by Russ Watts
“Fight or die, Dad,” Charlie said, and she flung open the door.
“Who the hell are you?”
Charlie tried to gather her thoughts quickly as she barged into the room, the sharp blade out in front of her. Rilla lay on top of a bed wearing a freshly laundered green dress that stopped above the knee. Her lip was bleeding, and her hands were bound. As Charlie entered the large room Rilla looked at her with growing surprise on her face. Beside the bed was the old woman holding a mirror and hairbrush, and next to her was an ironing board, the iron still steaming, and a small bedside table full of make-up.
“What are you doing in—?”
Before the old woman could finish her question Charlie rushed forward and lunged for her. The old woman was surprised, but not enough to wait to be stabbed, and she threw the mirror at Charlie as she attacked. The mirror glanced off Charlie’s head and she ignored it. It had given the old woman enough time to prepare for the attack, though, and she raised her arms in defense. Charlie sliced the knife through the woman’s outstretched palm, and they fell onto the bed together in a heap. Charlie grabbed the woman but the bed was soft, and it was impossible to pin her down. Charlie tried to ram the knife through her again, but the old woman moved quickly, bringing a knee up into Charlie’s stomach.
As Charlie rolled away in pain she saw Rilla sit up and throw her bound arms around the woman. Charlie looked for her knife, but it was lost in the folds of the bedclothes, and she was desperately trying to suck in air as she looked for a weapon. Rilla had a hold of the woman, but Charlie could see Rilla was weak. The old woman leant forward slightly, and then smashed her head backward, causing the base of her skull to smack into Rilla’s face. Rilla screamed out in pain and let go of the woman who crawled across the bed to Charlie with murderous intent in her eyes.
“Wait,” said Charlie, but it was too late for talking.
The old woman planted a fist in Charlie’s face and sent her flying off the bed. The old woman followed her and kicked Charlie in the gut again as she crawled across the floor around the foot of the bed.
“You come into my house and attack me?” Verity kicked Charlie again. “Who the fuck are you?”
Charlie felt another foot in her gut, and she put a hand on a leg of the ironing board for support as the breath was knocked out of her once again.
“Holy shit, you her girlfriend or something?” asked Verity, as she stared at Charlie. “You really think you can come in here and do as you please? Butcher is going to fuck you up.”
Charlie used the legs of the ironing board to get to her feet. The old woman was staring at her, and Charlie knew that she was as bad as Butcher. Rilla was on the bed dazed and bleeding, and Charlie knew she had to stop the old woman from alerting the others.
“Why?” asked Charlie clutching her stomach. “Why are you doing this?”
“Look at you,” replied Verity. “Pathetic. You come to us with your hands out, and when we bring one of you in this is how you repay us. With violence. That’s why we can’t let you all in. We select only the prime cuts, don’t you see that? The annoying little girl was good for Conan, but it’s you two who I’m most curious about. My boys have had their fun with this bitch, but you offer something new. They haven’t had a blonde in a while.”
Charlie’s eyes were drawn to the knife on the bed. Rilla was crawling up against the headboard, and her movement had exposed the knife. Verity saw it too and was nearer to it than Charlie.
“Let me take Rilla out of here, and I’ll let you live,” said Charlie. She was beginning to regain her breath now, but her stomach hurt, and the cut on her face was bleeding again. “I’ll give you that much. One chance. Take it.”
Verity laughed until it descended into a cackle. Thirty years of smoking meant she had little energy for fighting. “I don’t think so, darling. We’re going to feed you to the fucking wolves.”
As Verity lunged for the knife on the bed Charlie turned to the ironing board next to her. She had been inching ever closer to the hot iron the whole time they had been talking, and as Verity turned her back, Charlie seized her chance. She grabbed the iron and brought it down on Verity’s back, the clothes sizzling beneath it. Verity screamed in pain and whirled around.
“You fucking bitch.” Verity had grabbed the knife and intended to use it. “You fucking—”
Charlie smashed the iron across Verity’s face, and the woman went down, stunned. Verity still held the knife in her hand, but a large red bruise was blossoming on the left side of her face. The skin was red raw, and Verity was shaking.
“Wait—” said Verity, but Charlie had no intention of waiting or giving her that one chance anymore.
Charlie got to her knees and bent over the old woman. There was still malevolence in her eyes, and Charlie saw the woman bring her hand up with the intention of using the knife. Charlie easily knocked the knife from her grasp and smashed the iron across the old woman’s face again. She couldn’t afford the woman to get away, and Charlie straddled her, pinning the woman’s arm beneath her knees.
“You know how my father died? You know how Rilla’s parents died?”
Verity shook her head feebly, her energy sapped and her nose broken. “Please, I don’t know anything about that. It wasn’t me.”
Charlie put her face close to Verity’s. “Fucking liar,” she spat. “You know exactly what’s going on here. You killed them. They died in agony, just like you.”
“What?”
Charlie plunged the hot iron down onto Verity’s face and held it there. The skin immediately began to burn, and though Verity tried to turn away she couldn’t free herself from underneath Charlie. The burning flesh began to sizzle and steam reached Charlie’s nostrils. She lifted the iron up, bringing with it large chunks of flesh from Verity’s face. Much of the searing skin had stuck to the plate of the iron including Verity’s lips.
Beneath her knees, Charlie could feel the old woman’s body trembling. One of her eyes had exploded, and the other looked up at Charlie with something approaching fear. The old woman’s mouth tried to form words, but blood spilled over her raw lips as she tried to speak.
“P-p-please. My son—”
“Pathetic.” Charlie plunged the iron down again, thrusting it down onto Verity’s face and holding it there with both hands. The smell of cooking flesh reminded Charlie of summer BBQ’s in the back yard and Kyler sizzling steaks for them all.
‘I want to kiss your mouth, hold your hand, and all I feel is the distant wind as you turn your back on me.’
No, I can’t block this out, thought Charlie. The old woman’s screams were muffled beneath the iron, and the song that erupted into Charlie’s head was not required anymore. It had been a defense mechanism once, something she did when she wanted to lose herself in the old world when there were no zombies. Those days were gone, and so was the old Charlie. She dismissed the song and pressed down harder. The old woman was still wriggling even though Charlie had all her weight on the iron. The iron slipped slightly as Charlie felt the woman’s jaw collapse. Several teeth spilled out amongst the blood pouring from the woman’s face, and Charlie smelt piss as the old woman’s bowels loosened just before she stopped moving.
Finally, Charlie let go of the iron and sat back. Her arms ached from the effort of holding it in place but it was over now. The woman was dead. She didn’t feel particularly happy or relieved, but it was something that had to be done. Just like snapping a bird’s neck, sometimes things just had to end.
“Charlie?”
Charlie looked up and saw Rilla at the end of the bed. She was staring at the old woman through red eyes.
“Is she dead?”
Charlie nodded.
“Good.” Rilla looked at Charlie and smiled. She leant forward and brushed Charlie’s cheek. “Is it really you? What happened? I thought you were dead.”
“Me too.” Charlie left the iron sizzling on Verity’s corpse and got to her feet. She found the knife on the bed and cut Ri
lla’s hands free before sinking down onto the bed, grateful for the rest. She just needed a moment to gather her thoughts. If the others had heard the shouting and screaming, then she wouldn’t have long.
Rilla put her arms around Charlie’s neck and began sobbing, unable to stem the flow.
“It’s okay,” whispered Charlie. “It’s all right now.”
CHAPTER 14
Scared to let go, Rilla kept her arms around Charlie but brought her face around so she could look into Charlie’s eyes. “They killed her. Vicky was only ten. They killed her for no good reason just so they could have a laugh. It was just a game to them.”
Charlie suspected as much. The burnt remains had looked small, and she figured Victoria wouldn’t have as much use as Rilla.
“I’m guessing they didn’t treat you too good.” Charlie pushed a lock of hair out of Rilla’s eyes. “Look, Vicky was just a plaything to them. If they’d kept her here, they would be doing to her exactly what they’ve done to you. No one should go through that. Vicky seemed like a sweet girl, and I wish I could have got to know her a bit better. But maybe she’s better off out of this.”
Rilla shrugged. “It’s not fair, Charlie. Why did they have to do this? Why couldn’t they just...”
As Rilla broke down again, Charlie felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t have time to get sentimental now. There was a fight to be won. Seeing what they had done to Rilla and guessing what they had done to Victoria was more horrible than she had imagined. What kind of men were they? And this woman had helped them. Somehow that was even worse.
“How did you find me?” asked Rilla. “How did you make it? I thought you were dead. They said everyone was dead. When we came in... Did my parents...?”
Charlie kissed Rilla’s forehead. “I’m sorry, but nobody else made it. They set a pack of dogs on us. It was nasty, dead nasty. Your father got me out. He fought back and killed one of the dogs. It bought me enough time to get out of there. Getting out of the property wasn’t easy, but I guess I realized that giving up wasn’t an option. When your father helped me, when he saved me from being ripped apart by those dogs, he asked me to get you. He wanted me to get you out of here, Rilla, and that’s what I’m going to do. They’re not going to touch you again.”
Rilla sighed deeply. She traced her index finger gently across Charlie’s cut cheek, making the skin tingle. There were some basic stitches holding her skin together that looked painful and raw. “What did they do to you? How did you survive?” Rilla looked at Charlie’s hands. There were several cuts on her right hand, and her left hand was bandaged up completely. Dark blood had soaked through the bandage.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Charlie. “I can’t go back and undo it. I wish I could’ve done more for the others, for my father, for yours... I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any quicker. This time yesterday I was walking through the streets just trying to get back home.”
“You walked?” Rilla wiped her eyes. “Past the corpses?”
Charlie nodded and took Rilla’s hand. “I just walked. I think they thought I was like them. My face was cut, and I was covered in blood. One of the dogs ripped me open like a box of tissues. Anyway, when I got home I just crawled into bed. I found some painkillers and took a shit-load of them. I managed to sleep a while, and when I woke up it was day. I knew I had to come back. I wasn’t going to leave you here no matter what happened to me. If it wasn’t for Schafer, I’d be dead. So I found a first aid kit and set to work cleaning myself up. I’m not much of a nurse and stitching my face back together was even harder than it looks. I’ve got more painkillers flowing around my body than blood, but I’m not complaining. I brought some things with me to help us. Most importantly, I’ve got something I didn’t have before, something that my father was trying to instill in me over the last few weeks that I couldn’t see before. He taught me how to survive. He taught me to have belief in myself, and that’s something they can’t defeat. They can cut me, kick me, and throw me to the dogs. But I’m alive, Rilla. I’m alive, and I’m not going to waste what life I’ve got left. I’m shattered, but that’s not going to stop me. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
“So what now?” Rilla brought Charlie’s hand up to her face and held it against her cheek. The touch of someone other than Butcher and Tad was reassuring. Charlie’s skin was soft and warm, and Rilla wanted to feel safe again. She hadn’t felt safe in a long time and was certain she would die that night. Now that Charlie was here it felt different. She felt protected. Charlie was only a few years older than her, yet she had felt a bond with her from the moment they had met. Even back at Kyler’s house Charlie had looked out for her.
“Rilla, we don’t have much time,” said Charlie, getting off the bed. “I have to do more work. I need you to stay safe. I need you to stay in the house and hide, and let me take care of this.”
“No,” said Rilla quickly, jumping up off the bed too. “I want to stay with you. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Tough. You’re staying put. You’re in no condition to help me do what I have to do.” Charlie looked at the skimpy green dress that Rilla wore and her bare feet. There was no way she was letting her come along. “No, you’re staying here. I need you to trust me, Rilla. I’ve got this far, and I need you to trust me just a little bit longer. I promise you, this will end tonight.”
“Here.” Rilla held out the knife to Charlie. “I guess you’d better take this then.”
Charlie refused it. “Keep it. I don’t need it. Follow me back downstairs and get to the sedan parked out front. Stay there until I come get you. Come on, we don’t have much time.”
Leaving the room behind, the two girls hurried back into the dark corridor. Charlie listened carefully in case the men had been alerted to her presence by the dying screams of the old woman, yet nobody came rushing up the stairs to meet her. As they got back to the front door, Charlie heard noises still coming from deeper in the house somewhere. The house was so large that it had hidden the woman’s cries. So much the better for them. Charlie carefully opened the front door and checked the area was clear. There was no sign of anyone.
“Let’s go.”
Leading Rilla by the hand back to the sedan, Charlie knew she had to get to the annex next and quickly. As Rilla climbed into the back of the sedan, Charlie took a length of cord from her knapsack and instructed Rilla to keep her head down and stay out of sight.
“You’re coming back, right?” asked Rilla as she lay on the back seat of the car. “You’re coming back?”
Charlie nodded and patted Rilla’s bare foot as she closed the door. The girl looked half scared to death. It was the safest place for her right now. Charlie couldn’t worry about looking after her when she had to concentrate on finding the others.
With Rilla safely hidden, Charlie jogged quietly through the dark evening to the annex. It was quiet, but as the large building loomed up out of the darkness, she saw a faint light on inside. She had hoped to beat the man to it, wanting to be able to surprise him, but she was going to have to change tack. She looked back at Attwood’s house. To all intents and purposes it was deserted. There was Butcher and Conan to deal with, probably still within the bowels of the house, but right now she had one to take care of right here: the one who had been told to clean up the zombies, Todd or Tad. Charlie stealthily made her way to the annex and the open door. She cautiously peered inside.
Tad lifted the fishing cap from his head, wiped the sweat away from his brow, and sighed. He straightened up to stretch his back and threw the long-handled broom down in disgust. Why did Butcher think he could order him around like this? It wasn’t his fault the zombies had got in. It was just an accident. He had managed to sweep up most of the remains, but it was the death of the dogs that sickened him. The zombies had managed to kill one, and there was something particularly sad about it. It was just an animal doing what it had to do. It was protecting its master. That would mean they were going to have to get more dogs, and Butcher woul
dn’t be happy about it. Tad hadn’t even heard any noise coming from the kennels and knew that if the last dog had been injured he was going to have to check on it.
“Fuck this.” Tad wanted to get back to the house and enjoy some time with Rilla. Butcher always bossed him about and talked to him like an idiot. It really had looked like someone had knocked on the door. How was he to know he was only letting in a few corpses? Anyone could have made the same mistake in the darkness. Tad turned back to the doorway, determined to leave and go back to Rilla. If Butcher didn’t like it he could clean this shit up himself. There was nothing here that wouldn’t wait until morning.
In the open doorway Tad saw a figure. They were standing outside in the dark, and Tad raised a hand to his eyes. “Butcher, that you?”
“I’m not Butcher.”
The voice was female, but all Tad saw was a shadowy figure. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at the doorway. “Get in here. Verity?”
“I’m not Verity.”
Tad was sweating, but it wasn’t just from the exertion of cleaning up the dead zombies. Whoever this was, they were calm and just standing there watching him as if this were an everyday occurrence. Suddenly it dawned on Tad that it must be Rilla. There was no one else it could possibly be. He hoped there wasn’t going to be any trouble as the gun he had was useless. It was just for show. The only weapon he had on him was the knife tucked into his boots.