Samantha took out her badge. “I need to see the occupant of room 2207 immediately.”
“Oh my. Let me call—”
Samantha pushed the nurse out of the doorway. She didn’t have time for any more of this nonsense. “You can’t—” the nurse started to say until a glare from Samantha quieted her.
“Has anyone else been here today? A woman about my height, brown skin, black hair?”
“I don’t think so.”
“If she shows up, call the police.” Samantha left the slow-witted nurse in the foyer and began her search of the building for room 2207. She passed numerous old people shuffling around, none of them as happy and vibrant as in the brochure.
She checked both floors of the building without finding a room 2207. This doesn’t make any sense, she thought. She paused at a window, where a number of residents in wheelchairs were gathered to stare out at the lush green lawn. Beyond this, Samantha saw the tennis courts—empty—and a pair of buildings similar to this one.
She raced down the stairs and across the lawn. The first building she came to had a ‘2’ painted over the doorway. She went inside and found rooms 2100 to 2109. It must be upstairs, she thought. An old man shouted for her to slow down as she ran down the corridor to the stairway and climbed up.
Three doors down the corridor she stood before 2207. Before she reached for the doorknob she pulled out her gun. She took a deep breath and turned the knob.
The slow-witted nurse was wrong about there not being any patients here. A pale old woman lay in a dark room, oxygen tubes in her nose and IV lines in her arms. Monitors and machines still hummed with life. I’m not too late!
The old woman turned her head to face Samantha. “Hello, dear, come in,” she said in a quavering voice.
Samantha put the gun away. “I’m sorry to intrude like this, ma’am, but you’re in terrible danger—”
“Why, is that you, Jackie? You really should stand up straight, dear. Look how big you’ve gotten.”
Samantha knelt down beside the old woman’s bed, taking her hand. “That’s right. It’s Jackie. We’ve got to get you out of here right away.”
“I’m afraid we can’t go outside today, dear. It’s raining,” the old woman said. Samantha looked into green eyes that had turned cloudy with age.
“Mommy, I don’t want to go,” Jackie says.
“I know, honey, but you have to go to school if you want to get smart,” Mommy says.
“Why can’t you come with me?”
“Mommies and daddies aren’t allowed.” Mommy bends down to straighten Jackie’s blue jumper and matching head band. “I’m sure you’ll make all sorts of wonderful new friends.”
Mommy takes Jackie’s hand and leads her over to the door. She kisses Jackie on the forehead. “Now you be a good girl. Mommy will be right here at noon to pick you up.”
“Can we get ice cream then?”
“Only if you’re good.” Mommy gives Jackie a hug and then opens the door. “I’ll see you later, honey.”
The door closes behind Jackie and Mommy is gone. Jackie stands by the door for a moment, staring at groups of girls all dressed like her playing on the carpeted floor. A lady in a pretty white dress with hair the color of Jackie’s piled up in a beehive put an arm around Jackie’s shoulder. “Ah, there you are. My name is Mrs. West. We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” When Mrs. West smiles, a gold tooth winks at Jackie like a pirate in her picture books. Jackie shivers at this and looks back to the door, but Mommy is gone.
“Attention, class. Attention!” Everyone stops playing to stare at Jackie. She blushes and wishes Mommy hadn’t gone. “We have a new student today. This is Jacqueline Fuller. Everyone say hello.”
“Hello Jacqueline Fuller,” the entire class says. She blushes even more until she feels on the verge of passing out. No one calls her Jacqueline, except Mommy when Jackie does something bad.
“Jacqueline, tell the class about yourself.”
Jackie stares at the other girls, sweat forming on her forehead. What should she say? Her mind goes blank and from her mouth come a series of nonsense syllables. “Jacqueline, dear, you have to speak up so everyone can hear you.”
Jackie stares down at the floor. “I don’t know,” she says.
The other girls laugh at this until Mrs. West yells at them to stop. “That’s all right, Jacqueline. I’m sure you’ll think of something later. Go take a seat and we’ll get started with today’s lesson.”
There are four tables, each surrounded with girls. Jackie sees a chair with no one in it and goes to sit down. Before she can, a blonde girl snatches the chair away so that Jackie lands on the floor. As she sits there, rubbing her sore bottom, the other girls laugh at her again. “Fat stupid baby,” the blonde girl says. “We don’t want any fat stupid babies here.”
“Children, what is the meaning of this?” Mrs. West asks.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. West. I fell down,” Jackie says.
“She can’t sit on a chair,” the blonde girl says.
“Look, she made a hole in the floor,” the dark-haired girl next to her adds. “I can see China.”
This causes all the girls to laugh yet again. Jackie starts to cry. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” Mrs. West says. Jackie’s cries turn to violent sobs. She wants Mommy. Why did Mommy have to go? “It’s all right, dear. Let’s go get you a drink of water.” Mrs. West glares at the rest of the class. “When we come back I expect everyone to behave themselves. Is that understood?”
“Yes Mrs. West,” the other girls chant.
Mrs. West leads Jackie out into the hallway and dabs at Jackie’s eyes with a handkerchief. She turns on the water fountain and helps Jackie lean forward to take a drink, more of the water splashing onto her cheeks than into her mouth. When she finishes drinking, Jackie’s sobs have petered out into dry hiccups. “There now, do you feel better?” Jackie nods. “Good. You mustn’t cry in front of the other children. When you feel sad, bite down on your lip just a little bit and tell yourself not to cry. Go ahead and try it now.”
Jackie bites down on her lip and tries to tell herself not to cry, but her words are muffled. “No, dear, don’t say it aloud. Say it silently, like a prayer.”
“Oh.” Jackie tries again with more success. She stops biting down to ask, “Am I a fat stupid baby?”
“No, dear, of course not. You’re big-boned, that’s all.” Mrs. West puts her arm around Jackie again and leads her back to the classroom. She points to a corner. “Go sit over there with Veronica. And remember what I told you.”
Jackie makes a wide arc around the table with the blonde girl and her friends on the way over to the table in the corner. A lone girl sits at the table; at first Jackie thinks the girl is facing the corner until she sees a bit of nose through the veil of black hair. “Hi,” Jackie says.
“Hi,” Veronica says, her voice deep like a dog’s growl.
Jackie eases onto the chair next to Veronica, making sure no one pulls it away this time. Jackie’s bottom spills over the chair to rub against Veronica’s skirt. Veronica doesn’t seem to notice this and it’s only halfway through Mrs. West’s lecture on squares, triangles, and rectangles that Jackie realizes Veronica’s clothes are about three sizes too big. She wonders if there’s a girl in the clothes at all or if she’s like the puppets Daddy took her to see on her fourth birthday.
After Mrs. West talks about shapes, she reads them a story about a little blonde girl and three bears. Jackie, thinking of the blonde girl who pulled Jackie’s chair away, doesn’t listen to the story. She keeps glancing over at Veronica, trying to catch a glimpse of her face beneath all that hair.
When the story is finished, Mrs. West passes out milk and chocolate chip cookies. Veronica pushes back her hair enough for Jackie to see she has dark rings around her eyes like a raccoon. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” Jackie asks.
“I fell down,” Veronica says. She turns away to face the corner. Jackie sees the out
line of shoulder bones against Veronica’s jumper. She imagines lifting up the jumper to see nothing but bones. She looks down at her stomach pushing against the fabric and spilling onto the table and then at the cookies and milk. I am fat, she thinks.
“Would you like my snack? I’m not hungry.”
Veronica turns around enough to eye the milk and cookies. Like an animal sensing a trap she reaches out slowly and then snatches the items away. Jackie’s stomach growls in protest, but she doesn’t care.
After Veronica finishes, she turns around, veil of hair back in place. “Thank you,” she mumbles.
Mrs. West proceeds to teach them all about the letter ‘A’ and the many words starting with it: apple, angel, alligator, and so forth. Kindergarten is a lot harder than nursery school, Jackie thinks. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive.
To reinforce the lecture, Mrs. West passes around paper and crayons, instructing the girls to draw something that begins with an ‘A.’ Jackie takes a burnt sienna crayon and begins to draw Mommy. She gives Mommy big white wings like the angels she remembers from Sunday school and a yellow halo over her head. She can’t wait to show her pretty picture to Mommy later.
“That’s very nice, Jacqueline,” Mrs. West says. “And—oh my! Veronica, what’s the meaning of this?”
Veronica has taken a black crayon and darkened the entire page. “I don’t know,” Veronica says.
“This is unacceptable, young lady. You must learn to pay attention or you’ll never pass.”
“OK,” Veronica says. She drops the crayon and Jackie can sense her eyes staring down at the black paper, seeing things no one else could.
“Mommy and I are going to get ice cream after school. Do you want to come?” Jackie asks. She doesn’t feel much like ice cream anymore, but if anyone needs some, it’s Veronica.
“OK,” Veronica says again. After Mrs. West dismisses everyone, Veronica plods behind Jackie out the door as if going to her own execution.
Mommy is waiting in the hallway as promised. Jackie runs into her arms. “How was your first day?” Mommy asks after giving Jackie a big hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Some girls were mean to me and then Mrs. West taught me how not to cry and we learned about shapes and Mrs. West told us a story and we had milk and cookies and we learned about the letter ‘A’ and I drew a picture for you, Mommy.” Jackie holds up the picture.
“That’s very beautiful, honey. So do you want to go back tomorrow?” Mommy asks. Jackie nods violently. “Good. Now, let’s go get you some ice cream.”
“Oh, Mommy, can Veronica come along? She’s my new best friend.” Veronica stands off to the side, head tilted towards the floor and arms hanging limp, prepared for rejection.
“Of course she can. If it’s all right with her mommy.”
“My mommy is dead,” Veronica says.
“I’m sorry, honey. What about your father?”
She shrugged. “He won’t be home until late.”
“Then I guess it’s all right.” Mommy takes Jackie’s hand and she reaches into Veronica’s sleeve to find her bony claw. At this Veronica raises her head and Jackie can see a smile through the hair.
“Looks like I’m just in time for our 35th class reunion,” a voice growled from the doorway. Samantha turned around to find a grown-up Veronica standing there with a gun in her hand.
“You’re the one,” Samantha said. “I saw you in the lobby of the Radisson. You killed Dr. Herschowitz.”
Veronica brushed a tress of frizzy hair out of her face. “I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out,” she said. “You’ve really been slipping since rehab.”
“This has to end now, Veronica. You’re coming with me.” Samantha got to her feet. A few inches more and she could take the weapon from Veronica’s grasp.
“Don’t be stupid, Samantha. Stay back or Teach gets a final lesson,” Veronica said.
“You don’t want to do this,” Samantha said.
“Of course I do.” She fired. A bloody hole stained Mrs. West’s nightgown, the same location as Herschowitz.
“Oh my,” Mrs. West said and then her beeping heart monitor turned to a final shrill note.
“There’s only one left and then it’s over,” Veronica said. She aimed the gun at Samantha, but then ran instead. Samantha took off after her down the stairs and through the corridor.
Samantha took out her pistol as she ran along the lawn, but a group of seniors in wheelchairs were now parked on the grass. She couldn’t risk hitting one of them. She ran faster in pursuit of Veronica, ignoring the pleas for her to slow down from the old people.
Veronica rounded the corner of the first building and reappeared a moment later, clutching the slow-witted nurse. She pressed the barrel of the pistol into the nurse’s temple. “You’re not going to stop me,” Veronica said.
Samantha held her weapon up, trying to find a clear shot. Sweat formed on her forehead and her hand began to shake. “That’s right, you can’t do it. You couldn’t shoot me right now even if you wanted to. So now Nurse Horseface and I are going to leave and if you’re smart you won’t try to stop us.”
Samantha lowered her pistol as Veronica and the nurse backed away. She watched them shuffle up to the driveway, where Veronica shoved the nurse down and then climbed into a rusty Yugo. As the Yugo wheezed out of the driveway, Veronica tossed Samantha a salute.
After the car disappeared, Samantha went over to the sobbing nurse. “Where’s another car?” she asked. The nurse pointed to an oversized van with the facility’s name stenciled on the side. “Where are the keys?” The nurse shrugged.
Samantha had little difficulty hotwiring the van. Where was Veronica heading? she wondered. As she drove along the road winding into St. John’s, she considered the list of victims. Her old partner, her college friend, her high school counselor, and now her kindergarten teacher. Each one was connected to a period of her life from adulthood to childhood. Unless Veronica planned to murder the doctor who delivered Samantha there didn’t seem to be anyone left.
“There’s only one left and then it’s over,” Veronica had said. One left until what’s over? she wondered. What was Veronica’s plan?
She pondered this question as she arrived in St. John’s, a town not much bigger than Junction. As she drove, she thought of that black piece of paper and Veronica saying, “My mommy’s dead.” Samantha considered the roster of victims again. She’s wiping out the past, Samantha thought. Not just Samantha’s past, but her own as well. There was only one place left.
Samantha found her young pilot in St. John’s only motel, lying naked on the bed with a bottle of sparkling apple juice in a bucket. “I couldn’t get champagne,” he said.
She picked his clothes up off the floor and tossed them at him. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to get moving.”
Chapter 21: Divine Intervention
They gathered in the reverend’s tent after the sun went down and all the others had gone to sleep. “How long will this take? If my wife wakes up—”
“Do not worry, Mark. I can deal with your wife,” Reverend Crane said. “I am sorry about the accommodations, but try to find a place to sit down.” The four settlers sat on logs dragged into the tent while Pryde remained standing, picking his fingernails with the end of his knife.
“Now, my friends, we have come here because tomorrow Mr. Gooddell and his supporters will set out to make a compact with the savages. This we cannot allow if we aim to survive. The moment our backs are turned, the savages will murder all of us and enslave your wives to do their bidding.”
The other men bristled at this. “No savage is going to lay a hand on my Helena,” John said.
“Nor my Beatrice,” Paul said.
“What do you propose we do, Reverend? The elders have given their permission. We can’t go against them,” David said.
“The elders have no authority here in the New World. The only law here is God’s law,” Reverend Crane said. “He will dam
n us all if we associate with these heathens.”
The reverend waited for the murmurs of assent to settle down before he continued, “If we aim to carry out His will then we must intercept Mr. Gooddell and his party before they reach the savage village. We set upon them, kill them, and blame their deaths on the savages. Then no one—not even the elders—will disagree with the need to dispose of these vermin.”
“Kill them?” Mark said. “You want us to kill Mr. Gooddell and the others? I can’t do that. I’ve known Mr. Gooddell a good many years now and he’s always been a kind man.”
“I’ve also known Mr. Gooddell for several years now. He’s a God-fearing man for sure. And that wife of his is in bad enough shape without making her a widow too,” Paul said.
“Reverend, I fear this has gone too far. Perhaps there is some other way,” David said.
“My friends, we cannot lose heart now. Mr. Gooddell may be a good man. He may be a God-fearing man, but he is doing Satan’s work by negotiating with heathens. It is our duty as Christian men to do what we must to oppose this evil. He and any who follow him must be slain so that we do not stray from God’s path.” The four men shifted uncomfortably on their seats. “The Lord sacrificed his own son for our sins. How can we refuse to make this sacrifice for Him?”
“I’m sorry, Reverend, but what you’re proposing is murder,” David said. “We cannot go along with it.”
The other three nodded in agreement. “Then your souls will rot in Hell with Mr. Gooddell’s. Mark my words gentlemen, you will come to regret your cowardice today. Now go slink back into your beds and seek the comfort of your wives the way a child does its mother.”
The four men crept out of the tent and back into the night, leaving only Mr. Pryde. “What do we do now?” he asked.
“We continue as planned. We do not need those fools. God is on our side,” Reverend Crane said.
“Unless God is showing up with a musket he isn’t going to do us much good,” Pryde said.
“He will provide for us somehow. Leave me now. I have much to consider.”
“As you command, Boss, but don’t expect me to stick my neck out too far for you and your god. I’m not about to get it chopped off.” Pryde shoved the knife into his belt and then left the tent. Reverend Crane glared at the flaps. The cowards! he thought. They have no more bravery than worms in the ground. If none would help, then he would find a way to destroy the savages by himself.
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