Mrs. Miller admired the pendulum device, confessing that until she put some chickens in the second floor of her barn, all she had had to draw the zombies away from her House were some mewling cats who wouldn’t come near for fear of Mr. Miller’s air rifle. Mom took her by the elbow, on the way to the House, commenting that at least she had a barn and some chickens. Judy walked sullenly behind them, keeping her eye on Donnie, who was slurping at a clay jug full of moonshine that she had already told him twice was for mixed drinks at the Feast. Dad scratched his neck and gestured to Mom that there was nothing he could do about it, that it was Donnie’s fault. I believed him.
The Millers were well behaved guests. They had no children, and I wondered if they ever had as I showed them to the small upstairs room on the left. They assured Mom that they would feel secure, not cramped, with no windows or extra doors. They were maybe just being polite, but they swore to Mom over and over again that they had brought enough blankets with them to make any old room cozy. And Mr. Miller was one of the nicest neighbors to Dad. They had similar tools and humor.
Mom told an already unpacking Judy that it was okay if she, Donnie and Hannah wanted to sleep in the big, blue, spare room with a lovely window – My Room – all by themselves until the other guests arrived. No other thought had ever crossed their minds. I poked my head around the corner to make sure they hadn’t moved My Stuff. Aside from opening My Closet door to store their things, they hadn’t touched anything.
Mom pulled Hector off of Hannah as they squirmed to latch onto each other in a giggling mass of gangly limbs and Hannah’s tangled hair. Hector yipped as Mom hauled him into our room.
Hannah made wild faces at him, stretching her milky cheeks out to her perfectly formed ears until Judy grabbed her sharply by the elbow and pulled her inside My Room with a comb and washcloth in hand. Juliet and I made silent gagging faces to each other.
Moments later we heard Donnie stumbling up the stairs, opening the wrong door, the Millers gasping, Donnie opening the right door – My Door – Hannah clapping and Judy holding her breath and then the door shutting securely on the second try. Dad stepped inside of our own room and let out a giant sigh. Mom patted the nest next to her, and he crawled into bed. The House roared all night with the sounds of more people snoring than I could bare to count.
The Bakers arrived early the next morning, before Juliet and I were dressed. When we stepped out into the yard, Arnie Baker was leaning with an elbow against the door of the kitchen, eyeing Mom’s fresh crabapple bread. Mrs. Baker was standing resolutely against the sidewall with her arms folded, refusing to smell anything delicious. She was mad that Mom could use white flour better than she could. Mom’s pastries were always fluffier. She probably only came early to get some extra glaring in.
Juliet and I sat on the Kitchen steps, munching away on sweet breakfast carrots, until Mom shooed us off to be helpful. We were meant to go pick the fresh herbs from the garden, but we took a detour to spy on Hector and Hannah. They were hiding something in the bushes near the Gazebo. We tossed small, hard tomatoes at them until they chased us. Juliet was too fast for Hannah and Hector would only get within two feet of me before thinking about what would happen to him if he caught me.
We stopped, panting, and let them return to their secretive game. We brought the snipped greens to Mom, in the Kitchen, who had finally gotten Judy and Mrs. Miller to help by admiring the high-quality chopping knives that were sticking out of their apron pockets. Mrs. Baker was sitting with her back turned in the Gazebo. Since she wasn’t helping, we were sent back to the garden to collect all of the best, largest, ripest, reddest tomatoes into an old burlap sack.
The plan was to have sweet, salted venison with tomato pesto sauce and crabapple bread, but when the Clovers arrived, they were leading a pig behind them. Dad, Mr. Clover, and Donnie set immediately to slaughtering the animal, and I tried not to listen to its squeals before they caught all of the blood pouring from it’s pricked throat. Donnie laughed from his belly and patted it as it twitched. Mom took the big, metal pot of blood into the kitchen with Mrs. Clover and they promptly set about making something fragrant in every single dish we owned – sausages, soups and sautés. Purifying leaf lard, laying strips of bacon into salt, and tying the dead carcass securely to a pole.
Dad and Mr. Miller uncovered the roasting pit off to the side of the kitchen, and filled it with kindling, while Juliet and I rubbed the skinned animal with more salt and the fresh herbs from the garden – rosemary, basil, thyme, oregano, onion and garlic. It left our fingers sticky, but the smell was delicious and I apologized to it for Donnie's laughter as it had died.
The scent of the roasting pork filled the entire Yard by the time all of our Neighbors arrived. Many of the families had their tents in backpacks on their backs from camping along the way. I pictured the dots on the map on my wall that showed where they lived. Some of them had taken long walks to get here. I couldn’t wait for some of the Older Girls to see my proud Farm, and for me to see their faces.
The Clovers and the Millers sprawled comfortably on the Gazebo, chatting with honeyed water in their mugs. Judy and the Bakers were in the kitchen giving Mom advice. Donnie had cornered Dad near the House and was lecturing him on proper roof care. The Potters, Butchers, Smiths and Carpenters were admiring the Burn Pile and the tool shed while their teenage sons paced the perimeter and dispatched the ghouls brought in by the din and the steaming pork. I couldn’t see any of their daughters.
“Where are all of the Older Girls?” I asked, straightening my ax in the loop of my best denim pants.
“Oh, Honey,” Mrs. Smith laughed, “All the girls volunteered to stay home and watch the Farms. They all told us that what you really want is one of these nice strapping Older Boys to snag as a husband. Any of them catch your eye?”
Young Butcher waved to me with his slime-coated baseball bat. I wrinkled my nose and tried not to vomit with anger and disappointment. The grown-ups all laughed. They tipped their heads to the side and tittered in the Northern tongue that I couldn't pick up a word of. My face burned red. The Older Girls had set me up.
Dad rescued me by asking me to check on the pig, to see if it was done. He winked at me that it should be perfectly finished by then. I cursed the Older Girls under my breath until I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to change into a dress for dinner. I stomped up the Yard.
Juliet stood back some twenty feet from Hector and Hannah, trying to figure out what they were doing. They were fawning over some dumb secret that would probably get us all in trouble. I gave Juliet the thumbs up for spying on them as I marched up to the roasting pit. I lifted the makeshift corrugated steel lid and inhaled deeply. The gust of hot fumes hit my face and swallowed my head. I poked at the ribcage with a long, sharp twig. The skin was browned and crispy and the meat was juicy and tender, ready to pull off the bone. Perfectly done.
I jumped up and down at Dad until he saw me and knew that it was time to eat. I whistled to inform Juliet. If we were lucky we could fill our plates and stomachs before Hector and Hannah even knew the Feast was ready. Dad signaled to Mom that the pig was cooked. She rang a large bell to call everyone up to the kitchen steps for the carving.
Uncle Donnie stepped between me and the food line.
“Hey, there she is! It’s Ophelia! The Birthday Girl! I was just talking about you! And, oh-ho, look – you're old enough to carry your own hammer in the back loop of those low-slung blue jeans! Looking good this year, Ophelia!”
He patted me on the backside as I went past.
I glared up at Uncle Donnie. Dad glared down at Uncle Donnie. Judy came over and twittered on his arm.
“Hi Ophelia,” Judy blinked her mascara at me, “You look well today.”
“Very well,” Donnie winked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I glowered.
Juliet ran over and leapt into my arms.
“Hey, Hungry Girl, it’s time to eat.” I squeezed her as she nuzzled under my chin.
/> “Excuse me,” I said to Donnie and Judy.
I carried Juliet over to the kitchen. She twirled my hair behind my back. I could still hear Donnie talking.
“Sixteen? Really? Wow. She reminds me so much of Judy.”
And then Judy’s snippy voice.
“We look nothing alike … So, Juliet’s four already? She’s nearly as darling as our Hannah. She could almost be her twin, if she had Hannah’s creamy complexion and tidier outfits.”
Juliet and I filled our plates until they were heaping with crabapple bread and roasted pork, covered with thick, tangy tomato blood sauce. Dilly cream drizzled on top. We sat on the kitchen steps, wiping our chins and gnawing on ribs dipped in honey. I teased Juliet that she should be careful with her honey or she would turn as sweet as Hannah, and then she would make my teeth hurt and I’d have to brush her away. I hip-bumped her off of the step. She crawled back on and I bumped her again and again until she collapsed laughing across my legs. I tickled her and squinted into the late afternoon sun.
Hector and Hannah were running hysterically to the waterspout outside of the Kitchen, completely unaware of the food. Hector wrapped himself around the lever and dangled his feet in the air to pump it up and down. Water poured out of the spigot into something shiny that Hannah was holding. It sparkled as water careened out of its sides and the little girl splashed her fingers inside of the vessel. Some kind of bucket.
I froze, looking closer. I stopped breathing.
“Oh Gods. Juliet, stay here.” I pushed her higher on the Kitchen stairs and shouted to Hector to stop the water – water, what was he thinking – and to grab the bucket and to move it away. But Hannah pulled her arm out of the bucket, and hanging from it was the head of the ex-ten-year-old-boy zombie, its teeth chewing on her skin. That was what they had been hiding! That was what they had been playing with. Why hadn’t he burned it?
She cried out. I kept running. Everybody else was looking, but I was the closest. I kicked the head off of her arm. She wailed and Judy and Donnie raced to her sides. Hector ran for a tree. Juliet was frozen on the kitchen stairs.
I kicked and kicked and kicked the head until it fell, snapping, into the spoiled stream. I sprinted back up the Lawn, past where the crowd was huddled around Judy, weeping and holding Hannah to her calico tube top. I ran all the way to the tree Hector had climbed. I pulled him down by one leg. He wailed and then squeaked and chattered while I pinned him down on the ground.
“Fire, I said! Burn it, I said! You knew to burn it! You know better! What is wrong with you?”
He was crying as Dad pulled me off of him. Dad sat me down in the grass that was still wet from the bucket tipping over. Everyone knew by now that Hannah had been bitten and that the Party was breaking up before it had really even begun. Judy was still weeping with a squirming and sweating Hannah in her arms. Donnie stood above them, face contorted and red. Mom walked past me and hissed,
“How could you leave an un-smashed head with Hector?”
I cupped my temples with my hands. He was old enough to handle such things by now. Dad came back and knelt down by my side.
“Your mother and I are going to drive some of the Neighbors home. They won’t all make it to home by night. It’s going to take us a while. You need to stay here with Hector and Juliet. And Donnie and Judy.”
I looked up at him, horrified.
“They will stay here tonight. They don’t have time to drive before they do it.”
I nodded. It was fitting punishment.
Dad ushered the guests who needed rides over to the car and helped as many in as would fit. He hitched a wooden trailer behind the car, and the rest climbed aboard, all the boys with their bats and straw hats pulled down low. They readied themselves to pull out of the driveway, checking all of the tires and hitches, leaving me in charge of the clean-up.
I shoved the remaining pork roast into the kitchen and locked it with the pendulum thumping. We should salt and dry it in the morning, start smoking it, carry packages to the Neighbors when it was finished. I took Juliet by the hand and led her back to the House from the Kitchen stairs, where she had stayed put. I stopped by the pump and ordered her to wash her hands. She quietly did just as I asked, following me without question.
I flipped Hector an angry sign to let him know that he should stay a while in the tree that he had found. Judy and Donnie had made themselves at home in My Room again, this time locking the door. I pictured Hannah’s brains splattered on my floor and shivered in the warm air. I was going to have some scrubbing to do.
Mom trotted down the driveway, the car and trailer all ready to leave. She stopped me on my way into the House. She hugged Juliet and looked me in the eye.
“Watch her better,” she said and returned to her place in the passenger-stuffed station wagon. She assured them all about her readiness to leave and showed them which doors they had to hold shut and how to operate the trailer’s handbrakes before they got to the first hill. They pulled slowly out of the driveway.
Juliet followed me up the stairs to our bedroom. The sun was barely setting, but she didn’t complain as I helped her into her pajamas. She settled into her blankets with some of my crayons. I sat by the window, watching Hector sit in his tree. I should go get him. I left Juliet in the bedroom for a moment.
“Hector,” I hollered up the tree trunk, from the damp grass, “Please come down.”
He chattered at me.
“Hector, do you really want to sleep up there?”
He nodded and chattered.
“Am I really that scary?”
He stuck his tongue out and chattered again.
“Fine. Sleep up there. See what I care. See you in the morning. I hope you don’t get eaten.”
I stomped back into the House and slammed the door behind me, but I didn’t lock it, in case he decided that he wanted to come back in. Donnie was illuminated in the bathroom doorway. They had come downstairs. He was ringing his hands and shaking. He was stooped over somebody. It was Hannah. She was draped across the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl. Her feverish arms were limp.
“Oh Gods, Donnie,” I walked over, “Why haven’t you done it yet?”
He looked up at me blankly.
“Donnie, it’s only going to get worse. You need to do it. You need to kill her.”
His face contorted.
“Donnie, it won’t be her anymore. You need to do it.”
He looked away.
“I could do it for you,” I offered.
Before I could duck, he spun around and pinned me up against the stairwell. He slammed me up against it again and again, until I kicked him in the knee. He winced and growled.
“You stay away from her! Stay away from my Hannah! My poor, little Hannah.”
He crouched over her flaccid form in the darkening bathroom. I crept up the stairs to our bedroom. I could hear Judy sniffling in My Room. I locked Juliet and myself in our bedroom – Mom and Dad would know the secret knock if they came back tonight, so would Hector if he came inside – and I fell asleep in my clothes.
I woke up to the sound of suitcases being dragged down the stairs. It was light out, sunny even. I sat bolt upright. Juliet sat up with me. I walked to the door.
“Get dressed,” I told her, “Put your shoes on.”
I ran down the stairs. Stepped out into the glare, blinking and rubbing my eyes. Donnie and Judy were just getting into their car. Judy waved meekly. Donnie curled his lip.
I walked over to the car, leaned against the open car window to say goodbye. I gasped. The ex-Hannah zombie was strapped into the car seat in the back. It was green and grey instead of toasted golden. Its arms stuck straight out from behind the straps, completely still, fingers outstretched as near to Judy’s headrest as they could get.
“Oh Gods, you didn’t do it,” I stuttered, “You didn’t kill her.”
Donnie reached back and patted the ghoul’s little hand. It snapped at him and he smiled.
“Oh, w
e’ll be fine. When your parents get back from escorting folks home, tell them thanks for the Party, and that we’ll see them next time.”
Judy tried to smile at me.
“It’s not her,” I said, backing away, “That’s not Hannah. You know it’s not.”
Donnie began the process of starting the Apollo. It took a lot of wire twisting and pumping of the brakes and eventually Donnie had to get out and push the car to get the engine to roll over.
I ran. I ran up the stairs and into my room. I leaned out the window. Judy was trying to free her hair from the clutches of the little zombie in the back seat. I gagged and spit up in my mouth.
I took my gun off of the wall. It wasn’t loaded, but I didn’t think more than twice about grabbing a handful of shells and sliding one into the chamber. I brought the stock up to my shoulder, held it tightly there. I pointed the sighting bead at the zombie in the backseat of the Apollo. It wasn’t Hannah anymore. It wasn’t her, and I knew it.
I pulled the trigger. There was a bang. There was a splatter. There was a small corpse slumped under the straps of the car seat.
Donnie leapt to the backseat. He clutched at her hands, screamed, clutched at her slack face. He got black goo on his hands.
Judy reached up to touch Donnie’s face. He hit her. Twice. And backed out of the car. He spun around to see who had shot the zombie. But he didn’t look up at my window. He turned to see what the slapping noise behind him was.
It was Juliet. She was dressed as I had instructed, playing in the driveway, skipping rope. And singing. I hadn't told her to stay inside. He headed straight for her. I dropped my gun.
I sprinted down the stairs. I fell, got back up, ran out the door to the driveway.
“Donnie!” I screamed, “No!”
He was just reaching her. He grabbed her shirt.
“Donnie! Donnie let her go!” I ran after him.
He dragged her by the shirt towards the stream. Her eyes were wide with wonder. She twisted lightly in his hands, looking back at me to see what was happening. I ran faster, but Donnie’s legs were long and I didn’t catch up until we were at the stream. He stopped. He turned around and looked at me.
Ophelia Immune: A Novel Page 7