Madelyn's Last Dance

by Ike Hamill

  He pushed the door open farther and waved for Madelyn.

  She didn’t trust her legs, but was reenergized by the return of her vision. Madelyn stumbled after him.

  As she caught up with Elijah in the doorway, she made a startling discovery—even though it was so bright out that she had to squint, Elijah had opened the doorway to the night. She held onto him as she looked out over the starlit scene. The night was beautiful.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  “You’ve been in the dark a long time,” he whispered back.

  He took her hand and they crossed the parking lot. Madelyn found fresh energy in her legs. Her eyes darted to track the movement of the nighttime inhabitants of their world. She spotted a mouse as it slipped under some trash. She saw the dark wings of an owl above. Madelyn’s ears were working overtime as well.

  Madelyn’s stride improved quickly. Putting her legs into service turned out to be the best teacher for her atrophied muscles. Madelyn was a quick study. Before they reached the fence, Madelyn pulled her hand away from Elijah. She no longer needed his support. He held aside a branch and she led the way down an overgrown path.

  Madelyn placed her feet carefully. She didn’t know if they would be followed, but if they were, she wasn’t going to be the one who left a trail. Madelyn turned east, with a very specific destination in mind.

  Moving through the night became easy. After so long trapped in the wet basement, moving outside made her feel vital and alive. Madelyn picked up her pace, surprised to find her lungs and legs ready to move. They approached the place from the woods.

  Madelyn turned her nose to the passing breeze and smelled the people upwind of them. She couldn’t put names to the scents, but she knew what they were doing. Cleo kept people on the perimeter of the town, watching for wanderers and criminals who might try to disrupt the peace. It was simple to move between the buildings and find a quiet approach to the safe house.

  Madelyn slid open the back door and stepped inside. Elijah followed her.

  She smelled the air inside the safe house.

  “It’s smells like Dave,” she said. “You think he’s here somewhere?”

  “No,” Elijah said. “He hasn’t been here in a while.”

  “This is where Harper brought me the first time I came down from the mountains. You people were hospitable, but you had iron-clad rules.”

  Elijah smiled. In the center of the house, a vault was fitted for overnight guests. Elijah moved towards that and slipped through the door. He came back out with dry socks and shoes for himself. He handed Madelyn a jar of pickled cucumbers. She held them up to the window to look at the pickles in the starlight.

  “Sorry, nothing your size in there,” he said.

  Madelyn opened the jar. When the lid popped, the smell of vinegar and garlic was so thick she imagined she could almost see it. The pickle tasted as strong as it smelled. They had greenhouses that operated throughout the year. There was no good reason to pickle anything except out of nostalgia. Madelyn liked the nostalgia.

  “What did you do to me?” Madelyn asked. “You gave me some sort of drug or something? Is that why everything smells so strong and I can pretty much see in the dark?”

  Elijah sat down on the arm of a dirty couch. He worked at the wet knots of his shoelaces.

  “I imagine everything is a little overwhelming after being in the cellar of the shopping center,” he said.

  “I thought of that,” she said. “It doesn’t explain half of what’s going on. I could barely walk hours ago. Now I’m running around in the dark. I know you did something.”

  Elijah’s wet sock made a disgusting splat as it hit the floor. He wiggled his toes and dried them with his hands before he put on the new sock. “Nothing I hate more than wet feet,” he said.

  “You’re just going to ignore me?” she asked. She took another pickle from the jar. It snapped before it surrendered to her teeth. He changed his other sock and then put on his new shoes.

  While his hands moved, Elijah looked at her in the low light. He answered slowly. “I think it’s best if you come to your own truth. I’ll give you a little space.”

  He tied his second shoe and he was off. Even with her unbelievable eyesight, Madelyn lost track of him as he darted through the door and out into the darkness.

  # # # # #

  She ate the rest of the second pickle and then put the jar down. It was too much. Her stomach wasn’t accustomed to the acid. It wasn’t even accustomed to food anymore. Elijah had been giving her sugary drinks, but she couldn’t remember the last food that had passed her lips.

  There was more rebuilding to do. Elijah had helped her reconnect to her estranged arms and legs, but there was more to do. The rebuilding she had next on her agenda was inside her head. There was a big gap in her memory between the building collapsing and waking up in the wet basement of the shopping center.

  She knew that she had to avoid others, even if she couldn’t pinpoint the precise reason.

  Elijah hadn’t given her any help on the topic. Madelyn understood why. He had such a stubbornly optimistic view of the world that they barely spoke the same language. He would try to describe someone’s motivation and Madelyn would immediately strike it down, looking for a more cynical viewpoint. She wasn’t surprised at all that he hand’t told her how she had ended up in the basement of the shopping center. Her memory would come back eventually, and when it did it would surely differ from Elijah’s version.

  Madelyn took inventory of herself. She felt good. The pickles had given her something that she hadn’t even realized that she needed. She moved to the window and looked out at the night. There was no telling how long Elijah’s magic potion would last. Her ability to see in the dark and pick out the scents of all the nearby creatures might disappear at any second.

  The last thing she intended to do was waste her new talents by sitting around in a safe house.

  She slipped out into the night. In her very recent past, she hadn’t even been able to figure out how to control her legs. Now, she felt like she could outrun a cougar.

  Chapter 21

  {Witness}

  “WOULD YOU PLEASE TRY to keep up,” Scarlett said.

  “I’m sorry,” Amelia said. She had always thought of Scarlett as a gentle giant, but her opinion had changed over the course of the day. “I don’t actually spend that much time crashing through the brush, you know.”

  “Clearly,” Scarlett said. “I should leave you here.”

  “Please,” Amelia said. “Trust me—we have a better chance together.”

  Scarlett didn’t acknowledge the idea, but she did slow down enough that Amelia could keep up. Once they got back on a trail, Amelia found it easier to move fast. She nearly ran into Scarlett’s back when the woman stopped.

  “You hear that?” Scarlett asked.

  “No. Nothing,” Amelia said.

  Then, with no warning, Scarlett was off through the woods again. Amelia saw her disappearing in the darkness. She stopped and stood with her hands on her hips. Chasing after Scarlett was foolish. The woman would leap over a downed log that Amelia would have to climb over. If Amelia tried to chase after her, she would probably trip and smash her head on a rock.

  Amelia turned back to the trail and then stopped. She heard the sound—or at least a sound. She understood why Scarlett had run. Anyone would run to the aid of someone screaming like that. Amelia took off through the woods, following Scarlett after all.

  When she broke through the tangled brush, Amelia was scraped up and winded. She listened closely. The sound was gone. There was no clue which direction the voice had come from. The dark shape of a building ahead of her was a good sign though. Even if she couldn’t find the person who was in need of help, at least she had found some trace of civilization.

  Amelia moved forward carefully.

  The sound of breaking glass made her freeze again.

  She waited to hear if there would be more screams.

  Wh
en she didn’t hear anything more, Amelia adjusted her course to head towards where she had heard the glass. Meanwhile, she kept an ear cocked to the wind, to listen for danger.

  Closer to the building, she saw a moving shape. Amelia slowed and crept closer. The shape turned, transforming in the dim light.

  “Get over here!” Scarlett whispered.

  Amelia ran to her side.

  Scarlett slid open the window and lifted Amelia by the waist.

  “Watch out for the glass. Unlock that door,” Scarlett said.

  Amelia wanted to fight and demand a vote on who should go inside, but Scarlett was already pushing her towards the broken window. Amelia concentrated instead on making it through without being cut.

  She landed on the floor inside the building.

  She shuffled towards where she thought the back door of the place might be. There was a wall in her way. Amelia realized that she didn’t have to navigate in the darkness. Now that she was inside, it might be safe enough to use her light. She covered most of the beam with her hand and used the red glow of the light through her flesh to show her the room. She found the door and then the hall to the back door of the place.

  As soon as she turned the deadbolt, Scarlett was pushing inside.

  “About time,” Scarlett said.

  “You could have come through the window if you were in that much of a hurry,” Amelia said.

  “Too narrow,” Scarlett said. She pushed by Amelia and walked down the hall towards the stairs.

  The light was still red from Amelia’s hand covering it. Scarlett continued out of its glow as Amelia turned and glanced at the door. Normally, any shelter was preferable to being outside as darkness fell. Walls and a roof were like a blanket she could pull around herself to diffuse her heat and keep her safe. This place didn’t feel safe.

  “Come on,” Scarlett said. She put her foot on the first stair, climbing up.

  They both looked up at the sound of a scream from above.

  Scarlett pounded up the stairs. Amelia pulled her hand from the end of the light and charged after her. The hallway and then stairs flew by in bright details as Amelia’s eyes adjusted to the flashlight. Scarlett disappeared into the darkness above. Amelia reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner. Scarlett stood there, blocking the way.

  A crash of breaking glass cut through the air. Amelia’s flashlight lit up Scarlett’s back. She reached forward and put a hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. The big woman turned and Amelia shrank back from what the flashlight showed her. A red streak of blood was splashed up Scarlett’s torso and across her cheek.

  Amelia pushed by her to see what had happened.

  Just beyond Scarlett, a woman’s body lay eviscerated on the floor. Wind blew in through the broken window and parted the curtains. Amelia put her hand over the light again, suddenly conscious of the beacon that its glow represented. In the red glow of the light, the blood looked black. Amelia knelt.

  She knew the woman on the floor, but the name wouldn’t come to her.

  “Dead?” Scarlett asked.

  Amelia glanced back at Scarlett, amazed by the question. The victim’s organs were spread around the body. With so many disconnected parts, life was an absurd notion. Amelia stood.

  “What did you see?” Amelia asked. She stepped carefully over the body and pointed her light into the bathroom. She pulled a towel from the bar and handed it to Scarlett, who just stared at it.

  Scarlett began to wipe the blood from her face. It was a slow process—she wouldn’t take her eyes from the body on the floor. Amelia’s attention was pulled to the blowing curtains.

  “It was that kid—Patton’s little brother,” Scarlett said. “He was eating her. When I came around the corner, he spun around and the blood hit me.”

  “You’re crazy,” Amelia hissed. “Patton’s little brother? You mean Niren? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “I know what I saw,” Scarlett said.

  “Penelope,” Amelia said, pointing down. The name had popped into her head.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I couldn’t think of it.”

  Scarlett finished wiping as much of Penelope’s blood from her clothes as she could. She dropped the towel on the floor. Amelia set down her flashlight and picked up the towel to drape it over Penelope’s open torso and head.

  Scarlett moved to the window and pushed aside the drapes. When she did, Amelia’s hand automatically covered her light. She didn’t want to advertise their position to whatever might be out there.

  “He killed my brother, and now he killed her,” Scarlett said. “I should have jumped him.”

  “It was dark,” Amelia said. Scarlett was already moving for the front door. “You can’t be sure what you saw.”

  Scarlett opened the door and stepped out into the night.

  “We have tell people about this,” Amelia said. “They need to know that something is out there.”

  Amelia clicked off her light as she moved to the threshold. She watched Scarlett cross the starlit yard and pause to examine the ground. It was impossible that she could actually see enough to find a trail. Amelia looked back into the dark room until her eyes resolved the body there. They couldn’t just leave her. Animals would smell the blood through the broken window. On the outskirts of town, they might be bold enough to come inside and violate the remains.

  When Amelia turned back to discuss the thought with Scarlett, she saw that the woman was gone. She had disappeared into the shadows. Amelia pulled the door shut behind herself and stood on the porch. She was alone, and felt surrounded by danger and death.

  Chapter 22

  {Meeting}

  BROOK STARED AT ISAAC. The way he was lying there with his eyes closed, looking perfectly peaceful, was infuriating. They had to do something.

  He turned his head towards her and opened his eyes.

  “Could you stop that?” Isaac asked.

  “What?”

  “You’re jiggling your leg. It’s shaking this whole place.”

  “Please. The floor is cement. How is it possible that me jiggling my leg is shaking anything?” she asked. She could hear the bars squeaking where her bench attached to the cell, but she kept jiggling her leg anyway. Isaac had yelled at her to stop pacing, so she had sat down. Brook considered that to be plenty of compromise on her part.

  Isaac sat up. He looked like he was gearing up for another argument. Brook was tired of arguing with him. He pretended to listen, but logic didn’t penetrate his brain. If he started to argue again, she figured it might be time to find another outlet for all her extra energy. Maybe she could burn off some of her nerves by pressing his face into the floor.

  He opened his mouth to say something. Isaac must have seen the fire in her eyes. He closed his mouth again.

  They both turned towards the door at the sound of feet coming down the steps.

  It was one of Cleo’s guards—Mason.

  The man clicked off his flashlight when he entered. He picked up the lantern from the desk and the shadows from the bars swept back and forth across the wall. Brook had a terrible premonition—Mason had only come to take away their light.

  Isaac jumped up.

  “Listen, Mason, I understand why you guys might have thought that I was with those guys, but honestly, I was only going out tracking with them as a favor to Logan. He sponsored me when I came to town. I hardly know him though,” Isaac said.

  “Calm down. You’re not going to trials any time soon. I’ve come to bring you two to an emergency meeting. Cleo wants to know what you saw out in the woods.”

  “The woods?” Brook asked.

  “Don’t tell me about it,” Mason said. “Save it for the meeting. Put your hands through the bars.”

  They followed his instructions and he zipped their wrists behind their backs. With that done, he connected the two of them by their bound wrists. It was an incredibly inconvenient arrangement. They could walk side by side if they both wrenched their arms towar
ds the middle. To fit through the doorway of the cell, Isaac had to walk backwards.

  Mason laughed at them and pointed towards the stairs. Somehow Isaac took the lead and Brook had to walk backwards up the steps, looking down at Mason. She had the urge to jump at him and kick him in his smiling face, but that would do no good. If she jumped at Mason, she would pull Isaac backwards and the three of them would tumble down the stairs.

  Once they were at the top, Mason grabbed the union of their wrists and directed them forward.

  “Where’s the meeting?” Isaac asked.

  “Attic,” Mason said.

  Brook whipped around to see if he was serious. She nearly lost her balance.

  # # # # #

  As Mason guided them down the trails to the old library, the brush encroached more and more on either side. Supposedly, the attic of the old library had once been the primary meeting place for citizens of Fairbanks, but Brook had never known it as such. When they were kids, her friends used to dare each other to enter the dusty building. Nobody ever met there. The place was too full of ghosts to be serviceable for meetings.

  She looked at Isaac. He didn’t seem concerned about their destination, but he hadn’t grown up in Fairbanks.

  “Take a right,” Mason said.

  She caught a glimpse of the place through the trees and saw some other people climbing the rusty fire escape to the east entrance.

  “Why are we meeting there?” Brook asked.

  “Keep moving,” Mason said. “I’ll cut your ties when we get to the entrance, but don’t try to run. You run and the whole town will come after you.”

  Brook didn’t like the sound of that.

  She looked at Isaac. He seemed nervous too.

  “Why not meet in the safe harbor at least?” Isaac asked.