Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (7 page)

“We should cut these scarves on me first.”

“I don’t think so.” I kept rubbing my wrists against the scissors.

I wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Okay,” I said, “we’ll try the scarves.”

She hopped down and took my place.

“It’s working,” she said after a few seconds. “It’s cutting.”

After another minute she’d freed her wrists. She untied her ankles and stood up.

“Okay... hurry up and untie me,” I said.

She shook her head. “There’s no time.”

“You’re joking.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t cut you loose if I had a bloody fortnight.”

“Enough with the Brit talk already.”

“Enough with the chitter chatter. I don’t need you tattling on me to what’s-that-bloke. Have a sock.”

She grabbed the pink sock and stuffed it in my mouth; there’s nothing quite like tasting fabric that’s been pre-soaked in another person’s drool. Then she grabbed the roll of electrical tape I’d left on the dresser and wrapped it around my head a couple of times.

“That’s how you keep a sock in,” she said.

And then she left the room.

I started wiggling back to the pair of scissors. I didn’t know how much time I had.

I heard a gunshot before I’d sawed through the leather straps.

Just one. I didn’t know what that meant.

I freed my wrists and untied my ankles. I pulled off the electrical tape and threw the pink sock on the floor. I didn’t have time to fantasize about sticking it back in Tiara’s mouth after a slight detour through the toilet bowl.

I didn’t know who’d been the one to pick up a gun, but I made a guess that Tiara had the best chance at knowing where to find one.

I ran back to the long concrete building.

But then I realized that there was really no reason for me to go in there.

I could leave. I could run through the parking lot and up the driveway, and find some way over the gate. There were plenty of trees; I could climb up and jump right over. Better a pair of broken legs than a slowboat tour of Pouchon’s digestive tract.

Cadance and Tiara weren’t anywhere near innocent.

But Pouchon’s story didn’t just involve them. There was Julia, and Sayra, and the other three girls who’d thought “post it on YouTube? why not?”

I pulled on the door handle. The door was locked. I didn’t have an access card.

I ran back towards the house. I’d call the cops. Then I’d find a way over that gate and I’d pray to god that the next person I ran into wouldn’t enjoy the taste of earlobe or be named after My Little Pony.

“Turn your arse around.”

I stopped. “I will only turn around if you stop with the ‘arses’, Tiara.”

“I’ll just shoot you, then?”

I turned around. She was holding a shotgun. I was no expert, but I knew it was easy enough to kill someone with one of those.

“You must have known I’d be coming back for you,” she said. “I left you with the scissors.”

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“Come inside.”

“The house?”

“The stables. You really are dead from the neck up.”

“I hate you.” It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say to a woman with a gun.

She marched me back to the metal door, staying a good ten feet behind me.

“Pick it up and swipe in,” she said.

“Pick what up?”

“Look behind you.”

I looked and saw the access card on the ground a few inches behind me.

“Do it slowly,” she said.

“You really think I’m going to try and jump you?”

“Just do it.”

I knelt down slowly and picked up the card. I swiped it and opened the door.

“Don’t kill me,” I said as I slowly stepped through the doorframe.

And then I slammed the door behind me.

“Dammit!” she cried through the closed door. “Now I am definitely going to kill you.”

“But I’m in here and you’re out there.”

“I have a spare access card at the house. Idiot.”

“Better hurry,” I said. “Before the zombies get loose.”

I ran over to the lab, not sure who’d I find strapped to the table. I swiped the card and pulled open the door.

“Did you find her?” Cadance said as she turned around.

I punched her in the mouth. I’ve always loved the classics.

Pouchon was tied on the table. He didn’t look like he’d been shot, but there was blood pouring from the left side of his head. Someone had taken his ear.

“Untie me, Amanda,” he said. “These girls are insane.”

“Yeah, right.” I punched Cadance again.

“Stop hitting me,” she said.

“Then sit down on the floor. Hands on your head or something.”

She sat down and clamped her hands behind her head. “Where’s Tiara?” she asked. “Did you hurt her?”

“That depends... how many ears did she have when you last saw her?”

“You’re an asshole.”

"Listen Cadance... you need to tell me where there's a phone."

"There used to be one in the lab here," she said. "But my father took it out because it was a separate line from the house phone and the phone company's just started raping everyone who still has a landline."

"I don’t care. Where is there a phone now?"

"I told you. At the house."

"And I'll bet your cellphone's at the house, too?"

She nodded. "It's charging."

"Okay... we need to talk this out. What will it take for all three of us to walk out of here?"

"You want to let him go?"

"No. He can wait here for the cops. I meant you, me, and Tiara."

"No cops."

"Whatever. I don't care. I just need to know that Tiara won't shoot me."

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure she's going to shoot you. I mean... you know too much, obviously."

"Well that's just stupid," I said. "So now I'm going to have to kill her."

"Let's kill her together," Pouchon said. "Untie me and we can set up some kind of ambush. Like old times."

I laughed.

It didn't take me long to realize that Pouchon had the right idea.

When Tiara got the outer door open she didn't bother being quiet. She called out my name along with some very English words that sounded dirty enough to me.

I stood by the door to the lab, behind where it would swing open, holding a steel bedpan. I was tempted to try and fill it up before it was time to use it.

Cadance was trying to call out, but the latex glove I’d shoved in her mouth was muffling her well enough for Pouchon’s unsettling laughter to drown out the sound.

He was loving every second of having a naked woman tied overtop of him, yet another reason why there’s something just not right with the guy who keeps trying to eat people.

Tiara stepped into the room and screamed. “What the hell are you doing, Cadance?” she said. “Get off him!”

Then she noticed the gauze wrapped around her sister’s face. She ran up to the table, the shotgun hanging over her shoulder by its strappy thing.

I stepped out from behind the door and swung the bedpan at Tiara’s head.

She fell against the table, trying to brace herself without touching anyone.

“Ow,” she said.

I’d expected her to be dazed, at least.

She shoved me and I dropped the bedpan before I had a chance at a second swing. She reached for the shotgun.

I decided to run. If she chose to untie her sister before chasing me, I knew I might be able to make it out.

“Get that thick arse of yours back here, Amanda,” she said. “Or I’ll shoot your friends.”

“What friends?” I called back. And then I remembered.

“If you think leaving them behind would feel right awful, imagine how it’ll feel to leave them to be shot and buried under the hay shed.”

I didn’t slow down. It wasn’t like Tiara was going to spare my teammates just because I gave myself up. Their only chance was for me to get help.

I reached the outside door and swiped the access card, panicked for a moment that it might not work.

But the red light went green, and I pushed the door open and ran outside.

It looked like the sun was still a few hours from rising; I hoped that meant that I wouldn’t run into Gary and his cattle prod on my way out.

I didn’t have time to go into the house and look for a phone; Tiara would be coming for me again. I made my way through the empty parking lot and up the driveway.

The gate was wide open, and I wondered if my luck had changed.

Then I saw Gary lying in the middle of the road, a small plastic remote lying beside him. There wasn’t much blood, but enough that I didn’t expect him to be getting up right away.

I knelt down to check his pulse, or more realistically, to see if I even knew how to check someone’s pulse.

I felt a hand clamp over my mouth and pull. My whole body was lifted upward, and I automatically started trying to kick whoever it was that was holding me.

“Who are you?” the man asked me.

“Health inspector?”

He let go of my mouth and I’m pretty sure I dropped more than a foot down to the ground, falling onto my knees in the process. I turned around to see the large Chinese man who may or may not have been checking out my ass in Stable D.

“I thought you were one of Fallon’s daughters.”

“I guess you’re another fake zombie?” I asked.

“In a manner of speaking... except I’m not one to eat people.”

“So you know about that.”

“People like to talk in front of the apparent undead. Believe me, not every convicted felon has the same disregard for human life. I’m really sorry about that.”

“You’re probably the nicest murderer I’ve met all day,” I said as I slowly stood up.

“I’m not a murderer.”

“My apologies.” I decided not to draw any attention to the possibly dead body lying at my feet.

“I woke up two days ago,” the man said. “I don’t recall anything that happened after I was transferred here in June. Not the work release program I’d anticipated.”

“Yeah... I heard about that. Sorry. So why are you still here?”

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Well, Tiara could show up any minute, so I know where I’m headed.”

“Be careful. They’ll be looking for you.
She’ll
be looking for you.”

“Kathleen Shannard? Have you seen her?”

“I’ve only heard of her,” he said. “You should have heard old Gary here when he started on about her. Like she’s Satan’s mother-in-law. Just... be careful.”

I gave him a nod before I started walking, because that’s what you do, even when some guy’s lying motionless on the ground; my parents raised me right.

I walked out to the main road and considered my options. I had no idea where I was. Near Rutland or something? Which in theory was in Vermont, which matched the license plates I’d seen yesterday.

And it matched the license plate of a silver sedan that was idling on the shoulder.

“Is this your ride?” I asked him.

“That was the plan.”

“Well if you’re not using it...”

“No, I’ll be using it. I guess.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Head to your left,” the Chinese man said. “That’ll take you into town.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m a Green Mountain Boy, born and bred.”

I took him at his word. “Thanks,” I said. “I don’t mean to butt in, but is there any way you could avoid killing those two idiots?”

“I’m not a murderer,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Uh... thanks.”

I started walking up the road. I checked back every minute or so, but no one was following me. The car was still sitting on the shoulder, its headlights on and I assumed its motor still running.

It was cold by then, the wind chilling my bare legs. It’s amazing how much that can slow a person down. It was dark and the moon was covered in cloud, and the road was completely empty.

I didn’t know how long a walk I had.

I couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving my teammates behind. If the Chinese guy was able to snap out of the
macoute
thing somehow... that meant I wasn’t just turning my back on some brainless zombies.

I kept walking.