by Apex Authors
Consciousness slipped away.
Delta woke beside Miriam. For a moment her foggy mind insisted they were in her coffin, and her lousy day had merely been a nightmare. However, the paralysis was too total to be a mere hangover. The huge room was stainless steel. Sterile. Surgical.
A liver-spotted hand caressed her bruised breast. Delta tried to move her head, but it was too heavy. Instead, a hand gripped her chin and moved it for her. Buyer smiled. His fingers pulled the corners of her mouth into a parody of a grin.
"You caused us considerable anxiety, Citizen Nolana. But we aren't monsters. Isn't it precisely how I promised? No pain. Soon, we'll give you an overdose, and our party will commence."
He turned Delta's head to look at Miriam. The grisette's blue eyes fluttered open without focusing. Her slow-motion giggle was barely audible. A wheeze later, Miriam returned to her stupor.
"Here, taste.” He shoved a morsel into Delta's mouth, moved her jaw. “This cornbread stuffing recipe has been passed down in my family for eight generations. The secret is lots of sage. It makes all the difference. Otherwise, you grainers taste so gamey."
"What an odd dappling effect across her ribs. What kind of whip did you use?” asked a woman with large diamonds embedded in the skin above her thin eyebrows. She licked Delta's chest to see if the stripe would come off.
Delta wanted to laugh, but the paralysis refused to ease its steely grip. How would the perverts explain catching Zebra Fever in their disease-free paradise? This was sweet justice.
Suit's voice drifted into her ear. “I told you I could find her before she talked to the press. You simply have to think like a loser."
"Your mayor was very cooperative. We couldn't have done this without him,” said Buyer.
"Double the pleasure, double the profit,” quipped Missy Ferrell, slapping Delta's nose with a stack of currency. “Who's going to escort me back to the ship?"
Buyer eased behind Missy, wrinkled hands exploring her silver paint job. He whispered into her ear. Missy laughed, then replied, “Could my husband film us?"
Suit's tongue entered Delta's ear. “Now, Wendy, your first lesson will be good taste. Isn't that the ultimate kink for a grainer?"
Fighting the paralysis, Delta smiled. The fever made her strong.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Clementine
by Joy Marchand
* * * *
Joy Marchand holds a BA in Classical Studies from the University of the Pacific and lives in Salem, Massachusetts. Joy's poems and short stories have been featured in Bare Bone, the Elastic Book of Numbers, Polyphony 5, and Interfictions. In 2008, you can find her work in upcoming issues of Talebones, Shimmer, and Interzone. For more information, visit her website at www.joymarchand.com.
* * * *
Thurs. 10, MAR 20—
Another mark on C. today—cigar burn under r. breast, & so realistic, could almost see ashes on sheets during sponge bath. The docs don't know how C. does it. Letters & scars appear here & there. Bracelets of misfortune sometimes. Burns & whip-welts on shoulders. Sad life before C. ended up in produce section of JPI. Day nurse says C. drove last doc nuts while over at County & ordered R. to keep her buckled, though catatonic. D's a pussy—2 a.m. meebie-jeebies would turn D's hair white.
C. had r. eye closed during bath time & l. eye open. Looks like cheerleader with blonde hair & “C” charm necklace. Day says necklace dangerous (but re: D. See above). After bath time C. took 60 ml. banana smoothie—YUM. Throat works ok, zero large motor. Noted burn for Dr. P—wonder what he'll think. Won't tell me. Jones, that's myself, just bedpan washer & ass wiper. Speaking of ass, C. has nice one, heart-shaped, although muscle tone suffering. Trying not to look.
C. = vegetable. Not for sight-seeing.
* * * *
Fri. 11 MAR 20—
Saw burns and cuts myself, but never believed about skin—letters. Rumors fly, but most psych-workers almost as crazy as patients, & many even worse, just smarter. Hard to believe what you hear from doctors & Dr. P the worst of all. Takes more meds than produce-aisle patient, but rules JPI like tyrant, & RNs too scared to report to Board. Dr. P took case notes on C. for 3 months about letters, then stopped. Says just mass hysteria & any RNs caught spreading rumors about C. & letters, to be fired. Letters hard to imagine anyway, so wasn't worried until today.
During exercises (me pushing & sweating, C. staring w/both eyes open) saw letter appear on r. shin. At first just looked like squiggly burn, standard show, but resolved into letter “S” on white skin. Knew what Dr. P said, but hard to keep quiet as other letters—S-H-A-V-E—appeared. SHAVE. C's legs fuzzy from neglect & though gaze still vacant, tears dripped down cheeks as I pushed & flexed ankles. Dr. P says C. has neural activity of peaceful, sleeping person, no pain, no boredom—just z's. But tears seemed hyper-real. Embarrassment, not just auto-response or irritation of eyes. SHAVE. No awareness in gaze, mouth open a little, but IN THERE. IN THERE & IN PAIN.
Against rules, brought in portable TV & left it playing all night for C. Can't stop thinking about it. Trying hard. Can't imagine lying in that bed, restraints, forever, awake.
* * * *
Sat. 12 MAR, 20—
C. has name. Snuck peek in records & found it: Clementine McNab. Googled name & saw story in newspaper, like afterthought stuck between blurbs about gay preacher & celeb with too many wives. Some small town society page w/local dirt. C. was high-school girl found trapped in coffin after busy-body called to complain about neighbor's bull mastiff starving to death in back yard. C. starving, too & catatonic, ‘boyfriend’ dead of aneurism in bathroom full of mouse traps, dead roaches, thumb cuffs. Docs estimate C. trapped in coffin for 3 days after death of boyfriend, & unknown amount of time before. Cigar butts suggest months.
Kidnapped? Volunteer? Everyone has different theory.
Other information locked in Dr. P's private case file on C. At change of shift told D. about tears, & D. said C's eyes both closed, all day, every day. D. looked suspicious, so I changed subject to 3 other patients. Didn't want D. thinking, “Jones obsessed w/C. Should inform Dr. P.” Don't want to lose job, even w/low pay & crappy admin power-politics. Need to stay more than ever now, to keep an eye on C. What if yours truly = only person at JPI who knows she's awake?
Had all this stuff running through brain while doing rounds in produce E-wing. Long concrete hallway of doors w/peepholes. Never noticed before, but looks like bomb shelter. Cold, damp, not therapeutic. But patients all sleepers, right? Flowers & dayroom not necessary, just food, meds & sanitation.
C. had eyes open, blonde hair greasy, cotton gown crooked & showing knees. Eyes like blue glass under dirty hair. Couldn't stand any of it—dungeon atmosphere, C. strapped down & memories of coffin making C. look like little girl. Not on schedule, but decided to wash hair. Feeling like idiot, told her shaving legs not possible. Nothing sharp allowed in wings D through F. Risk too great. Voice sounded weird in room, like standing in closet talking to coats. Hard to touch C. after yesterday. Before was more like changing diapers on baby. But tonight, C. more human, Real Live Woman.
Put hands on C.'s damp-cotton hair, hands weirdly dark even though yours truly only a semi-tan white guy. Couldn't help but glance down v-neck of gown, while resting C.'s head on edge of clean bedpan, good shape for washing bed-bound person's hair. Breasts just anatomy before, like fingers, elbows, anus. Meat. Now, beautiful breasts like ripe tangerines. Clementines. C.'s nipples stiff when warm water touched scalp & hard to keep hands steady, soap bar sliding through hair. Heart in throat, rinsed soap away & grabbed stethoscope, slipped cool metal under C.'s shirt to l. breast. C.'s heart racing, eyes vacant, mouth just blank line of nothing. Said: Clementine, & heart beat faster.
Like ribs might crack, blood crashing like waterfall.
Said: Name's Jones, Clementine. Can you hear me?
Across l. collarbone in tiny letters like bird footprints, JONES. Heart going dubbadubbadubba. Then, HELP. Letters like lines of cocaine on a mir
ror. Stethoscope hit floor with crash and clatter, metal on cement.
Thought about drying C.'s hair & bugging out. Too intense. Dr. P will kill yours truly. Dismember, dance on bones. Things going to shit—hands tied. Should call docs & give full report on C. but can't. EEG says C. just dreamer. Maybe new EEG will show breakthrough & C. ready to emerge from catatonic, schizoid state? Nope, C. still frozen like department store dress dummy w/Dr. P's threat in room like stink of rotten meat. Ole Jonesy going nutbar, too?
Letters on C.'s collarbone faded, just smooth white skin.
Then, very small, like needle scratches: touch. Tears all down face, sliding into ears.
Couldn't shave legs. Too obvious. D. would see & report. But just touch? C. so lonesome & alone.
Hand shaking bad, reached, put finger on word, bumpy like Braille. From hump of H, line arose, like worm sliding beneath skin, stopped until finger followed. Across collarbone to base of throat, then under neckline of gown to l. breast. Rested hand shivering on tangerine breast, felt nipple against palm. Cherry stone. Sudden pain in groin, hard as marble in shorts. Pulled hand away and left C. with wet hair, water sloshing from bedpan onto floor, slammed door.
Yours truly standing in hallway, w/bedpan in hand, heart in throat. Bar of soap in pocket, tears on face.
Monster? Monstrous.
* * * *
Sun. 13 MAR, 20—
Tried to stay away from C. today. Put TV in room & stayed at station after rounds. Sundays, Dr. P makes 100% rounds, A-F wings. At 11 pm, I took TV back to station & popped in baseball tape. Pretended to care about Sox vs. Yanks while Dr. P in C.'s room. To self, promised never to touch C. again, prayed Dr. P wouldn't see letters on C. saying “JONES = PERVERT.” Sick & sad about touching C., though still wish some way to help. Thinking about telling Dr. P about letters anyway, but scared to death.
Dr. P stayed w/C. the longest, 30 min. when everyone else got 5. Before leaving, asked all sorts of probing questions re: C. Seen any marks lately? Eyes, open? Closed? Change of body position? What times, etc. etc. Told him about the cigar-burn, but kept quiet on words. Thought maybe Dr. P was laying trap or testing loyalty. Wanted to tell doc about words: C. awake & so lonely. Need to give C. walks, rec time, permanent TV set. But Dr. P's eyes like snake's, cold, unblinking. Used to think C's gaze empty, but now know the truth about empty.
Didn't say another word, except: Yes, doc & No, doc.
Dr. P gave hard smile and said: Good boy, Jonesy. Was good idea to give you night shift; can tell you're happier. Doing an excellent job down here.
Said: Thanks, doc. Kept poker face.
Couldn't help it, when Dr. P left, went into C.'s room to bring back TV & check her status. Felt mouth go dry. C.'s face scrunched up like experiencing BAD smell. Tears & snot all over face, gown a mess, ties all undone. First thing, thought she'd been raped, sick fucker Dr. P would feel my hands around throat. But was adjusting gown & words (like child writing with crayons) appeared on C.'s r. forearm: P-I-C-T-U-R-E-S.
& idiot night nurse said: You can make pictures now?
+ BELLY.
+
Untied r. gown laces and looked at C.'s abdomen. Tried not to look lower, but saw dk. blonde curls anyway. Screaming words on C.'s belly, fading, but still readable: AWAKE! PLEASE HELP!! The word “help” slanting downward toward navel.
With heart thumping, said: Dr. P took pictures & you asked for help? Told him AWAKE, but doc took pictures & left?
No answer, just tears. So many tears & eyes like blue ice. Heart-shaped face, beautiful child-woman, crying in streams & a pain in my heart so sharp, almost forgot to breathe. With hands shaking bad, wiped tears away, washed face w/cool water & said: I want to help, don't know how. Took night job because bad with people. Scared of Dr. P. Can't do anything. Shit!
On the curve of C.'s cheekbone, a word so tiny and precise.
Kiss.
Brain almost exploded, yours truly holding onto edge of bed like drowning man. So many things wrong with request for kiss, couldn't form coherent argument. But heart made decision that head couldn't. Leaned & pressed lips against word. One kiss on cheek, innocent, right? Could taste C.'s tears & felt brain tip into overload—kissed eyelids, felt lashes quiver against lips. Thought: damned anyway, so kissed mouth too, felt C.'s lips part and tasted breath, cool & sweet w/wintergreen toothpaste.
A universe in a kiss, all things compressed in empty space between lips. Pulled away & C. was looking, eyes open. Hard to think of eyes as empty, so close, sharing breath. Necklace slid & “C” dangled in hollow of throat. Just below, raised words in loopy script: Sweet Jones.—3
* * * *
Mon. 14 MAR, 20—
Day off today & can only think of C. My life not so very different after all. Apartment not much bigger than room on E-wing, just bed, TV and sink. Shared toilet down the hall & all neighbors gone all day. I lie in bed & look up at ceiling w/one eye open & one closed. Does not alleviate boredom. TV helps a little, but mostly same 3 commercials, over & over, so gets old fast. Not much of cook & too pudgy anyway, so don't spend much time eating. Would go out & have beer, but seems weird to drink beer in afternoon; sad sack losers chain smoking & making eyes at tired cocktail waitress = sadder than yours truly.
Can't help but think must be more to life than this, & for C. too, shackled to bed, not even same 3 commercials to help pass days. Both of us could be in coffin, side by side—would make no difference to world. Only solace = I know about C., can help make her life a little better, maybe.
Keep thinking about last words: Sweet Jones, & little heart shape. Nobody ever loved yours truly, maybe Momma, but nobody else. Probably not Momma either, actually.
* * * *
Tues. 15 MAR, 20—
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Can't believe how idiotic people can be, especially yours truly. Never thought especially bright but not stupid either, until today.
Day off seemed so long, couldn't wait to see C. Had tunnel vision, all the way to E-wing. Ignored D. on the way in. Waved but didn't stop to trade stories. D. must have brushed out C.'s hair, though doesn't like to touch catatonics, because hair was shining, like pulled taffy—vanilla & lemon in waves. Probably wishful thinking, but C.'s eyes seemed to focus when door closed & I said: Clementine. Not imagination when cheeks turned pink & pulse jumped (this verified with stethoscope, warmed in palm).
Took plastic sandwich bag out of pocket, showed gift: ice. Cube against her lips, me smiling away while ice melted & water ran like tears down cheeks to wet pillow. Gown all tied up, & blanket tucked to chin, so C. made words on cheek down path of melted water: Jones came back.
1st stupid thing. Not to tell C. re: day off. JPI shift-schedule = punishing. 10 hr. days, 1 day off every 2 wks. Must have thought, “Jones not coming back at all,” or “Maybe Jones dead on side of road."
Said: Sorry didn't tell you, C. Had a day off, but thought of you & couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Beautiful—
& C.'s words, loopy cursive on cheek, chin, forehead, neck. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Love. Last one in hollow of throat, letters so small, almost invisible under thin gold necklace.
Heart like happy seagull, floating in warm breeze, soaring & diving in chest. No more thoughts of Jones = pervert, because C. IN THERE & asking for love. Kissed her cheek, chin, forehead & neck, following words rippling across soft, pale skin. Untied gown & followed “kisses” across collarbone, down curve of breast to nipple. Tears from my cheeks on C.'s skin, making all taste salty—tears for wounds revealed, a map of pain written on long, soft body. During day off, C. busy w/marks. 2 burns on breast, bracelets on skinny wrists, whip welts on belly, long parallel razor cuts on inner thighs. Kissed all. Parted thighs, kissed deepest part of C. & heard rush of breath.
Love makes people stupid & impatient & blind. So busy w/C. & her rippling flesh-words, fingers inside her, tasting her salt & happy as lottery winner when C.'s muscles contract & give gift of wetness on fingers & chin. Happy, happy me to have a banquet befo
re me, colors across C.'s flesh like fireworks as she comes alive a little, sighs & closes eyes, happy woman. So busy, that sound of door opening drowned out w/sound of own moans. Finally heard door shut & pulled gown over C. but too late. 2nd stupid thing, carried away by love & caught in act.
Dr. P standing there w/ugly smile on face. Said: D. wasn't wrong. Surprise! We find Jones face first in Ms. McNab.
Saw whole life flash before eyes. Jones not just fired, imprisoned for rape & made example of before Board. Show Dr. P as vigilant administrator, deserves raise, yes? Yes! & dirty, vile Jones put away for life, turned into sad, pudgy sex toy for hardened inmates. Weeping, said: C. asked me to. Followed her words where C. wanted me to go. C.'s IN THERE, Dr. P, & lonesome all the time. Can't bust me, Dr. P. C. needs Jonesy.
Dr. P showed envelope w/pictures & terrible sinking feeling he would show pictures of C. w/out words. Jones = pervert after all. Almost passed out from panic.
Dr. P didn't show photographs, said: Firing D., not Jones. Good to have someone who understands secrets. If administrators knew C. aware, would transfer C. to large university laboratory for study. Not good for Dr. P's career, oh no, & not great for Jonesy's disturbing love life either. & Dr. P took scalpel from coat pocket, hitched up C.'s gown & touched point to l. nipple. Said: Dr. P comes down to E-wing to see C. whenever necessary & Jonesy makes no notes in log. When Dr. P leaves, C. belongs to Jones. Clear?
Wanted to snatch scalpel & ram into Dr. P's ear. Wanted to sit on Dr. P's chest & urinate in face. Bad, nasty, monstrous Dr. P. But couldn't move, all attention on C. & getting Dr. P out, soon as possible. Said: Ok, Dr. P. Jonesy's your man.
Dr. P took out camera, said: Jonesy won't mind giving C. a little kiss?
Felt heart sink into stomach like battleship. No escaping. If refuse: Dr. P gets D. to testify against Jones & C. = victim of Dr. P forever. If accept: Jonesy's picture held hostage for good behavior & C. = victim of Dr. P forever. Lose/lose. All lost. All hopeless. Only thing is stay w/C. no matter what.
Bent, gave C. a kiss on lips & flinched at sound of digital camera, click-whirr.
