by Sahara Foley
The boys shifted nervously under her intense gaze. The sixth boy, with dark hair and brooding looks, set her teeth on edge. His eyes kept moving around, like he was casing the room.
There's something off about this boy. I don't trust or like him.
With a rattle of heavy chains, the Guard turned toward the door. "I'm leaving, now, Cook."
"The hell you are!" she bellowed, causing the guard to step back from the doorway and look longingly at his escape. "You're going out the door your sorry ass came through and stand there until you're relieved. I won't be responsible for these boys if one of them runs off. You will be. Understand?" She punched his chest with her finger.
"Yes, Cook," the guard mumbled, and ducking his head, scurried out the door. The metal chains looped over his arms clicked and clanked as he left.
Cook assigned the boys some tasks, but kept her eye on the older one with the shifty eyes. He made her skin crawl.
A few hours later, a red-faced Cook was arguing over the intercom with her sister about the feeding schedule for the Boys Home. She slammed the earpiece down on the table. and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to bring her blood pressure under control.
Sometimes, I just want to throttle my sister. If Matron spent as much energy toward the kids, instead of stealing credits from them, this would be a happier place to live. She glanced at the counter where she left the spooky boy dicing carrots. He was gone.
Shit! Where the hell did he go?
She searched her large kitchen, looking for something that didn't seem right or out of place. Her gaze fell on the partially open wooden door leading into the cold room where Karrin was butchering rats. Slipping and sliding across the wet floor, a worried Cook moved as fast as her considerable bulk would allow.
Something is wrong. Peering through the small window of the door, her breath caught in her throat, hands fisting at her sides.
The fourteen-year-old boy stood between Karrin's spread-eagle legs while she laid half on and half off the bloody table. Her dress bunched up to her armpits. He had a stranglehold on her throat with one hand while the other tried shoving his stiffened penis between her legs.
The little girl’s face was as red as a tomato; eyes bulged out, mouth open, gasping for air. She fought against the hand around her throat, but her frantic struggling grew weaker by the second.
When the door slammed open, the boy released his death-grip on Karrin and snatched the bloody knife off the table. Turning, a feral look on his face, he crouched and aimed the tip at Cook.
How dare the son-of-a-bitch pull a knife on me!
Never hesitating, Cook barreled across the floor and swung a ham-sized fist straight at his nose with all the strength she could muster. His cold, blue eyes flew open when her fist landed squarely on the mark with a loud crunching sound. He sailed through the air, two feet off the ground, and smashed into the wall, then bounced and landed face down in the pile of bloody rat skins.
Karrin had fallen to the floor. On hands and knees, she coughed and choked while tears streamed down her red face.
Cook scooped her up in one arm and gently set her on the gut-strewn table. "You okay, girl?" she asked softly, tears prickling her own eyes.
"Yes, Cook," Karrin choked out as she rubbed her throat.
When Cook checked the little girl over, she found the red fingerprint marks where the sicko tried to either strangle or break her neck. Noticing Karrin's bare pubic area, she pulled the dress back down. "Uh, did he do anything besides choking you?"
"He…he hit...my forehead," Karrin said in a garbled voice, pointing to a raised bump. "Then....then he tore off my apron." She swallowed a few times with a grimace. "He pushed up my dress and started choking me, but you hit him." Her eyes welled with tears. No, I'm not allowed to cry. She blinked several times and sniffled back the tears.
Lips pressed together, eyes narrowed, Cook stared down at the unmoving boy lying sprawled on the rat skins. "You wait here until I come back," she ordered and patted Karrin on the back.
"Yes, Cook,” she replied in a hoarse whisper.
Jaws clenched in anger, the old woman stomped over to the child molester, grabbed his collar and began dragging him, facedown, out the door and into her kitchen. Halfway across the enormous room, his collar ripped loose, and the boy landed on the tiled floor with a soft thunk.
Every kitchen worker’s eyes were focused on Cook as she reached down, twisted some of the long, greasy, black hair into a wad, and started walking, again. She dragged him toward the outside door, flung the door open and tossed his body outside as if he were a piece of garbage.
At the sound of the door crashing open, the Guard jumped to his feet from where he'd been napping. He stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the body lying in a heap on the pavement.
Cook turned toward the Guard, hands on hips, face red with rage. "If this boy ain't dead, kill him. Tell the Master, if he ever sends another fecking psychopath to my kitchen, again, I'll drag that boy over there and shove the psycho right up his ass. Got it?!"
The frightened Guard took a few stumbling steps backward. "Yes, Cook. I'll...I'll tell him," he stammered.
After the door slammed shut, the Guard went over and roughly nudged the body with his foot. Seeing no movement, he reached down, rolled the body over, and felt for a pulse in the neck.
"Ain't gonna find one no how," he said to himself as he stared in horror at what used to be a face. It was caved in, cartilage and bone fragments mixed with gray matter.
"That musta been a hell of a blow. Poor kid was dead before he hit the floor."
Shuddering, he picked up the feet and dragged the body around to the incinerator room and shoved it into the chute. As the body tumbled and rattled down the chute, he said to himself with a malicious snicker, "I guess one less boy for dinner, tonight."
CHAPTER SIX
Inside the meat locker, Cook stopped mid-stride in surprise. Her new helper was sitting at the table, peeling the skin off a dead rat. "What you doing, girl?"
"My job," she said in a gravelly voice, not looking up as she tugged at the skin until it came free from the carcass. "You said this was my job, Cook."
A lump formed in Cook’s throat while tears burned behind her eyes. Twice, today, they threatened – something that hadn’t happened in years. She blinked several times, trying to keep them at bay, and cleared her throat. “Hmph! And, so it is, girl. Well, go ahead, then."
Without a backward glance, Cook left.
Outside the refrigerated room, she stared at the girl sawing away at the neck of another rat. She forcefully wiped the moisture from her eyes, grabbed an apron, tied it around her waist, and went back inside. Grabbing another knife, she retrieved a rat from the almost empty sack.
"Hmph! I got nothin’ to do for a few moments, so I thought I would do a few myself. Move on over, retard," Cook instructed.
The girl flinched at the abusive name.
Shoulda just kept your big mouth shut, the woman scolded herself.
After Cook sat down, Karin watched her butcher a few rodents before copying the same moves at skinning and gutting. At first, Cook cleaned four rats to Karrin's one, but forty-five minutes later, the girl was doing one to Cook's two.
She's sure a fast learner. Cook slapped another dead rat on the table. "Hmph! So, your name is Karen?”
Busily cutting off the feet of the rodent she was working on, the girl replied, "No, Cook. My name is Karrin. Like Call-in, but with R's instead of L's."
Cook's lips moved as she formed the syllables a few times. "Kar-rin. Karrin." She shrugged. "I'm not sure why I stopped the boy. Weren't none of my business. I mean, who cares about one dimwit around here? I guess I was remembering when I was a little bitty thing like you, and not this sixty-year-old elephant I am now." She pointed her knife at the tiny girl. "So, I did it for me, kid, not you. Now, stop asking all these fool questions and skin, girl."
An hour later, they were finally on their last burlap sack of rats. No m
atter how fast Cook skinned, her new helper was only one and a half rats behind. She observed in wonder as Karrin chopped and sliced like she’d done the job her whole life. Having boasted about being the fastest skinner around, she, now, had competition.
An unexpected wave of pride overwhelmed Cook, and the damn lump in her throat came back. There just ain't no way this girl's a retard. Her bushy brows furrowed in thought. "Karrin, are you really retarded?"
"Yes, Cook," the little girl answered in a flat tone.
The older woman stopped working, her knife in the process of slicing open a fat rat's belly. She shook her head. "I don't understand. Why do you think you're retarded? You've figured out things some of my regular girls had to be shown. Several times."
"The people I lived with told me that all the time. So, I guess I am," the little girl said in a matter-of-fact voice, her hand buried inside the abdominal cavity of a rodent. "They said I didn’t act normal, like the other kids. I don't mind, now. I'm used to it." Karrin fell silent as she worked away, then hurriedly added, "Uh, Cook."
Running her knife over the steel to sharpen it, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, Cook grunted. "Hmph! So, your family says you're a retard. You ever been tested?"
Karrin stopped working, and with her strange blue/silver eyes, glanced up at the hefty woman. "No, Cook." She bit her lip and shook her head. "I mean, yes, I was tested, but they’re not my family. They told me the test proved I was retarded, so I guess I am." She bowed her head, going back to work.
Cooks' eyebrow jerked upward. "Not your family? What do you mean? Where's your family, girl?" She peered down at the waif of a child, as her small hands tugged on a pelt, trying to pull it loose from the body.
Did someone make a mistake? Her chest tightened as an emotion not felt for forty years washed over her. One she thought she would never experience, again – a child who tugged at her heartstrings.
Karrin’s bottom lip quivered, like she was ready to cry, then she gave a small sigh. "Their name was Felney. Mr. Felney told me he found me on the beach, wearing a life jacket. They took care of me for over a year. He tried making the State pay him for taking me in, but they said they don't pay for retards. So, he brought me here."
She scrunched her eyes as she stared at the wall with a vacant gaze. "I know my first name is Karrin. It was on a bracelet I wore when Mr. Felney found me. But, he took it from me. I don’t know my last name or remember my family, either.
“Sometimes, I have dreams about a man who I think is my father, and he doesn't look anything like Mr. Felney.” She sniffled a few times and wiped at her eyes, leaving smears of blood on her cheeks.
"I have nightmares, too." she continued in a small voice. I hear a loud noise, then fire is everywhere as I'm flying through the air until I fall into dark, cold water. I guess my family drowned, but I don't remember. Mr. Felney says only retards can't remember, so I guess I am one, Cook."
Jaws clenched in anger, Cook attacked the rodent she was cleaning. She cut the head off with such ferocity the knife stuck in the table and she struggled with it for a few minutes before it pried loose. "I still don't understand why he said you weren't normal, girl. You seem more than normal to me."
"Well, I didn't talk much. The other kids they got paid for wouldn't let me play with them. They used to call me dummy all the time. Since I had nobody to play with, I would go outside and lay on the ground in the sun. I loved the way it warmed my skin and body. The ants crawled over me, the bees buzzed around me, and the butterflies landed on me, tickling my skin. I felt like I was a part of the entire world."
She signed. "It was the only time I belonged anywhere. I would stay out there for hours until they made me go in. They called me crazy and retarded, Cook."
In disbelief, the older woman stared down at the top of Karrin's head. "That's the only thing you did they thought was abnormal?"
Karrin shook her head while she cut off the legs of the last rat. "No. I used to sneak outside at night to lay on the ground. I loved staring up at the moon and stars. I felt like a part of them.
“Sometimes, when I really missed my family and all I wanted to do was leave, I wished so hard I could just fly away. I thought if I wished hard enough, I could. But, they always found me. They'd beat me and drag me back inside. Now, I'm here."
Cook's eyes shimmered with tears, her throat tight with pent-up emotion. She busied herself as she washed up the last two carcasses and stole a glance at Karrin, who was stuffing the flea-bitten skins into one of the burlap bags.
The poor child. She lost her family and ended up with a bastard like Felney. Why'd they tagged her as a retard? She's smarter than most of the girls who worked for me.
Since Karrin's an unwanted, she'll be reasonably safe for six months, but after that, heaven forbid. My sister hates retards, and it seems she's taken a real hatred toward her. The poor girl may never make it to sixteen. And, if she does, she'll be sent to a men's prison. She'll never survive.
Cook sighed in frustration. Well, I'll worry about that bridge when we cross it. I must keep her safe until she’s sixteen. But, how? Her face lit up when an idea popped into her head.
Cook turned away from the sink and stuffed the washed meat into the chute. "Karrin, can you read or add and subtract?"
Karrin peered up from where she was shoving the last skin into the bag. "Yes, Cook. I can read and write, but there are some big words I don't understand." She bit her lip, a puzzled look on her face. "I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide, but I don't know how I can. I have never been taught. Mr. and Mrs. Felney said I was too dumb to teach."
Cook's lips were pressed tightly in anger. A child who can read, write and do numbers ain't a retard. I'd love to get my hands on the Felneys. Maybe I'll look them up one of these days.
Taking off her blood-stained apron, she laid it on the table and started putting the clean knives away. "Have you ever played a game where you had to tell lies?"
The little girl shook her head. "No, Cook. I never played any games. I wasn’t allowed."
Cook grunted. "Wash up and come with me. Hurry, girl."
Done cleaning herself, Karrin scurried after Cook. She followed the woman across the kitchen to the large table, and then around it to a doorway. They proceeded down a short, dimly lit hallway and into a dark room.
Standing in the entrance way, hands on hips, Cook stared down at Karrin. "This is the room where my permanent help lives," she whispered. “Since we prepare meals around the clock, my helpers are allowed to stay here. See the little girl sleeping over there?" Cook indicated with her chin to an indistinct lump lying on a pallet.
"She’s Melissa. She's an unwanted, too, but not a retard. Melissa’s a worthless piece of nothing." Groaning, she sank onto one knee in front of Karrin and stared intently into her eyes, large, calloused hands on her small shoulders. "Can you play a game with me that could save your life? Can you become Melissa for me, Karrin?”
Cook peered at the floor between her knees. "I'm probably nothin’, but an old fool. Still, I think there's somethin' special about you. You surely don't belong here, but until I find where you do belong, you need to be Melissa, and Melissa to be you."
She waved toward the sleeping form on the floor. "You'll be trading places. If you act like Melissa, you’ll be staying in my kitchen, under my supervision. Melissa ain’t no retard, but she acts like one more'n some others I've had. She's also lazy and always playing sick. I need workers, not lazy good-fer-nothins. If it weren't for her being assigned to me, she'd already been thrown in the incinerator."
Climbing laboriously to her feet, she stepped over to the still form and gave her a swift kick. "Melissa! Get up!"
The girl slowly sat up, stringy hair hanging in her eyes. "But, Cook, I'm sick," she whined as she held her stomach.
"Yes, I know. You're always sick. Stand up and take off your dress. Now!" Cook bellowed when Melissa sat, unmoving.
Cook leaned over Melissa like a bird of prey ready to s
natch her dinner. Eyes round with fright, Melissa jumped to her feet and started unbuttoning her dress. When she was finished, she let the dress fall to the floor at her feet and, naked, stepped out of it.
"Now you, Karrin," Cook ordered as she picked up the white dress with a gray collar from the floor.
Before long, Karrin was also standing naked, her gray dress with a red collar laying on the floor.
Cook waved her hand at the unwanted/retard dress. "Okay, Melissa, you put that one on."
Melissa's mouth fell open in shock. She stomped up to the massive woman. "Cook, I'm not a retard.”
Cook backhanded her with a loud ka-wack, which echoed around the small room. The girl flew of her feet and hit the wall with a bone-jarring thud.
Melissa scrambled to her hands and knees, and with blood dripping from her nose, quickly crawled over to Karrin's dress. Whimpering, with fumbling fingers, she slid it over her head and buttoned it up.
Picking up the white dress, Cook handed it to Karrin. "Here, put it on."
As Karrin stepped into the smelly, stained dress, Cook saw how much it hung from her smaller frame while Melissa's dress fit her too snugly. A grim set to her eyes, she pointed at Melissa. "You, come with me. Karrin, you lie down and take a nap. I'll call you when it's time."
She grabbed Melissa by her leather collar and started dragging her, screaming and kicking, out the door. Turning to go down the short hallway, Cook glanced back to see Karrin lying on the pallet, eyes closed, hands tucked beneath her head. She was fast asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cook dragged the protesting Melissa to her table. She reached into her shirt pocket, removed a shiny key, and unlocked the padlock from the bomb-collar. She hung it on the rack where other collars sat, waiting for new kitchen helpers.
Hands on hips, she scowled down at the whimpering Mel. "For over a year you've been assigned to my kitchen, and I'm lucky to of gotten a week’s worth of work out of you. Piddling around with the helper boys when you think I ain’t looking ain’t work. Since you like playing with the boys so much, you'll do it on a permanent basis. You ain't needed here no more.” Cook grabbed a fistful of the girl's greasy, black hair and headed for the back door.