The child daydreams a lot these days, Jessica thought. He
may as well die. He’s useless here. He weighs us down. Slows us. Does nothing
but stare off into the distance and mumble nonsense.
“Eat your food, Worley,” Jessica shouted at the child. She spoke
through her teeth, jaded toward the young one.
Their feast tonight was dried, salted beef with Tabasco. The
kid wouldn’t touch it. She had fought off three of those son-of-a-bitch
monsters to get this and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste.
“If you won’t, I’m going to eat it.”
He didn’t move or even flinch when she grabbed the thin
slice of the hardened meat and began to chew on it. Stupid kid, she thought.
Was that a tear in his eye? Should she offer it to him again? She paused for a
moment. No. Keep eating. Help yourself before you help those around you, the
good Samaritan airline passenger motto.
She gnawed on the beef and watched this dead weight of a
kid. This suck on her life. He had found her in the middle of the night. She
was off track, lost from her group while scavenging for food. He was crying
loudly. Drawing attention. She considered killing him just to shut him up but
then felt sorry for him long enough that she let him stay with her.
Now the two were trying to find their way back to Jessica’s
group. They’d probably kill him. What was he, ten? Twelve? She didn’t know.
Hadn’t asked. Didn’t care. She thought of him as bait. In a pinch, she could
outrun him or throw him to the monsters and give herself time to get away.
This was survival. She wasn’t proud of her thoughts in a way
that would make her espouse them as doctrine, but she also wasn’t afraid to
admit they were her reality now. Everyone’s reality. She had to be this hard,
she told herself. They all had to be. This kid, this orphan, this child; he too
would either harden or die. She was certain it would be the latter.
It was hot. Ungodly hot. Humidity that made skin stick to
itself. Everything was damp and smelled of death and fear. The smell of hamster
cage, urine soaked wood chips. Hot. Yet, the kid appeared to be shivering. Was
he sick? Perfect, she thought. Another issue. They had been together for only a
couple weeks and now he’s gonna be sick? Medicine was impossible to find.
That’s how she had lost Maddy. She looked away from the kid. She couldn’t stand
to see him. She didn’t want to remember her through him. She hated Worley.
Maddy was superior in every way. Maddy was her little fighter. Maddy never
cried. Always helped out. Scavenged like a pro. Until she got sick.
“Mm, mm,” Worley croaked.
Muttering fool. What a waste, Jessica thought. He couldn’t
even talk well. Useless. She felt the ridged stiffness of the knife blade at
her side. This was it, she decided. She was going to kill him. Here and now.
Slit his threat and be done with it. Then she could move faster. Find her group
and…
“Ma, Maw, mmm,” Worley mumbled again. His body arched
backwards.
Jessica reached to her side and easily unclicked the strap
holding the knife in place. She unsheathed it and examined it for damage. For
blood. For stains. For answers.
This wasn’t going to be pretty. When this knife had killed
Maddy, it was for good reasons. It was for great reasons, in fact. This kid
wasn’t good or great. He was a nuisance. He was a cinder block on a chain tied
to her leg. She was drowning. And now, in this moment, she would cut him free.
Besides, he shouldn’t even be in this shitty world, she told herself. She was
doing him a favor.
“Mon, maw, mon,” Worley said louder. Agitated.
Jessica looked up, ready to do her deed. Steel her heart.
Bind her mind. She was ready. The kid was still shivering. Pointing. He was
pointing out the window. Her eyes tracked his line of sight to a pack of fifty,
maybe more. Monsters. Some large. Some small. All of them torn and ravaged by
the weather. All looking hungry. Angry. Damaged.
Jessica quickly surmised that Worley wasn’t big enough to be
bait for a pack this size. Maybe he would slow them and give her enough time to
run. No. Pointless. Even if it stopped ten of them, she wouldn’t get past three
dozen more.
Many of the supplies they had just found would need left
behind. Shit! This was bad. Very bad. The space was small. Only one exit. A
door. Facing the oncoming hoard. And this window. The window into her future. A
future of pain and death and longing. A future of never seeing anyone she loved
again. Though Maddy; Maddy may be waiting for her on the other side. In the
after. The ether. The new Jacobian cult. This was the culling.
“Get down you stupid little shit,” Jessica whispered. “If
they see you through the window we’re done.”
The boy instead stood. The opposite of her command. Her eyes
widened and anger boiled in her veins. She should have killed him when they
first met. Slit his stupid throat open and been done with him. He would be her
end. She ducked and reached for him, hoping to pull him down below the view of
the window.
At the glass, three disfigured faces appeared. Growling.
Fingers and bone clawing. The small shack suddenly shook as the remaining bodies
pushed and collided with each other into the outside wall and door. The cabin
strained and creaked. The staccato growls and screams were deafening. These
were demons. This is how she would die? Or would she slit her own throat to
spare herself the torture? She had seen too many others be torn apart in her
life. She would not submit to this. Jessica gripped the knife and brought it to
her neck, hand shaking. Terror coursed through her. Tears blurred her vision.
She hesitated, unsure if she could drag the blade.
Worley was still standing, hand extended and mumbling
incoherence. He continued even when the glass broke. Her grip tightened on the
blade. He didn’t move or cease his chant when the door cracked open either.
Jessica’s screams we’re loud but Worley’s voice rose to the occasion. And the
monsters abruptly stopped. They all stared at Worley. Then, as a group, they
began motions as if speaking. Hand gestures. Facial ticks. Some sat and
continued the charade. This went on for several minutes. The hoard eventually
began to wander off. Worley didn’t move.
Jessica watched the procession in awe as blood ran from her
neck. She weakened and darkness crept in around her view. Sounds were all
fading from her though she could still see, and the view was so unbelievable to
her, she knew she must be dead already.
The last of the monsters finished this odd puppetry and
exited in a slow plodding stumble. One even did an awkward bowing motion and
then parted. The door remained open. The window destroyed. The boy collapsed,
panting, sweating.
“Mo, mon, monsters t, t, t, t, ta, talk,” Worley stammered
and then turned to see a pool of blood.
The darkness closed in more tightly and a moment later,
Jessica escaped the treacherous world with this newfound knowledge. Worley
would be on his own, but he would be safe. He was a listener. He had a gift and
would be safe from the monsters. And, from her.