Journalstone's 2010 Warped Words for Twisted Minds (12 page)

One morning I discovered Mother had taken on a new assistant, an exotic young woman named Jamila Van As. I could tell right away the poor deluded girl had fallen deeply under Mother’s spell. Jamila was strikingly beautiful with her deep blue eyes, red-brown hair, and rosy cheeks. She said her mother came from the small Middle Eastern nation of Jordan, and her father was of Dutch ancestry. She was kind to me, and I did not wish to see her wounded by Mother’s cruel criticisms and unrealistic demands the way everyone who comes into Mother’s sphere eventually is.

I wished that I could tell Jamila to go away before it was too late. I knew that no matter how much Mother gushed over her in the beginning, it would be impossible for her to care for the girl – not as a surrogate daughter, not as a respected colleague, not as an assistant, and not as a lover. Mother used and disposed of everyone eventually — everyone except for me. I assumed, and in truth prayed, that I would one day outlive my usefulness to her and be sent away.

Jamila said she was 18 years old, but I didn’t believe she could be much older than 16 — a mere four years older than I. I knew one day soon there would be another waxwork in Mother’s showroom. This new waxwork would be a beautiful maiden with dark mahogany hair and olive skin. Her blue eyes would have the same look of sadness and terror that all Mother’s sculptures held. Perfect though they were otherwise, they always possessed an unsettling look of dejected shock.

During dinner, Jamila expressed her wish that the animals didn’t have to be harmed in the experimentation process. She said she understood that sometimes these things must happen, though, in order to make scientific advances. She praised Mother, saying how honored she felt to be working with such a great scientist.

Mother in turn told Jamila how inspired she was to meet a beautiful girl who chose to use her mind rather than allow her appearance to carry her through life. She said that Jamila might be the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, and reached under the table to caress her thigh. Jamila blushed and gave a little giggle as Mother leaned over and gave her a kiss near her mouth. I excused myself from the table, having lost my appetite even for Blancmange, which is my very favorite dessert.

At about 9 p.m., there came a soft rapping on my door. I knew it couldn’t be Mother, as she always knocks loudly in case I have fallen asleep. I was fairly certain the cook had gone home, so I rose and opened the door to see who might be calling. There stood Jamila with a tray containing tea and two dishes of Blancmange.

“I hoped you might be feeling well enough to enjoy dessert now,” she said. “You looked extremely pale when you left the table.”

My eyes welled with tears, and I swallowed hard.

“Thank you, it’s very kind of you. You’re the nicest one who’s been here since Dean.”

“Was he one of your mother’s assistants?” Jamila asked.

“He was her fiancé. I hoped he might be my father. My father died in the war before I was born.”

“Yes, that’s what your mother said.”

Her voice was so soft, her manner so gentle. She was too good for Mother. I needed to tell her that she must leave for her own sake, before she too was hurt the way Dean and so many others had been.

Instead I said, “Jamila, you’re so very kind. I would like you to stay here and be my friend.”

“I would like that too,” Jamila replied. Then she smiled and a starry-eyed, faraway look came over her face as she spoke of Mother.

“Your mother is so brilliant and so glamorous. I can’t believe she chose me to be her assistant. I’m somewhat like you — my parents are dead, too. They were killed in a plane crash. You’re lucky that your mother is still alive, and now she’s made me feel very special, as well.

“She visited the biology class at the orphanage school and said she was seeking the best of the best to assist her with her work. She thought I was that choice, even though I’m not the sharpest in my sciences. She said she saw something special in me.”

“You are special, I can see that,” I said. “The trouble is, Mother can sometimes be very harsh. She can hurt people’s feelings terribly and not even care. All of her other assistants have left suddenly never to return. I don’t want her to upset you that way.”

“Well, she is a perfectionist. But she seems very fond of me. Perhaps, for me, it will be different.”

I wanted to scream that it wouldn’t be different, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I needed to find a way to prove to Jamila that she needed to get as far away from this place as possible, before she became another victim of Mother’s heartlessness.

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “And thank you for the Blancmange and the tea.”

There was another tap at the door, and Mother entered. She smiled broadly.

“I thought I might find you here, Jamila,” she said. “How perfectly lovely of you to check on Anthos. Are you feeling better, my darling daughter?”

“Yes, I am now,” I said.

“Anthos has a very delicate stomach,” Mother said. “Fortunately, it doesn’t stop her from dissecting the specimens. Jamila, love, I need to see you in the laboratory so we may discuss certain issues critical to your employment with me.”

“Of course, Dr. Peacock,” Jamila said.

Before rising, she leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.

“Good night, Anthos,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I squeezed her hand and bit my lip. After Jamila had floated from the room on steps so light as to be nearly inaudible, Mother turned and gave a predatory grin and conspiratorial wink.

“She is a beauty, isn’t she?” she proclaimed. “And quite bright, which is a bonus. I simply cannot abide a simpleton, no matter how comely he or she may be. Well, dear, it’s time for all good children to be off to dreamland. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Mother’s kiss left sticky pink lipstick on my cheek, which I wiped away as soon as she was gone. She was becoming bolder, making little effort to conceal her true purpose for the assistants she brought into our home. I was her only real underling these days. The others were there to fulfill shameful desires.

“I won’t let her do it to Jamila—I simply won’t!” I swore to myself.

After 15 minutes had passed, I crept into the darkened hallway. As I had hoped, there was no one on either the second or main floors. I slipped into the cellar where I heard the voices of my mother and Jamila.

“Oh, Dr. Peacock, I’m deeply flattered that you are so overcome by my beauty,” Jamila said breathlessly. “But this…it’s wrong, isn’t it? For two women to be lovers, I mean?”

Mother and Jamila were seated on the sofa just outside the sculpture exhibition room. When Mother leaned towards Jamila, she reminded me of Dracula in the movie scene where he corners the flower girl and leans over her, covering both of them with his cape.

“That may be what the rest of the world says, my sweet,” Mother sighed, “But a love this strong cannot be fought. You feel it too, don’t you, Jamila? Oh, please, tell me you feel it, too. My heart would be broken if you didn’t feel it.”

“Oh yes, Dr. Peacock. I’ve never known anyone like you before. You’re so beautiful, I simply don’t feel worthy!”

Mother brought her face to Jamila’s and kissed her mouth. I felt bile rising in my throat. Fortunately, the laboratory was open, and I slipped inside. Mother had carelessly left her notes on her desk. I began looking through them for anything incriminating enough to convince Jamila she should escape the clutches of this perverse madwoman before it was too late.

“Her heart would be broken, my foot!” I snorted. “It simply isn’t possible, for she doesn’t possess a heart to break!”

Mother’s notes began in 1941 when she reached the age of 21 and the title to her parents’ home passed to her following the death of her cousin. It was at this time she began in earnest to try and perfect the immortality formula her father had left undone.

I leafed through the journals for some 15 minutes. There was page after page describing the deaths of animal specimens, up until the entry for Jan. 17, 1945. As I read, my hands began to shake, and a little cry escaped my throat.

“He wasn’t killed in the war at all. You…you murdered him!” I gasped.

17 January 1945

Wum is due to return to the front tomorrow, so tonight is the night that I test the formula on a human subject. I poured two milliliters into Wum’s nightcap. He was none the wiser until his organs began to turn to wax within him, but by then, it was too late. The process took only an hour. He first began to sweat, and then his breathing became labored. He complained of feeling sick to his stomach, as if he had swallowed a tub of clay. Then he spoke no more, and slowly the life drained out of him.

24 January 1945

The army fools came and went today, believing my husband to be a coward and a deserter. I care not. I am happy to find that like the animals in the previous experiments, Wum shows no signs of decay. I have put him on display in the room near my laboratory that I may continue to observe him for any signs of change. I like him much better this way — obedient and quiet!

Sweat poured from my brow, and my breathing became labored. I felt as though my stomach were filled with sludge. Of course, this was simply a reaction to the terrible truth I had just discovered. My mother had murdered my father and Dean and all of her other assistants and lovers, as well. I needed to get this information to the police. But first I needed to be sure that Jamila escaped the madwoman’s clutches.

I felt as if I had been drugged. I plodded towards the door, my legs feeling as if they were made of lead. I could hardly move. The journal felt so heavy I could barely carry it. It took all of my strength to pry open the door. Mother, however, pulled it open for me.

I gasped as I saw Jamila slumped on the couch, gasping for breath. Her blue eyes were wide with terror.

“Ah, Anthos—you found my notes,” Mother said. “Dear me, it looks as if that big book is terribly heavy for you. I’ll take it now. You don’t look very well, my girl. Why don’t you go sit on the couch beside your new friend?”

I couldn’t fight—I could hardly move at all. It felt as if I were drowning.

“Why?” I gasped as Mother pushed me onto the sofa. “How could you?”

“Oh, Anthos,” Mother sighed. “It’s all in the name of science. How can I ever complete my parents’ research when traitors threaten to stop me from my work at every turn? Your father called me mad. He threatened to turn me over to the RSPCA for my unauthorized experimentation on the specimens. Dean had the audacity to tell me I was a bad mother and threatened to tell the police I was abusing you. Isn’t that absurd? And one by one my assistants became ungrateful, calling me inhumane and refusing to care for my…well, I’ll just say, my womanly needs. You were the only one I could trust not to expose me — until I saw the latest entry in your journal. Really, my dear, did you think you had any secrets from me?”

I’m sure my eyes reflected my surprise. I kept my journal hidden in a small cutout panel in my closet behind my clothes and several boxes. I never dreamed she would look there. I realized too late how wrong I was in my belief that my mother never paid attention to me.

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child,” Mother lamented. Her wicked face was blurry in my failing vision. I felt something brush against the tips of my fingers and realized that Jamila’s hand had fallen against mine. I forced my hand over to hold hers.

“Just like sisters,” my mother gushed. “I knew the two of you would get on nicely. That’s why I mixed the formula into the remaining Blancmange. I suggested Jamila bring it up for the two of you to share. She’s so perfect that I almost couldn’t bear preserving her so soon—but the beauty of love in early bloom always goes rotten sooner or later. Besides, she would never have understood my need to sacrifice my treacherous daughter.”

As the world went dark before my eyes, I heard my mother’s final words to me.

“Now everything is perfect in my world. I have the perfect husband, perfect child, and a group of wonderful, perfect lovers and cohorts. None of you will ever leave me or betray me, and you will all remain young and beautiful. It’s a shame the precise formula for the Immortality Serum continues to evade me, but my father’s Preservation Serum is perfect in every way!”

Damn, it was hot. But what else could you expect being in the deserts of southern Utah in June? My wife and I had fled here, this desolate yet beautiful place, this Valley of the Gods. No rotting flesh bags came here. Why would they? They were searching for ways to quench their cannibalistic desires and little else. There wasn’t even so much as a small town within 40 miles of here, and even the living dead would be hard pressed to hike through these leagues of jagged cliffs.

A raven made a strange guttural caw as it passed overhead, flying to the butte that held Balancing Rock. Despite how many times I had seen the looming high mesas, they still filled me with wonder. The narrow spires gave the impression of figures, which reminded one of forgotten gods. The vermillion cliffs surrounded us in every direction, a fortress of solitude and silence. A perfect place to hole up during this plague of death, save for perhaps one thing – we were slowly starving.

We had gathered as much food as we could before we fled, but when the walking dead are eating your neighbors, you don’t have to time go shopping. My wife and I tried to be conservative with what we had, but soon we were forced to consume the few local animals we could find.

The only reason we had survived even this long was our discovery of a natural spring. As bizarre as it sounds, in the middle of this arid desert, a small spring flowed out over some limestone like a miracle. When my wife Loni had spotted it, she had held me as tears poured down her face.

“We’re going to live,” she had cried, and back then I had agreed. But now we had sunk down to levels I would have never thought possible.

We have each loved the little critters that populate the southwest, and it broke our hearts when our driving hunger required us to start consuming them. Loni, once again, had tears pooling in her eyes when we were forced to eat our first tadpoles. The frogs were next, but even these didn’t last long. The spring only ran for maybe an eighth of a mile before the desert sands reclaimed it, but it did draw other animals. I was able to catch a few snakes and even a bird or two, but soon it became apparent that we were fighting a losing battle. We were holding on, but we both silently realized that we wouldn’t be able to go on this way.

Another issue we were having was our quickly dwindling firewood. Since we needed to boil our water before drinking, this was also a severe need for us. The desert shrubs provided enough fuel for us to make this happen, but as the weeks passed, I needed to forage further and further from camp.

One day, when I was returning with an armful of chaotic twigs, I heard Loni screaming for help. Dropping the sticks, I began to sprint back to camp. As I approached, the screaming only increased in volume. Topping a hill, I saw that a zombie was clawing at our tent. It was already half shredded and from the sounds of things, Loni was trapped inside.

All my weapons were in the main camp, save my dagger, but I didn’t have time to retrieve any on them. I tore down the incline in three oversized strides. Water splashed wildly, as I raced through the stream. Loni was still screaming, which I hoped was a good sign. Drawing my double-edged dagger, I started to yell in the hopes of distracting the animated corpse. It wanted Loni and couldn’t have cared less. It did notice when my hiking boot took it in the face.

It looked up at me. Its milky eyes were liquid death. With a reptilian hiss, it came at me spraying black phlegm as it stumbled through the tattered remains of our tent. I stumbled back a step and promptly fell off the 4-foot incline that dropped down into the stream. My butt landed in the water, and my left elbow landed on a rock.

The elbow hurt worse.

My only salvation… the zombie’s spill was almost as nasty as mine. He rushed towards me, but totally ignored the drop off. He came crashing down on top of my legs and for a moment, I feared I might have received an accidental bite. This wasn’t the case, but the zombie was quickly attempting to rectify that shortcoming. I stabbed forward with my dagger aiming for his eye, yet only managed to cut a jagged tear across the right side of his face.

It was clawing at me and going for a bite, when it was suddenly pulled off me. Loni had it by the ankles. It was distracted enough that this time my dagger did take it in the eye. It finally collapsed in a jet of gore.

“Oh my God, Emery. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? How about you? Did it get you? Are you alright?”

She looked over herself once more as if uncertain as to the truth of her words. “No, he didn’t get me. I’m fine. Other than a few bruises that is.”

“Yeah, I might have you beat there,” I said, rubbing my elbow. But my eyes were lingering on the foul corpse lying beneath me.

“It seems strange that one of them would show up at our spring,” she said past a worried face. “I thought you said they would never come out here.”

“Well, I suppose they will show up everywhere eventually. Still, it’s a big difference between seeing one lone zombie after a month and the large hordes we barely escaped from before.”

“But what does this mean? Why now?”

“It only means one thing: the zombies around these parts won. There are no humans left in the little towns, so they are slowly wandering away in search of new victims.”

“So there might be more?” Even in fear, I found her beautiful and knew I would do anything to protect her.

“This means a lot of things, honey, not the least of which is that anything left behind in these towns is up for grabs. We could use getting some weapons better than an axe, and of course, a few hundred cans of food would be nice.”

“But Em, the fact that all we have is an axe is a good reason not to go to town. These people had guns, and they are dead. How do you think we would fare?”

“But we just saw that the zombies are off searching. Maybe they have left the towns. Sure some are around, but if we try for a small town where there weren’t too many people to begin with…”

“I don’t like that idea. Could we just stay here longer? I’m sure you’ll bag a deer soon.”

“With what, my homemade spear? Listen, if it looks too crazy when we get there, we will just leave. But even besides food and weapons, there are loads of other things we need to live out here. We left our home so quickly, and I’d love to get more tarps, tables, a saw, wood, all sorts of things. We could make this place far safer with a little more gear.

Taking her into my arms, I said, “Come on, Loni. We knew this day was coming. We don’t really have a choice. We’ll just have to be careful.”

She snuggled into me and shivered despite the desert heat.

*   *   *

It was a quiet drive to Bluff, the town we had chosen to hit. Bluff wasn’t too large, on the best of days, and was about a one gas station town. It was my hope this would make it perfect for our needs.

We spied a zombie stumbling along the road more than a few times. Every time this happened, I could feel Loni tense. We both hated what our world had become, but what could we do?

“You would think we’d see someone,” she said, as the clutched the armrests until her fingers turned white.

“There must be people around. In an isolated place like this, the packs wouldn’t be huge enough to take out everyone, but the people left would be holed up or hiding. There would be no reason for them to be out here.”

My words seemed to help her; even if I wasn’t sure I believed them myself.

It was about a 50-mile drive to Bluff; so besides everything else, I knew that getting gas would be something we would need to do. As we drew near, the zombies grew in number. It was still nothing like the cities or even the mid-sized town we were from, but for just two people that didn’t have one gun between them, it was certainly enough to make us worried.

“So the plan is: food, gas, tarps, and any extra weapons we can get a hold of.” My words were full of confidence, but as the zombies began to lurch towards us, they rang hollow and were replaced by a whispered, “How are we going to do this?”

By the time we reached the outskirts that held a few businesses, we had an undulating parade of at least two dozen zombies following us. It wasn’t too much, but more than enough, and others were appearing each minute.

Cold hands slapped at our car as we passed, leaving angry red smears. Tangled bloody teeth gnashed, and as always, the horrid moaning filled the air.

I thought Loni might have been silently crying, and I knew I had to think of something. A simple Rambo-style approach wasn’t going to cut it.

“Okay, I have an idea,” I said, as I slowed the car.

“What sort of idea? Why are you driving so slowly?”

Then, I started honking the horn.

“Oh my God. Emery! Aren’t there enough out here already?”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan. I’m going to lure them all out of the town. Then, when they are all far enough away, we’ll hurry back in and grab the goods. I think it will work. If enough of them make it back, then we can always…”

My voice trailed off when our car went over a cattle guard with a load bang. Looking down, I saw that it looked like someone had removed every other runner from the cattle guard. “I wonder…”

“What are you – Emery get back in the car!”

Grabbing up my wood axe, I said, “Hold on, let’s see how well these shits do with this jacked up cattle guard. I might be able to finish this right here.”

“Please don’t. It’s too dangerous!”

“If I can kill them all then this whole town is ours.”

I think she was getting a weapon of her own ready, but I needed to focus on the first three zombies that were nearing the cattle guard. I knew that cattle were too stupid to figure out how to cross these metal grids, but I wasn’t sure how well they would work on zombies. Sure these freaks were probably not even as intelligent as a cow, but their feet were longer, so the whole thing was still a toss-up.

The first one made it a few steps before it slipped through the rails and slammed down to his waist. It was a male zombie, and if there were ever a doubt about them not feeling pain, it was instantly dispelled when his groin smashed into a cattle guard rail with a loud snap. It was painful to see, but didn’t keep me from batting the guy’s head off with my axe.

Three more came and, with the help of the altered cattle guard, I was able to take them out easily enough, but as the main horde approached, I grew concerned. At first, I held my own, swinging my axe until sweat poured off me in thick threads.

Then, things went south.

The cattle guard was becoming clogged with bodies, and the other zombies were now able to just walk over their fallen fellows. I wanted to run, but if I turned my back I was afraid they would get to me before I could reach my car.

Loni screamed and I shouted, “Get behind the wheel and get ready to--” And that was when the first shot rang out.

I was startled when the zombie’s head to my right exploded in a shower of gore. Another and another fell. Not questioning my salvation, I hurried into the passenger side of my ride. Loni needed no encouragement and sped away.

We spied the black Ford and the two guys standing in the bed with rifles. Once we arrived, one of them, a man, maybe 30 with a faded old cap hopped to the ground and yelled, “Come on, we got a safe place.”

Then, without waiting for a reply, the pair sped off towards the north side of town.

We came to some kind of mansion surrounded by a 5-foot brick wall. It had a steel gate, at which two zombies tugged. Two loud shots silenced their moaning. The passenger leapt out and opened the gate. Once the truck was safely inside, we were waved through.

The engines were turned off, the gate was locked, and we finally had a chance to take our rescuers in. The driver approached us, shaking each of our hands.

“Hello, there, great to find others who have made it through this mess. I’m Mitch, and this here is my pal, Bobby.”

On closer inspection, I saw that Mitch was probably closer to 40 than 30. His hair was beginning to both recede and gray. He somehow had managed to retain his beer gut through the apocalypse, but he had a nice enough smile.

His buddy Bobby might have been more on the shell-shocked side and only mumbled a greeting. He was in his late 20s, also a bit stocky and tended to keep both his long, tangled blond locks and half of his face hidden under the shadows of his straw cowboy hat.

Mitch laughed. “You two look like you haven’t seen a good meal in quite a while, although I have to say the effect does look good on you, miss.”

I thought that was a bit of a strange comment, but we went ahead and introduced ourselves before proceeding into the mansion and enjoyed the biggest meal we had eaten since before all this hell started.

*   *   *

After sharing a tense dinner, where we did more staring than talking, the plain meal was interrupted by the sounds of the zombies’ moaning growing louder in volume.

“So they are just on the other side of that wall?” I said.

“Yeah,” Mitch said with a grin. “We picked this place well, huh?”

“Doesn’t that drive you crazy?” Loni asked, but I was thinking about something else.

“You mean this place isn’t yours?”

Mitch had been looking at Loni, but his jaw snapped shut and after a glance at Bobby, he turned towards me.

“Nope, this isn’t our place. It used to belong to ‘ole Gunny, but when we saw him walking around with half his neck torn out, we figured he won’t mind if we moved in.” Then with an edge, he added, “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my eyes towards him, while trying to watch Bobby’s expression at the same time. “I suppose I might have done the same thing. If we’re going to survive we need to use all the resources we can get.”

Mitch broke out into a wide smile. “Good, good, glad to hear you say that. We couldn’t agree more.”

Loni was giving me a nervous glance, but despite this I said, “Um, okay. So, ah…I guess considering everything, I suppose we are going to need to stay here tonight.”