Beauty and Dread

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  For the next ten minutes, the preacher droned on. Facial expressions in the crowd were a mixed bag of rapt attention, wide-eyed contemplation, and impatient annoyance. A few older citizens nodded off from the combination of a full belly and the warm environment.

  Finally, the preacher relinquished his place with an elegant gesture to Steven. His departure wasn’t punctuated with the applause it had been in the past; he couldn’t guarantee their well-being in this earthly plane. Even the more devout members seemed worried by the notion of venturing away from their safe haven in the middle of winter.

  As well they should.

  Steven didn’t have the experience at public speaking that Calvin did. But he had conviction in his chosen path. He had clear-sighted vision. He had profound concern for the town, and he was invested in its people. All this he conveyed in the intelligent, level-headed delivery of what was his ace in the hole: a comprehensive plan to beat the marauding army, explained in such detail that Liberty’s victory seemed assured.

  When his speech was over, it was met with a thunderous standing ovation.

  “Before we leave, there’s that other issue we need to discuss,” Pablo raised his voice to be heard above the din.

  Steven shot him a hostile glance. The last thing they needed at the moment was to worry about that business.

  “Sorry,” Pablo continued, “People need to know. It may impact their decision about staying. Some might conclude they’re safer alone.”

  All eyes shifted back to Steven, curiosities piqued now.

  “Very well,” Steven said, struggling to keep the annoyance from his tone and demeanor. “Julia, are you up to this?”

  His sister sat on the opposite side of the room from Pablo. A stranger was next to her in what would have been Logan’s place. They were obligated to reveal what had happened to the deranged young man, but he hoped she wouldn’t do so now.

  Julia nodded. She looked like she had aged ten years since her return; there was more gray in her hair than brown now, and a kind of frailty clung to her. It broke his heart to see her so distraught.

  All eyes followed her to the center of the room.

  “Most of you know me as Steven’s sister,” she began, “and some of you know that I was a scientist before. My field of study was molecular genetics. What nobody except my brother, and now Pablo, knows is the subject of my work before and after the pandemic.” She paused. “The disease that killed most of the people on the planet isn’t what I want to talk about tonight. The survivors...me, you, everyone here, is what I want to discuss. We’re more special than you realize, and not just because we didn’t succumb to the disease that killed everyone else. There are traits we survivors all share to varying degrees. Have you wondered why so many of us are so smart, or talented or proficient in a specific area?”

  More than a few people nodded.

  “That’s because we are all quite gifted, in one way or another. Average people did not survive the disease.”

  She waited for the crowd’s sudden clamor to subside before continuing.

  “Some of us have very high IQs, like my brother for instance. I suspect many of you do, from what I’ve seen and heard...Marilyn and Pablo are two names that come to mind. I don’t know everyone, but I’m certain there are many more. In addition to those types, there are others who are especially good at certain things: math and music, for example. Maddie’s knack for doing numbers in her head like a human calculator, and Natalie’s daughter Brittany who is a musical prodigy. These are instances of typical savant-type abilities.

  “Another interesting and less typical paradigm I’ve observed is targeted mechanical talent in a specialized area. Firearms, for instance. Our sharpshooters on the security crew are examples of this manifestation.”

  She took a shaky breath. Steven knew she was thinking of Logan.

  “None of this sounds like a bad thing,” Calvin said, taking advantage of the hesitation. “Why do I feel that the other shoe has yet to fall? And more importantly, why were we not informed of this until now?” He addressed the last question to Steven who stood several feet away, arms crossed.

  “Let her finish. We’ll get to that,” Steven said. “Julia, please continue.”

  She nodded.

  “Calvin is right. This is not a bad thing at all. It’s quite remarkable that the people who are left to pick up the pieces of our world are all so exceptional...so special. It’s almost like the genetic disease that killed most of our families and friends was orchestrated somehow. But of course that’s not possible. Anyway, Calvin is also right about the other shoe. There is a dark side to this. About half of the survivors will struggle with some neurosis, like anxiety and depression. Some will have obsessive compulsive issues.”

  More people in the crowd became animated now; a wave of nodding heads and excited whispers flowed through the room.

  Steven gritted his teeth, dreading what was about to come out of his sister’s mouth.

  “The serotonin levels in a percentage of these people, roughly ten percent, will indicate psychosis. Bi-polar disorder, schizophrenia, those kinds of problems.”

  “Julia,” Steven interjected.

  “They need to know.”

  “What are you saying?” Calvin said. “We’re not scientists like you. Please speak in layman’s terms.”

  “I’m saying that some will have cognitive disorders, difficulty separating reality from fantasy. They may suffer from paranoid delusions...even hallucinations. They might hear ‘voices’ in their heads.”

  “What do the voices tell them?”

  She frowned. “How the hell would I know that? I’m sure it’s different for everyone who suffers from the disorder.”

  Calvin arched an eyebrow. “Where is Logan, Julia?” he asked.

  Her frown turned into a grimace. “I’m getting to that. Now go sit down and be quiet. If you have questions when I’m finished, I’ll answer them then.”

  Steven didn’t bother to cover his grin.

  The next moment it was wiped off his face.

  “You too, Steven. Go sit down. I don’t need either of you hovering around me like a couple of hounds eyeballing a bone. Go!”

  He followed Calvin to a bench on the front row where smirking people made room for them. He liked to think his exit was dignified, but he suspected they both looked like chastised school boys. The preacher seemed more amused than embarrassed.

  “As I was saying, these people may not be fully in touch with reality. They might imagine their neighbors to be demons or believe themselves to possess super powers. Or magic,” she added, brushing at her eyes. “These fantasies don’t always manifest in dangerous behavior, but they can. You’ve heard those awful news stories of mothers drowning their children, believing them to be possessed by evil spirits, or teenaged boys going on shooting rampages at neighborhood elementary schools. These kinds of behaviors stem from the type of severe psychosis I’m speaking of.”

  She took a shaky breath, then continued. “There’s more...an even more virulent pathology. I call it the ‘mentored serial killer.’ This begins with a person who is predisposed to some of the problems I’ve mentioned. Added to that predisposition is direct interaction with someone, an older, mature someone usually, who channels the child’s unhealthy urges into horrific behaviors. This is what happened to Logan and why he isn’t here tonight.” She shot an angry look at Calvin.

  “Where is he?” The person who spoke was Steven’s son. He was sitting with the other members of the security crew rather than with his father. Julia sought his face in the crowd.

  “I killed him,” she said simply.

  The room erupted with raised voices. The security people were especially agitated. Logan had been a weirdo, but he was their weirdo.

  Steven stood from the bench. “Give her a chance to explain,” he said. “Please! Everyone, calm down.” He was furious at his sister for her lack of finesse in presenting the truth. There were better ways to handle this, but
she was too emotionally wrung out to care about her own future. If they survived the attack on their town, she would have to face some kind of legal action. People couldn’t be allowed to get away with premeditated murder without due process. Not even his sister.

  “Why, Julia?” Calvin’s cultured voice cut through the din. “What happened?” The amused expression was gone, replaced with something that might have been compassion.

  Steven took the floor. “Because he was the monster she just described: a mentored serial killer. We discovered this through his artwork. He killed a child before Julia met him. Of course she didn’t know that at the time. We have evidence that he murdered Thoozy, and we know he intended to kill Dani. He was a danger to everyone in this town. Julia’s act was heroic but also deeply upsetting to her, as you can see. She cared for Logan, but she knew he had to be put down.”

  “Like a rabid animal,” Calvin said in a thoughtful tone, rising to stand near Steven.

  “Exactly,” Steven replied.

  “Yet he wasn’t an animal. He was a person. And your sister killed him.”

  “Yes, she did, but she was justified in doing so. Just as we are justified in killing the people who are on our doorstep whose intent is to kill us.”

  “That’s enough, both of you.” Julia stepped between the men who stood in the center of the room with barely a foot between their chests. “If we survive the next two weeks, then you can put me on trial. I don’t care about that now. All I care about is Dani. Steven you damn well better make sure she survives this.”

  With that, Julia walked away from both men, pushed her way through the packed bodies, and out into the night.

  Everyone watched her go. When the door slammed behind her, the room exploded in a cacophony of shouting.

  Chapter 44

  “Wake up,” Martin said in a harsh whisper. He kicked at Dani’s boots. She was curled up on the ground near one of the campfires, but she was not sleeping. The flickering flames revealed a fresh laceration on her cheek. The one on the opposite side was beginning to scab over. Neither were terribly deep, but they would scar without proper care. Her wounds were treated with peroxide, nothing more. Isaiah didn’t want his captive to die from infection and deny him his reckoning. Even a bandage was not allowed. The goal was to open the skin and keep it exposed, allowing it to heal with as much scar tissue as possible.

  “Fuck you,” was the muffled reply.

  Martin squatted down next her. Through her eyelashes, she watched him scan the immediate vicinity, then lean in close to her head.

  “The other guards are on a pee break. Listen up...we don’t have much time.”

  Dani’s eyes flew open, but she didn’t move. She studied the face of Isaiah’s weaselly lieutenant with new interest.

  “I want out. You help me and I’ll help you.” The words were spoken so quietly that Dani barely heard them.

  But hear them she did. They were as sweet as an angels’ choir.

  When she smiled, the sudden pain reminded her of the wounds on her face. They had more than a week to go before they would reach their destination. Isaiah’s intent was to draw out his ridiculous reckoning until the very last moment, giving her a disfiguring injury every day. He planned to escalate their severity so by the time she was handed over to whatever was waiting for them in Liberty, she would be hideous. The thought of Sam’s reaction made bile rise in her throat.

  It was a pretty damn good strategy for exacting revenge, and she had the weasel to thank for it. But at least she wasn’t dead. She supposed she had him to thank for that too.

  “What’s your plan?” she whispered.

  “We need to get rid of Lily. That comes first. If we don’t, we haven’t got a chance. That bitch is as deadly as she is crazy.”

  “The same could be said about me.”

  “She makes you look like a fucking debutante.”

  Dani snorted softly.

  “Here’s the thing...I think she may finally trust me. For a long time she didn’t, so that gives us an edge. She won’t be watching our every move, but she’s like a goddamn tarantula. You never hear her or see her until she’s right up your ass.”

  “The Brazilian Wandering Spider would be a better metaphor. They’re fast, highly venomous, and aggressive. Tarantulas are bigger, which means they’re easier to spot; plus, their venom isn’t strong.”

  Martin blinked once, then continued.

  “She carries a shitload of knives, and god only knows what else. And I’ve noticed that the most likely time to catch her asleep is around three in the morning.”

  Dani studied the man who might be the salvation of her remaining beauty. Fleshy dark half-moons bulged beneath dilated orbs that were ringed with gray. One of the eyelids ticked spasmodically, and there was a slight palsy in the slender hands. She imagined him wearing a straightjacket and being wheeled into the local nuthouse. Could she trust him? All she needed him for was to cut her bonds. Isiah had learned from his past mistake; her hands remained lashed with para cord behind her back, and when she wasn’t taking a leak, her ankles were bound as well. She had been under constant surveillance every moment of her captivity. There had been no opportunities to find a sharp rock or filch a blade or tool from her handlers.

  She would be forced to trust him.

  “What’s the plan, Renfield?”

  “My name’s Martin.”

  “You’re Renfield to me. Ever read Dracula?”

  Another slow blink of both eyelids before the single eye commenced twitching.

  “We’ll wait for three in the morning. I’ll slice the throats of the other two guards, then I’ll free you. It’s your job to kill Lily and get us out of here. I’m no strategist. I haven’t been able to come up with a way to get myself out of this mess for months. That’s why I need you.”

  Dani nodded. “I’ll need some information.”

  ###

  “Come on, Renfield. Suck it up. Do you even own a ball sack?”

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “Oh, I think I do,” Dani whispered, with a delicate touch to her most recent laceration.

  “Those are nothing. If I’m caught deserting, he’ll have me drawn and quartered. Literally. Like with four horses and everything.”

  “Interesting. He certainly likes the medieval stuff.”

  The fire had burned down to embers, and it was damn cold. Their whispered conversation created a tell-tale vapor cloud in the twelve inches of space between them. The other two people assigned to guard her appeared to be sleeping, which according to Martin was a catastrophic mistake if they were caught by Isaiah or Lily. Awake or asleep, the first order of business was for Martin to kill them. It was the witching hour, and Dani was ready for their escape. The dwindling campfires barely illuminated the army bedded down around them. People slumbered in a hodgepodge of bed rolls and sleeping bags; some were tucked away in tents of various sizes, and a few unlucky new recruits huddled under nothing more than thin blankets.

  All she needed was for this cream puff to cut her loose. But first he must kill the other guards. Then they would wait for the roving night watch to make the rounds on the farthest side of the camp. The sticking point was their silhouettes; or rather the number thereof. Two people being seen by themselves was a big no-no. At first it had been only singles. If a person were seen alone doing anything, he would be shot on sight. Then it had become couples. Why? Because two people could form a bond...might develop loyalties to each other which surpassed their loyalty to Isaiah. So if you wanted to take a shit, you had to grab two others and make them go with you.

  Delightful.

  They needed someone to be their third silhouette in the night. She figured the best candidate would be a newbie. Martin would show her which one, then she would wake him with her hand over his mouth and a knife at his throat. She would hold it there until they were at least a mile away from Camp Crazy Ass.

  But first she must dispatch Lily. Martin said they did
n’t stand a chance of escape unless Soulless Eyes was dead. And she always slept close to Isaiah, even when she wasn’t on ‘slumber duty.’ Apparently he had become a raging paranoid since their last meeting; he even had a food taster now. Dani wasn’t impressed. A strong leader would inspire devotion without using fear and intimidation tactics.

  “Renfield, seriously dude. Get a fucking grip. Now is not the time to get stage fright.”

  The right eye was on twitch overdrive.

  “You’re probably dead either way, whether you get caught deserting or killed in the battle.” The words were out before she realized how little comfort they offered.

  “There might not be a battle.” His whisper was all tremble and petulance. “They may just leave after they get you.”

  “That isn’t going to happen. Steven will never just hand over his baby. Trust me. I know him.”

  “The woman, his sister, promised they would. That other guy said so too.”

  “Of course they would say that. Think about it. They would say anything to get away from Isaiah.”

  “But the town can’t possibly stand against him...us.”

  Dani made a small clucking sound with her tongue. “Maybe not. Not without me there,” she conceded. “But either way, it won’t be pretty. Or easy. And you’ll probably die in the battle.”

  “That would be quick at least.”

  Now the left eye began to twitch.

  “Look, this is your best chance, Ren...uh, Martin. I’m telling you, I know my shit. I’ve done the logistics in my head and figured the odds of surviving seven different possible scenarios. This, what we’re doing right now, is your best bet to escape that psycho fuckwad with your ass intact.”

  She could see he still wasn’t convinced.

  Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. When she turned her head, she saw only tents and blankets lumpy with sleeping bodies underneath. Then one of the blanket lumps inched in her direction.

  If she hadn’t been watching it, she wouldn’t have noticed, so slow was the movement. She felt a frisson of excitement one moment, then alarm the next.