Woman Scorned Page 20

  “Absolutely,” Heather said. But when she looked closer at the other woman, she was suddenly even more afraid than she’d been when the pervert man had first looked at her miniskirt. She looked angry, truly angry, and she had a fleeting vision of what a woman so powerful could do to a little thing like herself in a moment of rage. “Are… you okay?” she asked.

  Monica balked for a second, then visibly calmed down. “Oh. Yes. Sorry about that. I was hoping to join the others in a raid. They don’t happen very often and I missed it by just a few minutes. It seems luck has not been on my side tonight. But don’t you worry about it. That’s my problem, not yours. Come. I’ll introduce you to Debbie, your roomie. Tomorrow, bright and early, I’ll give you the full tour. We’ll start in the basement!”

  Heather picked up her little suitcase and followed. “What’s a raid?” she asked.

  Monica stopped walking, turned back, and smiled widely. It was an evil smile, one that made Heather’s nerves flutter and jump still more. “One of the best experiences of your life. But I can’t say more than that now. You’ll need to be in the black squad before you get to partake in one. That’ll be several years for you, so don’t you even worry about it for now.”

  Heather shrugged and walked on, only she was worrying about it. She was worrying about so many things now that she was a prisoner on this horrible island. Her biggest fear, the one that had come to her again and again ever since she’d watched the pervert drop to his face on the parking lot gravel, came to her again.

  I’m a witness to a crime! I could give evidence against all this, and Monica knows that now. If I do anything against her will, is she going to stick me with that needle next?

  5

  The black car sped back toward the center of the island, engine and tires alike screaming as always. Sherry had spent the better part of three days helping to collect bodies all over the island, and Emma hadn’t let up on the gas pedal the whole time. Despite the strain it put on poor Laverne, she clearly loved driving fast, and she always pushed the car to its limit.

  When they approached the fortress’ northern gate Sherry got out and opened it. Emma drove through slowly then waited as Sherry closed and locked the gate again. She tossed the key to Lucy as she hopped back in the shotgun seat.

  Emma drove around the winding driveway to the southern side of the building. There, she slowed even more and idled past the open garage bays where two women in blue shirts and all three women in green shirts were working on their own cars. With the number of kills they’d all had recently, they were no doubt going to be busy with repairs for the rest of the day. On the floor around them lay dozens of greasy tools and parts, and behind them in the shadows lay the carcasses of many old and abused cars that now served as a parts junkyard. None of the front fenders could ever be reused.

  One of women in green waved, and Sherry waved back as they rolled past. Emma continued driving all the way around to the building’s western side and finally pulled the car into a little alcove which housed just a single parking spot.

  “I’m telling you, I don’t like the feel on the accelerator,” Emma said.

  Lucy was gone from her perch and already hauling the final body of the killing spree from the open trunk. “We’ll get to it,” she said. “Tomorrow. Clearing out evidence comes first.”

  “I hate this part of this job,” Sherry said. She was already helping Lucy unzip the blue jumpsuit from the body and pull the battered sneakers from its feet, but she had looked to a silvery, metal door in the side of the building as she spoke.

  “Naw, you’ll love it,” Emma nearly shouted. “That sizzling sound is the best!”

  “If you say so,” Sherry said. “It’s the smell in there I’m worried about.” She had nodded toward the silver door. “Doesn’t it make you nauseous?”

  “Not anymore,” Emma said. “You get used to it.”

  Sherry faked a smile and turned to Lucy. “Are these worth keeping?” She held up the sneakers. The front of both had gaping holes where the body’s toes had been poking through. One of them had no laces.

  “They’re all right,” Lucy said. “Rhonda won’t toss ‘em ‘til the soles fall off. How’s the zipper on that jumpsuit?” Emma dropped the naked body to the ground, ignoring it, and picked up the jumpsuit to work the zipper.

  “Fine,” she said. “Weird. It’s got a stone stuck in the little tab thingy. How’d that happen, I wonder?”

  “They do it on purpose,” Lucy said. “Rhonda thinks it’s some kind of attempt to recover their memories, but Lorraine always claimed it was a gang sign. Doesn’t matter. Just toss it in the wash pile. The trainers will take care of it later.”

  Sherry shrugged and tossed it onto a pile of a dozen other jumpsuits on the ground, most of which were green. “Another washing for the MOLE,” she said.

  Emma unwrapped a garden hose mounted against the wall, turned it on, and began spraying the interior of the metal trunk. She paid special attention to the area where the body’s head had lain.

  Lucy began dragging the body by one ankle toward a large machine that ran along the side of the building.

  Sherry marveled at the machine’s mass, which seemed to be that of a dinosaur. It was almost as tall as she was and more than a dozen feet long. She wondered how heavy the thing was, but she couldn’t begin to guess. Several tons, was all her brain could offer.

  Lucy dropped the body on the dirt in front of a small metal door which was conspicuously darkened to a smoky gray-black hue. This door was only two feet square and elevated several feet off the ground. She opened it and allowed Sherry to peer inside.

  The interior was much smaller than she thought it would be, yet it was also somehow even more foreboding than its outside bulk suggested. Only three feet wide, two feet high, and five feet deep, the walls were incredibly thick and, of course, totally black on the inside.

  “Here,” Lucy said, handing Sherry a long-handled push broom. “First you gotta clear it out.”

  Sherry took the broom and reached its stiff bristles inside the machine’s gaping mouth. In a single scoop she pulled out a full pound of gray ashes speckled with black flecks. Lucy produced a five gallon, plastic bucket and Sherry swept them into it. As they fell swirling into the container, a small bone landed on top. It was brittle to the touch and unmistakably from the finger of a human hand. Sherry paid no mind to it and continued to pull and brush the incinerator clean until the bucket was nearly filled.

  “Good enough,” Lucy said, and poured the ashes into a fifty gallon drum against the wall. Lined up beside it were several others, each already filled to the brim and sealed tight.

  Emma, who had been spraying down the streak of body liquids left by Lucy’s unceremonious ankle-drag, flipped a heavy switch on the side of the machine. A full-throated fwomp! issued from somewhere deep inside the beast of a machine. Only Sherry flinched at the sound.

  Then, finally, all three women gathered in front of the silver door at the western side of the fortress and stared it down. A small oval plaque was riveted there, and on it was written two simple words in blue script: Bally Engineering.

  “I really don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Sherry said.

  “It’s nothing,” Emma said. “You’re a wimp if you can’t handle it.” Lucy shot Emma a look of contempt and once again did her job.

  “Can it, Emma. You weren’t so confident the first time you came here to burn all that evidence.” Emma smirked at her but for once didn’t talk back. “Don’t listen to her, Sherry. It is bad in there. But it’s our job, and it’s the final stage of The Cause for almost every man who comes here. Just try to hold your nose.” Sherry frowned, but nevertheless followed when Lucy walked purposely toward the silver door. On the other side was the island’s walk-in freezer and a heap of dead men.

  Lucy took a set of leather gloves hanging from a nail and passed two other pairs to her companions. Sherry took a set and grimaced exaggeratedly. The gloves were stiff, molded into the
three-dimensional shape of a hand.

  “Gross,” she said, and gingerly put them on. “How long has this thing been broken?” she asked.

  “About three weeks this time,” Lucy said. “Gertrude was fiddling with the piece of shit the other day and finally got it working again, but trust me… three weeks of rotting can’t be saved. It’s going to be categorically raunchy in there. I can promise it’ll be the worst thing you’ll ever smell in your whole life.”

  Emma was somehow smiling in her usual, wicked way. “You ever think about the irony of having a walk-in freezer that thousands of men never walk into?” she asked. “Or out of?” Her trademark cackle threatened but didn’t come when Lucy ignored her, stepped forward, and opened the door with a strong pull. The air inside, rotten or not, had a fierce suction on the heavy door and an audible whomp! resulted.

  Finally released from its prison, the foul air inside rushed out and attacked them. Instantly, Sherry gagged and stumbled away, holding her hand to her nose. This only made it worse, of course, as the gloves were stained deeply with the dried fluids of so many dead men. Emma broke finally into her happy cackling laugh as she watched Sherry fight back vomit. Lucy ignored them both, took a deep breath, and walked inside.

  The freezer was small, only ten feet square and equally tall, but there were easily forty bodies piled inside it. They lay in all positions, left wherever they had been tossed. Most had broken legs and spines. Splintered bones protruded from half of them, and dried, black blood caked their naked bodies. Every one of them had bled from some break in the head or other orifice, usually the mouth or nose and sometimes the ears.

  One body had a protruding femur which had been an especially brutal kill. This one was lying on its back down on top of the largest pile in the corner. Blood had flowed freely from the break and covered the entire left side of the body. One arm swayed haphazardly over the downward head, and the blood had gone all the way to the fingertips and dripped beyond to the floor where it joined the thick pool of putrid ooze.

  Lucy grabbed the nearest body and lifted it to the tiny wooden cart tucked into the corner of the freezer. The cart resembled a fishmonger’s cutting station, and when Sherry returned and saw it, she was suddenly glad for the gloves, disgusting as they were.

  The body’s long arms and legs dangled over the edges of the cart and threatened to pull the body back to the floor. Emma was there in a second to help balance it. Satisfied, Lucy wheeled the body out of the freezer and let the door swing shut. Emma caught it at the last second and propped it open with a dented piece of wood. The smell then began to accost the entire area. Even the brick wall of the fortress seemed to wrinkle with displeasure.

  Sherry had by then gained her composure and looked determined not to vomit. She took the cart from Lucy and wheeled it and its cargo to the tiny door at the front of the incinerator. An arm bumped lightly against the open door, and Lucy grabbed it and positioned it into the opening. Inside, the thick metal had already begun to glow a dull red. Flames shot down from above with a constant rush. In another ten minutes those walls would be bright orange and the women would be able to feel the heat from ten feet away.

  “Watch the door,” Lucy said and turned her left forearm outward so Sherry could examine it. There were dozens of tiny scars there, each one evidence to her years of service and sacrifice to The Cause. “It gets a little toasty.”

  “Right,” Sherry said. “Thanks.” She aimed the body’s other arm and head into the opening as Emma got behind and grabbed the ankles. She hadn’t wanted to do so, but when she looked down, the man’s lifeless eyes were staring straight up at her. She looked away quickly, but had trouble forgetting the image.

  “Burn fucker!” Emma yelled, and she shoved with all her might.

  Inside the machine, the flames grabbed at the head hair and curled them instantly into little gray worms. A loud, dwindling sizzle, like a string of distant firecrackers, confirmed that somewhere inside those hairs was still plenty of moisture. Emma cackled again.

  “See! Isn’t that awesome?”

  Then the flames reached at the skin of the head, arms, and back and began melting it. The sizzle was louder, more intense, like a fresh slab of steak tossed onto hot oil, but it died away quickly and then there was just the roar of the flames as they licked and charred and consumed. The distinct smell of burned flesh floated through the little door and reached Sherry’s nose. Its sharp tinge was unpleasant, but not nauseating like the freezer had been. In a minute, the body was half gone and Emma used a metal prod to push the remains deeper into the hole where the flames eagerly attacked the fresh meat.

  When Emma and Lucy returned to the freezer for another body, Sherry stayed and watched for a minute. She had always known the women of the black squad were responsible for the final destruction of the many men who had failed to be educated, but she had always pictured it differently. This was not at all the dark romanticism she had hoped for.

  Still, watching the pig burn to ashes and cease to exist gave her a great deal of satisfaction. There goes one more asshole from the world, she thought. I wonder what he did. Rape, probably. But maybe not. Maybe he just hired a pretty secretary instead of an ugly one.

  A black edge spread and swept across the body’s dried skin like a single sheet of newspaper in a campfire. It’s not the same thing, Sherry’s mind went on, but it’s still disgusting. I don’t think he deserves to die if that was it, though. I wonder… are any of the men here actually innocent?

  “Sherry!” Emma called from the freezer. “Get your ass over here! You can’t ignore it forever!”

  Emma’s words drew the younger girl away from the burning body and back to her job. When she got back to the freezer, she was already holding her breath. Nevertheless, she gagged again as the fumes of rot entered her open mouth. A cough and some will power brought her back to the freezer. She helped Emma lift a body that was stuck in the inch-deep ooze of coagulating blood on the floor, but she didn’t breathe again or speak another word until she was out in the fresh air. None of them did.

  The women worked the incinerator for nearly four hours. Twice Sherry vomited, and once even Emma had had to pull off her gloves and go for a brief walk. The experience was a difficult one for Sherry to endure, both physically and emotionally. She couldn’t help it, but with each body she disposed of, with each sizzle of hair and flesh, with each man she yanked and tossed and burned, she somehow kept finding their eyes, and she kept wondering what their stories had been. That night, she would have her first nightmare in years. The following night, it was repeated.

  6

  In just two days, Josie’s office had gone through a massive overhaul. Even an experienced eye would see no evidence of the chaos which had once dominated the place. She couldn’t stomach the idea of burning any book for any reason, so she had used her new authority to requisition the keys to one of the locked upstairs rooms and used it to store most of Lorraine’s library and knick-knacks.

  About a hundred books remained on her shelves now as well as a small handful of decorative ornaments. Her favorite was a tiny glass turtle, tinted green. It reminded her of the ancient Chinese story of the turtle that held the entire world on its back. She was feeling rather like that turtle these days, and it served as a strong reminder of the weight now on her shoulders.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Josie looked up from her pile of papers and saw Steph standing alone and sad in the open doorway. Immediately she knew something was wrong.

  “Close the door?” she said. It was more of a question, a request, and Steph obliged.

  “Look, Josie, I’m real tired. Rhonda’s mission was a real drag. I must have had a dozen men rub their paws all over me. All I want is a hot shower and some sleep.”

  Josie knew what such mass recruiting missions were like, and she had no intention of harassing her former roommate, but the trainers had all been gone for several days and there was a great deal she needed to share with her friend. />
  “I don’t blame you,” she said, sitting down in Lorraine’s plush chair. “But there’s something I needed to talk to you about. It won’t be pleasant, but-”

  “What? Already giving yourself reason to be a bitch?”

  Josie was stunned. Something truly was wrong, but she hadn’t expected jealousy. “No,” she said as calmly as she could. “I just missed you is all. And, to be fair, I needed to give you a heads-up.” Steph visibly stiffened and Josie thought of the turtle. The weight of the world, she thought. And with it came the certainty that the little glass figurine was staring straight at her. “Gertrude and the others,” she began, “are expecting me to be a leader, not a friend. So in front of them, that’s just what I’ll have to be. But we both know you’re my dearest friend, Steph. This doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  More shock. More disquiet in the depth of her stomach. “Steph…” she managed, but could say no more. Deep inside, Josie was wondering if Steph was right to be worried. The island and The Cause were powerful, and from Steph’s perspective, she had just been dumped by the roadside.

  “I want to show you something,” she tried instead. She pulled out the digital voice recorder and laid it on the desk. Steph’s eyes followed it, and she stiffened even more.

  “Spying on us now? Jesus, Josie, you sank to that level already?”

  “No,” Josie said. “Now sit down and shut up before you actually hurt my feelings.” Steph’s shoulders loosened a little, and as she sat Josie’s hammering heart began to slow down. “I spied on Gertrude,” she confided, smiling as she did so. “Well, sort of. I mean, she said all of this directly to me, but she thought it was in confidence. It’s… pretty revealing. And if I still have your trust, I want you to hear it.”

  “Okaaay,” Steph said slowly. Then, in a big sigh she added, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just tired is all.”