Netted- Inside Out

by K T Rose

  “Dale—Dale was never disposed of?” she asked.

  “Well maybe. I haven’t seen him anywhere.”

  Why would Hazel…?

  “But this is where they go. Well most of them at least. Dale had to be the first to be taken away, somewhere else.”

  “And you haven’t told anyone?”

  “Oh no. I would never tell on anyone. Especially Hazel. I think she’s pretty. Why would I tell on someone that’s so pretty that makes me smile?”

  Jessica smiled. This kid was as sweet as chocolate. Her stomach grumbled. Sleeping all day sure did come with a price. But knowing that Stephen, the volunteer that tried making nice with her as they sat in that dungeon before Dale woke up, was simmering in a barrel filled her body with hatred and culpability. Both for her own self.

  Tilly must’ve heard her belly crying out because he looked at her and said, “Are you hungry? There is one more thing I want to show you. This is the most secret place of all!”

  “Is it any more morbid than the things we’ve seen so far?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He took off running and she followed, sure he didn’t know what morbid meant.

  They kept straight, and cut through another set of woods, this one, on the opposite side of the sleeper trailers. This set of woods encompassed the small road that took them to the main road the day before when she picked up Uni. A ball blocked her throat before she shook the thought loose and into the past.

  “Tilly!” she called out. St. Pete lurked through this set of woods around this time of night and she was sure Tilly was out well past his bedtime. She hoped the boy was aware of the dangers of this area as he kept on with his brisk jog. He came to an immediate stop.

  He crouched in the snowy brush. She, next to him. Thick frost pulled a chilly mist before their eyes. Tilly looked up and down the iced-over road.

  “Wh—”

  “Let’s go!” He hauled ass across the road, and she followed, slipping and nearly falling on her ass.

  Déjà vu much? The last thing she remembered before Hazel injected her on the beach, pulsated through her body. She tried running but slid and nearly cracked her head on the boardwalk. By the time the dizziness wore off, she was being injected and everything faded to blackness. Then, she found herself in the dungeon. The memory made her shiver as she kept up with Tilly.

  The woods broke as she was poured into welcoming territory. The back of the bodega and the school trailer sat across the way. But Tilly whipped around the bodega and ended his sprint at the door behind the kitchen trailer. He pulled a bobby pin from his pocket and straightened it. “Come on, come on,” he whispered as he stabbed the keyhole.

  Jessica kept looking around. If they were caught, they’d be next to be buried with Marla, Mr. Nelly, and the others. But maybe not. She wasn’t sure of the punishment for breaking and entering. She looked at her watch. Her own curfew had come and gone by about ten minutes now. She gulped.

  The door clicked and Tilly smiled with such elation that it was contagious. “Come on,” he whispered.

  The kitchen trailer was much different at night. The sterling silver stove tops (all five of them) and ovens sparkled clean. She imagined Basil, the youngest of the two cooks who often referred to herself the sous chef, scrubbing them clean after every brilliant meal. That was the only thing the compound had going for itself. Aside from the murders and the sick person running the show, they had quality meals. Mercury must’ve been a well-respected cook in her past life.

  They crept past the many appliances such as mixers, pans, and pots hanging from the ceiling along the wall, a blinder, juicer, and the fridge and freezer unit until they reached the furthest end of the trailer which was lined with rows and rows of drawers. Tilly opened the drawer to the far right at his waist level. Jessica’s eyes lit up. Candy bars galore. Mr. Nutter’s, Chocolate bonbons, Marshmallow Martians…and the special pieces of chocolate she was forbidden to take out the bodega’s inventory. They were small and wrapped in golden foil without a brand name. In fancy curvy letters, the wrapper said, “Made in Switzerland.” Tilly took six candy bars and a handful of small candies and shoved them in his coat pockets.

  “Take some,” he mouthed.

  Jessica shook her head. He rolled his eyes and took six more candy bars. “Come on,” he whispered, and she followed him back out into the field where the door closed softly behind them.

  Before she could talk him into putting the chocolate back, he took off, back into the woods where they just come from. The boy went along the road and veered right. Before long, they came to a meadow where frozen branches hung low from tall trees and the ground was dark. It was as if the moon forgot to light this part of the woods, leaving it in its blind spot. As they drew closer, Jessica made out a hollowed-out tree trunk hidden deep in the snow, its opening just big enough for a person to slide down and fit inside.

  Tilly crouched in front of it and reached inside. He pulled a black, trash bag from the opening and opened it. He slid down the snowy entrance.

  “Come on,” he whispered.

  Jessica followed and sat near the entrance, sure to leave an ear out. She slouched down enough for the back of her head to lean against the wall of snowy bark and her knees came up her breasts. She was scrunched up and cold. She wanted to call it a night. But she was more curious about the conclusion to Tilly’s weird tour than comfortability.

  Inside, he’d used the plastic bag to cover the cold floor and stacks of coats to close out the opposite end, shielding them from the weather. He pulled a toy that looked like a white race car from between the coats and hit a switch on the bottom near the back tires. It emitted a hollow light that added just enough shine to the inside of the dark trunk. He then reached underneath the coats again and pulled a few comic books. He passed her one. On the vintage cover, green zombies with decaying skin clawed their way up a cracking street. Between the cracks were rivers of orange lava.

  “Too scary?” Tilly asked.

  She scoffed. “No. Of course not. I just haven’t read a comic in years.”

  “Yeah. Well I promise there’s nothing scarier than Father Paul. Especially if he’s mad at you.”

  She smiled. If only he knew how right he was. “Did you build this?”

  “Yeah. Well. Nature did most of it. I just hid garbage that people didn’t need anymore. I got most of it from the Brick House. I figured those people wouldn’t need this stuff anymore. I’d snag it the night of the show. Remember the night I told you about?” He pulled the candy from his pockets and gave her a handful. She looked at him with a half-smile then took the chocolate, peeled the gold casings from it, and shoved it her mouth.

  “So good,” the boy said. “This is the only thing good about this place! The best chocolate ever.”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Hey, Miss Olive, can I ask you something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are we bad people?” He asked softly.

  Jessica slowed her chewing as she looked the boy in his concerned eyes. “No. No. especially not you, Tilly. You’re a sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, Miss Olive, but I know that’s not true.”

  “How’d you figure that?”

  “We let people die and let Father Paul do what he wants with our lives. We’re just as guilty as him. And for what? To not deal with life outside this farm? I don’t know about you but I accept the fact that we’re bad people. All of us. But it’s never too late to do what’s right.”

  “But how do you do what’s right? Doing what’s right can get you killed. You’ve seen it. You should know that.”

  “So what do I do, Miss Olive?”

  “Keep living and eating chocolate.” She tussled his thick hair. “Got it?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  ***

  A foot or few before the mouth of the woods, Tilly stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I think we should split up.”

  Struggling to catch her breath
from their sprint, Jessica asked, “What? Why?”

  “Because I don’t want both of us to get caught. You’d get into more trouble if you’re out with me than being alone. It’s easier to explain why you’re out than to explain why both of us are. Don’t you think? And besides…” He pointed off to the right. “I live over there. Well...” His doughy eyes went sullen. “At least that’s where my bed and toys are.”

  She looked ahead. The Center looked tiny from where they stood. A long run back with no breath would slow her feet enough. Her heart sank.

  Before she could say anything, Tilly’s feet pounded the snow as he cut a hard right outside of the opening.

  She took a deep, lung-filling, breath and crept, hoping she blended deep within the trees’ shadows.

  A subtle rustle from behind made her dip into a shrub near her left shoulder.

  Panting hard, she threw a hand over her lips.

  Please be a squirrel or a rogue bear. She’d take being mangled by a wild animal over being caught by anyone on the compound any day.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the heat of a foreign touch other than her own, grasping her shoulder. She knew it would happen; anticipation had never been so damning. Butterflies fluttered in her gut as she waited. But it never came as the steps raced past her hiding spot. Her eyes opened and searched the clawing brush that consumed both peripherals. She peered up the narrow path all the way to the opening. The silhouette of a woman, thick in the hips and thighs and slim in the waist, couched low.

  Hazel.

  What the hell is she doing out here? She wasn’t on watch today. And she was… hiding.

  Hazel lunged and ran as fast as Tilly had as she cut across the field.

  Freezing be damned. Jessica waited before taking off…and pondered.

  Chapter Six

  The ride had been quiet on the way up to King Copland’s Burger Stand out in Hell, Michigan. To Jessica’s surprise, the town was as desolate as Allegan Township. It was as if only broad white fields lived there. Even the burger place was empty and closed. Abandoned from the looks of it. But up close, hours were plastered on the door, too small for her to see from their spot nearest its neighbor, a snowy, old plow. But she could make out the obnoxiously huge message in the window. In big, bold letters, it read, ‘Closed Until April 2019.’

  “He should be here,” St. Pete said, frustration erecting a thick vein across his forehead.

  As he huffed and ground his teeth, the door of the said abandoned building swung open and a man wearing a top hat and a thin mustache over his thin lips and under his ivory, button nose came out with a leather suitcase in his hand. Jessica was surprised he could fit through the doorway with all his height.

  “Who the fuck is this hack?”

  Jessica huffed.

  “Is that all you have to say?” St. Pete asked. “Fuck, you suck, can’t even talk to you for shit. Wish Haze was here.” He grunted.

  No matter how long the ride was or how long she’d known St. Pete, it was impossible to make small talk with someone who was…well…a dick. She’d even gone out of her way to sit in the back, as far from him as possible.

  The man’s smile seemed to widen with every step. He tightened the collar of his peacoat as his silver scarf skirted in the heavy winds. He pulled the door opened and let himself inside, tossing his briefcase onto Jessica’s lap, who shoved it on the floor.

  “I’m so honored that you chose my letter,” he said, as he closed the door and buckled himself in. “I’m sure you get tons.”

  Already, this guy was a weirdo. First off, who buckles themselves in when they were on their way to be murdered? She glared out the window. The whiteness of the outside passed in a blur. For a second, she could’ve been stuck in space with one question swelling in her mind. “Are we bad people, Miss Olive?” Afraid of the truth, she lied through her teeth to the first real friend she’d made on that black hole of a compound.

  “I left my daffodil garden to my mother, along with the money for my sacrifice. Oh, I can’t wait to enter those pearly gates!”

  He tapped Jessica on her shoulder. “Do you know what I mean?”

  She smirked and turned away. She hadn’t seen Tilly since the night before. She only hoped he was in the school trailer pissing those rotten kids off. Not standing before Father Paul and Hazel explaining why he was out late last night, playing in the woods. Did Hazel catch Tilly last night? Jessica’s stomach turned. She felt safe around Tilly. Herself. He made her miss Brandy more and more with every second that passed since then.

  “Mother is never pleased,” he went on. “I offer my garden, she doesn’t want it. I offer her the best doctors, she shoots them down. I offer her my savings along with a vacation package, the stubborn ol’ bag turns it down faster than a kid to a plate of Brussel sprouts! But I offer her my blood, the utmost gift you could give a person, then she’s all ears. She’s like ‘Oh, Benny, I was afraid you’d never ask!’ As if she can hear anything anyway. She’s as deaf as they come.”

  “Sounds like she hates you and wants you to die,” St. Pete said through a chuckle.

  Jessica looked over at the man. His sunken cheeks blushed as he cleared his throat. All the talking must’ve dried his mouth out because he asked, “Can we stop for water? I’m awfully thirsty.”

  “What did the contract say?” St. Pete asked.

  “Well, never mind then. Sorry for troubling you with my needs. I am quite nervous.”

  “Oh, you don’t say? We should really add ‘shut the hell up’ in the fine print,” St. Pete mumbled.

  “My, is he always this rude?”

  Jessica shrugged.

  Benny giggled. “Oh I get to go home to the Lord in a chariot ushered by Father Paul himself! Mother is so proud! This is the proudest she’s been of me since…God, law school? But what a bust that was. Four years of slaving away to fail the bar six times and work as a bond bailsman for ten years. Good pay either way but I’ll never get the first half of my thirties back.”

  Benny was a talkative mess, happy to meet the Grim Reaper’s poser. Her heart flinched. What am I doing here? She wanted to throw the door open and jump out on the highway, rolling at about seventy miles per hour.

  But Tilly would have no one. A lot like she didn’t when Jena abandoned her and Ron…

  But Granny…

  “She won’t be alone. She’ll have old Tucker there, slobbering on the edge of her bed. He’d look for me, I’m sure of it. I’m the only one that walks him.” Benny sighed. “Oh, I hope he likes the new dog sitter and Mom’s new nurse.”

  St. Pete mumbled something as he clenched his jaw.

  “I don’t want to be drugged,” Benny went on. “I want my blood to be as pure as it was when I was born as I enter into the sanctum of the Lord. I must be unscathed.”

  Jessica tsked.

  “What’s that?”

  “You believe in that?” she asked.

  “In what?”

  “That God will accept you with open arms. Isn’t that against your religion or something? To die as a sacrifice? And how do you even know if that’ll happen? Huh?”

  “Olive, stop talking. Now,” St. Pete snapped.

  “What a rude woman! How dare you question my beliefs. You have people like this working for Father Paul? The Father Paul.”

  “Whatever, weirdo,” Jessica said.

  “Olive,” St. Pete warned.

  Benny’s pocket vibrated and he pulled a phone from his lap.

  “Hey, no phones! That was in the agreement,” St. Pete said.

  “I’m so sorry. The last thing I want is to screw this up, but my mother is having a hard time getting along without me. I had to stay on with her through the train ride.”

  “Olive, take his phone,” St. Pete demanded.

  Jessica put her hand out and he slapped the smartphone into her palm.

  “Get rid of it!”

  “How?” she asked.

  “Don’t play stupid right now! Thos
e phones have tracking devices in them! It already knows what fucking direction we’re going.”

  Her window rolled down and a bitter cold wind nipped at her face.

  “Fucking toss it!”

  She chucked the phone and watched behind as they continued. It skidded and scuttled until it was too far out of view.

  “I have to tell Father Paul about this. You know that? Your chariot might be fitted with spikes,” St. Pete said.

  Benny frowned. “I’m awfully sorry. No need to change the arrangement.”

  “You blew the arrangement, numbnuts. No phones mean no fucking phones!”

  Tears left the man’s eyes. “My m—”

  “This is the reason why your stupid ass is going to hell! You could ruin everything for Father Paul! You hear me, asshole?”

  “I—”

  “Say something else and your body will be the next thing to go out the window and we’ll have to explain to mommy why there was nothing to burn of you and send back.”

  The man pursed his lips and sat quietly.

  Although Jessica felt sorry for the stupid man, she followed suit.

  St. Pete was terrifying when he was pissed.

  ***

  Father Paul stood in the foyer at the foot of steps when they returned, appearing to be ready for the show as he sported his menacing black turtle neck and dark jeans. Perhaps he wore it so that Benny would recognize him without the goggles or ski mask covering his face.