Garden : A Dystopian Horror Novel

by Carol James Marshall

  The man who’d introduced himself as Robert handed Dolly a tall glass of water. She peered at it, her expression quizzical.

  “Sorry,” Robert said, “we don’t have ice in camp.”

  It was the girl’s turn to give a tired nod before drinking the whole glass in three gulps.

  Danny shoved his empty bowl aside. Time to get down to it. “When did they leave?” he asked.

  “Not sure,” Manuel said, looking over at Robert, who shrugged, not bothering to deny or confirm what his husband said.

  “She didn’t wait for me,” Danny murmured. “She knew I was coming.”

  Robert seemed uneasy, but he spoke up, “They plan to come back with people from The Hills and--”

  Manuel interrupted, “Fight Madam.”

  Danny nodded, brushing aside their plans. He needed to know why didn’t she wait.

  Manuel seemed to sense what bothered Danny. “She waited as long as she could,” Manuel said.

  “She’s coming back,” declared Dolly. “I know these things.”

  Danny couldn’t help but laugh, though his sister’s words surprised him. “Really? You know these things?”

  “Yes,” Dolly responded, sipping from her third glass of water. “She loves you, but she needed to go. She’ll come back.” Dolly ended with a jaw-breaking yawn. It had been a long day, an exhausting day.

  Their two hosts got the hint.

  Manuel showed Danny and Dolly to Jacob's room, all the while wishing his son was within its walls, not the children of Madam. It was not Danny and Dolly's fault where they came from; he knew this, but to Manuel they were unclean.

  Madam's deceptions and bad intentions for humanity were part of them, mingled in their own thoughts. Maybe not Danny. Danny had been friends with the Martinez sisters since he was a young boy, but his sister… His sister had known nothing but Madam. Madam the monster, the tyrant, the devil was still her mother.

  Back in the kitchen, Manuel found Robert peacefully reading a well-worn paperback for the umpteenth time.

  “I’m going to get Jacob,” Manuel said. “I want him home now.” Robert did not respond. “Then, we will talk about leaving. It’s time. She’s coming for them. You know that.”

  Joe picked up the receiver on the old landline telephone he kept hidden in a janitorial closet on the second floor of the YUM factory. Clearing his throat, Joe spoke to person he’d called.

  “Agree with whatever she says. It’s important that the people of The Hills attack when I’ve got most of the guards in the Gardener camp.” Joe, hand on hip, listened to the reply. “The back gates are open.” Joe was quiet again listening, then he smiled before answering a question. “Which ones?” Joe laughed and added, “All of them.”

  Chandler looked into her father’s eyes before tapping the microphone with her index finger. She purposely did not make eye contact with either BD or Lola, reminding herself that her loyalty was not to them but to her cause.

  “I was taken by Nutri-Corp, put in a cage,” Chandler said and stopped to give the room time to process the word “cage” before she hit them with: “They keep people in cages, in the dark, in filth, terrorizing them, fattening them up until they’re served as the main course for one of Madam’s dinner parties.”

  All eyes were on Chandler, but no one spoke, no one gasped. Had they misheard her? Had they not understood what she meant about being served as the main course? Uneasy now, Chandler shifted from foot to foot. No one seemed shocked by what she had said. So, maybe she needed to be blunter.

  “They are eating people!” she blurted. She watched the eyes in the room, waiting to see signs of disgust, shock. None came.

  “I escaped with the help of a friend,” she said. “I ran for my life and was rescued by the Martinez sisters.” She pointed to Lola and Jen then; they had left Suzy with a pile of books and her new friend, Mrs. Ortiz, the librarian.

  “Madam, the head of Nutri-Corp, will not stop producing YUM, a highly addictive drug, and she won’t stop kidnapping people, our people, for consumption.” Chandler raised her voice a bit, readying herself for the ask. “I believe we must combine our forces with the Gardeners and fight Nutri-Corp City. We need to take Madam down!”

  Several agonizing seconds dragged by until one-by-one the people of The Hills rose from their seats, fists in the air. Bile climbed Chandler’s throat. Were they for her fight or against it?

  “Yes!” shouted a man in the back. “We will take them down!”

  “Down with Nutri-Corp!” a woman yelled.

  “Let’s hunt her down!”

  “Kill her!”

  They pumped their fists in the air, and soon the chant came, “Down with Nutri-Corp! Kill Madam!”

  Since she wasn’t in charge of the meeting, Chandler let it go on, blinking back tears that her people hadn’t forgotten her, that her people wanted to avenge her.

  The mayor stepped to the front of the room and raised a hand for silence. It took a few minutes, but the chanting subsided, but many people kept it going.

  “I have maps from before they called it Nutri-Corp City,” the mayor shouted, waving them in the air. The mayor sucked in a breath and screamed, “Attack at dawn! Bring her down! Bring her down!”

  The crowd took up that chant, again pumping their fists until they synched, hundreds of people pounding the air, red-faced and screaming. Chandler stepped away from the mic; she’d lost of control of the room, the situation. Chandler looked at Lola. Her eyes grew larger by the second, and she reached for her sister’s hand. Jen and Lola sank into their chairs, but they stared at Chandler, communicating something.

  Yes, something was wrong. She’d won them won over too easily. This was happening too fast.

  Chandler looked around the room, searching for BD, but she caught only a glimpse of the back of his head as he followed the crowd out the door, his fist raised in solidarity.

  Jen stood and came to Chandler, pulling Lola along with her. The two stood by the stage, and Chandler joined them. The three women watched the crowd empty the building, still chanting “Bring her down!”

  They listened. They watched. They grew uneasy, feeling a need to run. Not back to the Gardeners or into the town but someplace far away, somewhere safe. Despite what they’d thought, it wasn’t safe here in The Hills.

  “Something...” Jen started then stopped, licking her lips, narrowing her eyes. “That was weird. It seems...”

  “Premeditated,” said Lola.

  “Like they were only humoring me,” Chandler spat.

  Jen nodded. “They already knew.”

  Lola started for the door. “We need to get Suzy,” she said.

  Jen and Chandler followed her, but the three got caught up in the crowd now gathered in the street. It was chaos. Trucks, cars, vans raced back and forth, pausing only for people to get in. Everyone was shouting orders, some conflicting. More shouting. People talking all at once, filling the air with a buzz-saw of conversations. The pavement vibrated from thousands of stomping feet, all the vehicles running around. It was the feel of happening.

  Chandler tipped up on her toes, looking for her father. He stood next to BD, nodding approval at whatever BD said, at everything happening around him. BD had a broad smile plastered on his face.

  Not understanding the bloodlust, unable to revel in a victory won because they hadn’t actually listened to her, Chandler leaned over and vomited into the street.

  Lola rushed to her side, placing a hand on Chandler’s back and pulling aside her hair. The bile that promised bad things while Chandler spoke had finally had its way. The amount of vomit was worrisome.

  Her father was beside her to, as if he’d teleported there. “Don’t worry, honey,” he said. “You won’t be expected to go. I know… We know how you are.” Chandler’s father was trying to be kind; he didn’t understand why Chandler had vomited.

  How she was... Still heaving, Chandler rolled her eyes. Embarrassment reddened her cheeks, but no one could see it from her
posture. She was sure Lola and Jen heard what her father had said.

  Chandler now knew what not only her father but The Hills believed about her. She was the one who came back, the one who wanted to end Madam. She was the one who stood with her honesty and her truth before this crowd tonight, the one they expected to stay behind because they knew how she was.

  They knew how she was.

  They knew nothing of her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Her Aim was True

  Granny watched the young man and girl leave her trailer with Manuel. She grinned at them as they walked out, giving them a slight wave, then gave Manuel a wink. Patty, Granny as all the Gardeners called her, was in her late seventies and tired.

  Granny’s memory had gone translucent. Long ago had she forgotten her exact age, the days of the week, names of her past lovers, and the middle name of her one child. A girl named Kendall.

  Kendall what? That was now a mystery to Granny. She had given up her child to the world many years ago. Once her daughter packed her bags for the city, she never looked back, as if Granny herself were too much of burden to bother with.

  After Nutri-Corp, Granny had become a Gardener covered in soil, hidden away in a trailer not fit for mice, Kendall would call Granny once maybe twice a year. A hurried call at Christmas. A late-night, last-minute “Happy Birthday, Mom” text message. Maybe a happy birthday phone call if Kendall had a couple of glasses of wine forgetting that she disliked and was doing her best to disown her mother.

  Granny never knew exactly what made her daughter hate her. She had always been a daddy’s girl. Granny had done everything she could to keep her marriage from failing, but when Kendall’s father began disappearing for days at a time Granny could take it no more.

  She packed herself up and her daughter, leaving the man Kendall adored behind. As Kendall grew Granny tried to explain his wanderings, her want for them to live with security, not wondering when her father would leave again or might be back.

  Maybe Kendall never forgave her for that, Granny wasn’t sure, and it had been years, many years since she had cared. After all, she had given up Kendall to the world and her path and forgotten she had a daughter, forgotten she ever meant anything to anyone at all.

  Now, in her tiny camper at the edge of the Gardener camp, Granny felt her years fog her head and prickle her bones. She no longer had the desire to exist. She envied the dirt under her nails, the dust on her counter, the sand in the river bed. Granny wanted only to melt away to compost.

  She dreamed of giving her body back to the earth, becoming a simpler form of carbon. Granny's only wish now was to become the grit she often felt on her tongue when she plucked out an herb or two from her garden for cooking and didn’t wash them well.

  It had been days now, weeks, maybe longer. Could it have been a year that the desire to be nothing but specks of dirt consumed her waking hours? Granny only thought of death now and how to get it.

  She could not ask for it. Not of a Gardner, they would then not allow her to live alone. Someone would insist she go stay with them, in whatever hovel they hid in.

  Granny could not do it herself. She did not have the will to starve herself. She possessed no weapons to injure herself.

  Long ago she had asked the dirty little girl for a library book on herbs, hoping that the book would point out which herbs were poison and which not. The girl brought back a book on cooking with herbs. Granny smiled at the girl, then quickly tossed the book in a compost heap, angry that such a book would not give her the answer she desired.

  Today, when Granny had heard the buzz of the drones, she stood as quickly as she could ready to throw rocks at the things. She was prepared to do anything to be granted the drones’ attention. Granny hoped for a pounding of Shaky beads.

  Then, she spotted the girl and the young man, terror on their faces. They’d heard the drones too. They were young, not done with life like Granny.

  She’d let them in, hidden them, spoke little, smiled, and wished them well as they left her. Now, Granny wiped the tears from her eyes. She had a chance. An opportunity to finally close the book of her life.

  It was finally a way to let the world consume her body, freeing her of this realm, and she had lost it.

  Sitting back down, Granny grabbed at a blanket on her bed. She used the tattered comforter to wipe her face dry, then smoothed it over her legs. She would spend her afternoon sitting there, wishing once again to be returned to the earth, nothing but the essence of dirt among the trees.

  As she sat, Granny's thoughts went back to her long-lost daughter. Kendall Love. No, that wasn’t it. Her daughter’s middle name was something ridiculous that Kendall always complained about. Kendall Amore. Granny nodded, maybe that was it.

  She remembered holding her baby, loving her baby so very much. At that moment she could think of nothing, but the love she felt for her infant. Kendall’s father hated the name Love. He’d berated Granny for it.

  Bullied, sore, with a new baby Granny named Kendall after her father. She’d snuck in the middle name Amore ignoring how much fun her husband would make of her for it.

  Little did she know he’d never stick around long enough to mock her enough for her to care. Little did she know that her daughter would complain of it so much when Granny had done it out of love. Her innocent, abundant mama love.

  Granny sighed. Seeing the young girl had sparked thoughts of her daughter that would now plague her for days. She needed the salvation of death, but her mind could not configure how it would come until she heard the voices.

  Granny stilled herself, holding in her breath. She listened, feet many feet pounding through the woods. Not far from her camper were voices that made no effort to hush themselves as they trampled through the outskirts of Gardener camp.

  These voices were gruff, almost insulting to the ears of Granny who had lived quietly hidden for so long.

  Ears pointed skyward like a dog. Granny grinned. Nutri-Corp police.

  Salvation.

  Taking a bag of rocks out of her trailer with her, Granny headed into the direction of the loud, harsh, barking voices. Her steps became quicker the louder they got. Granny’s legs couldn’t work fast enough, but she could taste her freedom.

  Spying the helmet of one of the Nutri-Corp officers, Granny tossed a rock at the head. Aiming for the face. Her aim was true. She had stunned many a rabbit with a simple rock.

  Once she had the attention of the officer who stopped dead in its tracks, head-spinning in different directions trying their best to find where the rock came from, Granny threw another, and then another at a second officer.

  She did this again and again while stepping forward and singing. Granny sang harshly, using ugly tones, nonsense words in both a mockery of them and hoping to annoy them just enough to pull the trigger.

  Soon Granny had several Nutri-Corp officers in front of her, one behind. A full audience. She felt pride in that, thankful that her bag of rocks was still heavy in hand. Plenty more to toss about.

  Granny never had to. There was one Nutri-Corp officer with little patience and free rein to shoot at will.

  The first beads hit Granny’s back with a buzzing smack. In a few seconds the beads tattered her skin gaining access to her back muscles, she grinned.

  A full grin. A big grin. A grin of the ages. Finally, what she had wanted for so long was here.

  Granny spread her arms out, falling to her knees, gratitude for her soon to come death was all that was on her mind. She would be free soon. Free of this camp. Gone from the world YUM and Madam had created. She would soon be free of her largest burden, herself.

  No longer would Granny be held to this earth with this body.

  Her body was nothing but a cage to her, and it was being destroyed. For that, Granny felt joyous.

  Lola studied Mrs. Ortiz’s home. It was a cozy house, full of books and plants, and the air smelled of food. Lola watched her sister pad barefoot to a couch in the living room, with a book
so big she could hardly hold it using both her hands.

  Mrs. Ortiz walked Lola out to the driveway. Mrs. Ortiz hummed while she walked, her skirt swaying. A cat followed at her feet.

  “I will care for her. No te preocupes,” Mrs. Ortiz said and put her hand on Lola’s shoulder. She looked at Lola. “My children are grown, gone. I never got to be a grandmother. Suzy is my chance.”

  Lola nodded then. A nod of understanding. A fake nod of being okay with leaving her little sister behind. She nodded her head with force, to keep a sob from falling off her tongue.

  Lola’s emotions were a tumble of logic and confusion. Every single part of her knew that Mrs. Ortiz would care for Suzy. Suzy would be comfortable and safe until they got back from the Nutri-Corp infiltration, but Lola had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t coming back.

  As she walked down the driveway, Lola wanted to run back into the house. She wanted to cuddle Suzy again, smell her dirty hair, and listen to Suzy as she went on and on about whatever book she read.

  Instead, Lola kept walking, all the way back to the center of town where all The Hill people had gathered, readying themselves for war. Lola spotted Jen and headed for her as a lady shoved a yellow armband into Jen’s hands.

  “Wear this so we know you are with us,” the lady ordered.

  Jen pulled the armband on and said, “I’ll need one for my sister.” The lady handed her another.

  Without a word, Lola put the armband on. She and Jen watched both Chandler and BD do the same. “I don’t know if I should wear this with pride or with shame,” Jen murmured, but Lola said nothing.

  Lola had a vague memory from something learned at school, a time not so distant but which felt ages ago to her. People somewhere had made some people wear a yellow badge so they would know who they were, so they would know who to take away. She should tell Jen, “Wear it with shame,” but the memory faded. Ancient history, Lola told herself; think about now.