Evil Among Us

by JK Accinni

  “Fuucckin bitcccch, out noooow or I’mmm gunnnna keel you.”

  “Is that all you have to say to me, Eli?”

  Eli’s eyes leaked blood, rolling back into his head as he responded with gibberish. Netty moved on to stand in front of her former husband.

  “Robert.”

  Apparently Robert’s throat had received a better dose of healing because he wasn’t as unintelligible as Eli. His voice whispered clearly. “Whore.”

  Netty didn’t blink. “Do you have anything to say to me, Robert?”

  “Get me . . . down from here, Netty.” Robert had begun to drool, his body twitching madly. Netty stood, unmoved. “Now . . . get me down, now.”

  “What if I tell you that is not going to happen?”

  Robert’s head jerked back, his eyes flashing in their sunken sockets. “How dare you defy me, you gutter snipe? Hey you . . . over there. Get me off this wall right now.”

  Netty gazed up at Robert, disgust on her face tempered with what Peter thought was tired resignation. She inspected every inch of his face and found him wanting. With a shake of her head, she moved on.

  “Sheriff Hudson.”

  The man gazed down on Netty. “An angel?”

  Netty shook her head. Peter remarked on the man’s calm, clear tone even as the blood dripped into his mouth from his nose.

  “No, Sheriff. I used to be Netty Doyle. Do you remember me?”

  “You cannot be Netty. She died. She died with her creature.”

  “Do you see what is in my arms, Sheriff Hudson? It is the creature. My Baby.”

  “You had . . . you had a baby, Netty?”

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Sheriff, do you have anything to say to me?”

  Sheriff Hudson moved his head from right to left, blinking down at her. “My Lord, it . . . it really is you, Netty?” His voice lowered, soft and labored, his strength waning.

  Netty shook her head and turned away.

  “P . . . le . . . ase. P . . . le . . . ase, Netty . . . forgive me . . . .”

  Netty froze. She turned slowly to the man, approaching him to position her hand softly on his bloody chest. As Peter watched, her fingers started to glow, activating the tendrils to swell, and the skin on the sheriff’s torso healed before his eyes. Lightning streaks flashed from inside the membrane that clung to the wall. Fearfully, the men pulled back to the opening of the cave, not anxious to meet the Kreyven again. Netty turned away as the membranes released the sheriff, dumping him to the ground, his body landing on the noxious hills of blood and waste.

  Netty crooked her finger at Peter and Cobby while Jose attended the feeble Clyde. “Bring him.”

  With relief Peter signaled Scotty as Johno and Cobby lifted the tortured man, two of them taking an arm and throwing it over their backs to drag him outside the cave. Jose and Tucker lifted the queasy Clyde, helping him to fresher air as Billy shambled behind, vomit strewn down the front of his shirt.

  “Hey, where you all going? Netty. You get back here right now. Get me out of here.” Robert’s voice rang out strongly.

  “Yeah . . . come on back here, baby. Let your ole buddy Eli down, nice and friendly like. Ya know what I mean?” Eli leered obscenely.

  The last thing Peter saw was the vision of Netty’s resplendent beauty, with wings open wide as her crystal horns swirled with red and black streaks. Her regal face remained calm and resolute as her horns split, sending minute red and black projectiles to the men, cutting their voices off in mid-scream. Netty held out her hand to Baby, lifting him to her hip where he clasped his little leather hands around her neck and tucked his golden head onto her shoulder. She then slipped her other hand under Wil’s arm and proceeded resolutely down the cavern trail back to her kitchen as Peter took a last peek at the bare skeletons that hung swaying from the gelatinous walls of their half-century home. May the Womb rest their black souls.

  Chapter 13

  Ginger Mae kept her eye on Daisy and Kimir as she stroked the tresses of Kenya’s long, dark, curly hair. Everyone tried to relax as they waited for the men to return. Anxieties ran high as the women prayed everyone would return safely.

  “Ouch. Chickey, if you keep pulling like that on my hair I’m gunna give birth just so I can send the baby back there to show you a thing or two.”

  “I’m sorry, Kenya. I was just daydreaming.”

  “What’s ya dreaming about, chickey?”

  Ginger Mae’s face took on a far-away expression. “You know . . . I was pretty happy here. My life wasn’t what I wanted it to be in New York City or Sarasota. God knows it was my own fault I got mixed up with Armoni. And every time I think about what he did to hurt Daisy, I want to cry. But before that monster Seth appeared we were all pretty happy, weren’t we?”

  Kenya started to relax again under the touch of Ginger Mae’s brushing. “I know . . . don’t I know . . .” she sighed. “I guess my idea to go back to Sarasota was pretty lame. Musta been the hormones.”

  “Yeah, Kenya. It must have been the hormones.” The two women burst out laughing.

  “I guess some things never change. We’ll keep using that lame excuse as long as we still have men around.” Kenya rubbed her abdomen, a pretty smile curving her lips. “I think I need to work on Abby and Netty. I think they can help me birth this baby a mine. Whatcha ya think, chickey?”

  “I think if they could, they already would have.”

  “Nah, I think they’re just testing me. I think they have their reasons. I just need ta git on their good side. You know me, Ginger Mae. Sometimes I can just wear ya right down.” She sobered, biting a finger nail. “I think that’s what I did to Kane. Why else would he have been toying with Emma behind my back?”

  “Sweetie, that’s not why men do what they do. It probably had nothing to do with you. They just can’t help themselves. You best be making damn sure you’re good to Kane, so he sticks by you and this baby. He’s a good boy and you’re going to need him.”

  Salina walked by with a cup of tea in her hand, giving the girls a pasty smile.

  “Miss Salina . . . come right here, chickey. You sit right here with us. Put yer feet up here in my lap, there’s still some room. I’m gonna give you the foot massage of your life.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Kenya. But I’ll take a rain check.” Salina’s face looked wrinkled and old, her eyes still full of pain. Even the healing powers of the Womb had failed to erase the vestiges of her mourning.

  “Mind if we join you, ladies?” Karen and Gloria made their way to the fireplace to pull up chairs, Clyde’s granddaughter, Jennifer tagged along and crouched on the floor next to Kenya. Karen sat crossing her long limber legs after giving them a good stretch. “You sure look good, Kenya. I know it’s not fun for you, but pregnancy really agrees with you.”

  Chloe plopped at their feet next to Jennifer, tired of playing with Teddy and Caesar. Chiming in, she squeezed Kenya’s hand. “I can’t wait for the baby to come. We need some distraction around here. I always wanted a brother or sister. This will be the next best thing.”

  “Jose’s your brother, young lady,” Salina chastised Chloe.

  “But I didn’t grow up with him. It’s not the same at all.”

  “Well, chickeys . . . .” Kenya waggled her eyebrows. “We’ve been here getting on close to a year now . . . what’s it been . . . eight months? And I know you all aren’t sleepin’ alone.”

  Snickers from the women encouraged Kenya’s knowing assertion. “I don’t think it’s a stretch to expect a tucker or two ta keep my baby company.”

  Karen grinned anxiously. “I sure would love to have a baby with Cobby.”

  I bet you would. You’re going to need something like that to bind his eye for Abby back to you, darling. Ginger Mae felt a pang for herself as she realized she didn’t have a man to love. Am I jealous of Karen?

  Gloria spoke up. “Billy and I have talked about having a little redhead of our own.” She frowned as she spoke. “I’m surp
rised it hasn’t happened, it’s not like we use birth control.”

  Chloe weighed in. “Scotty and I have discussed it, too. I think we’re just a little young for that now. But we don’t know how to prevent it either.” Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “And what would happen to the baby? I mean . . . uh . . . Scotty’s an Elder. Would my baby be alright?”

  Ginger Mae turned to Chloe, slipping a loose wisp of her short hair back behind an ear. “That might be a good question for Netty.” Ginger Mae glanced across the kitchen where Abby busied herself with cleaning. “Kenya wants to pin her down about the baby’s delivery, too. Maybe you could both have a talk with her.”

  Chloe’s face flushed. “I couldn’t. I’d be too embarrassed.”

  The women snorted, Crystal’s hoots the loudest as she came in on the tail of the conversation. “You’re just a baby yourself, little one. If ya want to be a mommy, ya better toughen up. It ain’t for the faint of heart. Right, Kenya doll?”

  A sudden noise at the kitchen door drew Ginger Mae’s attention. “They’re back.” The women rushed to the door, recoiling as the stench of the men preceded them.

  “Eww . . . what the heck?”

  “For heaven’s sakes, guys.”

  They stepped back as Netty entered, Baby on her hip, her face a mask, effervescent eyes averted, her tail and wings clasped tightly to her body. She was followed by Wil, stony and silent. The women exchanged quick glances, fearful and confused.

  Behind the Elders came Johno and Tucker with Clyde between them. They set him in the nearest chair, hollering for water.

  “I need something stronger than water, boys,” Clyde remarked.

  Gloria embraced Billy, jumping back as the source of the stench greeted her from the front of his shirt. “What the . . .?” Her words were cut off as Peter and Cobby dragged in a strange figure; Scotty, Jose and Kane bringing up the rear. Echo jumped from Scotty’s arms to run to the fireplace, burying his head in Barney’s curly fur.

  Johno began to shout orders. “Ms. Salina, we need bandages and warm water. Boys, lay him out here.” Johno cleared the closest table, sweeping out with his arm, sending utensils crashing to the floor. “Ms. Abby, can I impose on you for some of Netty’s hot potage? Hurry now. Soap . . . we need soap too, Ms. Salina.” He glanced up to see Ginger Mae hovering nearby. “Ginger Mae, can you round us up some blankets and clean clothes?”

  She nodded her head as she examined the tall stranger on the table. His eyes were shut and gunk covered him from head to toe. He was buck naked with what looked like trails of dried feces stuck to his withered legs. Johno met her eyes. She relaxed visibly as she recognized the placid urgency in his African orbs. Not fear.

  “Ginger Mae . . . today, please.”

  She jumped, snapping back to the task at hand. Rushing to the kitchen doorway she threw a quick glimpse at Daisy and Kimir. “You stay right where you are, okay Daisy Chain?” Her eyes moved to Abby who spoke up, making her way to Daisy to place her hand on the child’s shoulder as she smoothed Kimir’s thick, dark hair. “Don’t worry, Ginger Mae. I’ll take care of her. She’ll be fine with me.”

  Dashing out of the kitchen, Ginger Mae bristled. I bet you’d just love to take care of my daughter, wouldn’t you? Well, that’ll be over my dead body, Miss Hot Stuff. And off she ran to the supply cave, returning as quickly as she could. The kitchen had quieted down as everyone hovered over the stranger, peppering the men with questions about Peter’s discovery. Wondering why he’d kept it to himself for so long, Peter stood, flushed and grinning like a fool as he found himself the man of the hour.

  Well, I guess that’s an improvement. Maybe now the bad blood between us will cool. Looks like he’s coming out of his shell. Ginger Mae glanced at Bonnie, who hovered nearby with Dezi, clapping her hands in awe, as Peter regaled them with details of their adventure.

  As she handed Johno her supplies, she observed Crystal gathering the dirty cloths from the floor that had been used to clean the stranger. The man lay clean and naked on the table as Johno, assisted by Tucker, attempted awkwardly to dress him in the clothes she’d retrieved.

  “For Pete’s sake, you two. Let me.” They gratefully turned the chore over to her capable hands. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked man before. Carefully she threaded his arms through the shirt and, propping his head up with her shoulder, slipped the garment over his shoulders to smooth down over what looked like tissue-paper red skin, tracings of blue veins showing prominently through the epidermis. She carefully set his head atop a pile of blankets she’d retrieved from storage, noticing not a strand of hair remained on his tender scalp. She could witness the man’s heartbeat, weak and thready as the pulse of his blood, showing clear under the red skin of his skull. Lifting his hand to anchor on his chest she noticed the lack of fingernails, her stomach doing a flip-flop as she cringed with the knowledge of how painful it must be. Another glance at the man’s face and she wondered if he was with them enough to even feel pain.

  She moved away as Salina approached with some water. She watched as Salina slipped her arm under the man’s head to attempt to force the liquid between his misshapen and horribly crusted lips. The water ineffectually dribbled down his neck.

  Leaving Salina to her task, she scanned the room, deciding to join a table that held some of the men, after assuring herself with a little wave that Daisy was fine by Kenya and the dogs at the fireplace.

  Now that Scotty had returned, Caesar had apparently returned to his customary position in the hallway, all thoughts of killing the big tiger forgotten.

  With relief, Ginger Mae sank down in a chair to catch up on the gossip. Before she could even ask a question, the table was approached by Wil and Netty, Baby clinging tightly to her as if modeling the behavior of a real human child.

  Wil opened his mouth to speak, both the Elders looking drawn and defiant. Ginger Mae knew something was up. “Gentleman, we realize you must share our . . . adventure . . . with the rest of the survivors, but we ask for your understanding and to keep the details to a minimum.” Wil gave them a weak smile. “Do I have your assurances?” Heads bobbed rapidly as the men swore they understood . . . and he could count on them.

  What the heck is going on? Ginger Mae watched as the unhappy twosome left the room.

  It took Ginger Mae an entire six minutes to pull the story out of them. Within another half hour everyone had the details, all the way down to how many of the men had barfed.

  The survivors spent another hour sipping tea, gulping down prodigious amounts of Netty’s green-crust fruit pies and having a surprising uplift of spirits from the sensational peculiarities of their latest exploration. Nothing like some ole fashioned prurient interest in someone else’s pain to allow you some respite from your own. Even as they feasted, the men all fearfully agreed that they had a newborn respect for Netty and her powers.

  Cobby finally rose, pointing to the man who still lay unconscious on the hard table.

  “Johno, Scotty, Kane. Any of you want to give me a hand with this guy? What do you say we bunk him in Seth’s old room. You’re not using it anymore are you, Jennifer?” A quick shake from Jennifer was all they need to cart him off.

  Ginger Mae collected Kimir and Daisy. “Come on you two, time for bed.”

  As they made their way through the corridors, Daisy turned to her mom. “I’m trying to estimate the probability of the strange man being a psychotic extrovert like Seth, Mommy.”

  Ginger Mae looked with pride and surprise at her precocious six-year-old. “Don’t worry your head with things like that, Daisy Chain. Forewarned is forearmed, I always say. I am darn sure the men won’t even think of taking their eyes off this varmint.”

  So it came as quite a surprise when the next morning Netty informed her of her new assignment. In addition to her other duties, she would be in charge of monitoring the health of their new guest. Guest? I thought the man’s a murderer? All eyes turned expectantly to her as her mind floundered from one wea
k excuse to another. She spied Daisy eating some strange concoction Netty had put in front of her: her brilliant, innocent child. She looked back at Netty. No, she wouldn’t do that, would she?

  Shrugging her shoulders as she realized her time with Daisy would be severely limited with an added responsibility, she accepted. It would only be for a while, until they decided what to do with the man. Maybe they would send him on his way once he was healthier. Or let the Kreyven have him. She knew for damn sure that tending to a murderer might not be that hard, but she had no intention of allowing this to become a long-term thing. She had her animals that needed her. She sipped her tea, glancing back at Daisy for reassurance in time to catch Abby brushing her hands through Daisy’s thin hair as they shared a private laugh.

  After breakfast, Ginger Mae headed for the stranger’s room. Netty was kind enough to tell her the man’s name was Hudson, but no more than that. Setting down her pail of warm water, Ginger Mae tied back her hair with a band. She dipped a cloth into the water, taking an extra minute to let her hands luxuriate in the warmth. Wringing out the cloth, she negotiated around the healing tendrils that remained to cleanse the man’s skeletal face. The warm cloth rode over his jutting cheekbones and down to his neck. He began to twitch, startling her. Must be the warm water.

  The stink of the man held fast, even as she gave him his second bath since his arrival. Examining him closer, she decided she had nothing to fear. Stepping back to survey her work, she considered he looked like a mummy someone had taken the time to unwrap, even with the tendrils hanging from his pores. She bet he couldn’t even stand. Who could, after hanging from a stinking wall for fifty years? Hmmm . . . why fifty years? Why not a hundred? That’s how long Netty and Wil have been here.

  Ginger Mae quickly concluded Hudson’s bath with a fresh smock to cover his bony frame. Whistling happily, she eventually made her way down the corridor with her clipboard to inspect her animals. The best part of her day had just begun.

  *

  Three weeks passed quickly. Ginger Mae found herself feeling as fit as she had when she was a young women in her twenties. With her newfound vigor, her capabilities sharpened, her disposition improved, and her annoyance over the care of Hudson diminished. He slowly regained some body mass as the tendrils did their intricate magic. His skeletal frame no longer curled itself into a fetal position and his body relaxed and found its own resting point. Now he merely looked like a recovering cancer victim with stubble appearing on his skull to suggest his hair would regrow. Examining his nail beds, she could feel ridges that would become fingernails. His skin was flushed with the activity of healthy blood cells, rushing oxygen to the parts of his body under repair. She stepped in to change his linen three times a day now as his body regained more normal waste removal functions. Large cotton cloths worked well as adult diapers. Where are those wonderful Pampers when you need them? She laughed to herself. Hudson remained comatose, the twitching having escalated to being accompanied by periodic groans.