by Amy Miles
The scent of him surrounds me, swirling deliciously through my nose and entwining with my senses in a dance of desire. My mouth begins to water as I draw my hand back and watch his blood trail down between my knuckles and down the back of my wrist. It is only now that blood has become a source of temptation and life for me that I realize just how beautiful blood can truly be.
A wet gurgling rises from Flannery and I shift my gaze to look at him. He is beyond the ability to speak now.
“Well, I suppose that will be the end of your confession time. I was getting rather bored of hearing your excuses anyways.”
His eyes widen and his body flinches, as if in an attempt to push himself away.
“Now,” I clasp my hands together in front of my chest as I lean over him with a smile. “Where should I begin?”
TEN
Lacing my fingers together, I turn my hands over and stretch. My arms and back are sore but I feel good. Nearly every inch of my body is coated in thick smears of blood as I step back to admire my handy work.
There are very few remaining parts of Flannery that haven’t been carved, burned, flayed or punctured. His head rests to one side and his eyes are closed, passed out for the newest round of cutting. Carving my name onto his chest might seem a bit trivial, but I can guarantee that he felt every dip and sweeping swirl of each letter.
“Wakey, wakey,” I pat him on the cheek but he is unresponsive. I sit back and sigh, hearing his heart still beating in his chest. “Play things are no fun when they are asleep.”
I push up to my feet and step over the line of knives that trail down his left leg, pierced deep enough to nail him to the floor. His right has been split from knee to ankle and I have placed the shattered pieces of his tibia beside his face for when he wakes up.
Although I never really paid a whole lot of attention in biology back in high school, I did take a keen liking to dissecting and as such learned all that I needed to know about where to cut. What better prize could there be at the end of the semester than to take home an entire baby pig’s spinal cord, but only if you were able to remove it completely intact.
It took steady hands and a tedious amount of care, but it was the first thing in school that I could truly take pride in. People like to say that you never use the knowledge you stuff into your brain after leaving high school, but tonight I would say that Flannery got a crash course in my knowledge. Pairing that with an intimate sense of where the main arterial flows are located, I have managed to extend his torture for far longer than I could have hoped.
Returning from the water pump with a bucket of cool mountain stream water, I turn his head, open what little remains of the hole where his mouth once was, and begin to pour. He comes to in a panic but is no longer able to flail. Flannery has been riddled completely incapacitated apart from his ability to feel.
“I suppose right about now you are wondering how a girl like me can commit such a heinous act against you.” I set the bucket aside and roll his head to clear his throat of water. “A couple months ago, I would never have had the stomach for it. I was a good girl, sad and ticked at the world for sure, but I still cared.”
I sink down next to him and trail the end of my knife along his fingers. Three of them have been snapped in half. Two others have been sawed off with a butter knife. When I reach his thumb, I place the tip of the knife just up under his nail.
“I am no longer that girl. She is still a part of me, sure, but I am something more now. There’s a little extra evil stirring around in there that just makes this whole experience with you so much...fun.” With a wide grin I begin to slowly shove the knife up under his nail.
Fresh tears streak down his cheeks, watering down the blood that fell when I scalped him an hour ago.
“You see, there are things in this world that are far worse that the monster that ate your wife. Things that live and feed in the dark are something to be feared, but those of us who can control those things...” with a flick of my wrist his fingernail pops off and he groans with pain. “Well, we have something a little extra special added in.”
I tap the bloody knife against my cheek. “I haven’t actually decided how I want to kill you. Like all good things, this sadly must come to an end. I can hear your heartbeat slowing and your breathing is far too labored. If it weren’t for that little girl in the other room, I’d probably eat you myself, but that would make quite a mess and honestly, you’re not worth breaking my moral streak.”
I hurl the knife across the room and it buries itself three inches into the wood. “If it were up to me I would continue playing right up until that final drop of blood escapes your heart, but there’s a kid out in that barn who needs his freedom, and thanks to you, I’m behind schedule.”
I place my open palm onto his chest, directly over his heart, feeling the ridges of flesh rise and fall under my hand. “Such a fragile thing, a beating heart. I guess you of all people already know that. You hack too much off, you cut too deep or you allow shock to set in, and it just stops beating.”
A wheezing breath makes my hand rise and fall. I watch it, tilting my head to the side.
“It was fun for you, wasn’t it, Flannery? I saw the look on your face right after you carved Hope up and I heard you whistling that fucking nursery rhythm as you grilled her hand. You liked killing, didn’t you?”
I smile and pat his chest. “It would seem that we have that in common.”
I dig my nails into his chest where a few silver hairs are stained red, tearing back the remaining flesh and ripping the muscle. “The last thing I want you to feel is what it is to be torn apart from the inside. I can’t imagine a worse way to go.”
He thrashes weakly as I use both hands to tear down to the bone. Grabbing ahold of his rib cage, I shove and hear a resounding snap. Flannery’s eyes fall shut and his head rolls to the side as I dig my hand into his chest cavity until I feel the mass of muscle that struggles to pump blood to his dying extremities.
“I wish that you could be awake for this moment,” I whisper into his ear as I yank his heart free. Blood sprays all around me. I hold his heart up high, rotating it to look at it.
The overwhelming sense of satisfaction that I feel as I squeeze the remaining blood out of his heart is electrifying and I finally understand all too well how Cable can enjoy taking a human life. There is something almost achingly erotic about holding the power of life and death in one’s hand.
I place his heart on his stomach and wipe my hands clean on my shirt. I will not stain myself with his filth by tasting him. All I wanted was for him to suffer, to understand the torment he forced on others. My job here is done.
“Your death tonight cannot make up for your sins. Nor will it save you from the hellfire that awaits for you.” I rise and grab the lap blanket he wore not long ago and cover him with it then stand back to stare down at him. “If there is a God, I pray that you suffer for all of eternity for what you have done, and if there is not, then my justice will have to suffice.”
Reaching down to grasp the keys that I took from his pocket before I cut him up, I turn and walk away. There is no tremor in my hands or feelings of regret as I open the back porch door and step out into the cool night air. The fires still burn deep within me as I take a deep breath to cleanse his scent from my nose.
Even the human side of me knows that this was right. There will be no remorse later to feel. Only a gratitude that there is one less monster in the world.
I head to the water pump and run my hands and arms underneath, scrubbing my fingers clean. I toss my gun aside as I pull my shirt and pants off to wash, I know that after tonight I will never need a gun again. I am the weapon now.
After wringing much of the blood and water out of my clothes, I put them back on, breathing a small sigh of relief at their blissful cool against my feverish skin. I rinse my hair, watching as blood swirls in the stream and washes away
, then I tear two strips of cloth from the bottom of my shirt and bind the raw flesh around my wrists.
My stomach is a mass of scratches received before I began on Flannery’s fingers. None of the wounds are deep, but they do sting a bit as I stand up and look to the barn. There is no way for me to conceal what blood remains on my clothing, but I don’t think the kid will mind all that much. Hope, on the other hand, will need to wait to meet me until I have a chance to change my clothes.
Glancing back toward Flannery’s house, I know now that Cable was right about me. Once you let the darkness in, it leaches through you until it takes a hold. I have no idea for how much longer I will still be me. I can only be grateful that Nox is not here to see my handiwork.
Walking back up the hill toward the barn, I flip through the keys until I find one marked BARN. It twists effortlessly in the lock and I wearily shove the door open. The intense high I felt while torturing Flannery has definitely left me aching for some shut eye.
“Avery?” The kid calls from behind the tractor. I can just barely make out the top of his head where he cranes to see. “Is that you?”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“You were gone a really long time. I was starting to think...”
I kneel down beside him in the dark and take hold of the lock. “Don’t tell me you were starting to worry about me.”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. I can feel his arms trembling beneath my hand from the cold. “I was just wondering. Everything go okay?”
I laugh and sink onto my backside when the lock clicks open and he rubs his wrists. “If by okay you mean ‘is he dead’ then the answer is most definitely yes.”
“Right.” He gives a curt nod and then pulls on the chain that still binds his feet before glancing at me again. “Do I want to know how you did it?”
“No,” I shake my head and lean back against the tractor after tossing him the keys to unlock his feet. “You really don’t.”
He sits for several minutes beside me in silence. I guess that he needs time to process that he’s actually free.
“To be honest I didn’t believe you would actually do it. I mean, I hoped that you weren’t all talk, and after that wicked monkey escape you pulled off earlier I thought maybe you could, but...” He trails off and I roll my head around to look at him.
“I made you a promise, Kid. I keep my promises.”
He smiles just a little and nods. He probably thinks it’s hidden in the dark but I see him as clear as day. “Thanks for that. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
I snort. “How about by telling me your name?”
His smile stretches into a full grin as he laughs. “Nice try.”
“It was worth a shot.”
He tosses aside his chains and then runs his hands through his tangled hair. I dread to think how much filth will come off him when he finally has a wash.
“How is Hope?”
“She’s resting,” I assure him. “I think she has been given some sort of herbal tea to help her sleep. I promise that she remained completely unaware of my time spent with Flannery in the living room.”
“That’s good. She’s been through enough.” He groans as he pushes up to his feet. “I should help you move the body before she wakes up.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of the cleanup. Why don’t you go slip in with Hope so that you’re there when she wakes up?”
He reaches the barn door and turns back. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want me to go in the living room?”
“It’s not pretty,” I say.
The kid is old enough to guess that Flannery did not end well, but the extent to which he met that end is better left to the imagination. I am sure that nothing he could concoct would ever be as terrible as the reality.
He lifts his face to look up at the moon for a moment. It is large and full, partially concealed behind a thin wisp of cloud. The sky is a black blanket filled with twinkling stars. I wonder how long it’s been since he was able to get an unhindered look at it. “I want to see him.”
“I would not advise doing that.”
“Please.” When he lowers his head I see tears in his eyes. “I need to do this.”
Despite my better judgment, I nod in agreement and follow behind him in silence. If the roles were reversed and it was someone telling me that Wiemann is dead I would need the same confirmation. I decide that I will allow him to uncover Flannery’s face but everything beneath it needs to remain hidden, for both his safety and mine.
He takes the steps down toward the house slowly and with exaggerated care. I keep my hand out behind him just in case he falls backward, but he makes it up the back stairs and into the house without any injury. Each step across the porch is labored. There is no way he will be strong enough to travel tomorrow.
The back door screeches when I open it and step to the side to allow him to enter. Once inside, he pauses to look around and I realize that he has never been in here before. Flannery must have picked him up in the woods or wandering around his property and taken him straight to the barn.
He runs his hand along the wash basin and then up and over the ice box. “It’s really old fashioned but it feels too...normal.”
“I thought the same thing when I first arrived.” Stepping up next to him, I point to the hall. “He’s in the living room through there. I’ll go first if you want.”
He swallows and looks to me with uncertainty, so I lead him down the dark passage, pausing long enough to point out the chair down the intersecting hallway that blocks Hope’s room.
“When you are ready, you will find her in there.”
He nods and then follows on my heel as we enter the living room. For a moment he stands utterly still, staring wide eyed at the splashes of crimson that coats the walls, furniture and floor. Then he turns to look at Flannery’s covered body.
“Why is the blanket raised on that one side?”
“You don’t need to know why.”
I watch as he slowly sinks down to his knees beside the body. His hands begin to shake when he reaches out to take hold of the blanket and I grab hold of his hand to steady it.
“You know that you do not have to do this.”
“I know.” He takes a deep, calming breath as I release his hand and then take hold of the blanket myself, waiting for him to signal me. “I need to.”
As I gently fold the cloth back, the kid’s mouth drops open with horror at the extensive wounds on Flannery’s mangled face. I’m grateful that I closed the man’s eyes after he died so at least the kid doesn’t have to see the streaks of burst blood vessels there.
“You really messed him up,” he whispers and then glances over at me. In the candlelight the remains of the blood stains on my clothes are clearly on display.
“Does that bother you?” I am surprised to discover that his answer matters to me, though I know that no matter what his response is, I would do the same thing again if I needed to.
He thinks about it for a minute, staring down at the man who forced him to live in constant fear and squalor for months. The muscle along his jaw flinches as he shakes his head. “No. He deserved every bit of what you did to him.”
ELEVEN
For an old guy who is missing a few pieces, he sure is a heavy son of a bitch. I haul him onto my shoulder. After I hear the chair outside Hope’s room slide across and then the door open and close, I wait until I hear the bed frame creak before I stumble quietly down the hall. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but before I turn into the kitchen, I can’t help hearing the kid whisper to Hope that she is safe.
Warmth fills my chest as I carry on and shove open the door. Despite my growing anxiety that with each minute I spend here helping these two, Dr. Wiemann is potentially getting farther away, I can’t bring myself to think my decision was wrong. They needed me and I
was able to help them.
Maybe I was wrong about being dangerous around people. True, the scent of blood still drives me to distraction, but when saving the kid and Hope became my priority, I was able to focus. Perhaps there is a way that I can make peace with myself.
As I dump Flannery’s body on the burn pile and stare down at the gruesome mess that I created, all feelings of goodness vanish.
“I am also more than capable of this,” I mutter and turn away.
Over the next half hour I work to gather sticks and larger branches and layer them with dry hay from the barn for kindling. Returning to the house to grab one of the few remaining lit candles, I toss it on the fire and step back as it goes up in flames. With my hand up as a shield against the bright light, I prod the fire, adding more wood to keep it burning hot as Flannery’s flesh bubbles. Melted fat drips onto the smoldering wood, sizzling on contact.
The scent of burning skin churns in my stomach, but I refuse to allow myself to feel anything beyond revulsion. The hairs on the back of my arms wither against the heat and I finally back away to sit down on a hay bale several feet away.
I stare up into the night sky, watching as the smoke spirals into the heavens and think about Nox. Has he given up searching for me by now? Did he ever even try? The selfish part of me needs to believe that he attempted a rescue but the logical side hopes that he accepted my decision and remained behind to take care of his people.
Lifting my hand to trace a constellation, I try to figure out just how many nights I have spent out under the open sky since the outbreak, battling the elements and rabid mosquitoes. I have long since lost count. There are far too many to think about, that’s for sure.
I miss having a home and a bed to call my own. I miss knowing people, of feeling safe and relatively happy. I miss Nox.
Staring up at the big moon overhead, I wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he sleeping in his room or out on patrol? Has the hotel been successfully fortified against attack? Has Cable found another way to breach their defenses to seek revenge or did he leave them alone to follow after me?