by Jeremy Seals
What came next was not.
Extending from the cylindrical handle of the tool was a metal straw. The creature was none too delicately ramming it into the bleeding wound. The device whirred loudly. Something burrowed deep into the muscle, drilling down until it hit the bone.
Markus screamed silently. Tidal waves of pain crashed from toe to temple. Tears and snot ran in rivers. Sour sweat flowed out his forehead. Bile kicked up from his stomach. The mark behind his ear gushed blood.
“Done,” The tall being said at last. “Attempt removal of these and we will be forced to end you.”
In extreme agony, racked with cramps and the pain of two implants buzzing through his body, Markus could not reply. He wanted to promise to be a good patient. To swear that he would live happily tagged. If they wanted him to be an experiment, that would be just fine.
“Wipe and return.” The creature commanded. “Make sure evidence of the fallen hybrid is completely erased.”
As the stumpy beasts went to their tasks, the slender being walked over to a control panel. It touched a glowing yellow button. On a screen that shimmered in midair, a sleeping young woman’s face appeared.
On to the next.
School
At first sight, Stoddard School looked a dream. It was a medium sized, bright red brick building, surrounded by a white picket fence. A brightly colored playground stood in the neatly mulched enclosure. There was a paved area with a basketball hoop at the far end. The happy sound of children singing filtered out through the open windows.
Megan turned and smiled at the pigtailed brunette kid sitting sourly in her pink princess car seat. “See how pretty it is, Georgia?”
“I don’t care,” her daughter replied sullenly, arms folded across her chest. “I hate it. I want to go back to my old school.”
“We’ve discussed this already. Mommy’s job moved, so we had to move with it. Now get your lunch. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”
Grumpily, the child complied, trudging a good ten feet behind her mother. A new lunchbox, in the shape of a fat grey cartoon cat, banged against her hip. She kicked at a rock. It skittered off the concrete sidewalk, landing at the work booted feet of a tall, broad shouldered groundskeeper. He looked disapprovingly at the little girl. Georgia sped up a bit, moving closer to Megan.
The double glass doors opened as the duo walked up. A middle aged woman, pleasantly plump with a neat, stylish short haircut, held them open. Her smile was infectious. Even the thunderclouds hovering around Georgia began to disappear.
“Megan and Georgia Summers?” She asked, extending a chubby hand. Bright charms on her bracelet jingled. “I’m Miss Aurora. Welcome to Stoddard. We’re so happy to have you!”
“Hi,” Georgia said shyly, clinging to her mother’s slacks. “Are you my teacher?”
“Sometimes. You’ll have arts with me, main class with Miss Courtney, and life skills with Mr. Pete. We’ll have lots of fun.”
“Good. You’re nice.”
Internally, Megan sighed with relief. She’d fully anticipated Georgia to throw a tantrum or to get a report after school that the child had sat crankily at a desk by herself, refusing to participate. The mention of time for art and the teacher’s sunny disposition probably saved her a migraine.
“Follow me girls,” Miss Aurora began walking briskly down the hall. “I’ll get Georgia settled, then I’ll show you to the main office. Lots of fun paperwork to do.”
“Great,” Megan groaned dramatically. “First day and Mom already has to go to the office.”
“Oh Mommy!” Georgia admonished. “You’re silly!”
Miss Courtney, the teacher, was every bit as kind as Miss Aurora. Megan was happy to see the kid walk eagerly into the classroom. She was even happier to see that the other children had decorated a seat with balloons and a colorful “Welcome!” sign. It was a good place.
After her shift ended at the local pharmacy, Megan drove back over to the school, feeling quite anxious. She’d checked her cell phone at every opportunity. The worry that Georgia’s good mood hadn’t lasted was very much on her mind.
The phone had not shown a single call, email, or text. Maybe Georgia had destroyed the entire school in a critical meltdown. Some might laugh at this. They’d never seen the little girl turn into a raging supernova when in a particularly foul mood.
All her fears were groundless. Georgia emerged from the school chatty and tired. The daycare seemed to have worn her out. Her stories of new friends and all the fun activities were frequently interrupted by wide yawns. She was so sleepy during dinner that Megan expected a nose dive into her mashed potatoes.
“Was there anything you didn’t like about school?” Megan asked, half-smiling.
“Yeah,” Georgia winkled up her freckled nose. “The juice tasted bad. It was sour.”
“Maybe it’ll be a different flavor tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
After dinner, Georgia requested to go to bed rather than watch TV or play with her extensive collection of dolls. It was a little odd, but Megan chalked it up to the emotional stress of the day. God knew she was always exhausted after the first day of a new job.
“Is it okay if I look at your pictures from class, hon?” Megan asked as she tucked her daughter in. “You wanted me to see them, remember?”
“Oh yeah!” Georgia sat up in bed. “I do!”
“Don’t get up. I’ll get them out of your bag when I head back to the living room.”
“Okay,” Sleepy disappointment. “I just wish I wasn’t so tired.”
“It’s fine. You had a big day.” Megan kissed the little girl’s forehead. “Sleep well. Want the night light?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Really? Are you sure?” This was a huge surprise. Georgia was totally terrified of the dark.
“Yeah. We talked about it at school. Miss Courtney said that nighttime is just a normal thing that happens,” Georgia explained. “That lots of good things happen in the dark. The class made a list of them. I thought of fireworks.”
“Well, she’s right,” Megan smiled. “If you change your mind, just holler.”
“I want to give it my best try.”
“Sure. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mommy.”
Megan blew her daughter a kiss and exited. She felt proud of herself. Sending Georgia to Stoddard was already showing benefits. Absolutely worth the extra hours she’d worked to pay tuition.
She settled in the living room with a beer, retrieving Georgia’s artwork on the way. A pair of crayon pictures depicted a big orange cat wearing an impossibly tall crown and a house surrounded by giant flowers. The third picture was a bit odd. It faded the small grin on Megan’s face, furrowing her brow instead.
It depicted a girl with brown pigtails sitting on a large black throne. There was a silver tiara on her head. At least, Megan thought it was a tiara. It was drawn in thick lines. Small figures were surrounding the chair on both sides. Blue tears ran down the girl’s cheeks. A massive frown was drawn on the pink circle of her face.
This was disturbing. She couldn’t remember reading stories with Georgia about sad princesses. What were those little creatures around the seat? Why did the silver circlet seem more like a restraint than a crown?
Her eye wondered over to a small stack of DVDs piled on the entertainment center. Star Wars looked back, case open. That might explain the small monsters in the picture. Georgia had voiced a frightened fascination with the Jawas. It would make sense that the princess would be scared of them.
Still, it made Megan uneasy. She would keep an eye out for more artwork like this. It could mean some underlying problem. Finishing her beer up, she went to bed.
The next two weeks passed without incident. Georgia had explained the strange drawing was of “bad guys kidnapping a princess.” This confirmed Megan’s Star Wars theory. She still came home sleepy, and her appetite seemed off, but the little girl wasn’t losing any wei
ght, so Megan didn’t worry about it too much. Kids went through phases.
Supper at the beginning of the third week brought an escalation to the pickiness; absolute refusal to eat meat. Georgia ate all her vegetables and dinner roll. When Megan urged her to eat the cheeseburger that remained, she was met with a stony silence. This was another new behavior. Usually, even minor disagreements ended in tears.
Megan tried to combat this. Privileges were endangered. Pleas to eat at least one bite were ignored. All either tactic gained was more of the hostile quiet, complete with a dead eyed stare.
“Go to bed, Georgia!” She said at last. “I don’t want to hear it if you get hungry later. I don’t understand why you won’t even touch your burger. I thought they were your favorite!”
“Because the meat is bad!” The child’s voice was condescending, nearly cruel. “It’s not good like the meat at school.”
“What meat? We pack your lunch. The school doesn’t serve you food.”
“Miss Courtney and Miss Aurora do. You don’t know anything, you dumb bitch!”
“I know one little girl who isn’t playing any video games for a month!” Megan pointed sternly down the hall to the child’s bedroom. “Now march!”
Georgia slapped her plate off the table. It clattered noisily to the floor, spilling the contents across the faux tile. She stomped towards her room, throwing the door open hard enough to smash into the wall.
Wanting to scream, but unwilling to acknowledge the negative behavior and escalate it, Megan jabbed a finger out again, speaking through clenched teeth. “Go!”
Instead of entering her room, the kid forked two fingers at her mother. She hissed, eyes narrowing. Her lips pursed. Georgia spat between her digits, then spoke an incomprehensible word that ended in a shrill growl. This done, she went in, slamming the door.
“Good God!” Megan whispered, wiping a tear away from her eye. “What the hell was that?”
The next morning, she walked a silent Georgia to class. Miss Courtney greeted them as usual. When Megan asked for a moment of her time, the teacher readily agreed. She called for an aide to get things started before taking the concerned mother to the lounge for coffee.
“I can bet you want to discuss some odd behaviors,” Miss Courtney said, wrinkling her cute little nose in distaste. “Spitting, making weird hand gestures, being generally disrespectful? Chanting some oddball things?”
“Yes!” Megan was more than a little startled. “How did you know?”
“I’ve spoken to three other parents so far today. Roy Turner, one of the kids in Georgia’s class, was regaling the others during recess with the gory details of some horror movie he’d seen about curses and witches. He showed them something a character did.”
“Oh boy!”
“You’re telling me! His folks didn’t see anything wrong with it, either. We ended up having to remove him from the school. We can’t have disruptions like that.” Miss Courtney smiled apologetically. “Hard enough to manage without magic spells going round.”
“Well, that takes care of one problem,” Megan said. “But Georgia was talking about you and Miss Aurora giving them some meat. She wouldn’t eat a hamburger last night because of it.”
“I’m sorry,” the teacher winced. “My brother makes his own jerky. He gave me a big batch and I brought it in to share with the kids. I didn’t intend to cause you any problems at home.”
“It’s okay. Sometimes kids get picky. It’s just odd. She’s never been particular about food before.” Megan shrugged. “Hopefully this phase will pass quickly.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Miss Courtney said cheerily. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, I’ll get out of your hair so you can get to class.”
“It’s not a bother. Feel free to come to us with any concerns.”
Miss Courtney insisted on walking her out. The young teacher even waited for Megan to drive by so she could smile and wave. As Megan returned the gesture, she noted a ragged looking man digging through a dumpster behind the school.
She was about to call the school’s office when Mr. Pete, the life skills teacher, came out the back door. He approached the scavenger. Nodding with approval, Megan pulled away.
Waiting until the woman was out of sight, the educator planted a quick strike against the homeless man’s face with a shot filled drawstring bag. He caught the bum as he fell and hauled him through the back exit.
Back in the classroom, Georgia stood stolidly before Miss Courtney. The hood of her dark robe was thrown back. She was awaiting the teacher’s wrath.
“Georgia,” Miss Courtney growled, fiercely white teeth bared in the dim candlelight. “Why did you attempt to perform a destruction ritual by yourself? Without our permission?”
“Because I hate her, priestess,” Georgia’s brown eyes were filled with venom. “She’s bad. She made Daddy go away. She leaves me with stupid babysitters and runs around on dates. I hate her!”
“Worthy, initiate,” Miss Aurora spoke up. “But did you bring what was necessary to finish your ritual?”
Holding up a handful of hair collected from her mother’s brush, Georgia gave a grim smile. “I did.”
“Good. Take it and show her what to do, Priestess.” Miss Aurora turned to the other students. “The rest of you should follow Georgia’s example. Do you have enough will to take justice on those who wrong you?”
“Yes, high priestess!” The children called out.
“Do you have strength to do what must be done?”
“Yes, high priestess!”
“Who will you serve?”
“You, high priestess!”
“Who is your goddess?”
“You, high priestess!”
Light knocks at the door. Mr. Pete entered. The homeless man he’d waylaid was slung over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, bound hand and foot. His tattered clothing was removed. He’d been washed and shaved. Several cuts bled freely, speaking of the brutal haste Mr. Pete had used. A thick layer of tape covered his mouth.
“Come along children!” Miss Courtney exclaimed, leading Georgia by the hand. “Time for snack!”
A cheer came from the class. They rushed to an adjoining room hidden behind a thick black tapestry. Inside the chamber was a low onyx topped table. Appropriate sized chairs surrounded it. Places were set for each child; hand woven placemats decorated with the sigil of Baphomet, small daggers, and pint sized goblets.
Mr. Pete placed the helpless man in the center of the slab. He yanked the fellow’s shackled wrists up, securing them to an eyebolt equipped with a heavy carabiner. His legs were restrained in the same way.
Miss Aurora came around with a gallon jug full of dark purple drink. A label read “Magic Juice.” Cups were filled. The children were clutching their knives eagerly.
“Everyone drink up!” Miss Courtney said. The kids obeyed, eyes moving hungrily over the bound man.
“Now gather around,” Miss Aurora raised both hands high. “Georgia will lead our prayer today.”
The small girl bounced eagerly up from her seat. She held her small dagger outward, arms rigid and face grave.
“Please accept our sacrifice, elder gods. Take this unclean spirit into the fires of your kingdom. Grant us power and domination of our enemies. May your rule last until humanity lies stinking in the ground. Hail the old ones!”
“Hail the old ones!” The class echoed. Applause broke out. Georgia blushed happily and giggled.
“All rise!” Miss Aurora instructed.
Twelve children scooted their chairs back and stood.
“Raise your blades!”
Twelve small arms lifted twelve honed weapons.
“Partake!”
Twelve wounds followed by twelve greedy mouths.
Mr. Pete surgically carved the meat after the initial feeding. Slices from various muscles and organs were distributed. The room had all the lively chatter of a normal school cafeteria.<
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Georgia finished her meal as quickly as possible. She trotted over to Miss Courtney, who popped the last bite on her plate into her mouth and led the little girl back into the main classroom.
“Are you ready?” Miss Courtney asked, handing over a small wax doll with Megan’s hair attached.
“Yes, priestess,” Georgia’s small grin was stained red.
“You understand what will happen after the ritual is complete?”
“Yes, priestess.”
“Then proceed.”
Georgia pulled a neat selection of long needles towards her. She picked out a four inch pin, jamming it violently into the doll’s leg.
Megan was ringing up old Mrs. Lottie and her husband when a huge pain ripped through her right thigh. She spilled the open till on her way to the floor. Shrill screams filled the small pharmacy. Blood darkened her pants, pouring out from a gaping round wound.
Mrs. Lottie was rushing around the counter when a second hole opened in Megan’s left leg. The old woman stopped short, trying to call for help but unable to breathe in enough to do it. Her husband was on the phone making a futile attempt to explain to 911 what was happening.
An invisible hand gripped the young woman roughly by the wrist. It squeezed brutally for a time, grinding delicate bones together. Megan stopped shrieking long enough to whimper out a frantic plea for mercy. This was answered moments later as her arm rotated backwards, shearing tissue and tendon. It savagely popped out of socket.
The pain was explosive. Tears streamed down Megan’s cheeks. A ragged, hiccupping yell bored from her mouth. Mrs. Lottie fainted. Her hubby quit trying to talk to the befuddled operator and hung up after a panicked; “Sweet Christ, get here now!”
Claws dug into her armpit, ripping through tender flesh. Mercifully, Megan passed out a moment before her arm was torn off and thrown against a wall. Mr. Lottie vomited, then joined his wife on the floor.
An ambulance pulled up just in time to witness Megan’s severed head, trailing a ragged collar of crooked flesh, fly through the display window at the pharmacy’s front. Upon leaving their vehicle, the first responders wisely entered with a body bag.
