Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (5 page)

“Now you’re just pissing us off,” Cadance said.

“You can’t just kill me.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Tiara said. “Give me something I can use to change their minds.”

“We have to kill her,” Gary said. “She’s more dangerous than you girls realize.”

Tiara stomped her feet like an eight-year-old. “You’re not in charge,” she said. “I’m in charge.”

“So we should give Ms. Shannard a call to ask who’s running things here? Come on, Tiara... your father’s already hanging on a thread here.”

“You’re on a thread, buddy,” Cadance said.

“Look,” Gary said, “it’s simple. Ms. Shannard gives the orders. She told me to bring these girls here and she told me to watch this one for immunity. So that’s what I’ve done. And Amanda here is immune, just like she expected.”

“So she got one right,” Cadance said.

“We need zombies,” Gary said. “That was the point of this. Amanda is not a zombie.”

“A zombie?” I said.

“You really are mentally challenged,” Cadance said.

“Is that what’s wrong with those guys mucking stalls? You’ve drugged them up so they act like zombies?”

“They
are
zombies,” Gary said. “In the
vodou
tradition.”

“This is crazy.”

“The pigs are getting hungry,” Cadance said.

“Still a joke,” Gary said.

“I know. I can be funny, too.”

“I can be a zombie,” I said.

For some reason that led Cadance to start squeezing my neck again. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“You want mindless slaves to do your bidding. I can do that. My father’s a lifelong Republican.”

“You’re no good to us.” She tightened her grip a little.

“It won’t work,” Gary said. “You can’t just pretend to be a zombie.”

“No,” Tiara said, “It might work. I mean, I guess it might... you know, since no one even told me that we’re changing our entire business model.”

“That’s not the plan,” Gary said. “We’ll go with the other two girls. We’ll just have them work harder.”

“This whole thing is a stupid idea,” Cadance said. “We can handle the men; we should have just gotten another load from Sugarbush.”

“Tell that to Rarity,” Gary said.

Cadance let go of my throat. “Rarity was stupid,” she said. “She let them take her.”

“Rarity was our sister,” Tiara said. “Don’t you even care?”

“Wait,” I said. “Rarity is a person’s name?”

“It’s a nickname,” Cadance said. “From My Little Pony...
gawd
. Seriously. Mentally challenged.”

“You know, just because you call someone ‘mentally challenged’ instead of ‘retarded’ doesn’t make it any less offensive.”

“You’re offensive.”

“The decision’s been made,” Gary said. “I’ll handle it.”

“And how are you planning on doing that?” Tiara asked.

“I’ll take her with me. I’ll dump her in Lake George. I’ve had practice.”

“You’re not taking her,” Tiara said.

“He can have her,” Cadance said.

“No, he can’t.”

“I’m taking her,” Gary said. He walked over to the table and looked me over. “Ms. Shannard told me to handle it. So I’ll... handle it.”

I knew what was coming. He licked his lips again.

“You’re a sicko, Gary,” Tiara said. “And you’re not taking her. If she wants to play zombie, I say we let her. It’s not like she’s going to escape. So we hold onto her for a few days and then you tell little Ms. Shannard that we’ve chosen to keep her.”

“So you’re not going to let her out again?” Cadance said.

“If she tries to run or she tries to screw us, we kill her.”

Cadance smirked. “We feed her to the pigs.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Gary said. “I need to report back to say I’ve done it. I need to take her with me.”

“You do and you’re fired,” Tiara said. “I’ll see to it.”

Gary walked up to Tiara. He had a good twelve inches on her, not to mention the hundred and fifty pounds. “One of these days I’m going to take you to Lake George, Tiara.”

She didn’t flinch. “You’d like that,” she said with a grin. “I’ll let my father know about your friendly invitation.”

Gary shook his head. “You know what? Do what you want. When Ms. Shannard asks me, I’ll tell her the truth, that you wouldn’t let me do my job. And then if your father still has his job when he gets back, he can kick me out of mine.”

“Fallon Allen can’t be fired,” Cadance said. “This is our barn. Our great, great grandfathers fought the British browncoats on this very site.”

“I’ve got work to do,” Gary said, walking out of the room.

“I’ll take care of this one,” Cadance said. “If you can handle the rest, Tiara. They’re in Stable A. Try to keep a few of them from escaping for once...”

Tiara rolled her eyes and left.

I was still tied to the operating table.

Cadance looked me over.

“How are you going to untie me?” I asked. “Aren’t you worried I’m going to beat on you again?”

“That would be a bad idea,” she said. “Not very zombie-like.”

“So I should bite you? Isn’t that what happened to Rarity?”

She slapped me across my left cheek. “Shut up,” she said. “Don’t you talk about my sister. I’ll squeeze your goddamn throat until your poop-brown eyes pop out.”

“I’d like to see that.”

She grabbed me by the neck and started to squeeze.

For a moment I thought about letting her kill me. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an apology. But I didn’t like the idea of nourishing Gary’s pigs, or of dying in general.

I’m sure I have something to live for; for one thing I won’t get kicked off the team until I’m twenty, as long as I take Introductory Japanese by correspondence.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped.

She kept squeezing.

I wasn’t able to say anything else.

I woke up in what seemed like a different horse stall, lying in the shavings in a puddle of my own drool. Not my proudest moment.

I realized I wasn’t alone. There were two other girls lying in the stall, dressed in basketball shirts and shorts. Julia and Sayra. They’d been with me when we were taken; was it all because of me?

“Are you guys okay?” I asked.

I went over to check on them. Julia was asleep, but Sayra was staring into blank space.

“Sayra... are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t acknowledge me. She might as well have been wearing a Florida Marlins t-shirt and flared-out jeans.

I grabbed Julia by the shoulders and began to shake her.

“Julia... wake up...”

Her eyes opened and she was looking right at me.

“Julia...”

She blinked.

“Julia.”

She was looking right through me.

“Be glad they haven’t noticed you,” Cadance said.

I hadn’t realized she was watching me from the hallway.

“When they notice you,” she continued, “that means they mean you harm.”

“Mean me harm? What does that even mean?”

“We don’t understand how it works. It’s not like Gary’s the witch doctor. He’s a disgraced pharmacist from Long Island.”

“You don’t really believe in this voodoo stuff.”

“My father told me about Papa Doc Duvalier and his Tonton Macoutes. And about the
Marinette macoutes
, the zombie army, and the sorcerors. It all sounded pretty fucking real.”

“I guess that’s why you’re not a scientist,” I said.

“I don’t care what you believe. Either way, the toxins work most of the time as long as you keep injecting them regularly.”

“They didn’t work on me.”

“Obviously.
Gawd
.” Another eye roll. “But sometimes their system gets messed up or whatever and they go a little off.”

“Off?”

“So if you see one of your friends looking at you, that means you either grab a cattle prod or you run. Oh... I guess you don’t get a cattle prod.”

“I’ll just pick yours up the next time you leave it lying around.”

“You know what? I hope one of your friends eats you.”

“Eats me? What the hell?”

“Yeah. That’s what happens.” She smirked. “Have a good sleep, Amanda.” She walked down the hallway to the door. “Lights out.”

And then she flicked the switch.

Obviously I didn’t sleep, since there was something unnerving about the idea of the team’s center and point guard nibbling on my elbows in the middle of the night.

I didn’t know what the drugs were doing to them, if it was something that’d be permanent. Were they as good as dead? Or was there a chance we’d all be back at Cousins in a few days, humming and hawing over whether or not we should get dessert?

I could see them both lying there, staring into nothing, their blank eyes shining in the dark.

I started to cry.

“Don’t cry,” someone said. A man’s voice; I didn’t recognize it.

I looked out to the hallway, but I didn’t see anyone there.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m a friend,” he said.

“You expect me to buy that? Some creepy guy’s watching me sleep and I’m supposed to be happy about it?”

“You don’t remember me. Florida Marlins t-shirt. Ugly ass pants.”

“What? But you’re supposed to be a zombie.”

“I just play one on TV,” he said. “My friends call me Pouchon.”

“So you guys are just faking it? Is this some kind of prank?”

“I’m faking it. The other guys probably aren’t.”

“Probably?”

“How the hell should I know? They certainly act like zombies.”

“So you’re saying you’re immune to those toxins or whatever?”

“I guess so.”

“So they kidnapped you, too?”

Pouchon chuckled. “Not really,” he said.

“What?”

“I really am on some sort of work release program. Sugarbush Correctional Centre. Private prison equals business opportunity.”

“You’re a convict?”

“I accidentally killed a man over a decade ago. They got me for first-degree and decided I shouldn’t get out pretty much ever.”

“So they sent you here?”

“It’s a good deal for the corporation. They still have me on the books so they still get paid, plus a nice little cut of the profits from this place.”

“Profits? But this is a horse barn.”

“There are other activities.”

“Like marijuana or meth or something?” I asked.

He chuckled again. “Nah. Counterfeit teddy bears.”

It felt good to laugh.

“That’s not a joke,” he said. “There’s big money in teddy bears. And free zombie labor is a lot cheaper than trying to keep Chinese factory workers from killing themselves. All that suicide netting ain’t cheap.”

“But why have you come here? How did you get in here?”

“I have a keycard. Cadance loses hers about once a month, and they don’t bother deactivating the old codes. I guess they don’t think a zombie would have had the brains to use them.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you. I want to help you escape.”

“Why?”

“I’m not a bad person, girl. I don’t want you to rot in here.”

“What about my friends? Can you help them?”

He paused. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think there’s any way for them to come back from that. If you’d seen what I have... what happens when the
macoutes
need to feed...”

“Something doesn’t add up,” I said. “If you’ve had that keycard for however long, why haven’t you escaped already? Why are you still here?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m a convicted felon. If I show up in town with some crazy story about zombies and phony plushes no one’s gonna believe me. But they’ll believe you. I need you to come with me, to tell them what happened here.”

“I can’t leave without my friends.”

“You need to.”

“We need to bring them with us. End of discussion.”

“There’s no way we can sneak two zombified teenagers out of here.”

“Why not?”

“Our best bet is to get out of here and get help for them.”

“What if these assholes kill them? Once we escape they’ll want to cover their tracks.”

“That’s a fair point,” Pouchon said. “Tonight might be our best chance, actually. It’s Saturday night. The big man’s out of town until sometime tomorrow, and Kathleen Shannard never drops in on Sunday mornings.