“Right,” Jo says, again, “Did he get hurt when you did?”
“Yeah, but not in the crash,” I say.
“Oh,” Jo says.
“Were you the Savior?” Lizzie asks, going back to our previous discussion.
“No, Major Tom was always the Savior---she was good, she used to visit me when I was in hospital,” I say.
“Who were you, then, in the party?” Jo asks.
“I was the killer,” I say, looking away.
“Who’d I be?” Jo asks, stroking my cheek to make me smile again. yeah, okay, admitting to being the Killer is not such a big deal considering she’s killed---probably a whole lot of people. Still doesn’t make me feel good, though.
“Let’s see Thief----I’ll bet you’re a touchstone, ‘cause you’re probably always right,” I say.
“I’m not lucky,” she says, shaking her head.
“I used to say that. and that was before I lost half my body,” I say, making her smile again.
“Yeah, I’m here, that’s pretty lucky,” she admits.
Chapter 6
T ess has late classes. Major Tom isn’t talking to me more than necessary which isn’t very much at all. And the cadets are tired because I flew them too much the little redhead Starr is odyled with looked dizzy. And Starr needless to say would rather be with him canoodling and pretending to study.
Bored bored bored.
Ziggy isn›t speaking to me either since this morning I scared him, and Ziegfeld I don›t want to talk to either because she was too hard on me at lunch and what annoys me is she was right. She is right. But so am I, and she saw it. and I didn’t think people could still get me that upset but she can she still saw how weak I am how vulnerable. And I hate that.
Bored bored bored.
Nobody to entertain me. I can’t even fuck with Thorn, my insidious capes will only serve to irritate Tom more and I want her to love me and want to have sex with me which she does not want to do right now.
I’m bored. I’m lonely I want to do something but everyone is busy. I would be happy to go home and play games with Tess till bed. and I’m grounded and I won’t fly for ages and I’m bored. And I’ve got ALL evening, Tess isn’t out of class till nine thirty that is three hours from now. I want to-
I really want to kill somebody.
That would be excellent. A nice little murder. A body to hide. Lots of blood. and then I disappear. Tuck Tess in bed. we read from one of her favorite books then she goes to sleep and I can stand there looking out the window thinking about it.
That would do me so much good who’ve I wanted to kill lately----Ziegfeld’s boy---NO_--NO---NO, anyone else, except Tom and Tess---anyone else not him. she taught you to fly there is some grace---if there is some grace in this world there is for that, there is for that there must be---no not him. anybody else just pick anybody else.
Okay fine. But I really want to kill him he is SUCH a waste of oxygen—no, no no, not him pick somebody else---okay, picking, picking.
Thorn? No I’ve got such a nice decapitation planned for him later and I don’t want to spoil it. After all I’ve been waiting for a while, and I do want to do it but not just yet he’s so much fun to mess with on a regular basis.
No, not him I don’t feel like it yet---Kip? He feeds me no---Jordan? No Starr would be distracted for weeks. Who else who else---Ziggy---no damn it. We already said no to that one. No no no. Leavitt? Hunt him down and kill him AFTER chopping his legs off? I could but that might take a while and I want the murder to last a good long while and not spend time going back and forth.
I don’t know I can’t think of anyone this isn’t any fun---oh I could do something new. Up till now everyone I’ve murdered has been somebody I know. I could kill somebody I don’t know. a total stranger. That would be fun. Somebody I’ve never met before. Or better yet---a kid. I’ve never killed a child. I’ll do that, go off base or stay on? Oh what the hell, stay on and give Thorne a coronary.
It’s getting late and I’m bored. Bridget is doing her homework and I’m sitting sipping a glass of wine here to help her if she needs it. She needs it less and less these days. We had a nice dinner, the roast egg plant, but as she said, it was lacking a certain---protein. It is time I visited the butcher. Ha. Became the butcher. But when? I’m hoping for the date with the lovely Dr. Lutz. But she’s brushed me off. Not necessarily completely but she’s certainly not coming around anytime soon. And I need entertainment. I’m hungry. I miss the flesh. The cool, slick way the meat feels in my hands as I season it, pat, rub, caress before the final searing. The last death of the flesh.
“What do you think of ribs tomorrow night?” I ask. I’m leafing through my recipe book, sipping a good Chardonnay.
“Fine, I thought you hadn’t had time to go to the butcher?” Bridget says, not really glancing up from her work.
“I haven’t but I’m off early tomorrow, I could go, if you felt like it as well,” I say.
“Yeah, all right, you know I like anything you cook,” she says.
“All right then,” I say. I’ll have to do the murder tonight. that would be fun. I was planning on staying in but that would be a real pick me up. And my blood is up with the almost-date. I ‘d rather enjoy that.
Who, though? The lovely Dr. Lutz was already stalking our friend the oily Dr. Steele, and he was my next target. Hmm, who to murder who to murder? I don’t know, nobody at the hospital has been particularly consumption worthy lately. I don’t like choosing people at random that’s rather coarse, lacks all feeling, no method to that and absolutely no justification. And more than that, no knowledge of the quality of the meat.
Bridget will be in bed soon then I’ll go. Or I’ll do it tomorrow morning. But I do prefer to do it at night, it’s much better to move in the dark. But I do hate to leave Bridget alone here. I am not the only monster of the night.
“Who would I be in a party?”
“What are you talking about?” Terrance asks. He’s studying. I don’t have to study so I’m not. I’m tired. My eyes are burning, and I’m trying to get the memories of flying out of my head. I don’t like feeling that way. I don’t like feeling that real. I want to disappear.
“What Major Tom was telling us, about how the officers, on a Suicide Squad, always form a party. Who do you think I’d be?” I ask, snipping a thread on his SBUs, as I lay next to him on the bed. he’s studying on his tablet.
“The Scholar,” he says, “You’re always the one who knows everything.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, why?” he asks.
“I don’t want to be the Savior,” I say, “I don’t want to be the last person standing. The last one without you. the one who cleans up the mess. I don’t want to be him.”
“You won’t be,” he says, rubbing my hair, “I’ll be with you, I promise. We’ll get assigned to fly together, it’ll be easy, do our rotation them move to different jobs, planetside or off the Ulysses.”
“Yeah,” I say, laying my head down.
“What? You don’t believe it?” he asks.
“No, for some reason, when I look out at the stars, its like I’ll get lost out there in them, no amount of science or talk of the maps and logic and the teams and the methods, nothing allays the fear, that I’ll never come home,” I say.
“Hey, you want to come home to me, don’t you?” he asks.
“Always,” I say. and I mean it.
“Then come home,” he says.
“You make everything sound so simple.”
“It can be simple,” he says, rubbing my neck, “Just let it be simple. Just you, and me.”
“Okay,” I say, but I don’t believe it. I don’t want to fly. I don’t want to do anything, but lie here, next to him, warm and safe, no war no aliens no sailing through the stars.
“I’m going to go out, for a bit,” I say, rinsing my wine glass in the sink. “I feel like a walk.”
“Do you want company?” Bridget asks, she is just
packing up her books, going to take a bath before bed. she typically does, plays music in there, then plays music in her room or watches videos. Such is the secret life of the teenage homo sapiens.
“No, I’m fine, thanks though. I shan’t be long,” I say, kissing her on the cheek, “Get cleaned up, ready for bed. I’ll let you know when I get back.”
“Okay,” she says, giving me a quick hug, “Be careful.”
“Oh, I always am,” I say.
Chapter 7
A knock on the door there’s a knife in my pocket. This won’t take long.
“Hello?” Aiden, Tess’ little friend, leans his head out. He recognizes me. So he’s not afraid to open the door.
“Is Tess here?” I ask, stepping in. The cameras in the corridor haven’t been on for weeks. Tess is in class and this little boy is supposed to be in bed.
“No, she’s got class,” he says, stepping back, a little surprised that I came in but he’s used to adults walking in his room really not a good thing, all monsters considered, but he’s been raised like that. Tess hasn’t I tell her not to let people in her room if those people are not me. Ironically that rule keeps her and only her safe.
“Shut the door,” I say, walking around his room, looking at the toys. Similar to Tess’, a few less books, a few more action figures and toys. Pictures of his dead parents.
“Why?” he asks, obeying anyway.
“So nobody can hear you scream,” I say, turning around, the knife in my hand.
Somebody in the street hits me in the shoulder. I stop and turn, prepared to apologize.
“Hey, dude, what’s your problem?” the man scoffs, turning around.
I study him, sizing him up. not too fat, lean, looks young no scent of smoke or alcohol, fit, with greasy hair means, the pelt will remain tender for a few days---
“Hey, I said what’s your problem?” he asks, walking up and shoving my shoulders.
“You have no idea,” I say, taking the knife from my pocket.
“Shh, don’t turn on the lights,” I say, closing the door behind me.
“Why not?” he asks. He’s holding grocery bags. It’s an admittedly odd request. It’s still hours till they turn the lights out.
“I like it better in the dark,” I whisper, latching the door don’t need him getting out. I put my hand into my pocket, feeling for the knife.
“Why?” he asks, he sets the bags down then steps closer to me. good.
“It’s easier to kill you,” I say, pulling the knife out.
“You father screamed when he died as well,” I say, letting the boy’s body fall to the floor. His cheeks are wet with tears from crying as I stabbed him. His shirt is wet and warm with blood. I leave the knife. It’s standard issue no need to take it. I tuck the cold blade into his hand. Let them think he did it to himself, that’ll trouble them. I sigh, looking at the blood on my hands. It’s a shame it’s over so fast. Always over so fast. It’s a shame the pleasure can’t last longer. I need to torture somebody sometime. That would be enjoyable.
Disposing of bodies is also enjoyable but it also would mean a longer night. and Tess will be out of class soon. No, best to leave him here. alibi myself, and get Tess home to bed.
Turns out, rude but well kept dude had three rude but well kept friends.
“If you don’t mind my asking, do any of you regularly smoke?” I ask, ducking as one aims a crow bar at my head.
“The fuck---what is with this dude?” the original says, trying to kick me. I dodge, waiting to go for a clean blow to the neck. I do dislike ruining more of the hide than is strictly necessary.
“You could be helpful about this---how often do you exercise?” I ask, twisting as I duck a blow from another one of them. I’ll eat well for weeks at this rate.
“What---I’m not gonna answer you,” the original guy says, running to ram me in the stomach. Now I manage to get my knife in his neck. Good. hot blood spills down us both. It’s a shame to waste so much of it, but he’s got two friends. I don’t have to give up on a nice black pudding.
It’s surprising how long they can bleed before they die. D comes at me again, blood is pouring now from his neck and wrist. He has a statue or something from the table and he’s trying to hit me with it as well as just punching me in general. But his strength is waning. He won’t be able to make it much longer not losing this much blood. I take one more swing at his neck, slicing again, but this time I feel myself hit the jugular. The hot blood sprays across my face and I relax, over now. he staggers, gurgling, before he finally falls.
Chapter 8
I wake up to the feeling of cold little fingers poking my cheek. I roll over a little, because I feel very heavy and dead with sleep and it does not compute in my brain who would be poking me awake. Then I feel a woman’s warm hand on my face and remember where I am. In my flat. Without legs. With this fabulous girl and strange little child.
“He’s still alive,” Jo assures Lizzie, as I sit up.
“Yes, I am,” I say, opening my eyes to see the little girl standing over me, looking concerned. She’s wearing a full winter coat, and her blonde hair is messy around her face. “You need to brush your hair, nutcase.”
“No,” she grunts, putting her hands over her head.
“You hungry?” Jo asks, sitting up, pulling up the sheets to wrap around her bare chest. I slide my hand over subtly to touch the smooth skin of her back. She smiles a little.
“I guess,” Lizzie keeps staring at us.
“I gotta get up and put my legs on, you want to go and see what my mum’s put in the kitchen that’s edible?” I ask.
“Okay,” Lizzie says, slowly backing out of the room.
“I thought she’d be less crazy by the light of day,” I comment, sitting up fully now, and moving to find our clothes which we discarded on the floor like adolescents, after having maturely put Lizzie to bed in the only actual bed. We were on the sofa in the living room.
“She’s pretty messed up, still hasn’t told us what happened to her before that dude got her,” Jo says, taking the clothes which I hand her.
“That’s sad,” I say, shaking my head, “She knows we’re here. she’ll say when she’s ready.”
“Yeah, I hope,” Jo says, standing up to get dressed. She notices me still sitting, of course, my legs aren’t on I can’t stand up and get dressed. The legs are lying on the floor by the bed. my stumps are still raw and a bit bloodied from wearing them all day yesterday.
“There’s a box of sweets,” Lizzie says, coming back in carrying said box. I, for my part, pull the blankets back over my half-dressed, scarred body.
“Good, go ahead and have one and get plates out, all right? I’ve got to put my legs on,” I say, as she sits down on the floor apparently going to eat.
“Okay,” she says, standing up slowly. She’s been especially quiet since last. I think she knows Jo’s badass friend killed the guy who hurt her.
(are you sure he’s dead)
(yes I’m very sure) she called and told Jo it was over and she would dispose of the body all right by herself.
(okay)
“If I have plates,” I mutter, picking up my shirt and putting it on.
“I’ll help, I’m sure your mum brought plates,” Jo says, picking up the box and handing Lizzie another pastry to eat as she stands up.
“She said she was terribly forgetful getting me stuff I told her ‘good ‘cause I didn’t want you to get me anything---ah—” I stop myself from saying fuck it. Lizzie has gone over to look out the window. I decided against ever trying to put my legs on, instead pulling on my shorts underneath the blankets. I’ll just use my wheelchair for a few hours I need to rest my legs anyway.
“You okay?” Jo asks, she was trying to steer Lizzie away from the window without upsetting her but she stops when she sees me pulling myself into my chair which I actually left close enough to the couch for me to get into.
“I’m fine, it hurts too much to put those things on,”
I say, nodding to Lizzie, “Come on, let’s go in the kitchen and eat like civilized people, eh?”
“Morning, you hungry?” I ask, as Bridget comes into the kitchen.
“Starved---you went out and got bacon last night?” she laughs, as she comes over to see what I am cooking.
“Yes, my walk led me past the butcher’s,” I say, fending her off with a greasy spatula, “Go sit down, I’ll bring you a plate.”
“Thanks, smells great,” she says, obediently going to sit down, “I’m gonna go out with Jason, after school, okay?”
“That’s fine, when am I going to get meet him?” I ask, bringing over the plates, which I had warming in the stove. The bacon is still sizzling and greasy on our plates. I’m so hungry. I’ve been wanting this breakfast for ages.
“Eventually,” she laughs.
“You know, I can’t beat boyfriends away with a stick very well if you don’t bring them round,” I say, sitting down across from her. the moist, almost spicy smell is intoxicating.
“You wouldn’t actually be mean,” she says, knowingly.
“I would. If he hurts you. I’ll murder him. I’d chop him up, bake him into a pie, and his liver, that would make a very nice pate,” I say, thoughtfully, taking a bite of the bacon. Nice, slippery yet tough. The fibers of the flesh pulling nicely over my teeth.
“You never would,” she laughs.
“I would. I’m dead serious, I’d chop him up, and enjoy it as well. came with the job description: thou shalt cut up and consume any of Bridget’s awful boyfriends,” I say, making appropriate gestures with my knife and fork.
“You’re crazy,” she laughs. She has no idea how true that is.
“Dad, are you up?” Tess knocks then comes into my room with the delightful inhibitions of childhood.
“Just, are you ready for school?” I ask, putting on a black t-shirt. Sadly I will have to dress immediately in my SBUs in order to go back on base and collect Starr.
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