by Ike Hamill
“I guess,” said Carol. “Or what’s left of it. This could have been a reception area. The cat wants to go that way.”
“What other way would we go?” asked Lynne. She pulled open the door and peeked through. She waved Carol forward with her gun.
They found themselves in long hallway. It was lit better than the first room, but still had deep shadows were the walls met the floor. Domitius moved in and out of these shadows as he stalked down the hall. He ignored the doors on either side. Following his lead, the women passed by the doors also. Domi pulled up and slowed next to a door on the left. He lowered his shoulders and put his nose to the crack under the door.
“Ready?” Lynne whispered.
Carol nodded yes, but she had to wrap both hands around the gun to keep it from shaking. She pointed it at the floor and made sure her fingers were off the trigger.
Lynne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Carol tried to imitate her, but the deep breath wouldn’t fit in her chest. She realized she was still nodding. When she stopped, Lynne opened the door.
The two women and the cat moved in fast.
LYNNE PUSHED THE DOOR OPEN and went right; Carol was right on her heels and went left. They checked the corners and then refocused on the far side of the room, where the action was.
“Back away from her,” yelled Carol. She was referring to Donna, who was up on Melanie’s lap. The child’s head whipped around when Carol yelled. Her eyes were solid, flat-black. “I said get down,” said Carol.
“Domi,” Lynne commanded. The cat crossed the room and began to growl. With that threat, Donna hopped down and backed up until she was against the wall. Domitius held her there with his stare.
“What did you do to her?” asked Carol. Melanie’s head was slumped over to the side. If the rolling office chair hadn’t had arms, Melanie would have already fallen to the floor. Carol took a step towards her unconscious sister, but Lynne put out a hand and beckoned her to stop.
“Get the door,” Lynne said to Carol.
Carol followed orders and closed them in so they wouldn’t have any surprises from the dark hallway. The lights in this room were bright and every surface stood out clearly, except for Donna’s black eyes. Carol remembered those eyes.
“Carol Knowles-Milden,” the little girl said. Her black eyes were trained at Carol, but they occasionally darted down to the hissing cat. “Turn your gun on that stupid beast and save me the trouble of drinking its blood. Stupid vessel—you should have never met the flower.”
Carol bit her lip and shook her head. This brought back memories, only a a month-old but seeming link another life, where this little girl had both terrified and amused her. Her little proclamations, so impotent. But Carol knew now that Donna had power. Beyond losing her husband and neighbor, Carol knew that Donna could also entrance people. She had been enslaved by this little girl and barely made it away with her life. Her mind fought the idea, but her gut suggested that it might make the most sense just to follow the instructions. They were so simple, and that cat didn’t mean anything to Carol.
“Hey,” yelled Lynne. “Snap out of it.”
“What?” asked Carol. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You were pointing that gun at my cat,” said Lynne.
Donna raised the corner of her lip as if to snarl at Lynne. The look would have looked precious on a normal kid’s face.
“Sorry,” said Carol.
“She doesn’t have control of you. She’s only got as much power as you give her. Don’t give her any,” said Lynne.
“What do you know of the world?” asked Donna. “You don’t even know what you are, or why you shouldn’t be anywhere near this one,” she gestured at Carol.
“What are you talking about?” asked Lynne. “Tell me, or I’ll tell that little beast to come take a chunk out of your soft skin. You can’t run from me,” said Lynne, as Donna’s black eyes darted around the room. “Don’t even think about it.”
Donna folded her little arms and slid her back down the wall until she sat on the ground. When her arms hit her knees, she ducked her head between them, curling up into a little ball.
“What’s she doing?” Lynne asked Carol.
“How should I know,” said Carol. “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
They waited for a second, calling Donna’s name occasionally, but getting no response.
“Domi,” Lynne whispered. “Get her moving.”
The cat looked back at Lynne and then advanced on the motionless little girl. Domitius growled and crouched, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth, as he took quick staccato steps towards Donna. He stopped at his maximum striking distance and then flicked out a lightning-fast bat. His claws drew a thin bead of blood from the soft skin of the little girl’s leg, but she didn’t move a single muscle.
“If she’s going to play that game, then let’s get her out of here. We can question her someplace a lot safer than this,” said Lynne.
“What if she’s faking?” asked Carol.
“So what if she is? I fully believe that Domi is more than a match for the likes of her,” said Lynne.
“Hope you’re right,” said Carol.
“Well, just in case, keep your gun trained on her. If she does something funny, you shoot. Can you handle that?” asked Lynne.
“It’s something I should have done a long time ago,” said Carol.
Lynne moved forward. She engaged the safety on her gun, tucked it away, and pulled the rope from her pocket. As she moved towards the little girl, Domitius moved to the side, ready to pounce. Lynne reached out with a rope noose, ready to slip it around Donna’s little wrists. She didn’t see Melanie stand up behind her. Both she and Domi were too focused on Donna to pay any attention.
Carol saw it—saw her twin sister, previously slumped, rise up silently. It was too much for Carol, like sensory overload, she opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. It wasn’t just the imminent danger, it was the blank stare on Melanie. That’s what scared Carol the most: the utterly blank stare on a face that she was accustomed to seeing in the mirror. Melanie reached for Lynne, and as her arms came up to grab her, Carol’s arms came up with her gun. She pointed it at her sister’s back and squeezed the trigger within an ounce of release. Carol never did find her voice. When Melanie’s fingers brushed Lynne’s back, Carol knew that her sister was going for the other gun, tucked into Lynne’s waistband.
Melanie’s dead eyes looked like they saw nothing, but her hand moved delicately.
Carol willed herself to close her mouth and then open it again, but still couldn’t utter a word.
Lynne screamed when she felt Melanie’s hand on her back. Domitius glanced back at Lynne and Melanie, but he didn’t attack that direction. Instead, he launched himself forward and grabbed either side of Donna’s head with his razor-sharp claws.
Melanie’s hands flew up and she grabbed either side of her head.
Lynne spun and fell away from Melanie. Lynne tripped herself and started to tumble to the ground, with her back to the little girl. She was trying to find the gun tucked into her belt and she plowed her shoulder into the wall.
Melanie, with her blank-dead eyes and her hands pressed to the sides of her head, turned on her sister. Carol backed away. Her hands fell back to her sides, her gun forgotten. It was too much like looking at herself, or a zombie version of herself. Her eyes jumped to the characteristic spots—the ones she would look at if she picked up a picture and wanted to know if it was her or Melanie. There should have been a wrinkle next to the right corner of the mouth, from Melanie’s sarcastic smile. There should have been a little fleck of gold in Melanie’s left iris. With her hands pressed to the sides of her head, Melanie looked like she was trying to contain an enormous headache between her palms.
“Carol! Do something,” Lynne shouted. She spun over to her side, still trying to find her weapon.
“Stop,” said Carol. Her voice wavered and it came out more like a questio
n.
Against the wall, Domitius took another swipe at the little girl. He drew blood from her ear and arm; Donna’s head was still tucked between her knees. Melanie turned her head to the side with the blow, as if she felt whatever Donna felt.
“Stop!” said Carol. She remembered her hands and brought the gun up between herself and her sister.
Melanie batted the gun away. It flew from Carol’s loose grip and skittered across the floor. Melanie’s hands shot to Carol’s neck. Carol looked surprised to find her sister’s grip tightening.
“Let go,” said Lynne. She stood at Melanie’s side. Carol beat at Melanie’s arms and gagged against the thumbs being pressed into her windpipe. “Hey, pay attention,” said Lynne. She moved into Melanie’s focus.
Lynne held Donna with one arm and had her gun pointed to Donna’s head with the other.
“I don’t know how you transferred your mind over there, but I’m guessing you still need this body,” said Lynne said to Melanie.
Melanie’s arms fell away from Carol’s neck and Carol gasped a deep breath. Melanie backed away a step and then slumped down to the ground. Donna came alive in Lynne’s arms, kicking and biting. Lynne dropped her to the ground and Domitius resumed his attack, swatting and spitting at the little girl, backing her into the corner.
“Tie that one up,” Lynne said, directing Carol to Melanie. “Let’s not make that mistake again.”
Carol nodded and grabbed the rope. She rolled her sister’s limp body over and started working on her hands. She’d never had occasion to string up a person, but she had a good imagination. She bound the wrists, making several tight loops, and then tucked her sister’s ankles up and drew them close.
Lynne stepped over to get the other gun. She pointed both weapons at the cowering girl.
“Do you think she’s still alive in there somewhere?” Carol asked, looking at Melanie.
“Not now,” said Lynne. “Let’s get this situation under control.”
“Okay,” said Carol.
“You try that shit again and I’m going to have this cat take one of your eyes,” Lynne said to Donna. “You got me?”
“I sent my guy after your mother,” said Donna. “Ask this one, I’ve got a great big guy working for me, and he loves to hunt. He tracked down your mom.”
“Shut the hell up,” said Lynne. “You about done?” she asked Carol.
“One more loop,” said Carol.
“I’ve got her working in the pits,” said Donna. “She’s a good digger, but she stinks of paint.”
“Let’s go, Carol,” said Lynne. “Get some tape over her mouth.”
“I think I’ll give her to the demon dogs when I’m done with her,” Donna growled at Lynne. “That’s all she’s good for—dog food.”
“What should I do?” asked Carol. She came up next to Lynne, holding the roll of tape.
“Just wrap it around her arms so she can’t move and then do her ankles,” said Lynne.
“I don’t know,” said Carol. She stretched out a length of tape, but just stood there, looking down at Donna.
“You changed her diapers for two years, didn’t you? Just pretend you’re swaddling her,” said Lynne.
Carol dropped to her knees and approached slowly. Domi moved out of the way to give her access. Lynne backed away so she could keep an eye on the girl, the door, and the bound woman on the floor.
“Now what?” said Carol. She was staring into Donna’s black eyes again.
“Let’s get the little girl out of here so we can figure things out,” said Lynne.
“What about my sister?”
“That’s not your sister,” said Lynne. “She’s like an empty shell.”
“She has to be in there somewhere,” said Carol. “We can’t leave her here. Who knows what will happen to her.”
“Can you carry her?” asked Lynne.
“Probably not,” said Carol. “But I can drag her.”
“Then we’ll need a car,” said Lynne.
“We’ll take her car,” said Carol. She pointed to Melanie. Without waiting for a response, she went to Melanie’s pockets and came up with a set of car keys.
“Okay,” said Lynne. “Good plan. Let’s go.”
Lynne pocketed one of the guns and put the other one to Donna’s head. She had a harder time carrying her, now that she couldn’t grab the little girl under the armpits. They moved slowly out the door and down the big hall. It was impossible to be quiet. The shadows seemed even more sinister now that they were trying to escape.
“Wait, what if they do have other hostages? People digging like slaves?”
“What about it?” asked Lynne.
“Shouldn’t we try to rescue them?” asked Carol.
“If we do, we’ll probably end up like them,” said Lynne. “We need some distance to make a plan.”
“What if she has your mom in there?”
“Same reasoning applies,” said Lynne.
They opened the door a crack and peeked through, not wanting to plunge into full daylight before their eyes had adjusted. Carol readied the keys and left her sister propped against the wall. Domitius went first and patrolled around the car before returning to rub against Lynne’s ankles.
“I think it’s clear,” she said.
Carol strode outside and unlocked Melanie’s car. She turned back to the warehouse to see Lynne looking out from the doorway.
“Watch out!” Lynne yelled.
Carol turned in time to see her sister’s high-maintenance dog launching up at her from the open car door. She got her arm up and the dog latched on. Carol felt the teeth digging in as she tried to tug her arm backwards, out of the dog’s mouth. The pain flared bright, shooting up her arm. The dog’s legs were tucked back, it was using all its weight to pull on the chunk of arm. Carol faltered, falling to the ground when she recognized the dog. Now it didn’t look like Melanie’s dog at all, it looked more like Billy. But it looked like Billy when he’d looked like the thing from the warehouse—the Striker, Jenko had called it.
Lynne walked up quickly with Donna still tucked under one arm. She didn’t hesitate; she raised the gun and fired. The pretty black and white dog yipped a gurgling complaint as it fell away.
“Quickly,” said Lynne. “We have to get out of here.”
Lynne tossed Donna in the back and Carol dragged her sister over to the door. She needed Lynne’s help to get Melanie in. They laid her flat on the back bench seat. Carol bled on everything, but tried to ignore the pain from her arm.
Carol flipped the keys to Lynne and slipped into the passenger’s seat. She grabbed a towel from the back and wrapped it twice around her arm. The tighter she made the wrap, the less pain. It flared with her heartbeat, but the dull part made her grit her teeth.
Lynne backed up and pointed the car down the alley. She drove cautiously. She didn’t want to attract attention.
“I need to get this to a hospital,” said Carol. “I’m starting to feet a little light-headed.”
“Let me just get to someplace without any witnesses, and I’ll take a look,” said Lynne.
“You don’t understand,” said Carol. “This is really bleeding.”
“I know, I know,” said Lynne. “You’re going to be okay though. I’m almost certain.”
“Did you get the cat?” asked Carol.
“Yeah, he’s in back,” said Lynne.
When Carol spun around to look in the back seat, her head swam, as if it took several seconds to catch up with her neck. Black dots chased each other across her vision.
“This is good enough,” said Lynne.
Carol turned to look at her. Lynne’s features were blurry. Carol shook her head and scolded herself for being silly. Even with heavy bleeding, she knew that she shouldn’t be this light-headed so quickly.
“Sorry,” said Carol. “I’ll pull myself together." Her words were slurred.
“Get this off,” said Lynne. She pulled the bloody towel from Carols arm and gripped ri
ght on top of the bites. “If you start feeling better, you pull away,” said Lynne. “I may not be able to.”
Carol’s arm filled with a golden warmth. The warmth spread to her head. In a short time she’d forgotten the bliss of Lynne’s touch on her injured ankle. She glanced up—Lynne looked uncomfortable. She stared straight forward and her lips had a slightly blue tint.
“You okay?” asked Carol, sighing.
Lynne didn’t answer. She parted her lips and breathed out a frosty fog. Carol blinked twice, not understanding what she saw.
“Lynne?” asked Carol. When there was no response, she let her eyes drift shut and enjoyed the glow coming from her arm. The cat materialized from the back seat, and Donna squirmed back there, knocking against Carol’s seat. Carol opened her eyes and saw the gray and white cat sitting on Lynne’s lap, touching his soft paw against the side of her face. Carol laughed to herself and sank back into the upholstery.
“Ah!” Lynne yelled.
Carol woke up grumpy. She reached out for Lynne’s hand, but Lynne had pulled back against the opposite car door, out of reach. Lynne grimaced, trying to massage life back into her frozen hand.
“What happened?” said Carol. “Why did you stop?”
“It went too far again,” said Lynne. “I’m no good at stopping. I think I’ve hurt myself.”
Lynne’s palm looked cracked and burned, like the flesh was seared.
“How’s your arm?” Lynne asked.
“Perfect,” said Carol. She turned her arm over and smoothed her hand over the once-punctured flesh. A few pale red marks were all that remained of the dog bites. She flexed her wrist and fingers. Only a slight stiffness afflicted her joints. “Incredible.”
“You need to drive then,” said Lynne. She pushed open her door and slid out of the car. She worked her way around the hood. Carol caught up with her at the hood and helped Lynne to the passenger’s side. With her friend settled and buckled in, Carol jogged around, feeling better than ever, and got behind the wheel. Lynne slouched over to the side, her head against the glass. The cat had found Lynne’s lap again and he stared up at her closed eyes.
“Lynne?” Carol asked. “Lynne? Where are we going?”
