Garden : A Dystopian Horror Novel

by Carol James Marshall

  Stopping, Lola looked at the sky and listened. A far-off sound reached her, a sound that had Jacob almost hopping with fear as he pulled her from the field towards the trees.

  Running with Jacob, Lola barely noticed Manuel running with them. Manuel darted ahead. Jacob and Lola were well-schooled in knowing when a Gardener ran for cover there was a reason. They followed him and kept up the pace.

  Lola saw a small mound up ahead among the trees, and Manuel, after a quick over-the-shoulder check of Lola and Jacob, dashed to the hill. He lifted a tangled blanket of brush and kudzu that hid an opening big enough for a person. Manuel motioned Jacob inside, and Lola slid in after him. Manuel crouched inside and lowered the blanket of kudzu over the opening. Breathing heavily, he pushed Lola and Jacob deeper inside the hole and scooted back from the entrance himself.

  Lola tried to find a breath in the dank dampness inside this hill of dirt, but before she could think more about that, she realized what caused the panic. The murmur of noise she had heard before was now recognizable: the buzz of Nutri-Corp drones, as wicked-sounding as the squeal of a murderous chainsaw.

  The buzz grew louder as the drones drew nearer. All inside the mound stayed silent in mind, body, and hope.

  Suzy held a bumblebee in her palm. They knew each other, and Suzy felt that this bumblebee was her friend. Its little eyes were on Suzy’s. The bee was crying, and Suzy couldn’t understand why.

  Every buzz of the little bee got louder and louder while its tears left a puddle in Suzy’s palm. She wanted to tell her new friend that it would all be well, that he could stop crying. Her sisters would figure it all out, but the buzzing was so loud now Suzy couldn’t find her words. She set the bumblebee on a leaf so it wouldn’t drown in its own tears.

  Something crawled on Suzy’s face. She lifted her hand to shoo away whatever it was, but someone held her hand down. Suzy opened her eyes, but all she could see were leaves and sticks. She tasted dirt on her lips, felt dirt coat her eyes. She wanted to scream for help, but she still couldn’t find her words.

  Suzy felt warmth next to her, and she turned to see Ani. Ani’s eyes were slits as she watched Suzy. Suzy raised her head to look around, but Ani tugged at her hair to pull her head down.

  Vomit crawled from Suzy’s stomach to the back of her mouth. How long could she hold it down? Where was her friend, the sad bumblebee? Was that a dream? She could hear the bee buzzing, but the sound came from the other side of all the broken limbs and leaves that covered her and Ani.

  When the buzzing stopped, Suzy turned to Ani and whispered, “Where’s the sad little bumblebee?”

  Ani’s eyes went from slits to ovals. She frowned and slowly sat up. She pulled at Suzy, repeating, “Sick...sick...sick...” Suzy sat up but immediately laid back down. Her brain wasn’t working right now, and she didn’t think she could walk.

  Ani stood up, slapping her chest, thighs, and legs to clear off all the dirt. She leaned down and put her hand on Suzy’s forehead, then shoved Suzy back down into the dirt. Ani covered her again with all the debris.

  Suzy felt each speck of dirt fall on her hair, nose, ears, elbows, and for the first time it upset her to be dirty

  When Jen told Chandler it was almost over, she meant it, but she didn’t know how she meant it. Was it almost over because Danny had something up his sleeve that Jen didn’t know about? Was it almost over because Danny was now his mother’s puppet and both Jen and Chandler would be fodder for The Hunt.

  Jen didn’t know. What she did know, as she sat in the back of the SUV headed for the cages, hidden away in the farthest corner of Nutri-Corp, was that she felt nothing.

  No fear or sadness but numbness, as if she was the undead roaming tirelessly to her final demise.

  Jen snuck a look at Chandler, who dealt with life by way of too much. Too much ambition. Too much pain and, currently, too much terror.

  The SUV came to a stop, and they all stayed seated, no one speaking, waiting for a clue from Danny, a hint he was still their savior.

  From the backseat, Jen admired the curl of his hair. It was the color of golden light peeking through the trees early in the morning. If he stuck her in a cage tonight, would her feelings for him finally fizzle and evaporate?

  Danny turned to face Jen. He took a deep breath and said, “I need you both to stay in the car. I need to deal with Jug, the guy who keeps the cages for Madam.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Jen repeated “Jug?”

  Danny nodded, “Yeah, stupid name, a joke, a trash nickname he gave himself because...”

  BD interrupted, “Because he’s trash.”

  Danny nodded again. When he noticed Jen’s smile, his eyes lit up, but when Danny’s eyes gazed at Chandler, there was a shadow of apprehension.

  Jen tugged at Chandler’s hand, pulling her back down to the floorboards. Jen said, “We’ll hide here until…”

  Pulling one of the back seats forward she calmly said to Chandler, “We’ll crawl into cargo area and lay low. We can hide in there until…”

  “Until?” asked Chandler, who settled again into the embrace of the floorboards.

  Jen curled up beside Chandler, smiled at her, and, with a shrug, responded, “Until.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Eat the Whole Thing

  Dolly heard her bedroom door open, followed by the clack of heels on the polished wooden floor. She pretended to sleep as best she could, but one of her legs kicked, and Dolly gasped.

  Her eyes fluttered open as the clack of heels stopped near her bed. An uneasy feeling filled the room, as if the air itself would bite. Dolly opened her eyes and whimpered a perplexed, “Madam?” to her mother.

  Madam came closer and sat on the bed, her eyes filled with the girl. Her perfectly beautiful doll-like daughter raised on YUM and without a tic.

  “Perfect,” said Madam, as she twirled a finger in the girl’s curly hair.

  Dolly peered up at her mother. “What?” asked Dolly.

  “Where is your brother?” asked Madam. She wound her finger tighter in her daughter's hair, pulling.

  Dolly didn’t resist. She knew not to. If she moved away, Madam would know she had scared Dolly, and that only made Madam smile broader and tug harder. Sometimes, she’d laugh, and her laugh made Dolly feel as if the floor had dropped out and she had fallen down a deep, dark hole.

  Faking a yawn, Dolly looked Madam in the eye and said, “Danny?” She thought about faking another yawn then stretching but her mother would know she was faking.

  “Does my little doll know where her brother wanders to when he isn’t home?” Madam asked.

  Madam untangled her fingers from Dolly’s hair and raked her long nails down Dolly’s arm.

  “No,” Dolly answered, forcing herself not to look at her arm. The marks left by her mother's fingernails stung more than a little. Dolly stared at her pink, flowered comforter. She hated it.

  “Well, my doll, I’m sure you don’t,” Madam said.

  She stood and gave Dolly several swift smacks on her butt. Any witness would think they looked like a mother’s encouraging pats, but they weren’t. Dolly didn’t flinch. She knew her mother did these small acts to look sincere to whoever might be watching, be it the nanny or Sir. Madam was good at these gestures; no one could tell that Madam snuck in a hard tug at Dolly’s hair or a quick pinch hidden in a goodbye hug. Hugs from Madam were always too tight, almost suffocating and always followed by, “Be a good girl.” Dolly understood the unspoken, “Or else.”

  Dolly lay back down and pulled her covers up to her nose. She closed her eyes, still breathing in the thick smell of her mother’s perfume as she listened to the click-clack of heels headed for the bedroom door. The door closed almost in silence, and the tapping of heels in the hallway receded.

  Dolly the child knew the sound of high heels on hardwood floors would someday trigger Dolly the adult to scamper away and hide.

  Dolly had long ago accepted she was scared of her mother and that she hated her.
Dolly didn’t think that was how it was supposed to be.

  Muffled by the despised comforter, Dolly murmured, “Please come home quick, Danny. Please come home. Please come home.”

  Dolly’s fingers tightened in the comforter, twisting and bunching the fabric. She hoped that wherever Danny was with his girlfriend, he wouldn’t forget the promise he’d made to his little sister to not leave her behind.

  Danny walked swiftly towards the cages. BD slowly followed him. Danny probably thought BD was being cautious, being a bodyguard, taking in the surroundings in case something happened. The truth Danny would never know was BD’s careful gait was because of the curling and uncurling of BDs toes in his boots. The pain was at the breaking point.

  Eyes on the door, Danny felt glad, happy almost. He had always hated Jug with the kind of hate that churned the stomach and turned palms into fists. Tonight, Jug would finally be wiped out, and Danny considered this a favor to the universe.

  Jug wasn’t allowed in Madam’s home or at her parties. He was as tactless, wicked, and as sadistic as his mother, if that were possible. Jug was the leader of her Hunts and the keeper of the cages. Ridding the world of him would at least pause some of his mother’s evil, if only momentarily.

  Opening the door, Danny spotted Jug right away. His feet were up on a desk, there was a bottle of whiskey on the table and no cup in front of him. Of course, thought Danny, a person like Jug wouldn’t bother with a cup.

  “Well, well!” exclaimed Jug. “If it isn’t the prince of the castle himself. Slumming? Coming for some fun?” Jug didn’t bother to stand up when Danny entered the room. At the word “fun,” Jug had pointed to a video feed of the cages.

  Because it would be suspicious if he didn’t, Danny looked at the video feed.

  Three people were in cages. Two women, one man. They looked young. Danny watched the video feed longer than he could stomach, but he wanted to know if he recognized any faces. He didn’t.

  “That’s not my kind of fun,” answered Danny. “Why did Madam request three?”

  Jug took a swig from the whiskey bottle. Eyeing Danny, he replied, “She didn’t. I caught these puppies myself this morning. They were wandering near Old Town when I was doing my rounds. Exploring, you see. Looking for a little fun.”

  His grin showed stained teeth also lacking any dental hygiene. He handed the whiskey bottle to Danny. Danny took the bottle and slammed it on the desk with a hateful thud. “Go on,” Danny said.

  Danny didn’t sense BD behind him. What’s happened to him, Danny thought; he should be right behind me--he has the Shaky.

  Jug chewed the inside of his cheek, still watching Danny.

  Danny breathed shallowly. That was the only way to breathe in a room smelling of body odor, vomit, whiskey, and lingering pain.

  Jug said, “I sent her a message. She’s sending cook over tomorrow to put an eye on the inventory. Why do you care, princess?” Jug laughed, grinning again. “I mean prince.”

  The door opened behind Danny, and Jug’s face turned to concern. Finally, BD and the Shaky entered the office.

  “Hey,” exclaimed Jug, “I’ve been loyal, doing everything Madam wants. I don’t want any trouble.” He stopped and sneered at Danny. “I am the trouble.”

  Jug’s feet hit the floor, and he stood abruptly, causing his chair to fall over.

  Danny put his hand up, wanting to stall Jug while he planned what to say. Before he could think let alone speak, he heard the click of the Shaky’s trigger.

  With immediate and instant violence, beads from the Shaky exploded outward, whistling past Danny, hundreds of them headed straight for their target, Jug.

  For some reason, Danny fixated on several beads that struck Jug’s desk, shattering the wood, burrowing their way through, leaving trails like some termite on steroids. Danny knew they would do the same to Jug.

  On cue, Jug’s body convulsed as the vibrating beads ingeniously worked their way through flesh, muscle, bone, lung, heart, tongue.

  A pull on his shirt made Danny back up. Jug gurgled and Danny looked at him. Jug’s body seemed to fold in on itself, headed for the floor. As a frothy pink liquid poured from his gaping mouth and through several holes in his face, the body jumped and flailed. An eyeball twitched in its socket before the eye spun as if in a small blender. The liquefied remains of the eye seeped from the socket like tears, but the body flopped to the floor, behind the desk, sparing Danny any more of the vision of Jug turning into a molten mess. Above it all, Danny could hear a high-pitched persistent hum, and it dawned on him what that was.

  “I can hear the beads working their way through the body and the desk,” said Danny to BD.

  BD’s eyes were on the video feed of the despairing people held in the cages. The feed was muted, but BD could see that one person was sobbing.

  “What are we going to do with them?” asked BD, gesturing towards the video feed.

  “Nothing, for now,” responded Danny. “I have one getaway vehicle. I can only save Jen and her friend.”

  “Chandler,” BD said and headed for the door. “Her name is Chandler, and I’m going with them.”

  Clarissa stared at the carrot on the plate in front of her. She looked from the carrot to Micah and back to the carrot. Micah listened to himself breathe, those frantic, panting breaths. He wanted to choke Clarissa, and listening to his breathing seemed like the only option to calm himself.

  “Eat the carrot,” said Micah, flatly. “Our child needs more than YUM. It took a lot to get you this carrot.”

  Clarissa took her fork and knife and made a show of cutting herself a slice of carrot. She brought it to her mouth. Micah stopped breathing as the fork traveled toward her lips. Would she eat it?

  She opened her mouth, deposited the slice of carrot on her tongue. She attempted to chew. Micah snickered a bit. She looked like a horse with something stuck in its teeth. He sobered quickly realizing that she had in fact forgotten how to chew.

  “Close your mouth, chew slowly. Up and down. Move your teeth up and down.”

  Micah watched his wife do as he said. She looked at him as she chewed, tears in her eyes as if she were being punished. She tried to swallow…

  …and started to choke.

  “Don’t spit it out,” Micah warned her.

  Clarissa’s brows furrowed, and a single tear fell from her right eye. He handed her a glass of water, and she washed down the bite of carrot.

  “Fantastic,” smirked Micah, swigging his martini. “Now eat the whole thing.”

  Robert was about to step out of his trailer to aid in the search for Suzy when he heard the wasp-buzz of Nutri-Corp drones. Suzy was a smart little girl. Practically raised by the Gardeners, she wouldn’t have left without warrant or reason. That would be unimaginable.

  He did not enjoy acting afraid of the drones for the sake of the pilots and any Gardeners who might spy on him from a hiding place. Madam knew where the Gardener camp was; she’d given them the land. Today, however, was not the day to play-act for the sake of the cast.

  Instead of walking about freely, Robert sat in his trailer, staring at his boots, waiting for the buzzing to fade away. Then, he could go out and see what the little girl was up to.

  Once Suzy was safe back at her trailer, Robert planned to visit his Popper hiding hole. He had picked up a new Popper on the outside of Old Town yesterday. She was an easy catch. Her eyelids were in a constant state of fluttering, and she couldn’t see where she was. The rapid movement of her eyelids was like a strobe and made her ill from vertigo, likely why she’d been dumped in Old Town and abandoned. She would pause every few steps to regain her bearing.

  From his hiding spot in a sparse chunk of woods, Robert had watched a Nutri-Corp police van come into town, stop, push her out onto the street, and quickly drive away. The woman stood trembling and bewildered in the middle of the street, hair in a high ponytail, clean, tight jeans, and a swanky sweater. She looked young, maybe in her twenties.

  Robert n
ever made a show of things for one of his captures. He preferred simplicity. As the woman’s head swung left and right as she tried to see where she was, he’d pushed his wheelbarrow toward her, aligning it behind her so as he stuck a needle in her neck she’d fall cleanly in it. But as Robert approached, she startled. She cursed and swung her arms around in front of her. Robert had to evade her flailing arms and jab her in the neck. He was able to catch her as she fell forward. He pulled the needle from her neck and gave her a shove backward. She’d flopped right into the wheelbarrow.

  As he left Old Town, pushing his catch before him, Robert had spotted a young boy who twirling as he walked, stumbling and lurching with the effort. How long had that boy been in Old Town? Robert made a mental note to come get that child the following day.

  Robert stowed the memory of the boy away and listened intently for the sound of the drones. Nothing but Georgia crickets and an occasional hoot of an owl. Now was the time to find Suzy.

  Daisy found a piece of old sketch paper in her desk. The paper was almost in pieces, splotches of brown stains covered it. It was ready for the burn pile, which made it perfect to send a note to Madam.

  Note in hand, Daisy stood by her trailer door listening for the usual sounds coming from the woods and not Nutri-Corp drones. Satisfied that the drones were gone, Daisy opened her door. She wanted to whistle with glee at letting Miss Megan know, yet again, that Daisy was on her side.

  Daisy had taken only a couple of steps before she heard someone behind her. She was almost afraid to look, but she did. Robert stood there, leveling a steely glare at his sister. Daisy felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. He was always so judgmental of her, even though she was the breadwinner, the one with a roof over her head, the one who’d got them this camp.