“Maddy, you can ask me anything. You know if I can, I’d do anything for you.”
“You’re going to look at me funny. Differently. I’m afraid if I say what I’m thinking you’ll think differently of me,” she said.
“It’s not true. I won’t,” he said. “But you’re scaring me a little.”
I’m scaring myself, she thought. “I just know I need to do this. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t think of anything else. I’m afraid if I don’t do it–”
“Okay. Now I’m scared.”
“You’ve got to promise you aren’t going to judge me.”
“What, you mean like cross my heart, hope to die?”
“I’m serious, Neal.”
“I won’t judge you, Maddy. I wouldn’t do that.”
She looked at the time on the dashboard. “We have a half hour until class. Can you take me to the store before school?”
Neal laughed as he started the engine. “Are you messing around with me? I thought something was wrong. What do you need at the store?”
“I’ll show you when we get there.”
# # #
Wegmans started with two brothers selling fruits and vegetables in 1916 and grew into a chain of superstores across New York, New Jersey, Virginia and Maryland. The groceries stores sold more than produce. The shopping centers contained coffee shops, restaurants, and daycare; there were seasonal items, clothing, and small appliances for sale. To compare a Wegmans store to a Wal-Mart would be doing Wegmans an injustice. With signature building designs, it was possible to walk into nearly any location and have a general idea of where to go within the store to find what you were looking for.
Neal followed Madison into the location on Mt. Read Boulevard. “Okay. What are we here for?”
“Follow me,” she said, and backed a short shopping cart from a row of carts fed one into the other.
The produce was in front of them, registers to the right. On the left were prepared foods, where cooks made pizza and subs, Chinese, and Sushi. The buffet was not filled yet. By ten it would be stocked with hot foods that people could fill to-go cartons with for lunch or dinner.
Beyond the produce was the bakery.
“What are we here for?” Neal kept one hand on the shopping cart, walking alongside Madison.
“Meat.”
“Meat? Like bacon?”
“Like hamburger.”
Neal looked like he wanted to say something. He didn’t, and she was thankful.
It was not yet eight. People were in the store shopping. No one was by the meat counter.
Madison stood in front of the area and waited for the man in back to come around front.
“They sell hamburgers in the cafeteria,” Neal said.
“Please. Shh.”
“Can I help you?” The man behind the counter was bald, big, and burly. His white apron was stained in blood. He had puffy cheeks, a bulbous nose with red arteries that spiderwebbed up from the sides of his nostrils, his lips were pale red and paper-thin.
Madison tried to concentrate on her breathing. Her senses were flooded. She could smell a variety of blood. None smelled as sweet as the blood flowing inside of Neal.
She knew she was losing her mind. Even if Neal didn’t freak out, she thought she’d be locked up in a padded room soon enough. “I need a pound of ground hamburger.”
“I can do that for you, ma’am,” he said.
“When you package it, the blood–”
The butcher held up a hand. “I know. Drain most of it off.”
“Actually, no. Don’t drain any of it.”
The butcher gave her a look with one eyebrow cocked, but he didn’t say anything. As he turned away, she added: “In fact, if you can add just a little bit more blood to it before you wrap it.”
“Kid,” the butcher said.
“It’s for a science project,” Neal said. “We waited until the last minute.”
“Is this some Carrie nonsense?” The butcher planted fat palms with sausage fingers on the stainless steel counter, by the scale.
Neal shook his head. “I don’t know what that means. I don’t even think I know anyone named Carrie.”
“No, sir. It’s for school, a science project.”
“Do you really want the hamburger or are you just after some of the blood. Be straight with me here.”
Madison thought she might pass out. The fire never left her belly. It only grew and grew. The pain was constant, and had been since she woke up in the hospital the other day.
“Miss?”
“Yes, please. The blood will actually cover it.”
Neal held up two fingers. “If you don’t mind.”
“If I find out you dumped this blood on the prom queen’s head, I’ll deny giving it to you. We have an agreement. I’m doing you a favor. I don’t need that coming back on me.”
Neal squirmed in place. “Why in the world would we pour blood on someone’s head? Prom’s not for, like, seven months.”
The butcher regarded Neal for a moment, and then shook his head. “Give me a second.”
When the butcher was in back, Neal waved his hands around. “Blood, Maddy? Are you kidding me? What do we want blood for? I don’t understand this. I don’t get wh–”
“You said you wouldn’t judge me,” she said.
“I’m not judging. I’m just. . .I’m confused.”
It’s about to get more confusing, she thought.
The butcher came out from the back, the door swinging behind him. He had two Styrofoam coffee cups with lids on top. “You’re all set,” he said, handing them over the counter. “My number is written on the cups.”
“Why would we need your number?” Neal looked at Madison.
She eyed the butcher. He gave her a slight nod.
He knows something. He knows I’m going to drink this.
How can he know that?
“My name is Madison, and this is Neal. Thank you,” she said.
“Madison. Neal. If we’re all set here, I have work to do. And if I am not mistaken, school starts soon. You don’t want to be late turning in that science project,” he said, and disappeared behind the swinging door.
Once in the minivan, Madison sighed and peeled off the plastic lid to her cup of blood.
“What are you going to do? What are you smelling it for? You’re not going to do what I think, Maddy? Tell me you’re not. Are you going to drink that?” Neal gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles were white. “Because that’s what I think. That’s what I’m thinking right now.”
“You don’t have to watch.” She held the cup to her lips. She knew she should be revolted, but the fresh blood smelled wonderful. Just the scent of it did something to simmer the fire inside of her.
Closing her eyes, she put the cup to her lips and sipped the blood. It was thick, and cold. It spread over her tongue and slid down her throat. Starving, she drank the blood in gulps.
“I cannot believe you are doing this. You’re drinking that blood. Drinking it,” Neal said.
She finished what was in the cup. She looked at the phone number written on the side. Under it was printed: Butch. She almost laughed. She tore the name and number off, licked the Styrofoam clean, and put it in her coat pocket. “Give me yours.”
Neal looked down at the second cup in the holder in the center console. “I’m not going to drink it.”
She removed the lid and drank the blood as hungrily as she had the first. She smacked her lips together when she finished.
“Feel better?” Neal said.
“Much.”
Chapter 6
Madison sat with her back against the lockers by the front of the school. Her mom would pick her up in the front loop. She could see the loop clearly from where she sat. Her earbuds were in so her music wouldn’t disturb anyone else, not that anyone else was around to disturb.
Neal didn’t join her for lunch. She closed her eyes.
He was troubled by her blood drinking.
The blood had helped. She felt refreshed, rejuvenated.
Her thoughts scared her. She had seen movies. While she could see her reflection in mirrors and the sun didn’t fry her skin, something was wrong. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to admit to such an absurd truth. Not yet.
As far as she could tell, she had a pulse, otherwise they’d never have let her out of the hospital. She felt her heart beat behind her ribcage as she place her palm on her chest. She’d have been brought down to the morgue, arguing with orderlies the entire time.
It didn’t change what she thought she knew. It shouldn’t make sense, but it did. Whoever attacked her had done this. They were the one to blame. It had to have been someone from the carnival.
She knew she should be scared and freaking out, but wasn’t.
Not yet.
She looked at her phone, hoping she had a new text from Neal. There wasn’t one.
Katie had said she’d looked good when they went into English class. They sat in back and talked. The teacher didn’t bother them; everyone knew she’d been in the hospital following an assault. That would earn her some leeway for a while, a little preferential treatment.
Everyone kept asking how she was.
The answer, all day, had been the same. “Fine. Thank, you.”
She saw the car pull into the loop and sighed as she stood up. She put her backpack over a shoulder and walked outside. She pulled the earbuds out and reached for the door. As soon as it was opened, she wanted to vomit.
She smelled stale coffee and toast.
She looked inside the car before climbing in. “Where’s my mom?”
“I decided to take her to work this morning. Told her this way I could make sure you got home at six, and she wouldn’t worry if she had to work late.”
“She’s making us dinner, though.”
“Not tonight. She took some extra overtime. Won’t be home until nine.”
Madison wanted to slam the door and walk away, but got into the car instead, “Good thing I’m not hungry,” she said.
“You might not be, but I am.”
Madison kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t cooking for this guy. He was her mother’s responsibility, not hers.
Her phone vibrated. She punched in the code and looked at the screen. The text from Neal was simple. Sorry I freaked.
She smiled.
“That that Neal kid? Didn’t you just leave him?” Oliver pulled the car onto the main road toward home. “Kid’s either got a crush on you, or he’s gay.”
Madison heard an irregular beating of Ollie’s heart, slow and strained.
“You got a problem with me, don’t you?”
Madison just looked out her window. She wasn’t going to be goaded into an argument. The man loved to fight. It pissed him off that she ignored him.
“You know, like it or not, I’m your father now.”
She turned on him. The seatbelt strained against her chest, cut into her neck. “You are not my father. You are a lazy and worthless human being. How you live with yourself is beyond me. My mother must be–”
She never saw the backhand. He was faster than she’d have expected. His knuckles raked across her cheek.
“You got a big mouth for a pretty little girl. Your best bet is to just keep it shut. You got me? Shut. You tell your mother about this, and the pain I bring down on the both of you will be never ending. You think I don’t know what you’re doing when you ignore me? You think you’re pushing my buttons, but you’re wrong. I like the silence. I like to say whatever I want, and you don’t say a word. But don’t ever think you can call me names. Don’t ever let that happen again. Are we clear?”
Madison felt tears brim around her eyes. She wanted to cry, not because the slap hurt, but because he’d hit her, because he thought he was in charge, because she suddenly felt trapped.
“I said, are we clear? I want an answer.”
She turned away, slowly. It was her show of defiance. She looked out the window. He could go to hell.
When he fisted her hair it was too late to react. He pulled back on her head and slammed it against the window. Black stars floated in front of her eyeballs, while rockets exploded inside her skull.
“Are we clear?”
“Yeah,” she said. It came out soft, mumbled. It seemed to be enough to satisfy Oliver. Her fingers curled into a fist where sharp fingernails pierced the skin, drawing blood. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her emotions, to control them. She knew two things. She wasn’t even close to crying, so that wasn’t a concern. There was no way he’d ever see her cry. Secondly, he better not think he would get away with touching her. There would be payback.
His fingers relaxed and came untangled from her hair. “See. Now we got ourselves an understanding. Go on, get out of the car, get in the house, and fix us some dinner.”
She pushed open her door, got out of the car, and slammed the door. “I’ll tell you what,” Madison said, setting her backpack down on the loose gravel driveway. “You make your own dinner. And if you ever touch me again, I’ll rip your heart out of your chest and crush it with my foot.”
Oliver laughed with a hand across his bulbous belly as he walked around the front of the car. He spoke in a whisper. “You think because you’re not in the car you can talk to me like that, like suddenly you’re safe? I’ve had it up to here with teen angst. You ain’t got it bad kid. Boo-hoo, my parents are divorced. No one’s folks stay together. You’re at least lucky you have your mom and me to take care of you.”
Madison winced. Her cheekbones throbbed. Something was happening inside her mouth. Her gums ached, and she ran her tongue over teeth.
“Now get inside, and make dinner. I’ll be damned if I’ll say it again,” he said. He gritted his teeth. “You do not want to make a scene out here.”
If she called her father, he would use an ax and chop this fat man into fat little pieces.
He turned around, walked across the weeds and grass, up the stairs, and into the house. He left the door open. She was sure he expected her to spend a few minutes outside pouting before surrendering to the inevitable, which was coming in and cooking dinner for him. She pulled out her phone and texted Neal as she made her way toward the house.
If u don’t hear from me in 15 minutes, call the police. If I’m not dead, Oliver will B!
She pocketed her phone and pulled open the door. It didn’t surprise her to see Oliver’s fat butt planted on the sofa, an open beer in one hand, the TV remote in the other, and the television on.
Oliver winked as he aimed the longneck bottle toward her and nodded his head. “What are we having?”
She was on her way up the stairs.
“Where you think you’re going? Kitchen’s the other way. And you know what? I’m kinda starving.”
She’d held it in for her mother’s sake. She let the rude comments about her friends, the insults flung at her, and the mistreatment of her mother go. The only reason she had done her best to ignore it was because she thought her mother was happy with him.
Happy or not, he’d hit her and thought that by doing so he had placed himself in charge of them. He seemed to expect that she’d tremble at his commands and if not respect him, at the very least, she’d fear him.
Madison did not know who Fat Ollie thought she was. “I strongly doubt going a few hours without a meal will cause you to starve. You could go a month without food or water, and even then I doubt you’d starve.”
Oliver’s face reddened. It looked as if he couldn’t breathe. He wiggled side to side, using his elbows like hands on the armrest to push himself up and off the couch. The jerking made his beer foam and spill from the mouth of the bottle. He set it down on a stack of newspapers and magazines on the coffee table, but as he gained his balanc
e, his calve banged the corner and the beer spilled, emptying onto the carpet.
“Better clean that up,” Madison said, and turned away from him. She climbed the stairs, went into her room, and shut and locked the door.
She pressed her back to the door. Her phone vibrated.
R U OK? It was Neal.
Fine. So far …
She felt his fist against her back when he banged on the door. The frame shook.
“You better unlock this door!” He wasn’t screaming. She heard the intensity in the tone of his voice though.
“Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin.” She almost laughed. She was done. When her mother got home she’d tell her about everything that happened. She still wanted her mother to be happy, but not with him. His time was up. It was time for him to go.
The banging stopped.
She heard a car in the driveway. She went to her window and looked out. The red four-door did not look familiar. Nancy climbed out of the passenger side. She waved toward the driver, said something, and then closed the door.
Even though she looked worn out, Madison could not deny how beautiful her mother was. She hoped when she was in her thirties she looked half as good.
She shook her head. She wondered if being thirty or forty or eighty mattered anymore. Could she possibly look seventeen for eternity?
That was Hollywood.
This was real life, not some best-seller or blockbuster.
Nancy looked up, must have seen Madison, and waved.
Madison waved, went back to her door, then stopped and listened. She wanted to give Ollie enough rope before she went down and hung him.
She’d expected a lot of yelling, raised voices at the very least.
“Madison,” Nancy said. “Can you come down here for a minute, please?”
Her phone vibrated. It was Neal. Am I calling the cops? Coming over? Or what?
My mother’s home. All OK. C U 2morrow!
Madison unlocked and opened her door. The hallway light was off. The room they slept in was across from her. The bathroom was the next door down. She walked past both to the staircase. Nancy stood with fisted hands on hips. Oliver stood behind her, smiling, with his arms crossed over his chest.
Young Blood: The Nightbreed Saga: Book 1 Page 5
