Fortunes & Failures - 03 (6 page)

“You smell,” Dr. Zahn—that’s who she was again in the blink of an eye, no sign of emotion—said. “Get out of those clothes and clean up in the basin we got in the kitchen. We can talk in there.”

“
Glad you’re back, Steve,”
I said in a poor impersonation of the clipped tones of our dear doctor.

I did as I was told; stripping down as I went, modesty no longer a concern, and tossed the filthy ball of rags into a garbage can. I noticed a curtained cubicle and stepped inside. The floor was tilted so that the water would flow out through a grate that I assumed emptied outside. A section of PVC pipe was sticking out through a cutout in the wall. It had a flex joint, and as soon as I pulled down, gravity allowed the sun-warmed water to pour through an improvised shower head that looked suspiciously like a pasta strainer.

I let the water rinse away the filth and stink that I could still taste in my mouth. I looked down at my feet, remembering the bliss of that hot shower the day we arrived at Serenity Base. I tried to let my mind wrap around just exactly what it was that the doctor was saying.

“Are you certain?”

“Rope doesn’t leave handprints. The damage to the throat was not consistent with what you see when a person hangs themselves. Also, Randi was found on a low branch above a campsite picnic table.” Dr. Zahn was speaking in that detached clinical way that used to irk me when we first met. That was before I realized that that was her way of dealing with her emotions. “All she would have needed to do was step off the edge of the table. There would not be a big drop, simply a choking. She was strangled and her throat was crushed; so whoever did this was strong. Randi Jenkins died a violent death.”

“And you’ve told nobody?” I reached out for a towel. After drying off for the most part, I wrapped it around my waist and stepped out.

“Not one single person. In fact,” Dr. Zahn raised her eyes to meet mine, “I did the autopsy one afternoon when everybody was setting up one of those heavy barricades on the entry road. I don’t think anybody knows I even did it. That night we had the burial, and I had already dressed Randi and wrapped her in a tarp.”

“So,” I accepted a stack of neatly folded and clean clothes that the doc had waiting, “what were you going to do if I didn’t make it back? You told nobody so…what?”

My mind tumbled over what little I knew about everybody. Outside of our small core group that I’d been with the past few months, we’d taken in an assortment of stragglers and, right or wrong, I was certain that whoever had done this had to come from those new arrivals.

“Well then, what do you want me to do?” I pulled on my clean shirt.

“We need to…” Dr. Zahn’s voice faded. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. It’s not like I can gather forensic evidence. Steve, we’re stuck.”

“Perhaps,” I nodded, “but there is a possibility that the person who did this will do it again. So what we have to do is decide just exactly who we can trust and bring them into our circle. Then…we watch and wait.”

I thought it over. My mind went back to our first meeting. Ian had been in a farmhouse with a man named Dillon that I’d been certain had spent time in prison. I had my doubts that Ian’s past was all that spotless, but I had never made a big deal about it because neither Ian nor the other man, Dillon, had given me reason for concern. As it stood, I felt confident that Ian was not our man. If Dillon was still alive, I was certain I would feel the same about him.

“Each for different reasons,” Dr. Zahn explained. “With Aaron, that boy’s a little bit gung ho. Saw that with a lot of young soldiers. They get so into being a soldier that they don’t know when to quit. Billy can’t keep a secret two steps away from the source, and Jamie…well, I have my reasons.”

“And that tone is a declaration that you won’t be sharing them.”

“You
can
be taught.”

The two of us walked out to the front just as the door flew open. Melissa and Teresa barged in arguing about something to do with ‘first’. Melissa suddenly bumped Teresa with her hip hard enough to knock the younger girl off balance.

“Steve!” Melissa shrieked darting across the room. My only choice was to catch her. I felt legs wrap around my waist and arms around my neck. Then, all I could see was her. I felt tears on her cheeks as she kissed my face repeatedly.

“Bitch!” I heard Teresa say from close by. “That was a dirty trick.”

Melissa pulled back enough so she could look into my eyes. Hers glimmered with tears and her smile made me feel warm. She glanced over at Teresa her smile changing to a Cheshire grin. “You’re just mad ‘cause I beat you to the punch.”

“True,” Teresa conceded. “Now get your skinny butt off of him so I can give him a hug!”

“Fine.” Melissa kissed me again, this time more deeply. Slowly she unwrapped her legs and lowered herself to the floor.

“Welcome back, Steve.” Teresa made an exaggerated show of stepping directly in front of me. She wrapped me in a hug which I gladly returned.

Can somebody change so much in just a couple of weeks?
I wondered. This sixteen-year-old girl that I had found hiding in the bathroom of a small convenience store that first day had transformed in amazing ways. A few years older, and she’d have been the one leading this group. I had no doubt about that.

“It’s good to be back.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Dr. Zahn already filled me in,” I said taking the burden of such a terrible secret off her shoulders.

“What?” Teresa spun around on the doctor with what sounded like genuine anger.

“Whoa!” Dr. Zahn put her hands up. “Ummm, no. Melissa, I think we should step outside for a moment.”

“I so don’t understand women.” I glanced at Melissa fully expecting Doctor Francis Zahn to tell her exactly what to do with that suggestion.

“Yeah, right.” Melissa kissed
Teresa
on the cheek and gave my hand a squeeze.
What the hell?

The two left, and I could see Aaron, Ian, Jamie, and Billy on the porch in a cluster. The door closed, and I turned to Teresa with a look of confusion. I knew about Randi. In fact, according to Dr. Zahn, I knew more than she did. So what the—

“Sorry,” I apologized, and shook my head. “Just finishing a thought out loud.” I looked her over. Was there really a difference in the girl I was seeing? “Congratulations? I mean …dammit, I don’t know what to say here.”

“I’ll take the congrats,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the group gathered on the porch. “You aren’t going to be all weird about this are you? I know you’ve had a few issues with me and Jamie.”

“Teresa,” I stepped close and took her in my arms hugging her, “the world is a crazy place right now. A sixteen-year-old mother is the least of our problems.”

* * * * *

3

Vignettes XIII

Garrett stood on the balcony. He pulled another can from the box at his feet and popped the top. Warm beer would never be his favorite, but it was better than nothing. He looked down the long driveway at the sturdy iron gate. His eyes followed the fence—a nine foot high brick wall—that circled the property. More of those things came everyday. The last trip outside searching for supplies had been a bust. He’d returned with barely a full knapsack.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could hear The Toy stirring. He puzzled over his inability to make it beg. The first one had given in so easily. He remembered the night the world had crumbled, leaving him to rule. He’d been standing in front of his house staring up at the living room window. What was left of his mother had been just standing there, torn open. Her guts spilling out of a hole in her enormous, sagging belly.

A car had pulled up and a young woman inside it had asked for his help. She’d been crying. Without a word, he’d climbed in. As they drove through the chaos of the streets of North Charleston, he’d
seen
. Empty police cars, ambulances, and even a deserted military troop truck at an abandoned roadblock. Then he’d known.
The world was dead
. He’d taken her to the baseball stadium. Breaking that one had taken less than a week.

It’d been more than a month with this one. And even though it was younger by at least half of the last one, this whore would not break. It wouldn’t beg for food or water, or for him to stop.
Sure
, he thought,
it would cry
,
but that wasn’t the same
. And on the rare occasion that he was honest with himself, he feared
her
. In those brief moments,
she
wasn’t The Toy. And
she
frightened him with
her
defiance.

Tossing the empty can aside, Garrett pulled out another. Tomorrow he would have to go back out there. Food was almost gone and this case of beer was all that remained besides a large, half-gallon bottle of Southern Comfort that he was saving for a special occasion.

The moans of the growing number of those things carried up to the house. Garrett shivered. That was another thing; there were so many now that he could hear them sometimes when the wind blew the wrong way. Hear
and
smell them. Even if the windows were shut.

He’d seen up close what those monsters did when they got their hands on you. Lately, those things had replaced Ennis—the boy who’d
done things
to him—in the nightmares Garrett had every night. Even when he wasn’t honest with himself, those
things
terrified him. He’d kill himself before he’d let those things get their filthy, cold hands on him and rip open his belly like they’d done his mama.

Reaching into the box, the big man’s hand found the last can of beer. He’d consumed the whole case, and it wasn’t even breakfast time. The dull buzz from the alcohol felt good. He heard another cough from the bedroom. Garrett knew better than to try and go out for supplies today after drinking so much.
Well
, he thought as he finished off the last can in three huge swallows,
there were other ways to keep entertained
.

“Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,” he began to sing in an off-key rumble as he tossed the empty can off the balcony to clatter on the rocky walkway below.



Kirsten stared up at the ceiling. The sounds of The Big Man’s snoring grating on her every nerve. He’d been incredibly drunk for so early in the day which she didn’t mind. When he was drunk, the episodes didn’t last nearly as long. Also, the violence wasn’t as prominent. For instance, this time, he’d kept calling her “Kimmy”. And kept asking why she always laughed at him. Then there was something about the police, but Kirsten wasn’t really paying attention. She did what she always did during these sessions. She stared at the ceiling and thought about nothing.

At some point, she’d realized it had stopped. But The Big Man was still on top of her. He was up on his hands, his head looking around with… He was scared! Something had frightened The Big Man. Then she heard it, the low moans, growls, and cries of the Monster-People. But they couldn’t have gotten inside. The wall was too high and the gate was too strong.