Chloe rushed to his side, grabbed her board and wrote. PLAY A GAME?
“Play a game? My friend is on the floor, dead, killed by your sister, and you want to know if I want to play a fucking game?”
Stung by his response, tears welled in her eyes.
“Come, Chloe, let’s give him some space,” Claire said.
Chloe got up and walked out of the room.
Ensuring her sister was gone, Claire turned to Paul and said, “If you hurt my sister’s feelings again, I’ll kill you.”
***
Paul fought the urge to sleep. He’d nod off for a second, but visions of waking up with a cleaver imbedded in his skull was his motivator to wake himself back up.
Throughout the day, Chloe kept checking on him, but he rebuffed her each time.
Claire returned twice. Once to remove Kevin’s body and the second time to clean up the blood. Each time she remained quiet, never speaking a word but occasionally giving him a stern look.
Paul was beyond terrified, if that was even possible. It was one thing to see adults act savagely, or ferals rip and tear at their victims; it was another to witness a young girl brutally murder your only friend. His mind searched for an answer, a solution, but none came without him having to confront Claire. Escape was the only way he’d survive, but that required moving, and that was something he was having a difficult time doing considering he only had one leg.
After hours of struggling to remain awake, he found solace in the fact he was still alive. If it had been up to Claire, that cleaver would have found a home in his head too. He owed his life to Chloe, but even though she’d saved him, he could never be the same around her. Trusting that Chloe would be his protector for now, he allowed the weariness to win out. He closed his eyes and drifted off.
***
He opened his eyes but quickly closed them due to the bright light. Am I dead?
A hand touched his arm.
He squinted and saw Chloe sitting next to him. She gave him a quick wave and held up a deck of cards.
“Now?” he asked.
She nodded, an excited look on her face.
He sat up, rubbed his sore eyes and yawned. His mind raced, thinking about the events yesterday, and for a second he wondered if it all had been a nightmare.
Chloe shuffled the deck and handed out exactly seven cards each.
“Go Fish?” he asked.
She nodded.
“What time is it?”
Putting her cards down, she flashed ten fingers.
“Ten in the morning?”
She nodded, picking up her cards.
“I’m hungry. Is there breakfast?”
She jumped off the bed and brought over a tray. On it was toast smeared with butter, scrambled eggs and what could only be canned corned beef hash.
He picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. He chewed a few times before stopping. Thoughts of Kevin came rushing in. Here he was eating toast and playing cards and his friend was dead, murdered in the cruelest way. Losing his appetite, he put the toast down and pushed the tray away from him.
Chloe held up her board. TWOS?
He stared at her. How can I play, knowing everything I know?
She put the board closer to his face.
Kevin’s last words came to him. He needed to know. “What’s in the barn?”
She lowered the board, furrowed her brow and shook her head.
“Why did Claire kill Kevin? Tell me,” Paul begged.
She wiped the board, wrote and held it up. NO TALKING. PLAY.
“How can I play after what happened? I need to know. Please tell me,” he urged with pleading eyes.
She shook her head and tapped hard on the board. NO TALKING. PLAY.
“I’ll play if you tell me why,” Paul bargained.
Chloe clenched her jaw tight, threw her cards on the bed and stormed off, slamming the door behind her.
Paul heard another door slam shut farther down the hall. An impulsive idea popped into his head. He tossed the sheet off and lowered himself to the floor. The short distance to the door seemed like a mile, but if he was going to make an escape, now was the time. It took four hops to make it to the door. He opened it and looked out. No one was there. He listened. Where’s Claire?
Across the hall was Kevin’s old room. He needed the truck’s keys and they had to be there, he hoped. Looking at the distance, he’d have to hop five to six times to reach the door. He took a deep breath and began. When he reached the door, he celebrated briefly. He turned the knob and slowly opened the door. On the dresser he spotted the keys; fortunately for him they were close. He hopped over and grabbed them. His leg was throbbing from all the exertion and he’d only gone a short distance. He still needed to get downstairs and outside to the truck. So far, everything was going smoothly.
He hopped out of the room and to the top of the stairs. The twenty-three steps represented his greatest challenge, but he had no choice, there was no other way to get down. He firmly took hold of the railing and hopped one step at a time. On the fifth step, his foot slipped. He steadied himself but dropped the keys. He squatted down, looped his finger through the key ring and stood up. He took hold of the railing and was about to step when a voice called out.
“Hi, Paul. Where are you going?” Claire asked, looking up at him from the landing below.
“Just get out of my way. I’m leaving. I won’t tell a word, I promise, just please let me go,” he begged.
“I can’t do that,” Claire said.
“You can, please.”
Claire looked past him and smiled. “I told you, Chloe. He doesn’t really care about you.”
Paul looked behind him to see Chloe was there, tears in her eyes.
“Chloe, I need to leave. Please let me go. You’re a sweet person. I’ll come back. I just need to go.”
Chloe rolled her hands into fists and stepped down to just above Paul.
Seeing the anger on her face, Paul continued to plead, “Chloe, please let me leave.”
She didn’t reply, she only stared.
“This is a bad idea. Help me back up. How about we play some Go Fish? Huh? What do you say?” Paul asked, deciding to change course with hopes she’d forgive him.
Still she didn’t reply.
“I’ll play as much as you want, I swear. I won’t try to leave again. I’ll play any game you want me to, deal?” he begged.
The anger left her face and the tension melted away from her body. She smiled and nodded.
“Thank you.”
“You can’t trust him,” Claire snarled.
Chloe looked at Claire, nodded, turned her attention to Paul and, without hesitation, shoved him hard.
He lost his balance and fell backwards. He slid to the bottom and smacked his head against the wall. He tried to get up, but quickly the darkness came and with it a loss of consciousness.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE FARM, EAST OF TYHEE, IDAHO
JUNE 18, 2020
In and out of consciousness Paul went until finally he came to. He was back in his bed. His head and back hurt, but his good leg was burning with pain.
The door opened and Chloe walked in, holding a tray. She set it down and waved.
Paul looked out the window. It was morning, so he’d been out for almost a day.
HUNGRY?
“Yes.”
She tucked several pillows behind his head and helped him sit up. She placed the tray on his lap and took a seat on the bed next to him.
On the plate were two fried eggs, potatoes and toast. His stomach growled at the sight of the food.
She held up her board. SORRY.
Giving in to his fate for now, he planned on playing along. “No, I’m sorry. I won’t do that again. Plus, I’m not sure if I can. I must’ve really hurt my leg in the fall.”
She smiled.
Paul devoured his food. A question popped in his head. One that he needed answered. With a mouthful of food, he ask
ed, “Kevin said something about…the barn.”
Chloe’s smile melted away.
“Chloe, is there something in the barn? Kevin seemed really upset, scared even,” Paul said before pausing. “He said you were dangerous. I would agree with him concerning Claire, but you, you’re not like her.”
Chloe looked down, her long bangs covering her face.
“Tell me, what’s in the barn?”
She shook her head.
“You can tell me, we’re friends,” Paul said, placing his hand on hers.
“Nothing is in the barn,” Claire blurted out, emerging from the shadows of the hallway. She walked up to Paul’s side. “How do you feel?”
“A bit out of it. You put me on some type of painkiller, it feels like. And my good leg, I think I hurt my knee. Feels like I tore a tendon or something,” Paul explained.
“I don’t think so,” Claire said.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
Claire looked at Chloe and smiled.
Chloe returned the same smile.
Paul looked beyond the tray and noticed something was different. He shoved the tray to the side and lifted the sheet and looked down to discover the most horrific thing. His other leg was missing. “My leg. You cut off my other leg? Why, why would you do that?”
“Because you promised you’d stay and play with Chloe. The only way I could guarantee you’d hold up your end of the bargain was by making sure you had no chance of ever leaving again,” Claire explained.
“No! What have you done to me?”
Chloe took his hand and gave him a big smile.
Disgusted and angry, he ripped his hand from hers and screamed, “You’re fucking monsters, both of you. How dare you!”
Claire pursed her lips and said, “I suggest you tone down your attitude.”
“I won’t. What’s next? You’ll cut off my arm?”
“Maybe.”
Chloe reached for Paul’s hand again, but he gave her the harshest look and yelled, “Don’t you dare touch me. You’re a fucking monster. I hate you!”
Tears burst from Chloe as she ran out of the room.
Claire stood up, her face red. “I told you I’d kill you if you hurt my sister.”
Getting a grip on his emotions, he cautioned, “No, don’t do that, please, I’m sorry. I’m in shock, clearly.”
Claire walked to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, opened the top drawer and removed a knife. She turned back and said, “You were warned.”
“No. I’m sorry, please.”
Knocking on the front door echoed up the stairs.
A look of surprise washed over Claire’s face.
Knowing this was an opportunity to get rescued, Paul called out, “Help me. I’m upstairs. Help! Help!”
Claire marched over to Paul and held the knife inches from his face.
“Hello!” a woman called from out front. “Anyone home?”
She took the napkin from the tray and shoved it into his mouth.
Chloe appeared in the doorway.
“I need you to watch over him. Make sure he doesn’t say a word,” Claire ordered, handing Chloe the knife before leaving the room.
Heavier banging on the door. “Hello! We saw your signs. We need help.”
Immediately after killing Kevin, Claire had gone out and placed the signs up again.
***
“Please, my friend needs assistance. Is anyone there?” the woman called out.
Claire reached the ground floor and peeked out a side window. On the front porch was a middle-aged woman and a man who appeared injured, his arm bleeding badly. She went to the front door and hollered, “Is it just you two?”
“Oh, thank God someone is home. Yes, it’s just us. Please open. We need help,” the woman replied.
***
Upstairs, Chloe held the knife with both hands, keeping her eyes glued on Paul to make sure he wouldn’t do anything.
“One second,” Claire said and ran off to the kitchen. She returned with the now infamous cleaver. She unlocked the door and stepped clear of the open doorway. “Hello.”
The woman dragged the man across the threshold and beelined for the couch. “One of those things grabbed his arm. I think they might have dislocated it too.”
***
In a show of defiance, Paul spit out the napkin.
Chloe approached and pointed the knife at him. The look on her face was determined.
“I like you a lot. You’re like the little sister I never had. You’re very sweet, but your sister isn’t. We, you and I, need to leave this place, and the one way we can is to let those people downstairs know.”
Chloe jabbed the knife in the air, motioning for him to put the napkin back in his mouth.
“I’m going to call out. Please don’t stab me,” Paul said.
Chloe stepped up and placed the knife against his throat. Her hands were shaking badly.
“You’re a good and sweet girl; you won’t hurt me. I trust that,” Paul said.
***
Downstairs, the woman tore off her companion’s shirt and began to examine him, looking for more wounds. “I need a first aid kit; do you have one?”
Claire didn’t reply. She stood back, clenching the cleaver behind her back.
***
“I trust you. You’re good and sweet, you won’t hurt me. I know it,” Paul said, tears welling up in his eyes. “Help! Help me. They’re holding me hostage!” Paul yelled.
Chloe’s shaking hands got worse, and she mouthed NO.
“Help me. I’m upstairs. They’re holding me hostage!” Paul screamed.
***
The woman turned, looked up and saw Claire holding the cleaver. “What are you doing?”
Claire brought the cleaver down hard on top of the woman’s head. She pulled it out and slammed it against the man’s throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, much of it covering Claire’s floral dress, arms and face.
***
Hearing the confrontation, Paul cried out, “No. God, no!”
Chloe kept the knife at his throat, her hands trembling.
Defeated, Paul moaned and whimpered as tears flowed down his face.
Claire opened the door and stepped into the room. In her right hand she held the cleaver, dark blood dripping from it. Her piercing blue eyes stood out more against the contrast of her bloody face. “Chloe, come. We have to clean up. You know how Mother hates a mess.”
Doing as she was ordered, Chloe left the room.
Claire walked up to the bedside and looked down on Paul. “You killed those people.”
“No, you did. You’re a monster,” Paul cried.
“I’m a monster? No, I’m a survivor,” Claire said. She turned and left Paul sobbing uncontrollably. She walked to the dresser, opened the left drawer and removed a long syringe. She marched back and stood above him.
“What is that?” he groaned, frozen in fear.
“It will help you sleep,” she answered, sticking it in his arm.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why?” he mumbled as he drifted off.
She leaned over him and said, “Just remember, I warned you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE FARM, EAST OF TYHEE, IDAHO
JUNE 19, 2020
Paul coughed. He opened his eyes but found he was surrounded by total darkness. The next thing that hit him was the awful smell. He wasn’t in his bed, that was for sure, but where was he?
His arms were bound and tied around a slender pole behind him. He could touch the floor; it was concrete. Where am I?
Loud bangs came from feet away.
He jumped and his heart raced. Something was there with him.
A door opened behind him and chased away the dark.
Able to see, he looked around. To his left and right were metal bars. I’m in a cage in…the barn. He screamed in his mind. “Who’s that? Who just came in?”
Chloe walked up and waved.
Claire c
ame just behind her and stopped. She towered over him. “Hi, Paul.”
“I’m sorry, okay. Please forgive me. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll be the best playmate Chloe has ever had. I swear.”
“I told you what would happen, but I’ll give you one more chance,” Claire said and turned to Chloe.
Chloe frowned and shook her head.
“No, Chloe, please. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” Paul pleaded.
Chloe scribbled I FORGIVE YOU.
Paul burst out crying, thinking she had changed her mind concerning his fate. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be better. Please let me out of this cage. I’m scared.”
She wiped the board and wrote some more. Done, she held it up. BUT I DON’T LIKE YOU ANYMORE. YOU ARE MEAN. GOODBYE.
“No, I’m not mean. I promise I’ll be better, please,” Paul begged.
Chloe walked out of sight, only Claire remained.
Banging and chains rattled in the far corner of the large cage.
Paul looked all around. He was enclosed in a large cage and something was in there with him. “What’s that noise?”
Claire walked to a lever and placed her hand on it. “You said you wanted to know what was in the barn. Paul, I want you to meet our mother.” She pulled the lever. A loud thud followed.
Paul first heard the footsteps; then he saw…HER.
Mother emerged from the darkness. She was a feral and, by the looks of it, hungry. What clothing she had on barely clung to her body, and what was exposed was covered in feces, blood and scabs. She cocked her head and stared at Paul with her bulging eyes.
“Hi, Mother,” Claire said.
Mother looked at Claire and shrieked.
Detour: A Post-Apocalyptic Horror Story Page 16
