The Seven Habits

infinitesimal spot in the cosmos that no living eyes would ever behold.

Ocean became aware of a rhythmic lull that seemed to hum in her ear. She blinked several times and forced herself to look away from the pregnant woman’s body, away from the circle of blood that blossomed around her.

Words. There were words. She saw Gauge, saw his lips moving, and struggled to concentrate. What is he saying? She could tell he was speaking to her. The sounds strung themselves into words, words into sentences, yet there was still a slight delay between hearing them and understanding.

“…some of that? You want to end up like her?”

Ocean shook her head, reality seeming to take a fraction of a second to catch up with her movement.

“I didn’t think so.”

Gauge grabbed her short hair in his fist and pulled Ocean along behind him. She stumbled over her own feet, staggered as she tried to keep up with him.

There should be pain, shouldn’t there? He was dragging her by her hair… it should have hurt. So why was there nothing more than a slight pressure on her scalp? A tingling that was more like an itch?

“…ahead of schedule but you should have listened, Ocean… to keep the door closed… your turn.”

He was pushing her toward the open wooden door. The bed of wadded up paper and the thin sheet stretched across it. The bucket in the corner with its dark smears and shit encrusted lip. The dirty walls and floor… these things were thrown into sharp focus as they loomed larger before her.

No, no, no, no…

She wanted to fight, to kick and claw and scream and bite. It felt like something was keeping the impulses from speeding out to her nerves and muscles. Some invisible barrier which was content to let her be shoved through the doorway so roughly that she stumbled and fell, her knees banging against the unforgiving floor. She could hear Gauge’s voice again, sounding distant, as though it were rushing away from her with each flutter of her heart.

“That’s it… that’s a good girl, you little bitch.”

She looked up just in time to see the door swing shut with a thunk. Light from the hallway spilled through the little window, casting a pattern of striped shadows to the floor.

“There’ll be plenty of time for us to get to know each other better.” Hollow laughter echoed as if someone had just told a particularly amusing joke.

“We’ll be together for a long, long time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

You know what? I couldn’t do it, man. In the amount of time it takes a synapse to spark, I thought about Ocean out there, alone and hungry and scared. Somehow, givin’ up on myself felt like givin’ up on her, too. That’s just not something I was willing to do, dig?

So that bitch’s teeth are headin’ toward my neck like a striking snake and I did the only thing I could think of. I just kinda bucked, ya know. I used every muscle I had, kinda throwin’ my shoulders back while thrustin’ my chest and stomach up. At the same time, I’m pushin’ my hands against tits that were colder than two baggies of melted ice. Just kinda shovin’ off, and I musta had some kinda leverage, cause that thing went flyin’ off me like I was the prize bull at a rodeo.

There was even a brief second where I could still see my hand prints on her boobs, like these pale ghosts that just kinda lingered around. And then I’m scrambling to get up ‘cause I figure if I stay on the floor, I’m a dead man, right? I mean, that bitch pins me again and I don’t know if I could repeat that little bronco trick I just pulled off.

My heart felt like it was about to explode right outta my chest and that damn dust mask felt like it was some psycho killer tryin’ to suffocate the life right outta me. My lungs are achin’ for some cool, fresh air, to just suck down huge gulps of it, but I don’t dare take that damn thing off.

Besides, even if I’d been stupid enough to do so, I just didn’t have time.

I wasn’t even halfway off the floor before that bitch is startin’ to charge again. See, she didn’t know what fear was. She didn’t get tired, couldn’t be hurt. The perfect killing machine—she’ll just keep comin’ at ya and comin’ at ya, wearin’ ya down with the persistence and ferocity of a rabid weasel.

And me? I ain’t got so much as a pen knife on me. The gun’s out there in the hallway somewhere with my duffel bag and even if it weren’t, it wouldn’t do me any good anyhow. I mean, I wasted all my rounds, pumpin’ them into her chest like that.

I’m usin’ the edge of the tub to help boost me up and she’d crossed half the distance between us when she just kinda launches herself at me. I mean, one moment she’s running toward me and the next she’s divin’ through the air, flyin’ at me like some fucked up superhero. Got her arms strecthed out in front of her, ready to latch onto my face…

This time, it was dumb luck that saved me. I slipped, see, in all that water on the floor. One second I’m strugglin’ to get up and the next it feels like someone just pulled the world out from under my feet. I fell hard, man. I mean, the thump rattled the panes in the window and it felt like my spine was about to shoot right outta the top of my head.

That fuckin’ corpse thing? She just passes right over top of me. Her ankle smacked me upside the temple as she flew by but then there was this sharp crack from her head hittin’ the tile, I suppose. There was a big splash like someone had just done the cannonball at the pool, with drops of water sprayin’ everywhere.

I know she won’t be down for long, so I’m kinda half crawlin’ toward the door and fighting to stand up at the same time. I don’t like her bein’ back there, behind me, where I can’t see her, can’t tell how close she is. I was just tryin’ to go by sound alone, but everything is a little muffled ‘cause the hood on that suit is cinched so tightly around my head, right?

Even so, I can hear the tub water sloshin’ and in my mind I get this perfect picture of her risin’ up out of it. Hair plastered to her skull, water runnin’ down her body and reconstitutin’ all that dried blood into these cloudy little streams. Crouchin’ down as she flexes for another pounce.

Then I hear a sound like someone tossed a handful of pennies into a jar of change, ya know? It’s all mixed up with this other sound, like a big ‘ole trash bag bein’ yanked outta the box. And almost immediately there’s a thud that I can feel through vibrations in the floor more than I can really hear it.

I look back over my shoulder, real quick like. Just to know if I should turn and fight or just keep runnin’, right?

The undead bitch is half in the tub, half layin’ over the edge, and she’s got the shower curtain all wrapped around her. I mean, she’s all twisted up in that shit, thrashin’ and kickin’ water. Kinda flops outta the tub and she’s tryin’ to tear her way through it, but only seems to be gettin’ even more tangled up.

By this time, I’m out into the hallway and the carpet is squishin’ under my feet with all the water it’s done soaked up. I scoop up my duffel and I’m fumblin’ with the zipper. I couldn’t seem to get a good grip on it through those damn plastic gloves and my hands were shakin’ like a palsied old, man anyhow.

I hear feet runnin’ through water behind me and I know that thing’s got free, and I got three, maybe four seconds tops before she’s springin’ onto my back, so I say fuck it. I give up on unzippin’ the damn thing altogether and just kinda pull each handle in opposite directions. Popped that zipper like a virgin’s cherry. I’ve got one hand thrustin’ inside and I’m whirlin’ around, all in one motion.

She’s right there, man, close enough that I could see the little puckers of skin around the bullet wounds.

The duffel bag’s droppin’ to the floor and my arm’s swingin’ around in a wide arc, just lettin’ centrifugal force do most of the work.

And that pry bar slams into the side of her skull so solidly that a jolt goes up my arm, kinda like I’d just banged my funny bone against somethin’. Her head snaps to the side and she’s just beginnin’ to turn when I hit her again.

This time, I’ve got both hands choked up on that metal and I’m twisting from the waist like a little leaguer