by Sara Reinke
She lifted the mattress up off the bed, and there it was, lying against the box springs.
Of course! How stupid of me! He would’ve put it here, where Jerica wouldn’t find it.
“Mommy?” Jerica said. She was all eyes on the military-issue 9-millimeter semi-automatic pistol that Eric had carried on him at all times, tucked in the back of his flight suit, probably like he’d had it in his blue jeans that beautiful summer’s day a million or so years ago.
Even when we crashed, Kat thought. Don’t leave home without it.
Kat snatched it up, and felt its reassuring weight in her hand. The well-oiled metal was cold against her skin. She slipped the clip out and checked to make sure it was full. She smacked it back in, and then double-checked the safety.
“You’re my hero again, Eric,” she murmured.
Eric’s wallet was on the nightstand, along with his watch and gold ring. Jerica had found this, and was holding it in her palm, studying it.
“Look, Mommy.” Her voice was soft, reverent. “It’s his West Point ring.”
Kat took it and held it up. It had a large, smooth red stone in the middle of it. She could read the words carved around the ruby: West Point Military Academy.
Inside the ring band, in a small, gilded script, Eric William Nagel.
“It’s so beautiful,” Jerica remarked.
Kat looked down at her and smiled. It made her lip sting, and the gash along her cheek hurt. “I think he’d like for you to keep it.” She pressed the ring against her daughter’s hand.
Jerica held it uncertainly, looking at it. “I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”
“No, you won’t.” Kat sat on the bed, wincing at the pain that shot through her lower body. She put the gun next to her, and picked up his wallet.
There was nothing spectacular inside; less than maybe fifty dollars, his well-worn American Express card, his driver’s license.
Kat looked at the license for a long time. He was younger in the photo; his hair was shorter, closer to the tight crop he’d worn in the Stellar Corps. But his eyes were bright and confident, and he had a cocky, go-to-hell grin on his face that she had loved.
She wanted to memorize that picture, to remember him like that, and not how he’d looked after the crash; gaunt, haggard, hurting. Alone, she thought. Oh, God, he looked alone, and that’s what terrified him the most…how I left him to die. Alone.
Kat folded the wallet closed and pressed it against the base of her throat.
“I have to take a shower, pup.” She tried to stand, and pain lanced through her pelvis. She winced, buckling slightly.
“Mommy?”
“I…I’m okay,” Kat said, forcing a smile for her daughter. “I’m okay. I just…I need a shower. I’ll only be a few minutes, but you don’t open the door, okay? Not under any circumstances. Got it?”
Jerica nodded mutely. She had wrapped her fingers around Eric’s ring, and held it against her chest.
Kat limped into the bathroom and stripped naked. She stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as she could stand it. The pelting stream hurt her face and she burst into helpless tears as she tried to clean the wounds. She scrubbed between her legs with a washrag until she was sore and tender. She could still feel Frank’s fingers on her, feel him shoving himself inside of her.
“Bastard,” she muttered, weeping more and hating him. She rested her forehead against the shower wall. “Bastard!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
She finished her shower and turned the water off.
She stood, shivering in the stall, momentarily bewildered. She tried to think about what she should do next.
She wrapped a towel around her trembling body, and patted carefully at her face with another. Her eyes were still swollen and sore, but at least all of the bleeding had stopped. She ached all over. It sure as hell wasn’t the all-time grand champion of beatings—that particular honor was reserved for Chris, and that sunny Easter morning when he’d seen fit to knock out her teeth and to try and force a miscarriage of their child—but it had been awhile since a man had struck her, and it hurt like hell.
She walked out of the bathroom. “Pup?” She looked over at Eric’s bed, and Jerica wasn’t there. “Jerica?”
She whirled, her gaze darting all around the room but didn’t see the girl. “Jerica!” Kat cried, pulling open the closet door and looking inside. She knelt down and looked under the bed.
Jerica was nowhere to be found.
“Oh, my God,” Kat whispered.
The gun was still lying on the bed, next to Eric’s wallet. Kat grabbed it. The towel drooped down off of her and fell onto the floor. She ran over to the door, naked.
It was unlocked.
The intercom on the wall beeped loudly, and she heard Frank’s voice.
“Hey, Kat, you feeling better?”
She looked around, as if expecting him to be hiding in the room with her. She smacked the com. “Where is she, you son of a bitch?” Her voice shook uncontrollably.
Frank chuckled. “She’s up here in the kitchen, with me. I thought I’d fix us some breakfast. How about it? You hungry?”
Jerica spoke over the intercom. She sounded bright and cheerful. “Come on, Mommy. Frank found some cans of little potatoes, and we’re going to fry them. Get dressed and come down!”
Kat stared at the intercom in disbelief. I told you to stay put. I told you not to answer the door.
“Mommy? Are you coming? Everything is almost finished. I’m starving, come on!”
“Yeah, Kat.” Frank’s voice dripped honey. “Come on.”
She heard her daughter’s high, sweet, melodic laughter, and then the com transmission ended.
Kat looked around wildly for something to wear. She grabbed Eric’s flight suit from the Daedalus from a pile on the floor and pulled it on. Her fingers flew on the front fastens, and she tucked the pistol into her hip pocket. The suit was baggy and loose on her, and the gun was well hidden in the drooping folds.
She pushed the sleeves up. She caught a faint, familiar whiff of Eric’s cologne from the material. It made her feel lonely and helpless. She touched the bulge of the gun. Its solidness, its presence reassured her and strengthened her.
She headed for the commissary.
Jerica was sitting on top of one of the kitchen counters, eating bite-sized cubes of fruit from a can of sweet cocktail.
“Jerica!” Kat cried, running over to her.
“I’m okay, Mommy.” Jerica frowned, trying to push her away when Kat went to hug her. Frank walked over, and Kat hedged away. He reached out and grabbed her by the front of her flight suit. He jerked it so he could read the name patch above the left breast, “NAGEL.”
“Nice skivvies, there, Kat,” he told her, dropping a wink. He gave her a small shove backwards, releasing her clothes. He took her face in his hands and she cringed.
“Why don’t we…” He leaned close to her. The tips of their noses touched, and his breath pushed against her lips. “…find you something else later on?”
She nodded, frightened, expecting him to strike her again. Instead, Frank kissed her on the mouth. His lips squelched down hard against hers, and he forced his tongue between her lips. She tried to pull her head away, and he let her.
“Frank, they’re going to burn,” Jerica whined. She had hopped down from the counter, and was trying vainly to stir the potatoes.
“Here, I’ll get them.” Frank was all smiles. He left Kat, and she began to rub slowly at her lips with the sides of her fingers, wiping away his saliva.
“Get me one of those plates over there, yeah,” Frank said to Jerica. She brought him a plate, and he began to scoop golden-fried potatoes onto it. “Why don’t you get some milk out, too?”
“Okay.” Jerica nodded
They all sat around one of the cabinets. Frank and Jerica had made potatoes, scrambled eggs, and had fried some canned meat. Kat watched them eat. She picked dully at her plate, pushing the eggs arou
nd with her fork.
It felt strangely familiar to her, sick and surreal. This is how things always were with Chris. First he’d hit me, then he’d pretend nothing had happened. Like everything was the same as it had ever been.
“You’re not eating, Mommy,” Jerica observed, taking a long drink of milk.
“My mouth hurts. The salt burns where it’s cut.”
“Drink some milk.” Jerica offered her cup. “It’s nice and cold.”
Kat took a quick sip. She forced a dry smile. “You’re right, Jerica. That feels much better.”
“You want a cold pack for your eye?” Frank reached out and touched her hand gently.
“No,” she replied, pulling her hand away and letting it fall into her lap.
“Frank says Legion will be here soon,” Jerica said. “At least a month. And guess what, Mom? After that, they’ll start bringing lots of people down. Kids, too.”
Kat looked at her. She seemed genuinely excited by the prospect. Her eyes were bright and happy.
“I think we’re going to be real happy here.” Jerica finished off her milk.
“I know we are.” Frank smiled at Kat.
“Frank, will you get me some more milk, please?” Jerica asked, shoveling in a large forkful of potatoes.
“Sure, pup.” Frank took her cup. “Think those are any good?”
Jerica nodded, chomping.
Frank walked away from them, toward the refrigerator.
Kat stared at the back of his head, hating him.
She felt Jerica kick her shin.
Hard.
She looked over at Jerica angrily. Jerica narrowed her eyes and cut her gaze toward Frank. “Do it,” she mouthed silently at Kat. “Do it now.”
Kat blinked, startled.
Frank opened the refrigerator door and leaned forward, looking for the milk.
Jerica stared at Kat, imploring, alarmed. Do it! Do it!
Kat reached down into the pocket of her flight suit. Her fingers curled around the metal barrel of the gun. She slipped it out. She and Jerica watched Frank’s back.
She brought the gun up.
“I don’t think I could ever use a gun…”
you have to defend yourself…
your home…
Jerica…
yeah, Kat, you’d use a gun
She aimed for the base of Frank’s skull.
“Do it,” Jerica whispered, her voice gossamer.
Kat thumbed the safety off, and Frank paused, as if he’d heard the faint click. He started to turn, his mouth open as if he would speak.
Kat shot him.
Frank jerked violently, slamming into the refrigerator. Plastic bottles and containers of food spilled, falling to the floor. He dropped the milk bottle and it bounced off the tiles, splattering milk everywhere.
He slumped to his knees. He clutched at his shoulder, his fingers splayed and clawing for his back. Already, the dark scarlet spread of blood across his shirt was widening in circumference.
He didn’t cry out, but Kat could hear his quick, dragging gasps. He looked at her, his eyes wide and genuinely surprised.
“You…” he said. She saw blood pepper up out of his mouth, lighting on his chin and upper lip in a faint spray. She could hear the whistling, sucking sound of his labored breathing; the bullet had punched through a lung.
“…you…bitch…” Frank wheezed.
He fell forward, catching himself clumsily with his arm. His face twisted with pain.
Kat walked around the edge of the cabinet and regarded him evenly. Jerica hopped out of her chair and went to stand by her mother. She stayed close to Kat’s hip.
“He’s not dead.” Her voice was flat and cold. She studied Frank with great scrutiny, her eyes calculating, almost aloof.
“You little bitch,” Frank gasped at Jerica in complete shock. “You…you tricked me…you little—”
Kat fired the gun again, and Frank’s right knee exploded, spraying blood and thick clots of bone and flesh. He shrieked and flopped onto his side, clutching his leg desperately.
“Go to the TV room, pup,” Kat said.
“But, Mommy, I…”
“Go on, Jerica. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Jerica stared down at Frank for a long moment, and then turned away and left the room.
“You…you can’t do this…!” Frank gasped. “Don’t you get it…? When Legion gets here…finds out what you did…they…they’ll kill you…you and Jerica…they’ll kill you…”
“But you can protect us,” Kat said.
He nodded frantically. “Yes! You know…I can…”
“We can all be a family,” Kat said. “You, me, Jerica…”
“Yes…they won’t…hurt you with me…”
Kat fired again.
Frank’s left knee shattered. He screamed again, arching his back and howling. “OOOOWWHH GODDAMN YOU BITCH!”
“That was for Eric,” Kat said calmly.
“Just do it, then!” Frank shrieked. He spat blood. “Do it, goddammit!”
“Eric kept his clip full,” Kat told him. “And that only made three shots.”
She shot him in the crotch.
He screamed, his voice ripping up octaves, hitting soprano notes.
“That makes four, you fuck.”
And then five.
for what you did to me
The gun bucked against her palm.
Six.
for what you did to my friends
And seven.
for fucking with my daughter
the smell in the air
thick and bitter, smoke and blood
The kick of the pistol against her hand.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kat hummed as she and Jerica dragged Frank’s body outside.
It was another scorcher on X-1226. It was barely noon, and already it sweltered at somewhere around 90 degrees, with what felt like 90 percent humidity.
Kat whistled as they hauled Franklin out past the security field. He was heavy, and their progress was slow. She watched flies buzz around his face, landing on his lips, darting into his mouth, preening their small, fuzzy legs on his eyes.
She saw them prance on the ruins of his knees and on the bloody smear that had once upon a time been his testicles.
The flies rose in a small, indignant, buzzing cloud when she shoved his body down a steep incline, toward a creek bed. She listened to the rustle of leaves and rapid snapping of branches and brambles as he rolled past them.
She whistled some more as she and Jerica walked back into the compound.
***
Kat and Jerica held a quiet, simple ceremony for Eric.
She fought terrible pain in her battered face and abdomen to dig a long, relatively deep ditch along the east wall of the compound. There was something close to shade there, but it was still amazingly hot, and she ended up doing a majority of the work in her underwear.
When she was finished, she showered again. She tried to be quick; she could feel the water pressure waning, and realized that the shortage was going to become a very engaging problem by the end of the week.
The gurney Eric had died on rested on four small wheels, which made getting him outside relatively easy. Jerica stayed close to Kat, almost pressed against her hip. She watched quietly as Kat tried to gather the sheets around Eric, and smoothed the folds against his hips, shoulders, and the cyborganic leg that had cost him so much so dearly.
Kat started to bring the sheet up over Eric’s head.
“No…” Jerica murmured, suddenly touching the pant leg of Kat’s fresh jumpsuit. “Don’t cover his face.”
Kat looked down at Eric. In the dim light of the corridor, she couldn’t notice the ashen, waxy, almost transparent appearance of his skin. He looked like he was sleeping, like at any moment he would open his eyes and blink at her.
She pushed the gurney outside, into the bright, hot sunshine.
They buried him, and Kat cried. She sat in
the dry earth next to her friend’s grave—the man she had loved—and covered her face with her hands.
***
It rained the next ten days.
Every day, Kat and Jerica would put pots and pans and bowls out in the downpour to fill. They began to store the water in the kitchen’s large walk-in coolers.
Kat didn’t let Jerica drink any of the rainwater at first. She tested it on herself to make sure there was nothing wrong with it. After several days without dying or getting dysentery or some other horrendous ailment, Kat decided the rain was safe for drinking, and the water problem was taken care of.
***
Three weeks later
“Mommy?”
Kat woke with a start as Jerica shook her shoulder.
“Mommy, come quick.”
Kat sat up and tucked her hair back from her face. “What is it, pup?”
“There’s someone outside the compound,” Jerica said, wide-eyed and breathless.
“Okay.” Kat untucked her legs. The floor was cold under her bare feet.
“I think it’s them.” Jerica watched Kat pull on her clothes and wiggle her feet into her boots.
“How many did you see?” Kat asked, fumbling with the lacings.
Jerica stood by the door, looking out into the hallway uncertainly. “Just one outside the perimeter field.”
Kat stood up straight. “Where is the…?”
“In the drawer there.” Jerica pointed to the nightstand. She flipped her yellow curls back off her shoulder. She had hung Eric’s ring from a piece of black string around her neck. It bounced against the front of her shirt.
Kat opened the drawer and pulled out the pistol. She made sure the clip was secure. “Show me, pup.”
She followed Jerica down the corridor.
“I’m scared,” Jerica said.
“It’s okay,” Kat told her. “Stay inside while I go check it out.”
There was a woman in the front yard of the compound.
She was taller than Kat, wearing a khaki brown uniform. She staggered across the lawn, her long black hair hanging in loose, disheveled strands from her ponytail. She appeared to be a Native American.