Slowly We Rot

by Bryan Smith

  Miranda was smiling when his gaze came back to her. She gestured to a door in a corner of the room. It stood partly open, just wide enough to give Noah a glimpse of a bathroom. “Shall we?”

  Noah belatedly noticed a reddish tinge to her hair he could swear hadn’t been there before. It was the shade somewhere between red and blonde he’d heard described as strawberry blonde. Until now, he’d been sure her hair was the same shade of yellow blonde as Lisa’s. It bothered him for a moment, but then he decided he’d merely been projecting his memories of his lost love on Miranda. Some other similarities seemed slightly less pronounced now, but not in a startling way, just subtle things in her features that were now more obviously different. The obsession with Lisa was messing with his head in ways he didn’t like. The healthy thing would be to finally let go of it.

  But he couldn’t.

  In defiance of all common sense, he simply couldn’t.

  He shrugged it off, tucked his mementos away in the end table’s drawer, and followed Miranda into the bathroom.

  41.

  Noah was escorted back to the first floor a few hours later. By then it was mid-afternoon and the oppressive silence from before was still very much in place. The lack of audible human activity from anywhere inside the huge estate remained unsettling. In every other way, however, he felt better than he had in a long time.

  He was feeling renewed thanks to those private hours spent in Miranda’s company, more like an actual human being instead of some grungy hobo. His hair had been trimmed and his face was clean-shaven for the first time in years. The very thorough initial bathing Miranda gave him scrubbed away a layer of grime so thick it left the bathwater dark and nasty-looking. She then drained the tub and filled it again. He was so overwhelmed by how good he felt that he didn’t bother asking how the mansion had running water seven years after the end of civilized society. She wouldn’t have had a good answer to that anyway.

  She bathed him again after refilling the tub, more slowly and sensually this time. This, naturally, led to arousal. Though he couldn’t help it, he’d been afraid of offending her. He needn’t have worried. She took his erection in one hand and stroked it even as she continued to scrub his back with her other hand. After pleasuring him almost to the point of orgasm, she released his swollen member and told him to get out of the tub. He stepped out onto a rug and stood there while she meticulously dried him with a towel. Once she was done, she took him into her mouth and fellated him until he came, which took all of about a minute.

  The whole experience left him feeling like a client at a high class whorehouse. Miranda seemed nice enough, but he was under no delusion that she’d done this thing for him because she felt helplessly attracted to him. Yes, he was reasonably presentable when clean, but he was just an ordinary guy, not some irresistible stud. He had no doubt the blowjob was part of the deal, something she’d received instruction in prior to his removal from the shed. Part of him felt kind of guilty about the role she’d been made to play in this re-humanizing process.

  A bigger part of him didn’t give a damn.

  It just felt too good, all of it.

  So here he was, clad in new, clean clothes and feeling better than he had in longer than he could remember, being led into the library for his audience with the Judge. He’d been so distracted by Miranda’s various attentions to his person that he hadn’t had a chance to start feeling apprehensive about this meeting. And now that he thought about it, maybe that was by design, too.

  He did feel a little twist in his gut as he followed Miranda through the arch into the large room. The enforcer was right behind him, still aiming the big double-barreled shotgun at his back. There had been guns pointed at him the last time he’d been in this room, too. Somehow, though, the desperate terror of those moments seemed distant and foggy, as if they’d happened far longer ago than a few months.

  As before, he experienced a moment of deep awe at being in the presence of so many books. He’d taken refuge in those old western paperbacks for so long that this extended time without reading material had been another kind of torture. Also like last time, his eyes were drawn to that incongruous single shelf of moldy pulp paperbacks. An impulse to veer off in that direction was hard to resist, but knowing the shotgun was at his back helped him overcome the temptation.

  Deeper into the room, his attention inevitably shifted from the shelf of paperbacks to the little round table by the large back window. Just one of the table’s two chairs was occupied. The chair’s high back was facing Noah. A glimpse of glossy black hair made him think the person sitting in it was probably a woman, which made sense. The Judge was a woman, after all.

  A woman with very blonde hair, that is.

  Noah frowned as he neared the table. He saw a pale, slender hand gripping an armrest. Definitely a woman’s hand. In the center of the table was an open whiskey bottle and two clean glasses. As he watched, the person in the chair leaned forward, picked up the bottle, and splashed a bit of whiskey into each glass.

  The woman’s head turned toward Noah as he arrived at the table, allowing him his first full look at her face. It was a familiar one. “Hello, Noah.”

  Noah’s eyes were wide with shock. “Aubrey?”

  Rising smoothly from the chair, she stepped into her brother’s embrace, putting her mouth to his ear as she hugged him. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, her voice too low to be audible to anyone other than Noah.

  “I missed you, too. Aubrey, what’s going on? Where is that evil woman?”

  Her mouth still to his ear, she gripped him a little tighter and replied in another low whisper. “You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  This declaration stunned Noah almost as much as Aubrey’s presence here. It had been his understanding that he was being brought to the library for an audience with the Judge. Now, though, it looked as if he’d been deceived, perhaps in the interest of preserving the surprise of a reunion with his sister. But Aubrey’s words implied there was more to it than that, an insight backed up by the deferential way Miranda and the enforcer were behaving in her presence.

  Perhaps sensing his confusion, Aubrey broke the embrace and held his hands a moment as she smiled again. “I’ll explain everything. A lot has happened while you’ve been away. But first we celebrate your freedom. Sit and have a drink with me.”

  Her choice of words initially only deepened Noah’s confusion. A glance at the grizzled-looking enforcer didn’t help matters any. The man was eyeing Noah with open hostility. And he was still holding the shotgun in the manner of a man prepared to use it at a moment’s notice.

  Noah didn’t feel very free just yet.

  But he opted to set aside his lingering distrust of the situation for the moment. Aubrey was already seated in her high-backed chair again. Following her lead, Noah settled into the much less ostentatious-looking other chair.

  Aubrey pushed one of the whiskey glasses his way. She picked up the other glass and tilted it slightly. “A toast. We’ll drink to family, baby brother. Nothing’s more important than blood. Nothing.”

  Noah’s hand went immediately to the glass, closing tight around it as a twinge of that old desperate need recurred. As always, his instinct was to toss the whiskey back in a single gulp, but this time he hesitated.

  He frowned. “I’m older than you.”

  Aubrey lifted an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  Noah still hadn’t picked up the drink. “You just called me ‘baby brother’. But I’m older than you.”

  Aubrey smiled. “I’m sorry, it just sometimes feels the other way around. I’ve always been the responsible one, remember.”

  Noah lifted the glass then, but a trace of the frown lingered. “I guess that’s true. I’m sorry, Aubrey. I wish I’d been a better brother and not such a worthless asshole.”

  Aubrey sighed. “Enough of the self-pity. I’m kind of an asshole, too. But it’s a new day, Noah. Things will be better now. So drink up. To family.”

>   Noah shrugged. “To family.”

  They both threw back their drinks. Aubrey reached for the bottle and splashed more whiskey into both glasses.

  Noah picked up his glass again and frowned at the amber liquid inside it. “Jesus, that’s good stuff.”

  “The best. This place is stocked with enough top shelf booze to float the Titanic.”

  “Wait a minute,” Noah said, setting the glass back down. “You hate it when I drink. What the hell?”

  “I have a more relaxed attitude now.” Aubrey shrugged and sipped from her glass. “We live in a safe, insulated environment here. We should take advantage of it. Drinking is one of your greatest pleasures. I think it’s time you indulged to your heart’s content.”

  Noah gnawed at his bottom lip and took a look around the library. He supposed there was some small thread of something resembling logic in what she was saying, but something felt off to him. Miranda was still hovering in the vicinity, apparently awaiting further instructions, but now there was no sign of the enforcer. Noah hadn’t noticed him leaving the room.

  “What happened to the guy with the gun?”

  “He’s not important. Forget he was ever here.”

  It was an odd thing to say and Noah didn’t know what to make of it. On the other hand, he didn’t miss having a gun aimed at him, so he didn’t argue with it.

  Aubrey glanced at the house servant. “You can leave now, Miranda, but I expect you to pop in and see if we need anything now and then.”

  The young woman bowed slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hurried out of the room.

  Noah picked up his glass and downed its contents. He filled it again. “Was it you who told Miranda to blow me?”

  “Of course. How did she do?”

  Noah gulped whiskey. “She did her job well, put it that way.”

  “Good. She has standing orders to do anything you want.” Noah thought he saw a lascivious twinkle in his sister’s eyes now. “Imagine the possibilities.”

  Noah ignored this. He was still trying to wrap his head around too many other things. “Explain something to me.”

  Aubrey smiled. “What do you want to know?”

  Noah hardly knew where to start. He actually needed many things explained. He filled his glass yet again. The booze was going down fast, the way it usually did. “What happened here? Where is the Judge? Why does it seem like you’re in charge of this place?”

  Aubrey reached for the whiskey bottle. Noah noticed it was now half empty It’d been close to full when he’d come into the room, which had only been a few minutes ago, he was pretty sure.

  “The Judge put me to work as a whore, mostly servicing Connor’s men and upper echelon estate employees like Chance. This went on night and day. I hardly ever got a break. But the whole time I was plotting. Some of those men fell in love with me, just like Nick did after keeping me locked up in his basement all those years.”

  Noah frowned. “Hold the fuck on a minute. Nick what?”

  “I told you this before, remember? In Jackson, after Linda died?”

  Noah shook his head. “No. I don’t remember that at all. Are you fucking with me? Jesus fucking Christ.”

  Aubrey shrugged. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. We smoked some of your weed that night and you weren’t exactly sober to begin with. I was pissed at you, but I was trying to be understanding. You were having a rough time of it. It was just you and me at that point, private brother and sister time. That was the first and only time I ever smoked pot. We talked a lot and maybe said a lot of things we wouldn’t normally say. That’s when I let it slip about Nick.”

  Noah’s confusion did not abate. “I can’t believe this. I thought Nick rescued you.”

  “No. And isn’t it obvious in retrospect? What are the odds of a random rescuer coming along so many years after the end of the world?” She had a faraway look in her eyes now. “He killed dad that day we came down from the mountain. He abducted me. After nursing me back to health, he spent years raping me. But I worked on him the whole time. He fell in love with me. I made him fall in love with me.”

  Noah felt sick to his stomach. “Jesus. I think I’m gonna throw up. I thought he was a good guy. You must be the best actress in history. I thought you were really in love with him.”

  Aubrey shrugged, sipping whiskey. “I was.”

  Noah gaped at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “But I am.” She sighed and shifted in her chair. “I guess you could blame it on what they used to call Stockholm syndrome. You know, where a person held captive over a long period of time comes to identify or sympathize with her abductor.”

  “And that happened to you? With the monster who killed our father and spent years attacking you?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand it.”

  “That’s good. Because I don’t.”

  Aubrey frowned. “The situation was what it was. It’s over now. And now that Nick’s gone, I don’t even care. The point is, I used what I learned from all those years chained up in his basement to instigate and lead a revolt against the Judge. And it worked, Noah. I’m the Judge now.”

  Noah shot a pointed glance out the window. “And you’re a slave master now, too.”

  “There are no more slaves.”

  “You freed them all?”

  She nodded. “Something like that.”

  Noah chuckled after gulping more whiskey. “Oh, yeah? What do you call Miranda then?”

  “A gift. Something nice to soothe your troubled soul.”

  “She’s a human being.”

  “She doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

  Noah grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a long drink straight from the neck, wiping his lips when he was done. “What happened after you told me about Nick the first time? I must have been very angry.”

  She nodded. “You were. Things got scary.”

  “What happened?”

  Aubrey shook her head, her features softening. There was a hint of deep sympathy in the set of her eyes. “You don’t really want to know.”

  To his surprise, Noah realized she was right. He’d heard all he cared to hear about that night. Nor did he wish to contemplate how he’d managed to stomach Nick’s company after all that. He’d obviously lost the memory to blackout, but there was more to it than that. Whatever that was, he didn’t need to know. It was all over and done with now anyway.

  He grunted. “I can’t judge you, Aubrey. This is a hard world to live in these days. You did what you felt like you had to do. And you’re entitled to whatever emotions you experienced. I love you no matter what. I always will.”

  “And I love you, baby brother.”

  A deep well of sadness rose up in Noah and he spent the next several minutes sobbing. Aubrey sat through it all in silence. Once he finally had himself under control again, he drank more of the whiskey. Before long the bottle was empty and Aubrey called for another, which soon arrived. Two drinks into the second bottle, Noah announced he had to piss. Aubrey called for Miranda again, who escorted him to a bathroom.

  While taking a very long piss, Noah’s brain roiled with all the things Aubrey had told him. He felt dizzy and had to brace a hand against the wall to keep from falling over. Waves of nausea assailed him. It was a wonder he didn’t vomit all over the toilet.

  Aubrey was still seated at the little table when Miranda returned Noah to the library. He dropped into the same chair as before and stared fuzzily at his sister a long moment before saying, “I don’t think I can stay here.”

  Aubrey’s face crumpled a little at this pronouncement, but she nodded. “That may be for the best. I’ll miss you, Noah. I really will.”

  “And I’ll miss you,” he said softly, emotion swelling within him again. “Jesus, maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  Aubrey shrugged. “You can stay here and rot in luxury with me or you can resume your quixotic quest. The choice is entirely up to you. Even if you go, you’ll be back someday,
I’m sure. And then we’ll never part again.”

  Noah struggled to hold back more tears as he stared at his sister’s face. She had never looked so beautiful. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen her looking like this—clean and clad in nice clothes—since before the end of the world. And back then she had been a girl on the verge of becoming a woman. In a way, he was really seeing her for the first time.

  A single tear began to track down his cheek.

  And then he frowned.

  Aubrey frowned, too. “Something wrong?”

  Noah said nothing. Something odd was happening with Aubrey’s hair. At first he dismissed it as a product of his imagination, but then it happened again. Something was moving in her hair. In a moment, a big brown beetle emerged, crawled partway down her cheek, and then dropped to the table. Aubrey appeared not to have noticed it, nor to have felt the very large bug crawling around in her lush brown locks.

  But she did notice the sick look on her brother’s face. “What’s wrong, Noah?”

  He shook his head, couldn’t say anything. The bug moved in a tight, aimless little semicircle for a moment before turning and moving across the table in Noah’s direction. Another wave of nausea assailed him.

  This time he couldn’t hold the sickness back.

  42.

  Noah grimaced as his eyes opened, a throbbing ache making his head feel two times its normal size. Any attempt to turn his head even the tiniest increment resulted in a sharp lance of pain. The inside of his mouth was painfully dry and his tongue felt like a wedge of dead, shriveled flesh. Upon realizing something solid was gripped in his right hand, he flicked his eyes in that direction. The open bottle of whiskey was almost empty, with maybe a finger’s width of amber liquid at the bottom.

  The booze was to blame for his sorry condition. There could be no denying that. Well, the booze and his bottomless desire for it. On the other hand, a taste would help alleviate the awful dryness in his mouth. Also, there wasn’t much additional damage he could do with so little alcohol.