasn’t cleansing,
he thought, and held her even tighter.
Maybe I broke her. What if she thinks she’s damned?

The shaking intensified, so hard that he felt he was going to lose her, that she was going to
shake apart into pieces of bone and sinew.

“Baby?
I’m sorry. I thought this would help. I thought—”

Was this what despair felt like? Absolute horror? Because if this was more than she could handle, if this had turned her into a monster, or worse, made her realize he was one himself, then she would go.

She would go. And he would have nothing left.

The shaking and the sounds. The tears and the torrential wailing from Montessa. The room itself began to quiver, the bed and the dresser s
hook, and the now-familiar Wind That Was Not A Wind blew through the room. Blew bits of meat and shreds of skin from the bed. Blew a hat down that he realized was Montessa’s. Shattered the mirror on the wall.

“Montessa. My love. You need to pull yourself together.”

This was it. She was breaking. Her first kill had thrown her right over the edge into insanity, and he was the one who caused it to happen.

She pulled back an
d he saw her expression. The teeth that split her face wide. The way her eyes…danced.

She was laughing.
Laughing.

“He’s gone, Lu. I did it. I killed him.”

She put her hands to her face and this time Lu didn’t stop her. She laughed and sobbed and Renan’s blood ran down her face with her tears. A bloody teardrop slid into her mouth and Lu bent close and kissed it away.

“Are you all right?”

She gulped in deep breaths. Looked at Renan and the corpse that lay beside him. No. Looked at the corpse and the corpse that lay together.

She tasted blood. Knew it wasn’t hers. Thought that the last time she had seen Renan, she had tasted blood then, too.

“Renan’s tastes better,” she murmured, and her legs gave out.

Lu caught her. Helped her to the ground.

“Don’t fade out on me. Look at me.”

“I killed him,” she
repeated. Her voice was getting faint. She looked down at her clothes, knew they were ruined. Knew there were stains that would never come out, never. Out of your heart, out of your shirt.

Out, damned spot.

“Come on,” Lu said, and helped her up. He mostly carried her to the shower. Turned the water on.

“How do you like it?”

“Hot. It’s never hot enough.”

He grinned, the blood splatter looking like shiny freckles in the light.

“I can make it as hot as you want it. Hotter.”

He pulled off his shirt, stepped out of his jeans. The water warmed, steamed, and he peeled Montessa out of her clothes.
She stood there like a broken doll or an obedient little girl.

“In,” Lu said. She stepped into the tub. Lu followed and pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Warm enough?” he asked her.

She was still shivering. She thought she’d never be warm again. All of her hot blood had seeped out with Renan’s. All of her warmth.

“No.” Her lips felt sticky. She turned her face to the shower head and watched the water run red at her feet.

Lu narrowed his eyes, and the water heated up even more. Their skin turned red, mottled, but Montessa only sighed.

“Thank you. I think I love you, Lu.”

He
washed her. Firmly and with a tenderness he didn’t even know he possessed, getting all of the blood and bad memories off. Washed her hair with her own shampoo. Turned her to face him and kissed her lips gently. Washed himself with a dead man’s soap. Turned off the water and dried both of their bodies with a dead man’s towel.

“They’re my towels, too, you know,” she said, but her voice was still shaking.

“I know they are.”

“This…this is my house.”

“I know, baby.”

“I just exorcised it.”

“You did.”

They dressed. She in her clothes, he in Renan’s. Everything was too big, but clean. Lu wondered if Montessa had washed them last, or if Renan had.

“Of course I did. Or maybe one of his girls. That man wouldn’t know how to start a washing machine.”

They sat at the table. At
e some cold cuts and Lu had a beer. Montessa wished there was more Diet Coke.

“Better pack a bag,” Lu said. He looked around the house, the kitchen. He’d seen inside so many times, but it was different when he was actually here, sitting in the chair.

“Kinda like playing house, isn’t it?” Montessa’s eyes had refocused. The glow was starting to come back. Her hands had stopped trembling. She pushed her wet hair out of her face.

“Kinda is.”

“Maybe that can be our dream, Lu. Our own house. I want a purple one.”

“Backed up to the river.”

“That would be nice.”

“A garden?”

“Of course.”

“How about otters?”

“Now you’re just being silly.”

“But I really want otters.”

It would never happen, this dream. They’d never settle. Never be safe. They’d have to move and move and move, because staying meant getting caught, and getting caught meant getting separated.

Lu realized he had never known real terror until now. He thought he knew it, thought he understood and breathed it in, but that hadn’t been the case. Discomfort instead of horror. Annoyance instead of misery. The idea of being separated from Montessa, from his other half, made his eyes bleed. He bled water from his eyes.

“Don’t cry, Lulu. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She kissed him, a long, gentle kiss. The kind of kiss meant to take place in meadows with picnics and sunshine. The kind of kiss that, in any other situation and with any other couple, would mean forever. But here and now, with her dead boyfriend in the other room, it was filled with a strange sorrow.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’ve never missed anyone before.”

“You haven’t lost me yet,” he said.

“Yes. But I will. “

She packed her clothes and shoes into a bag. She tossed a black duffle to Lu and he stuffed Renan’s clothes into it with deft, mechanical speed. He was a man used to getaways. Used to taking what he wanted, and then walking away while everything burned behind him.

“Will it bother you to see me in his clothes?”
he asked her. He kept his eyes on his task, seemingly unconcerned, but she could feel how he roiled and steamed and burned inside. Would this drive her away? Was this a terrible mistake? Should he have taken Renan out instead of her? Was she damaged? Would she blame him for this life? She had been a victim before. Now she was an accomplice.