Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A tale of Atomic Love

by Yardley, Mercedes M.

  She didn’t look like his Montessa at all. She was a stone goddess. Something viral. So much power and strength that she was the best predator of all, top of the food chain. He was her servant. He was her equal. He was her god, and she was everything to him. Everything. All.

  No use for creeping. Montessa was surprised that the shattering glass hadn’t brought her father to the door, but a few more steps into the dark, hopeless house and she saw why. He was passed out on a mattress on the floor. Drunk. High. Dead. Whatever.

  No, not dead. His chest rose and fell, and the obscenity of watching him breathe, of watching him trap the air and pull it, screaming, into his mouth and shoving it into his filthy wet lungs, made her turn away. She set her jaw. Settled her stomach. Looked back at the man who was a monster to her.

  “He looks so old,” she said and frowned. His face was lined. His hair had turned gray. His body was soft and fat where she remembered it being mean and hard.

  “And he seems smaller.” She gestured at him with the knife. “He used to be so big. So tall. The room shook when he moved. But this guy?”

  Her father turned over in his sleep and Montessa jerked, flinched. Cringed, and then hated herself for it. Hated herself and hated this beast that wore the meat suit of a man.

  “What are you going to do?” Lu asked. He sat on the ground, crossing his legs and looking calm, but his fingers tapped. Tapped the floor and plucked at his clothes. He was so angry, so wound up he wanted to scream, wanted to take the knife from Montessa and plunge it into the old man’s eyes, into his cheeks, into his groin over and over and over. To neuter him. Make him docile. There’s no threat, darling, your father is standing over there in the corner with a chain around his neck. Look, he just stands there and moans. Can’t see a thing without eyes. Can’t say anything without a tongue. He’s useless. Lame. Maimed. He’s something to laugh at, to throw food at, mock. Don’t you want to mock your daddy, baby? After all he did to you? Don’t you?

  “I want to do it quick.”

  Lu stared at her.

  “Quick? Are you serious? You have him here, Montessa. He’s right here. Helpless. Think of how he hurt you, what he did to you! You can make him suffer. Make him suffer.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Lu was on his feet then, bouncing from foot to foot, whispering loudly.

  “You’ll never have this chance again. Do you realize it?”

  He wanted her to understand. Needed her to.

  “The dog needs put down, baby,” he said. He held his hand out, realized it was shaking. Stuffed it in his jeans pocket. “He’s sick and he’s terrible and he never should have walked this earth. The only good thing he ever did is shed part of his DNA and create you. You’re a wonder, Montessa. Like I said, you’re the angel to my demon. Your father is an evil man who lived an evil life. Look at him. Look at him right here. Does this look like anything good to you? Does this look like the kind of man who deserves kindness? Deserves grace?”

  The air became unbearably warm. Montessa breathed in and the air choked her, scalded her lungs.

  “Too hot,” she gasped, and Lu closed his eyes, ran his hands through his hair. Breathed through his nose and calmed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, love. I just want—”

  “You want revenge for the way he treated me.”

  “That. And for the way he made you treat yourself. You’re special, Montessa. Wonderful and lovely and amazing, but you don’t know it. He made sure you didn’t know it. And now look at you. At your life.” Lu’s eyes were sad, sadder than Montessa had ever seen them. She wanted to kiss each eyelid. To take him to a home they didn’t have and curl up next to him in the garden that would never exist.

  “I’m happy with you,” she said. Her hand sought his. It was warm, but not so warm it scorched. Not so warm it burned. “I just want to be with you. Do you understand that?”

  “We’re going to die,” he said. His melodious voice was plain. Clear. “We’re going to die. Because of what we are. Because of what they made us and what we made ourselves. He needs to be punished for that.”

  Montessa looked at her father. At his fat and flesh and the reek that came off his unhealthy body.

  “I don’t have anger.” She sighed, and the rage left her. Now there was just wistfulness. Weariness. “He’s just a sad man. I let him frighten me for so long, and I was scared of what? This broken old guy?”

  She handed the knife back to Lu.

  “Hand me the gun, please.”

  He slid it out of the waist band of his jeans. Did what she asked. She smiled.

  “I’ve never really had anybody looking out for me, Lu. I love you for it. I’m no angel, but I don’t want to be a devil, either. You’re right. He’s a dog and I’m going to put him down.”

  She shot, twice, and her father’s body jerked. That was all. The wheezing breath stopped. Two bullet holes vipered his forehead. Powder burns. Chunks of his brain sprayed across the floor.

  Her legs gave out, and she sat down heavily. Held the gun in her hand and started to cry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Baby,” Lu said, and knelt beside her. Montessa’s father’s blood ran over his sneakers, but he didn’t care. “We have to go, baby. We can’t stay here.”

  “I thought he was such an animal.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapped her arms around them and put her head down, the gun still in her hand.

  “He was a monster. You did the right thing.”

  “He hurt me, Lu,” she cried, and rocked herself. Lu wrapped his arms around her, careful of the gun. Careful of her wounded heart. Careful of the pain and venom spilling from her eyes.

  “It’s over. You did it. You won. We won.”

  Years and years of misery. Of being tough. Of broken bones and dancing on swollen feet in front of men who looked at her like her father always looked at her. And it was over. Over, with the tiniest of movements. Two short pulls on the trigger. A spasm in her pointer finger. That was it.

  “Come on, baby.”

  Lu pulled her to her feet. Ran his fingers through her hair and told her she was beautiful, that she was strong and exquisite and resilient. That she was tough and tender and amazing in every way. He didn’t use words. He didn’t use his voice. He just used his heart, and she knew.

  “Don’t move.”

  A voice. A shaky voice. A high, feminine voice that sounded like a martini made filthy. Lu turned around, supporting Montessa.

  A woman stood in the doorway, holding a gun. She was tweaking. Her mouth moved in funny ways, her tongue running over and over and over her lips.

  Montessa had the gun pointed at the stranger in seconds.

  “Get out, or I’ll kill you,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly calm. Low. Filled with deadly intent. Secretly, Lu thrilled at it. Secretly, it was what he always wanted to hear. An angel with a devil’s voice, a demon’s words.

  “There’s two of us,” Lu said calmly. He held the knife in his hand. Felt its weight. Saw it shine. Practically heard it sing. “Two of us and one of you. This won’t work out well for you, lady.”

  “You’re killers,” the woman said. Her eyes went from the knife to the body on the floor. Back and forth, over and over and over.

  “He’s still dead,” Montessa said. “You don’t have to keep checking.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father’s blood ooze out onto her shoes. Knew she’d be leaving sticky footprints again. Something for the police to follow.

  “We have to get out of here,” she said to Lu.

  “I know,” Lu said, his eyes still on the woman. “Listen, lady. The cops will be here soon and none of us want to stick around for that. Let’s leave. All of us.”

  “You killed John.”

  Montessa’s voice was hard. “No loss.”

  The woman’s face changed, crumpled in on itself like origami butterflies in the rain. She looked lost and afraid.

  Lu snorted.

&nbs
p; “You can’t tell me you’ll miss the guy. The way he treated you.”

  The woman’s eyes snapped up to his face, and her hand went to her ribs.

  Montessa lowered her gun, slightly.

  “So he hits you where it doesn’t show as much. He’s gotten a little smarter, then.”

  The woman took a step forward, aggressively.

  “What do you know?” She gestured with her gun. Held it on Lu. Moved it to Montessa. Moved it back to Lu.

  Lu sighed.

  “I gave you a chance,” he said. His eyes narrowed and the gun suddenly went hot, scorching white, in the woman’s hand. She howled and dropped it, grasping at her burned fingers. Lu stepped toward her with the knife.

  Two gun shots. Montessa’s signature two.

  The woman fell heavily, hitting the floor with a sound that made Montessa squeeze her eyes shut. When she opened them, she saw Lu’s expression. Puzzled. Uneasy. Confused and hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “The knife just seemed…I know you would have been quick. But Dad hurt her, like he hurt me. It didn’t seem right to let a strange guy finish her off.”

  “I understand,” he said, and she checked. He did. His minded tasted like salt water and compassion. And fear.

  “Let’s go,” she said and started forward. Then another sound stopped her in her tracks. The blood fled from her face and the gun fell to the floor.

  A baby squalled. Cried. From the doorway the woman had come through.

  Montessa looked at Lu. His eyebrows were high on his forehead, his mouth open. Something dark and predatory and very, very old crossed his face.

  He scooped up the gun. Stepped through the door, quickly. Came back.

  “There’s a baby in there. In a pile of clothes shoved in the corner.”

  “It’s hers?” she asked.

  “Maybe. Or theirs.”

  “Oh. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  She bent over, throwing up on the floor, and Lu held her hair back. He thought about how he had done that before, when they first met, when she was tied up in the cabin of his truck.

  She threw up again, and he thought their meeting felt like so long ago. They were practically children then. So young. And innocent.

  Montessa, at least, had been innocent, then.

  She wiped her mouth, and Lu patted her back. She crept over to the baby and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

  “We can’t leave the baby here,” she said.

  “We can’t take it to the police. So what do we do with it? Hand it to one of the junkies outside?”

  “Take it and go. We’ll figure it out.”

  She leaned down, picked up the child. Held it awkwardly like a woman who didn’t know how to hold children. In any other life, she would have learned. Would have held her own sweet-smelling, round child to her breast and felt its heart beat. Known what it was like to love, to really love, and to be the only thing in her baby’s universe. But this screeching, reeking collection of bones, only held together by sinew and newborn hatred, wasn’t meant to have such a life. This child wasn’t meant to be happy, just as Montessa wasn’t meant to be happy. It was growing up without a mommy, just like Montessa had.

  Because Montessa had murdered its mother.

  “You’re special, darling,” she whispered to the child, and cradled it awkwardly, but the howling didn’t stop.

  “Shut it up,” Lu said. His eyes were starting to flame. “I can’t take its noise.”

  “I’m trying,” she said and bounced the baby around in her arms.

  “Just…come on,” he said and started toward the door.

  They had been here too long. Far too long. First breaking the glass in plain sight, and then using the gun instead of the knife. Using it twice.

  “Stupid,” he whispered, and the papers on the floor smoldered, burned.

  “Lu,” Montessa said, cradling the baby tight.

  “Stupid,” he repeated, and the flames licked up the walls, onto the draperies.

  “Stop it!” Montessa hurried forward, her feet slipping in the blood on the hard floor. “You’re going to get us killed!”

  “I’m going to get us killed?” Lu whirled around, his eyes glowing like the fire behind him. The baby began to squeal, and Montessa felt the child becoming uncomfortably warm in her arms.

  “The baby,” she said, and realized there were tears in her eyes, down her face. “Please, Lu. Baby killers go to Hell. People who orphan babies go to Hell.”

  Lu closed his eyes. He saw Montessa clutching the baby not like she would save it, but like it would save her soul. He saw the way her broken fingernails worked nervously on the child’s red skin. He took a deep breath. Grabbed her hand. Pulled her past the hissing flames and through the front door.

  “Hands up!”

  A man on the bullhorn. A policeman outside with a gun. Several.

  They should have left when they had the chance.

  Lu cursed. Raised the gun, but Montessa stepped in front of him.

  “I have a baby!” she screamed. “Don’t shoot! I’m holding a child!”

  Lu leaned forward, rested his head against Montessa’s.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Montessa turned, faced him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

  He smiled at her, that same smile with his gloriously sharp, white teeth. Those teeth had nipped at her body, had made her smile in the dark of the night and the day. Now they broke her heart.

  “Take the baby to them. They won’t hurt you as long as you’re holding it.”

  “Lu.”

  “She’s my hostage!” he screamed, and yanked Montessa and the baby to him. He pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple.

  “Lu, don’t do this!”

  “Put the gun down! Let the woman and child go.”

  “Lu!”

  “Her name is Montessa Tovar. I kidnapped her from Nevada. Carried her from place to place with me.”

  “Lu, stop it!” Montessa was crying in earnest now. The fire danced and consumed behind her. She saw her shadow, Lu’s shadow, moving in fits and jerks in front of them. A strange sense of déjà vu, and she remembered watching their flaring shadows cavorting around before. Holding hands. Being together.

  This wasn’t that. This was different. This was a horrible, horrible thing.

  “Don’t do this,” she begged. The baby screamed. The officers yelled and commanded. The fire crackled and guzzled and demolished, and it was more than she could take in. More noise and confusion.

  “You need to live, my Apocalyptic Montessa.”

  “I want to be with you. I need to live with you.”

  “You’ll die. Be shot down like an animal. I can’t let it happen. I tortured her!” he screamed, and pressed his gun harder into Montessa’s hair. “Bled her out. Tied her up. Made her watch me kill.”

  The policeman closest to them tightened his grip on the gun, looking for a clean shot. Montessa could see it. Could see the way they scanned the area, the way their eyes darted around.

  “I can’t live without you, Lulu,” she said. “I don’t want to. I’m your wife. I’m made for you. You’re made for me. Please don’t make me do this.”

  “I killed her father,” Lu yelled, and Montessa cringed. “Killed her father right in front of her. Killed this baby’s mother. That’s the kind of monster I am.”

  “Let her go,” the officer shouted into the bull horn. “We have a sniper who will take the shot. Let the woman and child go free.”

  “Do it, baby,” he whispered, and kissed her behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Take the baby and go to them. Tell them you were a victim.”

  “Lu…”

  “I can’t go to jail, do you understand? I can’t be locked up in that box. Do this for me, okay, my love? Let me go.”

  “But…”

  “Please!” he screamed, and Montessa jerked away. The baby howl
ed.

  “Please,” he said again, softer, and the smoke brought tears to his eyes. He was backlit by the burning house, an extraordinary beast. Beauty and horror in motion.

  He took a step backwards, closer toward the door.

  Another.

  Montessa felt around with her mind. Saw. Saw the officers clutch their guns, their fingers tightening on the trigger.

  One more step, one of them thought. One more and we’ll have a clean shot.

  Montessa swallowed hard. Looked at the sea of faces in front of her. The screams and wails of the baby, of the dying house. She slid her foot behind her. Moved slowly. The other. Pressed her back against Lu’s chest.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her. His voice cracked. “I told you I can’t let them take me!”

  “They’re not going to take you.”

  “Ma’am!” The voice on the bullhorn tried to sound kind, she thought. Tried to sound reasonable and supportive, but it sounded like every other man she’d ever met. Everyone but her Nuclear Lulu.

  “Ma’am! Walk over to us slowly. Bring the baby.”

  She pressed even closer to Lu. He took another step backwards, and she did, as well.

  “Ma’am!”

  “Step inside the door,” she said, and was surprised at how calm she was. How peaceful. This was what doing the right thing felt like. This is what happened when you reached the end.

  “Montessa, I don’t—”

  “Do it.”

  He slid through the doorframe, heedless of the heat and flames. Disappeared inside.

  “Ma’am! Now is your chance. Bring the baby out, please.”

  Montessa looked at the child. What an ugly thing. So small, so scared, so doomed to live a horrible, miserable life, just as she had.

  “Ma’am! I will not ask you again.”

  Only this child didn’t have her father to spoil it. Maybe there was hope. Maybe this scrawny sack of ribs and vertebras could grow up to be something…amazing.

  “Remember that you’re special,” she whispered to it again, and kissed its wrinkled face. She crouched down and gently placed the baby on the ground. Stepped through the door after Lu. Chased him down the hall into the heart of the fire. Threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.