Chapter Twenty-Five: Pink-Haired Kamikaze Cultist
(Vanessa)
“This isn’t working. We’re wasting too much time!”
His hand wrapping around mine stops my manic pacing. It doesn’t do anything for my panic. We’ve been to half a dozen theaters, searched their parking lots for his car, asked ticket takers if they’ve seen them. All with no results. The happy theater goers drift past us, taking only minimal notice of the spastic teenage girl having a meltdown in front of the ticket window. Ketchup takes us a step further and pulls me into his arms. I look up at him, hoping he has a plan.
“Van, calm down.” Anxiety has his face scrunched as much as mine, despite his words, so I’m not fooled. He doesn’t relent. “They probably went to dinner first. Zander may be acting like a fool when it comes to Ivy, but he’s still a smart guy. He would have done everything he could have to keep her safe, starting with eating, right? You said that helps.”
I nod repeatedly. “Yeah, it does. You’re right. He’s not stupid. Well, not that stupid. He would have planned this out carefully.”
“So, where would he have gone?” Ketchup asks. “What theater would make the most sense to him?”
My nervous twitching and talking begins to calm as my brain slows and begins to work again. It helps that Ketchup is still holding me, too. I start using logic, rather than adrenaline, to find my brother.
“Okay,” I say. I take a deep breath. “Zander keeps saying he can control himself around Ivy, but he obviously can’t, or he wouldn’t need her to help him. So that means he’d be worried about witnesses if anything went wrong.”
“So he’d choose a small theater,” Ketchup says. He glances at the multiplex we’re standing in front of. “So, not something like this.”
I shake my head in frustration. We’ve wasted so much time. “No, definitely not. He’d choose somewhere out of the way, with a good exit route… and if things really went bad, a place to get rid of the body.”
“Seriously?”
I look up at Ketchup and shrug. “Well, he didn’t exactly tell the truth about Lisa, now did he?”
Ketchup nods, but looks disturbed by his admission. He’s not the only one. I believe everything Oscar said today. Zander killed Lisa, but in my heart I know it must have been an accident. He’s not that person. Not yet, anyway. But if he does the same to Ivy, I have to think of all contingencies. He may call the police himself, or he may drop her in an arroyo. More likely, he’d kill himself out of guilt. I can’t count on any of those for sure. I have to find him.
“He’d have to choose a movie that wasn’t going to set him off,” I continue.
“Can movies do that?” Ketchup asks.
I nod. “Why do you think my grandma almost never lets us watch movies? We know it’s not real, but our hunger still responds to the images and emotions.”
“Well, that sucks. I was going to ask you if you wanted to see the new Resident Evil movie with me.”
“That would be a no,” I say, finally managing to slip out of his grip.
Ketchup smiles down at me. “How about a different movie then?”
His fingers trail down my cheek softly. The gentle touch closes my eyes and sends a shiver through my body. Ketchup leans toward me and I feel myself rising to my toes to meet him. That’s when warning bells start blaring through my mind. I jump out of Ketchup’s embrace and slap my hand over my face in shame.
Shocked by my behavior, Ketchup stands staring at me. “What did I say?”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, “but this has to stop. Nothing has changed, not really.”
“Everything has changed,” Ketchup argues.
I shake my head, on the verge of tears. “Zander still wants to kill you.”
“I’ve stayed away from him so far and things have worked out just fine. And besides, it’s not like you have to live with him forever.”
“But… I do,” I say.
Ketchup stares at me like I’m crazy. “What? Why?”
“At the hospital, do you remember when Rita mentioned a genetic disorder?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly.
“Well, it’s not a genetic disorder exactly. It’s part of who we are, or what we are. We can’t go more than a few days without being near each other, or… or we get sick. If the separation lasts long enough, we’ll die.”
Ketchups leans against a nearby car and runs his hand through his hair. “But… but we could still …”
“Maybe,” I admit, “but I would hate myself if I gave you false hope, only to hurt you later.” I look down at the ground. I want to give in and just let myself be happy no matter how long it might last, but the pain of losing Ketchup would never be worth it. I can’t hurt him. “We don’t have time to argue about this right now.”
“Fine,” he snaps, “but we are going to discuss this.”
“Later.” He leaves it alone, but I fear the result of that conversation won’t be what he hopes. “We need to find a movie that is going to have low attendance, less collateral damage if something goes wrong, but not so low that they’d have the whole theater to themselves. Something boring to most, but interesting to some.”
Ketchup zips through movie listings on his phone. “Okay, we’ve got a kid movie about pirates, that Miley Cyrus movie that bombed, a documentary about cave diving …”
“Cave diving,” I say.
“Really?”
I roll my eyes at Ketchup. “Yes, really. The pirate movie was huge with little kids. Zander would never put kids at risk. He would never see a Miley Cyrus movie, either, not even if that act alone would banish this curse. Cave diving it is. What’s the smallest, most out of the way theater it’s playing at?”
“Twin Cinema on San Mateo.”
I grab Ketchup’s arm and start hauling him back to his car. “What time did that movie start?”
His eyes bounce around as he tries to read his phone while we run. “Uh, six-thirty. It’s an hour and a half long.”
We skid to a stop in front of his car and scramble to get in. As soon as Ketchup turns the key and the stereo lights up, my mind starts doing the math. The clock blinks seven-forty-five. The movie ends at eight, and we’re all the way across town. I look up to find Ketchup staring at me. He’s obviously done the math as well.
“We’ll get there in time,” he reassures me.
“Just hurry up and drive,” is my only response.
Drive he does. Normally, I would be telling him to slow down and watch out for cops. Today, I’m urging him to step on it and looking out for police cruisers to dodge. We dart in and out of dinner-time traffic, pass on turning lanes, and even making a mad dash down a one way street going the wrong direction in order to blaze across Albuquerque as fast as possible. Tires screech as Ketchup plows into the parking lot of Twin Cinema without slowing down. Both of our bodies snap forward when the car lurches to a halt, but seconds later we’re stumbling out of the car and racing for the ticket window.
The ticket person takes a step back, despite being locked behind Plexiglas when we run up looking like total lunatics. “Did you see a couple come in here earlier? The guy is a big football player type with super blond hair, and the girl was short with black and pink hair.”
The guy doesn’t respond for a moment, obviously trying gauge whether or not we’re going to cause trouble.
“Look, it’s a family emergency. The big guy is my brother,” I say.
The guy nods, not looking entirely convinced. “Yeah, I saw ‘em. That girl was pretty hot. I remembered her hair, and that fact that they were going to see that snoozer cave movie.”
“Wow, you’re good,” Ketchup says to me.
“Come on. We’ve got to find them.” I turn away from the booth with a vague plan to run in and start yelling out Zander’s name. The ticket guy’s voice calls me back.
“That movie got out like ten minutes ago.”
“Did you see them come out?” Ketchup
demands.
The guy goes back to his wary stance. “No, but they probably went out the back.”
Neither of us hangs around to thank the ticket guy. We bolt around the building in search of Zander, hoping like mad that he hasn’t already left. “I didn’t hear any screaming,” I say as we run.
“That’s a good sign, but where are they?”
“Zander must have known there was a back door. I bet he parked right next to it in case he had to get away fast.”
We pick up speed and round the back corner of the theater. I spot Zander’s monstrous truck right away. It’s one of the few sitting back here. But where is he? Where’s Ivy?
“Maybe they haven’t come out yet?” Ketchup offers. “Girls are always stopping off at the bathroom to put on more lipstick or whatever.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yeah, I’m sure Ivy wanted to freshen up before dying!”
“Well, let’s hear your idea.”
Actually, the bathroom isn’t a bad idea. I just can’t figure out why nothing has happened yet. “Maybe one of us should go back inside while the other waits…”
My words trail off when I glance back at the truck. Something about the windows looks odd. Ketchup’s eyes seem to have followed mine. His whole face wrinkles in disgust. “Oh, man, are his windows all steamed up?”
I look closer and gasp. “We have to stop them!”
“What? I don’t want to see that!” Ketchup says. “Besides, if they’re getting all hot and heavy, isn’t that a good sign?”
“No!” I screech and start dragging him to the car. “Zander’s hunger, it… it…”
Ketchup waves off an explanation. “Never mind.”
We sprint the short distance and slam into the car. It should have been enough to stop anything going on in there if this were a normal couple, but in the grips of his hunger, nothing will faze Zander. One look at Ivy’s limp arm sticking out from under Zander is all I can see through the window, but I doubt she’s going to react to anything short of a bolt of lightning.
“The doors are locked!” Ketchup shouts.
The panic on his face is clear. I gently push him out of the way and grip the door handle. One swift jerk, and door swings open. Mine and Ketchup’s hands start clawing at Zander. We’re screaming at him to stop. Nothing seems to get through to him. I can’t get a firm hold on my brother with Ketchup in the way. I regret the hasty shove I give him, but it lets me get my hands around Zander’s shoulders. I’m strong, but so is he. It takes all my willpower and strength combined to pry him off Ivy’s unmoving body.
He fights against me viciously, elbowing, throwing fists, bucking like a crazed animal. Somewhere along the way, we reach a tipping point, and both of us tumble out of the car. The crack of my head against pavement turns my vision and thoughts hazy for a moment. I’m aware enough to start struggling back to my feet. Halfway up, a massive amount of weight flattens me as Zander plows back toward the truck. That clears my head. My arms lock around his ankles and hold on for dear life. I start to panic when my brother’s hands clamp down around my waist and yank me off of him like I was a kitten.
Another crack—this time not to my head—resounds in the empty parking lot. Zander’s grip on me loosens and we both slither back to the ground. I’m the first to get up, and I’m thoroughly stunned when I see my brother unconscious at my feet. The split skin and bruise are already disappearing from his cheek, but I know the look of a mean punch too well not to see it. Shocked, my eyes drift over to Ketchup.
“Did you do that?” I ask.
He shrugs guiltily. “Sorry, Van, but I couldn’t let him hurt you.”
“I, um… wow, Ketchup. Thanks.”
A little of his guilt slides away, and is replaced by a grin. “I’ve wanted to do that for three years.”
“I can imagine, but he isn’t going to stay like this for long. You may not want to be standing so close when he wakes up. Help me move him out of the way.”
Normally, I could lug Zander a few feet on my own, but I’m too much of a wreck right now. Together, we drag him out of the way and stand over his unconscious body. He’ll be fine for now. I should leave him there, go back to the truck, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Ketchup’s arm slips around my waist and squeezes me against him.
“What if she’s dead?” he asks quietly.
A tremble that starts in my fingertips quickly begins marching toward my heart. “I don’t know,” I say. My voice is shaking as badly as my body. I don’t know if I can face that possibility. At least I don’t have to do it alone. If she is dead, Ketchup will help me figure out what to do.
“Come on,” he says, and turns me back toward the truck.
Our steps are slow, terrified. When we reach the truck, my breath catches while Ketchup’s flows out in a rush. The bruises on her arms are thick where he held her down. Her neck is mottled red and purple. She’s so still, I’m sure she’s dead. My brain and heart have completely different reactions. I think my blood has frozen, still and unmoving along with my heart. My brain is racing through possibilities as it shoves away the horror of what just happened. My hunger stays oddly buried under my shock and disgust. I refuse to let any kind of sympathy color my judgment. She wanted this. I hate her for what she did, but while that severs any feelings of guilt, it doesn’t exactly help me figure out how to keep this a secret.
As I contemplate ways to get rid of a body—something I have unfortunately pondered much too deeply—Ivy’s hand twitches. The scream that bursts out of my mouth brings Ketchup’s arms around me in a fraction of a second.
“What happened?” he demands.
“She moved!”
“What?”
“Her hand moved. I saw it.” Seeing someone I thought to be dead move part of their body scares me half to death, but hope that I didn’t imagine it is ready to burst out of me. “Check her pulse,” I beg.
Like a modern Prince Charming, he saves me from having to check myself. Gently, his first two fingers press against her neck. He pulls his hand away slowly. “She’s alive,” he says. The surprise in his voice is nothing compared to mine.
“Are you sure?” I can’t imagine how Zander didn’t kill her. We must have taken at least a minute to act after seeing his truck. That was more than enough time for him to snap her neck.
“I felt her pulse,” Ketchup says, “and look at her lips. They were purple when we first pulled Zander off her. Now they’re almost back to normal. What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just can’t believe she isn’t dead. If it had been me…”
“But it wasn’t,” Ketchup says harshly, as if he doesn’t want to imagine me in the same situation. He shakes off whatever mental image my words have conjured. “You said yourself, Zander likes to plan, or whatever. I think his overthinking bought her just enough time.”
I promise myself I will never say another negative word about the way his hunger leans.
The sound of jeans and sneakers rubbing against asphalt makes me jump again. I’m not alone. Ketchup whirls around in a hurry as well. I freeze at the sight of Zander stumbling upright. What will he do? Ketchup doesn’t know either, but he takes a protective stance in front of me, one hand poised to push me out of the way if needed. He’s sweet, but delusional. His KO punch a few minutes ago was a total fluke. If Zander is thinking clearly, I’m the one who’ll be doing the protecting.
“Zander?” I probe, when he gets to his feet but doesn’t say anything.
A sluggish movement brings his eyes up to mine. I can see his confusion clearly as his gaze sweeps between me and Ketchup. He takes in the truck, the backside of the theater. His eyes flick past me to the cab of the truck. His body tenses. In a second, I shove Ketchup behind me and hold up my hands, but he doesn’t move.
“No, no, no,” he wails. “Ivy. Where’s Ivy? What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Ketchup asks.
Turning just
far enough to catch his eye, I shush him emphatically. He better not forget that Ivy isn’t the only one Zander wants to make a meal out of. When I turn back, my brother is shaking his head. Thankfully, he’s too confused to register Ketchup’s yum factor.
“What happened?” he demands.
I decide to give him the short version. “You ignored me when I said going out with Ivy was a bad idea, took her to a movie, and then proceeded to try and strangle her in your truck. Luckily, Ketchup and I figured out where you were and stopped you, although Ketchup did have to knock you out to make that happen.”
“Ketchup?” he asks, clearly in denial.
“Yes, Ketchup.”
He’ll never live that down, but his mind has already moved on to other things. “You stopped me?” He blinks, shakes his head again. “Does that mean… is Ivy…?”
“Alive? Barely,” I admit.
His sudden panicked rush nearly catches me off guard. Luckily, I move quick enough to intercept him. “Zander, no!”
“Dude, you almost killed her!” Ketchup says. “What are you thinking? Stay back!”
“Please, I have to see her,” Zander begs.
I shove him hard, suddenly very angry. At him. At Ivy. At Mom and Dad. At Grandma. Fury at the lies and deceit that has led us to this moment boils over. “You have to see her?” I shriek. “Have you totally lost your mind? You’re never going to see her again. Ever! This was all one big setup, Zander! Just like I told you it was. She wanted you in this position. She wanted you to kill her!”
I have so much more anger I want to throw at him, but the way my brother’s head suddenly drops forces me to pause.
“I know,” he says quietly. The anguish in his voice is thick enough to smother him.
I can’t find any words to respond, but Ketchup manages just fine. “What? You knew? And you still brought her here tonight? What the hell is wrong with you, Zander?”
“No, I didn’t know before I came here!” Zander shouts. “I didn’t realize until the last second. She pushed me over the edge. I tried to run, but she knew exactly how to bring out my hunger.” Zander’s face screws up in shame and disgust. “I tried to tell her I was going to kill her if she didn’t stop, but she… she smiled, and said she knew. And I don’t remember anything after that.”
Wicked Hunger Page 34