by K T Rose
Chapter Nine
“Now the disposal process is the most important,” St. Pete explained as he yelled over the booming furnace. Its monstrous size was big enough to provide heat to the fourteen trailers, the Center, and the dining gazebo. Along with that was the buzzing from the generator out back, which pumped electricity to the compound. “If we don’t do this correctly, then we might as well call the cops in here now because we’re all going to jail, and Father Paul will be shipped back to California to face the death penalty.”
Benny’s body laid out on a metal stretcher that sat atop steal railings that led into the mouth of the furnace.
“You see this urn over here?” St. Pete pointed to a solid gold vase that sat on the table near the door. “He’s going in there and back to his mother’s where he came from. Hopefully, she likes him more this way.”
With a swift tug, he shoved the stretcher. It skated down the rail and into the furnace. The excited fire devoured it as he shoved the door closed and put the hatch in place. “Don’t want zombie Benny coming outta there talking us to death,” he mumbled. “Follow me.”
She followed him into the next, and only, room of the single-floor brick building.
She closed her eyes at the sight of Uni who lay pale as snow on a steel table. A deep red slit across her neck. She still had on her jeans and V-neck shirt that was no longer white, but copper. She died in the same clothes she wore when she came over with flowers to meet her new friend who turned out to be the woman who set her up for sudden death.
Jessica winced at the thought and sucked back the tears. It was too late for that now.
“Those not so lucky bastards get tossed into a barrel and stored for a month before they are disposed of, off-site.”
As Jessica opened her mouth, St. Pete raised a hand. “Just nod. We don’t have time to answer stupid questions. If you’re around long enough, you’ll find out.”
And if I’m not around, I’d be buried out in that secret cemetery where Tilly would cry over my tombstone every night.
“Put this on.” He tossed her a pair of long, thick rubber gloves, a pair of goggles, and a polyester lab coat. He looked her over. “Good, you’re wearing jeans.”
St. Pete pulled on his gloves and goggles and prompted her to do the same.
“Now help me get her in the barrel.”
They picked Uni up. She was much heavier than she appeared, and her limbs were as stiff as a brick wall. With ease, St. Pete moved, or more like broke, her stiffened limbs into different angles until half her body was in the fetal position. The cracking and snapping of bone as it pierced Uni’s skin and bled through the new wounds made Jessica’s want to vomit right there on the side of the table. She swallowed hard and lightly grabbed Uni’s fingers. St. Pete smacked his teeth at Jessica who couldn’t get them to move. He stomped over and pulled her away. “Don’t get cute, just—”
He snapped Uni’s arm at the shoulder, bending it up to her face. Then she took her calf and pushed her leg up at a ninety-degree angle and bent her leg at the knee, finalizing the fetal position.
“Now help me. Lift her.”
They lifted and placed her inside the barrel.
“Luckily, she’s small. At least we didn’t have to lop off some fat and rip off some extensions. Then this training would’ve been twice as long.”
He stepped over to a steel, yellow cabinet that read ‘ACID’ in red letters and ‘Corrosive’ in bold black near the door that led to the furnace room. He pulled the doors open. Inside where gallons of clear liquid. Acid, if she hadn’t known better.
“Very slowly, we’re going to pour this inside. Alright. Slow.” He handed her a jug.
She shook her head hesitantly, begging for someone to burst in and stop them. She’d put Uni through enough. Why add dipping her in acid to the list?
He opened his jug and placed the cap on the steel table. “Come on.”
Jessica did the same. The stench was enough to make her gag as she tasted very strong vinegar on her tongue. As the acid pooled around the bottom of the barrel, a smoky cloud wafted up, nearly throwing Jessica back.
“Ugh,” she exclaimed.
“Don’t open your mouth! You want this shit creeping down your throat?”
Acid ran down the front of Uni’s face making her skin bubble and pop. Jessica’s nose hairs burnt, causing her face to scrunch. She turned away. Uni’s melting face wasn’t the way she wanted to remember her.
“Hey! Watch what you’re doing! You can cause a serious spill and if the soles of my boots melt, I’m driving them up your ass!” St. Pete yelled.
She snapped her eyes open and emptied the jug just as St. Pete emptied his.
“Alright. We have about twenty bottles each to go.”
She was sure her eyelashes were burning through the goggles.
She reached for the next bottle, opened it, and started to pour. Then she snatched her arm back. The sleeve of her lab coat rode up her arm to make room for the gloves, which left the small of her forearm open. “Son of a bitch!” She looked at the reddening splotch on her arm.
“Make sure your entire body is covered!”
She pulled her sleeve down and continued to pour, focusing on the inner wall of the barrel and not the contents inside.
Before they could move onto their third bottle, the steel door flung in, allowing Hazel inside. She looked at the barrel and then at Jessica. Her glare wasn’t as harsh as her typical scowl. It was the look you gave someone you felt sorry for. It was the look Jessica gave Brandy when her dog died or when her father left. This was a look of concern.
“We have to go,” Hazel said.
St. Pete sat his jug on the table. “We’re kinda in the middle of something.”
“I know, but Father Paul wants everyone up at the barn. Now.”
She faded out into the beaming sun.
“Well, shit. So much for getting this out of the way!” He snatched his coat, gloves, and goggles off and headed for the door. Jessica stood, catching Uni’s face, making eye contact.
“You bitch! You did this to me!” was all she could hear over the thundering furnace as it burned in the next room. Uni’s death stare made Jessica’s soul flare, making her chest burn.
I’m so sorry, she thought, hating her very flesh and wishing she could switch places with the unsuspecting, kind woman.
But just as for many things, it was too late for that now.
“Well, you coming or what?” St. Pete said with a raised brow. He stood at the opened door with his Michigan coat already zipped up to his neck.
***
Hazel jumped into the cab of the truck and started it, with Jessica hopping in the back and St. Pete sliding into the passenger.
Hazel opened the window this time and yelled over the loud sputtering engine. “Olive, remember our talk last night?”
“Yeah.” There was yelling and the barrel of a gun against her nose. How could I forget?
“Good. Now is the time to put it into good practice.”
Jessica dropped her brow. What the hell’s going on now?
The golden horizon shone bright as the rising sun broke the early morning clouds while they made their way across the field and into the woods, passing by a cluster of kids following Ms. Orleans in the same direction, for the barn. Jessica searched the faces for Tilly, hoping to pass on a secret smile, a brief reminder of one of the only times she’d enjoyed being around the compound with the little brother she never had. It was a bit early to call, but Tilly’s courage and innocence made her feel like she’d been with Brandy again, throwing back Granny’s brews and watching wipe outs on YouTube…the time before Jessica became a fan of the very man who sucked her in like a muddy sinkhole.
The closer they drove for the cluster, the more she grew worried. The kids picked up their heads and looked in her direction. Nutty waved and Tate rolled her eyes. Shelly smiled.
“Pay attention, children,” Ms. Orleans said as she led them along the si
de of the narrow path, sure to leave enough space for the passing pickup.
Jessica wanted to yell, “Where’s Tilly?” but the old truck picked up speed, carrying them away from the group.
The woods broke and more people came into view on the field as they went for the barn. Those closest to the barn faced one another, shrugging and sharing quizzical pouts. It was only about eight a.m.; most of the compound operations started at ten.
Jessica frowned. This was new for everyone. Why would it be? What was so important that it had to happen then and not later? Father Paul had given explicit directions to St. Pete earlier that morning: train Olive on waste disposal. There was no mention of a meeting. Father Paul would’ve reminded them about it. Wouldn’t he have?
There wasn’t anything worth knowing other than Hazel’s secret phone. But Jessica had hidden it deep in her mattress. She stared at the back of Hazel’s thick, brown hair. The leverage alone was strong enough to make her back off: a woman who was high up and pointed a gun in Jessica’s face. The phone would’ve reassured that she wouldn’t threaten Jessica again because they all knew what the repercussions would be for such a find: death.
They pulled up to the barn and jumped out before the truck was in full park. Once inside, they pushed through the crowd, who were standing and not sitting on hay bales like the last meeting.
Once the heads cleared, Jessica stood between Blaze and Techy’s shoulders. Her mouth dropped.
In the chair of doom, sat Tilly. His stubby fingers gripped the steel arms tight and his face was flush with tears.
Father Paul stood over him, wearing goggles and a black turtle neck.
Tears brewed in Jessica’s eyes. No. She gaped at Tilly’s eyes. As they shared a stare, she wished she could read his mind. But instead, Tilly closed his eyes.
Jessica tried looking elsewhere, for something. She wanted to know why her little buddy was up there with the disappointed Father Paul. What had he done? Or better yet, what had she done to get him up there? The confused chatter from the audience died to a mere whisper when she laid eyes on the possible culprit. Next to Father Paul, leaning on the bookcase with a fat smile across his freckled face, was Billy.
“Everyone shush,” Ms. Orleans announced as Father Paul began pacing the floor.
Once everyone settled down, he sighed.
“Tilly. Tilly. Tilly. I remember when I was a kid. I used to love chocolate. I’d eat it every Halloween. I’d get it from my school mates. Share it with friends. I haven’t met a person who’d gone their entire life without trying it. Some people hate themselves from not enjoying it like most of humanity. Some people can’t like it because they’ll break out into hives—some allergy of some sort. I truly felt for those poor saps and hoped they got a similar sweetness from honey because I’d do anything for chocolate. Just like a baby with momma’s milk, I thought it was my sustenance. I’d even steal from my grandma’s purse whenever she’d turn her old face to see what was on the television or who was calling to gossip about the town’s whore or the cesspool down at the steel mill.” He chuckled and looked off into the ceiling, passing a grin to the old days.
“But one day, Grandma caught me with my little fingers in her purse. You want to know what she did? She took that hand and put it over the open flames of her stove top. Seriously, she shoved the beef stew she’d been slaving over for hours out of the way, took my little hand and held it over the flame until I screamed for mercy. I never stole from her purse again.”
He paced, crossing past Tilly, who shook so hard that Jessica could feel the wood panels trembling under her boots.
“Grandma said, ‘A thief is the scum on the bottom of society’s shoe. Someone who feeds on the underbelly of deteriorating mammals or a sunken ship. A being who deserves life as much as a fly that keeps buzzing around your summer barbeque dinner. They are as trustworthy as a politician wearing the devil’s horns under their faux wigs.’ Since she taught me that very real lesson at such an early age, I agreed to never steal from her again.”
He looked over at Tilly, who braced himself against the chair. The boy could’ve been holding his breath.
“I have a pure hatred for thieves,” Father Paul said through his clenched jaw.
He looked back at the crowd and threw his hands up. “Since Tilly is a small boy, he can still be reformed. There is still hope for him to be the sweet child that lives the life I always wanted for him since he came to me with…” he grimaced. “He…”
The crowd said simultaneously, “Who shall not be said.”
“Right.” He looked at Tilly and crouched in front of him. “You are nothing like your father, Tilly. You are of me now and I only want the best for you. Understand?”
Tilly nodded with a stiff neck and sucked in his bottom lip as tears mixed in with droll.
“Billy, since you made the discovery, you do the honors. Pick a—”
Billy pulled up the machete and smiled into its blade. Jessica saw nothing but a blinding redness over his face. “Billy,” she whispered between gritting teeth.
“Now, Tilly, you can either hold your right thumb out, or Billy will hold it down for you because trust me, you don’t want me to miss.”
Tilly lifted his shaken left thumb and gasped.
“Are you sure? If you move it, I’m taking the entire hand along with anything else that comes off. Fair?”
The boy shook his head, squeezed his eyes tight, and placed his chin on his right shoulder.
“Can I hold it? I don’t think he’s going to hold it,” Billy interjected.
“Fine,” Father Paul said.
Billy crouched next to Tilly and grasped his wrist and twisted while holding his thumb out.
As Father Paul lift the machete overhead, Jessica yelled. “No!”
Father Paul held his hand up, a puzzled look in his eyes. “What’s that, Olive? Are you interrupting?” he roared.
“Wait, please,” she said as she tried pushing past Blaze, who had turned and put a hand to Jessica’s chest, and Techy, who gave her an astounded look.
“Please don’t!” she cried.
Before she could shove a hand into Blaze’s maw, a taut grasp on her collar yanked her back and dragged her onto the heels of her boots. “No!” she screamed. But everyone only stared as Tilly drifted further and further from her and the chill from the outside grazed her skin.
“Miss Olive, I’m sorry,” Tilly cried before Father Paul raised the machete again.
As the barn doors closed, a heavy thud sounded, and Tilly’s shrill cut through the freezing air like a knife, shaking her heart.
“Tilly!” Jessica screamed.
Hazel shoved Jessica’s face into the snow. Jessica caught a handful as she slid on her belly.
“What the fuck are you doing, huh?” Hazel yelled.
She raced over and lodged her boot into Jessica’s side. Jessica chortled, balled into the fetal position, and rocked as she tried crying and breathing from the blast of pain. Hazel grabbed Jessica’s collar and heaved her out in front of her. Coughing, Jessica gasped as she faced Hazel, whose eyes ignited in fury.
“Do you want to be next? Huh? Are you stupid?” Hazel spat.
“He’s just a kid!” Jessica blurted as she tussled with Hazel’s tightening grip around her neck. “He’s just a fucking kid!”
“You think I don’t know that, huh?”
Hazel’s forehead cracked Jessica in the nose. The dizzying aches made Jessica’s head lighten as a white flash filed her vision. Her body hit the ground and she rolled. It wasn’t until her shoulder hit the back of the truck’s tires before blood leaked back into her throat. She choked and turned on her side, spitting on the snow.
“Get up,” Hazel said on approach.
Jessica got on her hands and knees. “He didn’t mean it! How could you let that happen?”
“I said get up!” Hazel grabbed Jessica’s coat and pinned her against the truck bed.
Jessica buckled at the knees, sinking bac
k down to the ground.
“He’s a kid, Hazel,” she sobbed.
Hazel took a stern step back and ran the back of her gloved hand over her mouth and sniffed. She looked off into the woods. “I know!” She put her hands on her waist and kicked the snow. “Fuck!”
She looked back at Jessica and shook her head. Tears dragged down her smooth cheeks. “I know. But do you want to be up there? Huh? Tilly knows that what he did was wrong! I know he’s your friend, but you should never interrupt Paul. What did I tell you about breaking the fucking rules!”
“Just like you do?” Jessica said.
Hazel cocked her head. “What?” The question cracked as it rushed past her lips.
“I know about the phone.”
A look of astonishment crossed Hazel’s face. “W—what?”
“I said I saw your phone!”
Jessica leaped to her feet and shoved Hazel. She stumbled back but caught her fall. “You kno—"
Doors slapped the barn as people poured out into the field. Ms. Orleans and Doc Viper had either of Tilly’s arms over their shoulders. His head swayed and bobbed as they pulled him toward the woods.
Billy, St. Pete, and Father Paul rounded the corner of the barn. Assault rifles hung over their shoulders and against their sides.
“Grab her,” Father Paul said.
Billy and St. Pete approached them.
“Wait. No. She won’t do it again. She’s been spending time with Tilly and she hated seeing him get into trouble.” Hazel looked over to Jessica. “Isn’t that right?”
Jessica threw Hazel a puzzled, tearful glance. Why was she helping her? If taking the punishment with Tilly would begin to make this right, she’d take it. Hopefully, they’d put her out of this forever.
“I got her together,” Hazel said.
“Well that’s fine and good but I’m not talking about her.”
Billy grabbed Hazel’s arm. She snatched it away. “Get off me, you little freak.”
“Nah. You have to do it like this.” St. Pete charged her, knocking her off her feet. Her back hit the snow hard. He forced her on her stomach and zip tied her wrists behind her back.
They grabbed either arm and lifted her while she kicked and screamed. Everyone, but Tilly, the Doc, and Ms. Orleans watched and whispered while they dragged her back into the barn.