Machete

by Nicole Thorn

  Then there was Maggie, who was made of smiles and rainbows, and always smelled like citrus. She was sixteen, and an inch shorter than Alice, at five foot three. She had blond, shoulder-length hair. And her eyes were a very green shade of hazel. She brought me a cookie the day before, and said she thought the fact that I could work skin was fucking awesome. Her talent was water, and I thought that could have been a very interesting thing to have.

  “You guys doing okay?” Alice asked. “Dolan wanted us to check up on you.”

  I smiled warmly. “Yeah, we’re all right. Just kind of decompressing from everything.”

  Maggie nodded, grinning. “Yeah, a massive slaughter takes a lot out of me too. This one time, I literally slept for two days after we cleaned out an entire apartment complex. But I found a really nice rat. His name is Ziggy, and he lives in my bra.”

  I thought she was kidding before I saw a little black-headed fur baby poke out from her shirt. His hands gripped the fabric, and he sniffed the air.

  “Aww,” Maggie said. “Did you hear your name, baby?” She scratched his head, then offered me the same.

  I pet his very soft fur, and his tiny hand touched my finger. I felt honored.

  “We’re all supposed to meet in Dolan’s room in ten minutes,” Alice said. “We’re leaving again soon, and he wanted to make sure we all got breakfast first. Besides, we need to talk about our game plan.”

  “Thank you for letting us know,” Becket said politely.

  Alice saluted him. “No problem, bud. Bring all your stuff with you.”

  The girls left, and Becket and I got to packing up the very few things we owned. While I folded up my clothes, I bumped Becket with my hip. It made him smile, and when I wasn’t looking, he tickled my shoulder. We went around and around for a few minutes, before I nearly attacked him.

  When I got my mouth off of his, I said, “You best be careful, sweetie. Or we might have to skip out on breakfast.”

  “And maybe lunch,” he added.

  I got all giddy, a dopey look coming over my face before I pulled myself together. We did have things to do, and I could always sit in the back of the bus with Becket, feeling him up if I needed something to tide me over. He smiled at me again. Yeah, I was pretty sure that would be happening.

  We brought our things into Dolan’s room at the end of the hall, where we found everyone sitting on the floor, eyes glued to the news. Paige waved to me when we entered, then put her finger to her lips, informing me and Becket to stay quiet. She nodded to the TV screen.

  “... Lakewood Founders Ball,” a woman on the TV said. She sat beside a somber-looking man as she read from a teleprompter.

  “Dozens were slaughtered over the weekend,” she said. “And the names of the victims have officially been released to the public. I will be reading them, and we will have a moment of silence for the fallen. Thank you very much.”

  She began reading, and I recognized some of the names. They were people my father and mother had mingled with over the years, making deals with, schmoozing when they needed to. My parents hated everyone, and any sense of cheer or friendship from them was a lie, so it didn’t matter to me who was dead.

  Then I heard their names. The woman read my parents’ names but she skipped right over Lane, which I found odd. She moved on, and I kept waiting for her to fix her mistake. She didn’t.

  “The police are still searching for the ones responsible,” she said. “Going over footage that captured several of the assailants.”

  “That’s me!” Kentucky cheered when she saw herself on the screen, through blurry images, in black and white. The others cheered for her and pointed when they saw themselves. I wasn’t so happy to see my image.

  “Manny Hodkin,” the woman said loud and clear. “Is still under investigation. She and the man believed to be her boyfriend, Becket Anders, are persons of interest in the investigation, as they were seen fleeing the area.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We walked out rather calmly.”

  The anchor went on. “Police are still unsure what their part in this was but it would appear that they fled town late last night. Two officers reported being assaulted in the Anders home, though no lives were lost. Geoffrey Anders is also currently under investigation for different charges, and had been announced missing only days before. Police are speculating that maybe the three left together, in hopes of avoiding a conviction.”

  I glared at the TV for even suggesting that but at least the man was dead and not coming back. They could say whatever they wanted but it changed nothing. He wouldn’t hurt Becket anymore.

  The woman went on. “Lane Hodkin currently recovers in the ICU at All Saints Hospital, and police hope that when he wakes, he will have eyewitness insight to the truth behind this grisly scene. Now to Don with top ten ways to get wine stains out of clothes. Don,” she threw to him.

  All eyes were on me, as mine were locked on the TV. I killed him. I knew I killed him. A thousand cuts on his body... How did someone live through that? There had been so much blood, and he hadn’t moved. Didn’t move at all. Lane had lain there, dead and bloody.

  “Manny,” Becket said, and I realized his hands were on my shoulder. I faced him. “It’s all right. He’s not going to touch you ever again.”

  I shook my head. “He’s supposed to be dead. I killed him.”

  “Hey,” Merry said, standing and walking to me. “Don’t worry about him. If the jackass heals up and tries anything, you have a couple dozen people here who would be more than happy to take him out for you.”

  “I like decapitating people,” Maggie declared. “Send him at me.”

  Sounds around me muffled as I retreated into my own head. I’d felt so free when I thought Lane was gone. One of my tormenters, maybe the worst, dead and over with. I rationally had nothing to fear with him dead. I didn’t have to have nightmares about running out of air, or the world blacking out. But he was alive because I failed.

  I failed.

  My hands twitched, and they ached with the need to wrap around my neck. I didn’t move them because I was too aware of the fact that it was what I was about to do. I promised Becket that I wouldn’t hurt myself, and I didn’t want to go back on my word. That wasn’t right. But my nails dug into my palms, and all I could do was try and not let them break the skin.

  “We’re leaving,” Dolan finally said, rising from his spot. “We’re going far away from here, and you don’t have to worry about a thing. The cops can try to look but they won’t find you. Neither will that brother of yours. I promise you.” The man put a big hand on my shoulder. “You are as safe as you can be with us. We’re family, and we don’t let people hurt our family.”

  I nodded because I believed him. “Thank you. Thank you for making me feel safer.”

  The man hugged me, patting me on the back. It felt weird because the only other person I’d ever felt comforted by was Becket. I’d gone so much of my life without it, that it was hard to not get overwhelmed when a room full of people who vowed to kill for me, to protect me. They didn’t know me at all, and somehow, I meant something to them. Enough to make an effort. Didn’t they know that I wasn’t worth it?

  Dolan tilted my chin up, smiling at me. “Come on now, honey. Stiff upper lip. We have work to do.”

  About the Authors

  Nicole “Cappie” Thorn was born in California but, after a stint in Kansas, moved to a suburb of Phoenix. She spends a lot of her free time knitting and reading from her massive book collection. Her eclectic tastes, like Disneyland, Buffy and all things London, carry into her writing. She started writing in her early twenties and finds it wonderfully addictive.

  Nicole Thorn:

  Twitter: @NicoleThorn

  Instagram: @CappieThorn

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  http://
www.nicolethornbooks.wordpress.com

  Sarah Hall has been writing since her early teens and plans to continue long past her death, via robot body. She spends her days daydreaming about conversations between fictional characters, and ignoring the condescending looks she gets from her cats when she does so. During her day in the unforgiving Arizona heat, she juggles her pets, writing, and her neurotic sometimes writing partner. She has no problems with said juggling, as the Force is with her.

  Sarah Hall:

  Twitter: @SarahMHall33

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  About the Publisher

  Burning Willow Press is a independent publisher of science fiction, fantasy and horror, with genres blended into other formats as well. Located in South Carolina, in the US, BWP has published more than seventy dreams with the interests of the authors at heart since 2015, and that gentle reader will double by 2020.

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