Jenny Plague-Bringer: (Jenny Pox #4)

by J. Bryan

  “You busy?” Seth asked, leaning in the door.

  “Busy-ish.” Jenny gestured toward the mannequin. “Just working on this stupid thing. Want to go out for oysters?”

  “I’ve got some bad news. There’s something you should probably see.”

  “Okay...” Jenny reluctantly followed him out of the room. She didn’t need more bad news. She could already feel their Parisian magic carpet beginning to unravel beneath their feet.

  The living room was filled with autumn sunlight from the giant picture window. Seth dropped onto the antique settee, where his laptop was set up on the round oak table in front of him. Jenny sat beside him and snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his hand resting on her hip. Being close to him made her feel safer, even though she would be the one dealing death if anyone attacked them.

  “Here we go.” Seth maximized a video to fill the screen, then pressed play.

  Melodramatic, echoing music played, clearly trying to be spooky, almost a rip-off of the Twilight Zone theme song. An animated logo popped up: the planet Earth, slowly rotating. The view zoomed out to show that the Earth was actually inside of a snowglobe clutched in a gray three-fingered hand. Lightning struck the Earth, and then the text appeared in glowing letters: Conspiracies of the Unknown.

  Jenny laughed and elbowed him. “Seth, you really had me scared, you fuckface.”

  “Just keep watching.”

  The video showed a man, hugely overweight, with a goatee and thick glasses. He was sitting in what looked like a basement or garage, with a handmade Conspiracies of the Unknown sign tacked to the wall behind him. From the video quality and angle, it was clearly a webcam.

  “Hi, everyone. Rudley McGhee here again, with the latest in what they don’t want you to know.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jenny said. “Isn’t this the guy who says aliens shot JFK?”

  “Blue lizard aliens. Sh, keep watching.”

  “I have a Conspiracies of the Unknown special edition for you tonight, now that Beauford finally finished editing the footage.” Another chubby guy, balding on top but with long hair at the back, leaned into the frame and waved. “Move over, Beauford, you’re in the shot! Okay, folks, listen up. What if I told you that there was a little town, right here in the U.S.A., just a regular place like my town or your town, with a Wal-Mart and everything...But in this town, over two hundred people mysteriously disappeared!”

  “It’s gnarly crazy,” Beauford said.

  “Beauford, you’re still in the frame, home skillet! Ugh. Like I was saying, people, that’s a huge disappearance, all on the same day. That’s right, the same day! And this isn’t some Roanoke Colony thing from three hundred years ago...though I have a theory about that, too...No, this just happened! Like, a year and a half ago!”

  “It basically just happened!” Beauford added.

  “Dang it, Beauford, this isn’t your show, it’s my show! If you want your own show, go make one with your mom or something!”

  “I’ll make a video with your mom!” Beauford snickered. “Maybe I already did.”

  “You did not!” Rudley shoved his way up out of his chair, looking enraged. The video skipped, and then it was Rudley in his chair again, sweaty now. Beauford was not in the frame. “So Beauford and I took the Rud-mobile and the Conspira-cam and went to this town to investigate! It’s called Fallen Oak, South Carolina.” He held up a road map. “See it? There it is. Really small, right there. Roll the footage, Beauford!”

  “Holy shit,” Jenny said, sitting up straight. Seth wasn’t joking.

  “Yep,” Seth replied.

  The video cut to Rudley standing between a rusty El Camino and the rotten old “Welcome to Fallen Oak” sign, waving his hand gleefully, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt like a tourist. “We drove all the way from Crawley, West Virginia. Took us ten hours, plus a nap at a rest stop,” Rudley’s voiceover told them. “Beauford’s hemorrhoids were flaring real bad, but we made it.”

  The video then showed Rudley standing in what Jenny first thought was a weedy, overgrown field, until the camera zoomed out and she realized it was the Fallen Oak town green in front of the courthouse. It was shocking to see it like that, with weeds high enough to brush the underside of Rudley’s belly. Apparently nobody was bothering to keep it up.

  “You see a lot of towns like this, driving around,” Rudley said in the video as he looked at the boarded-up businesses. “You wonder what it was like, when a place like this was really alive. You wonder where everybody came from, and where they went, and why they just left this husk of a town behind like a...like a hermit crab changing shells.”

  “Hey, that’s deep, Rudster,” Beauford said from off-screen. Apparently, he was the one shakily operating the handheld camera.

  “Beauford, dang it, don’t interrupt my talking!” Rudley scowled at the camera for a minute.

  “What are you waiting for?” Beauford asked.

  “Just waiting to see if you’re done running your mouth or not.”

  “I’m done.”

  “Because if you got something to say, Beauford, go ahead and say it so we can get on with the dang show.”

  “I ain’t got nothing say.”

  “Yeah, you didn’t have nothing to say when you ate the last Twinkie in the box, either, did you? Remember? Right about the North Carolina state line? Didn’t even ask me if I wanted that last Twinkie.”

  “You been sore about this since North Carolina?”

  “That was my Twinkie! You ate two more than I did! Can’t you do no math?”

  The video jumped again, showing Rudley from a different angle, calm again, still on the town green. “Anyway, sad little town. And, according to some stuff I read on the internet, it was right here that all two hundred people just vanished into thin air. No explanation. Homeland Security even took over the town for a while. And guess what the official story was? This is the kicker, listen! They said there was a little toxic leak from some old dye factory, which had been closed for like, what, forty years?”

  “Fifty-six,” Beauford told him.

  “Dang it, Beauford....Think about it, folks at home. Two hundred people, vanished all at once. A government cover-up. No explanation. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Because I’m thinking...abduction. I’m not saying it’s aliens...” Rudley glanced around nervously. “...but I think it was aliens.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” Jenny said. “Nobody’s going to take this seriously. How did you even find this?”

  “Somebody linked it to Fark. Mainly to make fun of these two guys, but still. If they know something strange happened, other people could, too. And watch this next part.”

  Rudley sat in a front parlor, the sort of room some people’s parents kept well-decorated and unused. He was facing a very unhappy-looking couple in their late forties or early fifties.

  “Wait a minute!” Jenny said. “Aren’t they...”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Daniels,” Seth said. “Bret Daniels’ parents. I’ve spent the night at their house before.”

  Jenny briefly remembered killing the jock using a cloud of pox spores in front of the courthouse.

  “...never made any sense to us,” Bret’s mother was saying. “He just drove off on Easter, and we never saw him again! They said there was an accident...some people died...but we never saw him or his...his...”

  “His dead body?” Rudley asked helpfully, and Bret’s mother cried out as if stabbed. The father just stared at the floor, stone-faced.

  “Nobody would tell us anything,” Bret’s father said, without looking up. “Not a thing.”

  “Did you see any strange lights that night?” Rudley asked. “Were there any crop circles in the morning?”

  “He left a daughter behind,” Bret’s mom added. “With his high-school sweetheart, Darcy Metcalf.”

  “They weren’t exactly sweethearts,” Bret’s dad mumbled.

  “Don’t say that! He wouldn’t have done that with a girl unless he really loved her. H
e was such a sweet little boy.”

  Bret’s dad shrugged.

  “We almost never see our grandbaby,” Bret’s mom continued. “Darcy up and moved to Columbia, and now she’s living with a...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “...a Mexican. Our little granddaughter, growing up in the city with a bunch of Mexicans. Probably eating burritos as we speak!”

  “Judge says we can’t do a thing about it,” Bret’s dad said.

  “Back to the bright lights over town,” Rudley said. “Did you see any? Or any glowing objects at all, perhaps parked in a cow pasture?”

  “Didn’t see nothing like that,” Bret’s dad mumbled.

  “Well, I do have a little self-help brochure I wrote, for people who’ve been abducted, and for the families of the abducted, too. It’s normally $5.99, but I’ll let you folks have one for free.” Rudley handed over a thick booklet with a flying saucer on the cover.

  “What is this?” the crying mother asked.

  “Aliens?” Bret’s dad scowled. “Is that it? You come here to talk to us about aliens?”

  “Well, yes, sir,” Rudley told him. “There’s an epidemic of Americans being abducted and studied by extraterrestrial visitors, you see...they’re not from our dimension. They’re from a different Earth, in the ninth dimension.”

  Mr. Daniels stared at him for a second, then stood up, raising his fists. “Get out! Get out of my house!”

  “Sir, you should know there are alien-abduction support groups—” Rudley began, before Mr. Daniels punched him in the mouth. The man threw a punch at the camera, too, and it blacked out.

  The video skipped back to Rudley in his basement.

  “Okay, well, that’s all the footage Beauford bothered to edit this week,” Rudley said. “Check this website again for future updates about our trip to Fallen Oak...where the alien visitors got a little too greedy for their own good, methinks!”

  “No, please, no future updates,” Jenny said. “That was bad enough.”

  “I know.” Seth closed the laptop. “What if other people, not I-have-a-webcam-show-in-my-basement types, start looking into it?”

  “There’s still no reason to come looking for us,” Jenny said. “We died in the fire at your house, right? We’re dead.”

  “Except we’re not.”

  “Nobody knows that.”

  “Plenty of people know it, Jenny.”

  “Then what do you want me to do about it?” Jenny was surprised to hear herself scream. She made herself speak more calmly. “I mean, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “I just thought you should know about it.”

  “Now I know about it. Now what?” Jenny chewed her lip, worried. She grasped his hand in hers.

  “We could make out,” Seth suggested.

  “Maybe.”

  “You could tell me what happened to us.”

  “What do you mean?” she looked at him.

  “The carnival, the tent revival. Did we get away? The last I heard, I’d done this really awesome thing, rescued you and carried you away on horseback, and it made you super-horny.”

  “Maybe I should keep more of my thoughts to myself,” Jenny said.

  “And then you ripped your dress in half for me.” Seth grinned.

  “It wasn’t for you, it was for the horse.”

  “Gross.”

  “Do you want to hear the story or not, Seth?”

  “I want to hear it. I like stories where I’m the hero.”

  “Maybe I should stop where we were,” Jenny said, laying her head on his shoulder. “Things go downhill, just like all our lives.”

  “Sounds promising. Too much happiness is boring, right? Make sure you talk more about how much I turned you on.”

  Jenny took a deep breath and continued the story.

  Chapter Seven

  Juliana and her mysterious, sexy, handsome rescuer rode on through the night and the rain, Juliana holding him tight. After a long and cold lifetime without touching anyone, she couldn’t get enough of feeling his warm body through his wet shirt.

  They followed a small stream westward from the Mississippi, staying in the wilderness. He finally stopped the horse in a meadow full of tall grass and wildflowers and climbed off. Juliana smiled as she let him help her down. The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle, and the horse soon found his way to a copse of trees, which protected him from the raindrops while he nibbled flowers.

  The boy stood by the stream in his muddy boots and looked at the dark water glinting in the moonlight.

  “Are we safe now?” she whispered.

  “Maybe. The horse needs a break.”

  “I don’t hear anyone.” Juliana could hear the gurgling of the stream, the pounding of her heart, and a cheeping chorus of night bugs, but no horse hooves. She looked at him, studying his handsome face, though it was shadowy under the moonlight. He had a familiar look to him, though she was sure she’d never seen him before today. “Why did you do that?”

  “Horse was tired, like I said.”

  “I wasn’t asking why you stopped. I was asking why you started.”

  “Why I grabbed you and ran out? What else was I supposed to do?” he asked with half a smile. “Those people were ready to kill you, after hearing about the devil all day.”

  “But you weren’t.”

  “I think I might understand you better than most people.”

  “You’re the one with the healing power, not the preacher,” Juliana said. “Why do you let everyone think it’s him?”

  “I’m just the assistant. I don’t need everyone staring at me.” He winked, then held out his hand. “Let’s see it.”

  “See what?”

  “You know.”

  Juliana cautiously let her take his hand, still not used to the idea of anyone touching her without suffering. He held it in his own, watching as she summoned the demon plague, letting dark blisters burst through her fingers and palm. He didn’t seem scared. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each one of her fingertips, making the blisters disappear. The feeling of his lips on her fingers was almost too much to bear. She wanted to scream, or run away, or fling herself at him, so she just stood where she was, gaping at him like a fool while her whole body trembled.

  “All better,” he said. He released her hand, but she didn’t lower it from his face.

  “Will you ever tell me your name?” she whispered.

  “Sebastian. And what do I call you?” He looked down along the front of her ripped dress, then quickly looked away.

  “Juliana.”

  “Where do we go now, Juliana?” He smirked a little. “I don’t think the good reverend will want me back after I helped you. I’m tired of making him look holy, anyway.”

  “Why did you do it in the first place?”

  “I don’t know, it’s not a bad job. Lots of travel, helping people who need it. You meet lots of interesting people, too, like mysterious pretty girls with a lethal touch.”

  “Have you met many of them?” she asked, and he laughed. He looked her over, and his gaze warmed her body.

  “Have you had this your entire life?” He touched the palm of her hand.

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too. But yours must have been a little more...difficult.”

  “I’ve survived.”

  “You live here in Missouri?”

  “No, I’m with a carnival.” She smiled. “I’m the freak show special attraction. The World’s Most Diseased Woman.”

  “I’ve heard about your carnival. I’ve been meaning to go, but the boss won’t give me a break...”

  “We can go now! If we circle back south.” She looked up at the dark sky. “I have to perform tonight, anyway. Can you take me?”

  “I’ve got no job and a stolen horse,” he said. “A man can’t be more free than that. We can go wherever you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? Staying with the carnival?”

  “Why not?”


  “It just seems like you’d get tired of people staring at you, like you’re some kind of...”

  “I’m a freak whether I’m in the show or not. I might as well get paid for it. It’s better than stealing for a living.”

  “Sure, but there must be other work out there.”

  “Like what? I can’t work with people, can’t even touch animals. In the sideshow tent, I can see people all day and not worry about whether they’re going to brush against me. Being a carnie is the most honest work I can manage.”

  He laughed. “Honest work as a carnie.”

  “And what were you doing? Helping some guy run a revival-tent scam.”

  “It wasn’t a scam,” he said. “People actually got healed.”

  “And I really am the world’s most diseased woman. You’re just lucky you were born with something that actually helps people.”

  “We’re exact opposites, you know that?” He stepped closer, looking down into her eyes. “That’s what I thought, when I saw the disease taking him over. Another person like me, but opposite.” He took her hands in his. “It’s in our touch. I have to touch people to fix them.”

  “I can’t touch anyone,” she whispered.

  “You can touch me all you want,” he said. From his twisted grin, she knew he was trying to joke, but his words made her tremble. She released his hands and reached up to his face, then his neck. His skin felt hot beneath his uneven stubble. His hands found their way to her waist.

  “Have you never kissed anyone?” he whispered.

  “Never.”

  Without another word—or bothering to ask permission—he lowered his face to hers and gently kissed her lips. She felt like she’d been set on fire, her body glowing with heat.

  The kiss lasted a long time. When he drew back, their eyes were locked on each other. Something had happened. She could feel a deep sense of connection with this boy, like it had been waiting there all her life, just waiting to wake up.

  “We’d better keep moving,” she whispered.