by catt dahman
“Alice?”
“Yes, it’s still me,” she nodded.
“Do you remember when we spoke last? Did you keep the memories?”
“They don’t make sense, but yes. I am Jennifer Alice. Jennie. Alice. My mother was killed, I stabbed the hell out of my father, and you’re my cousin.
We had a daughter that was taken away and a son, Mike. Your mother came up pregnant, and you all began to make a list of suspects, and the one ended up as my older brother, Noah whom I don’t remember at all, but who has the same name as my friend who invited me here to Texas and was the reason I was on the road that night. Is that about right?”
“Got it in one.”
“John, This is very convoluted.”
“We have a very intricate family line and a lot of secrets and are probably mostly all certifiably crazy.” He shrugged.
“You were fifteen, almost sixteen by then. Father beat her. That may have been wrong, but he beat her, and she miscarried.”
John hadn’t seen the fetus that was tossed down the well, but he had seen his father, with his face as pale as milk and hands shaking, a pillar of strength and fortitude, bring the blood-soaked little body out of the bathroom. He had heard his father vomit just outside the door.
Father had said only one thing, “It has no face.”
“My, God,” Alice said.
“In a few months, Noah was dealt with. I’m glad you don’t remember him.”
They caught him in the barn where Aaron took the first swing, sinking the tines of the rusted, heavy metal rake into the man’s calf, dropping him to the ground.
Luke, eyes like dark coals, drew up tall and slammed a short axe into Noah’s arm just at the elbow, making Noah scream with pain. In two short strokes, the arm was severed.
Tom used a pipe, ramming repeatedly into the man’s soft stomach, making a mess of the organs.
John, a little calmer, used his buck knife to slice away Noah’s nose, and ground the flesh beneath his boot heel.
Father borrowed the buck knife for the offending appendage; he had no mercy as he cut off Noah’s manhood. Shrieks filled the barn.
“Cain?” Alice was using logic and wondered what the poor half wit did.
John grimaced through a chuckled. He didn’t think it was funny, but it was amusing for Cain to think of such. “The crazy thing pulled down his pants and shat right on Noah’s torn up stomach.”
“My brother.”
“Yes, does it bother you?”
“I don’t remember him, at all.”
“We cleaned him up really well and sorted him in the smoke house, gutted, and drained him, and Father said something about devouring our enemies, and that began the ‘pork roast’ tradition. My mother wailed and wailed when she was told what she was eating,”
“Did you…ummm….her?’
“No, she went down the well. Her flesh was too vile to consume.”
John went to her desk, and from the middle drawer, he removed a photo he showed Alice. This was when Father knew the clear vision about the end of our world. We took this to always remember.”
“I don’t believe in that.”
“That’s okay.” He looked at the picture fondly and set it down on the desk. “But that was our mission: to prepare for the end of days he said were coming. We knew it was like Noah’s Ark, pardon the pun, and we had to find a wife for each of us. But this is when we lost you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You went into the smokehouse for some reason and saw your brother hanging from a hook, eviscerated, bled out, cut up, and you put everything together.
Regardless of his actions, he was the last of your immediate family, and you became hysterical. You slapped us and fought back; you tried to run away many times.
One day you called yourself Robin, and Alice was gone.” Robin was full of anger and hatred, causing trouble and arguing every point she could. Mike was devastated at losing his mother and sank into depression.
John narrowed his lips. “We had to watch you all the time, and you hardly ate after that.
Years passed, and it felt like life times; a few times we had you back, but then Robin took over again, and sometimes you were catatonic for months, and we couldn’t stop Robin anyway.
Finally, a few months back...almost a year now…Luke and Tom grabbed a gal from the fair…Jodie.
Funny thing was, she looked enough like you to be your twin, and maybe they were trying to cheer me up, hoping I might move along with her, but I didn’t like her.
Then two things happened. First, Cain got uncontrollable one day, and he used her up…messed her up so badly that she died.
Unfortunately, you saw it and were hysterical; it may have been like seeing yourself. You got away later, and of all places, you tried to hide in the smoke house. She was there, hanging and gutted, and you went blank. It was like seeing a puppet’s strings cut. There was nothing there, and you were catatonic.”
“Oh.”
“What we did was keep you sedated, and we made a lot of suggestions, implanted ideas.”
Alice considered that this might be the same thing and that none of this was true either, but she listened. “Okay.”
“You have a cell phone we loaded with pictures…fake. We convinced you that you were a teacher coming to visit your friend, Noah.
Then we made sure you knew your name was Alice. We put you in the Jeep on the road, like we had done with Connie and Tara, so it matched.”
“Why?”
“Because then you had a new back story and a new personality to mesh with your real one. It was crazy, but it was all we could think of. We let you live all of that as if it were real, and we drew out the personalities and then let them…die, I guess you could say.
I never knew there could be so many protecting you. No one wanted to beat you or subject you to misery, but we had to bring out the others and get rid of them until only you were left. As they died off, you let them go.”
“How can I know what’s real anymore?”
“You are real. Right now, I am real.”
“Is Connie?”
“Yes. And Audra and Brenda. They were chosen. Alice, the world is really going to end. It’s true. It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not; your disbelief doesn’t cause it to be unreal. What matters is that you and I and Mike move forward, together.”
“But I don’t want to eat people or hurt people or kidnap anyone and see people tortured.”
“I know. But the other women broke. We stripped them down and built them back. They are here for good now.”
“I’m scared.”
“I’ll be here with you. I always have been.” John took her in his arms.
In the next few days, Alice thought about every detail and matched it with what she believed. She might be insane and in a delusion. She might be brainwashed and conditioned. It might all be true that she was a part of this dysfunctional family.
She split her days into work: polishing the antiques and shining old silver, dusting, sweeping, and scrubbing; long walks with John who told her about her childhood (and not a word felt false); and spending time with Mike who opened up more to her and taught her to paint although she had nowhere near the talent he showed.
Sometimes she worked outside with the men, tending the animals and gardens. The sun felt wonderful on her skin. She didn’t try to escape.
Cain became more difficult when denied females, lashing out with fists and smashing things and was finally, lovingly, but sternly, taken to the basement where he was left to use a potty chair, sleep on a thin mattress, and pass the boring hours alone.
Alice refused to go down there again or to see him; he frightened her.
Because John had a suite, Alice moved into his room and added some of her things, making it a cozy retreat for them.
When she considered the situation, part of her thought she had been an independent woman with a life and had been abducted; she mourned the loss and craved f
reedom at times.
But after pouring over papers and pictures and regaining a few memories, she believed John had spoken the truth and that this really was her normal life. Whether maternal or learned, she loved Mike as her child.
As for John, she felt residual love as if from the past, and he treated her so kindly that she fell in love with him, despite her confusion. The rest of the brothers and Father, she was pleasant to, but felt secretly indifferent.
Audra tried to bond with her, but Alice resisted and remained aloof.
Brenda was one she ignored as much as she could.
Connie was the nicest to her, and they were somewhat friends, but Connie’s eyes always showed that deep down, she felt Alice had been false and had betrayed them all.
Connie did tell her enough to make Alice sure John’s story was true.
Sometimes in the dark hallways, Alice had bad memories of her mother falling and felt ghosts whispering in her ears; she avoided looking at the old well when she and John walked along the path. There were times when she jumped, startled by a sound of movement.
She wouldn’t have said she was unhappy in this new life because her old life wasn’t real anyway, only a false memory.
In a few months during a heat wave that left Alice exhausted and miserable, she delivered a beautiful baby girl they named Jennie; she was perfectly formed and a joy.
Connie had a bulge in her stomach, Audra thought she might be pregnant, but Brenda remained barren.
One weekend, John took her to the carnival although she knew the brothers and Father disapproved.
Looking down from the Ferris wheel was fun, and the lights were beautiful. She held John’s hand.
They went on the Spook house ride, and Alice, knowing how it had been used, had goose bumps as she considered it, but she did like the jump-scares and was amused and impressed with the scenes. John gave into her pleading, and they rode it three times before Alice was satisfied.
One day, she went close to the well and prayed for those who lay at the bottom, including Maria, Sadie, Robin, and all the rest of her imaginary friends and personalities who had tried so hard to save her from the pain. She felt she had finally put the ghosts to rest.
One afternoon, she sat alone in the bedroom, listening to the radio; she was exhausted, and they thought, happily, she was pregnant again, so she needed to take it easier.
As she listened to the program, she reached into a bottom drawer and removed a picture that she looked at curiously, studying it intently. Then she lay it face down on the desk and slid a sheet of paper over it for now.
“I think you both have fevers,” she told John and Mike that evening.
“Nah, I’m just a little tired.”
“Mike?”
“Tired. I’m okay, Mama.”
Alice looked at them with her most stubborn, stern glance.
“I don’t want another word out of either of you. Both of you up to your rooms and strip to your boxers and get right into your beds. You can have a book if you want to read, but it’s bed rest as long as I think you’re feverish,” Alice ordered.
With slight grins and looks at one another that said they thought she was being over protective, but that they loved it, the two climbed the stairs and did as she said.
A short time later, she brought them chicken soup with bits of celery and carrots, and zucchini, and a dash of cilantro for a kick. It was her specialty, and it wouldn’t be unusual for them to claim an illness just to get her special soup. On their night tables, she set glasses of iced tea, with fresh slices of peaches floating in the glasses, handed them pressed napkins, and let them inhale the aroma of the soup. “Smell good?”
“Wonderful,” Mike said.
“Here is your cold, vanilla pudding for dessert. You both can eat and then maybe nap a while.” She paused at the door. “I love you, boys.”
They dug into the soup.
Downstairs, she had the hungry family seated at the table and ready to eat. She had made the stew with some variations before, but today it was a cooked hambone with bits of ham, seared small potatoes dropped in the pot, a few turnips, plenty of onions, and cracked black pepper, making a rich stew. She set down baskets of cornbread and iced glasses of blueberry juice, sweetened with honey.
“Where are you going?”
“To check on my boys; I’ll be back; save me some,” Alice smiled at Aaron. “Don’t wait for me; you know I like mine to cool down a little first. I took Cain his dinner, first.”
She went to her room and visited with John and Mike; both were stuffed and claimed to be sleepy.
“Good, you need sleep, and the chicken soup warmed you up and filled you up so that you can sleep a while and get well.”
Downstairs, the family enjoyed their meal. “Wow, you can tell when Alice cooks; it always has a bite to it,” Luke chuckled.
Audra drew back. “That turnip is hot; it’s burning my mouth.”
“Maybe she used radishes.” Aaron laughed, taking big bites.
Brenda waved her hand at her lips and drank her glass of juice fast and jumped to pour another from the pitcher. “Ouch, wow.” She looked at Audra. “It’s burning.”
“Are you allergic to turnips?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“You have little blisters all over your lips.”
Audra picked out a cube of ice and rubbed it on her lips for relief but howled instead. “Oh, that’s even worse.”
Father looked dully down the table, his eyes unfocused, and his head spinning. His limbs and skin tingled and didn’t respond to nerves ordering them to move. Tom held the glass to his father’s lips. “Drink this.”
Father’s heartbeat began to slow more.
Connie fainted from lack of oxygen.
Tom leaned over to vomit on the floor, and his stomach felt as if it were on fire. He tried to sip the juice to help, but the burning increased, and he saw bright red blood in his vomit.
Audra bent over now, rocking back and forth with her stomach hurting worse than she could have ever imagined.
Luke had gone totally still, his eyes bugging out, and his tongue sticking out, covered with blisters. He couldn’t seem to move at all, unable to breathe. He would have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t been locked into place by his tight muscles, so he sat and strained to breathe while he suffocated.
Horrified, he could see that Brenda and Audra both had rivers of blood pouring from their blistered lips, mouths, and throats. Both gulped more juice until they were on the ground, screaming in pain, vomiting, and evacuating their bloody bowels.
Aaron tried to rise and scream for help, but his heart froze as his breathing stopped; he pitched to the floor.
John and Mike finished their desserts and fell deeply asleep. In seconds, neither was responsive.
Alice nodded with self-satisfaction and walked down the stairs, her fingers lingering on the scars she had put there long ago with her baseball bat.
Everyone in the dining room had fallen or slumped to the floor, and Alice, wearing a rubber glove, methodically went to each to check for a pulse. All seven were dead.
In the basement, Cain had eaten his food heartily and was drawn up on his side where he had died, spurting filth and blood from both ends. The room stunk.
“Luckily, we have the handy water hose,” Alice mused.
Wolf’s Bane, or aconite (sometimes called Monk’s Hood), is a powerful neurotoxin; those weren’t turnips, but the roots of the plant, where the toxins are concentrated.
Mixed into the blueberry juice was the juice from the pretty purple flowers and leaves of the wolf’s bane. They had drunk massive doses that had caused the severe burning, inability to move, and dizziness.
The bleeding, vomiting, and diarrhea were from the extreme irritation to the mouth, throat, and stomach.
As their breathing slowed and stopped, the heart also slowed and stopped, and blood pressure bottomed out. They died.
Using the wheel barrel, she moved t
he bodies out the door and to a cart that the mule could pull easily. The cart was very low and dragged along the grass to the path, so she was able to dump each one in quickly; she tossed each into the well. It went pretty fast.
Cain was the most difficult, and she actually had to bind him, let the mule inside, run the rope down the stairs, and let the mule pull him out and to the well.
She poured sweat from the chores.
Using gloves, she discarded the food into a tripled plastic bag, and she poured the juice into the sink. Anything left, she scraped up and added to the bag. The dishes also were tossed into the bag; they had plenty. The silverware went into a sink of bleach.
When the trash and left over food were in the cart, she went back, rolled up the dirtied rug from under the table and made a neat roll that she tied off and triple bagged, and threw it into the cart.
In the basement, she threw a lot of items into bags and then used detergent and then bleach to clean the floor. She mopped the wooden floor of the dining room, made one last dump in the well, fed and watered the mule, and dragged herself upstairs for a shower.
She was relaxing and reading on the chaise lounge when John awoke.
He stumbled a little, casting her curious glances, but then he picked up Mike and took his son to his own bed where they tucked him in. He was fine, but still sleepy.
John climbed into bed with Alice.
When it was time for the news, she turned on the station she liked. An angry newscaster reported a new influenza sweeping Europe, saying that Africa, Asia, and the Middle East were practically shut down with ill people being told not to come to the hospitals but to stay home. If they were on the streets, they would be shot by the military.
John’s eyes went wide.
Some places reported as much as seventy percent ill and falling into comas after they suffered bloody vomiting, diarrhea, pains, headaches, and confusion. Some were calling it the worst plague ever.
Alice changed the station, and they heard the word apocalypse.
“I heard all this earlier, and I knew the time was now,” she said.
“Oh, Okay.”
She changed the channel again, and they heard a pundit, ranting over the irresponsibility of the medical community, asking how one crazy scientist named Dr. Henry Diamond could set loose a virus of this magnitude, and wailing that Diamond had essentially killed the world.