She nodded.
Lester walked over to the tool cabinet and grabbed something. He brought it over to the crate. It was a broomstick, with a nail sticking out the end.
When Lester poked his pet in the butt with it, the thing flopped around, rocking back and forth. When it rolled onto its back, Georgia noted that its genitals were also gone.
“Does Georgia girl want to make the pet do the funny dance?”
The next thing Georgia knew, the broomstick had been pressed into her hands. She stared down at this poor pathetic creature, rolling around in its own mess on a pile of dirty hay, and searched for any semblance of humanity. She didn’t see any. This wasn’t a person anymore. Just a mindless thing.
The thing began to roll again, making a moaning sound, and Georgia realized that without even being aware of it she’d given it a poke.
So she poked it again. And again.
The fourth time, she began to laugh.
“So I see you have a new guest for your playroom, Lester. But why isn’t she strapped onto your play table?”
Georgia turned, surprised at the voice, and saw an old man in a lab coat standing in the doorway. She instinctively backed away, bumping into Lester.
“This is Georgia girl. Georgia girl is Lester’s girlfriend. Georgia girl and Lester are going to make babies.”
Georgia looked up at Lester, then unconsciously rubbed her belly. She decided that now wasn’t the best time to tell him how she got along with babies.
The old man clucked his tongue. “You tried to make babies before, Lester. Do you remember? But whenever you get a new girlfriend you always wind up biting her too much. How many times have we been through this?”
“Georgia girl is different.”
The old man glanced at the stick she held, and then nodded. “Yes. Yes she certainly seems to be, doesn’t she?”
“You must be the doctor,” Georgia said, finding her voice. “Lester’s friend.”
“Indeed, indeed I am. Doctor Plincer, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady.” Georgia shook the dry, bony hand he extended toward her. “You like playing with Lester’s pet, I see.”
“He’s funny,” Georgia said.
“Funny? Hmm. Yes, I suppose he is. No real brain activity anymore. Delta waves. More like delta bumps. Full frontal lobotomy. Had him for years, kept trying to escape, even without limbs. And the begging, all the time, non- stop. We finally did a little work on his prefrontal cortex, just to calm him down. Not much for conversation anymore. But he is kind of funny, isn’t he? Especially when you stick him with the nail. Yes?”
Georgia wondered if this was some sort of test. She responded by giving Lester’s pet a few more pokes.
The doctor stroked his dirty chin. “Interesting. Very interesting. Sadistic personality. No remorse. Obvious sociopathic tendencies. And I don’t see a single bite mark on you. For one of Lester’s girlfriends, that’s remarkable. Did he happen to tell you what kind of doctor I am?”
Georgia shook her head. She couldn’t tell if she passed this old coot’s stupid test or not.
“I’m a brain specialist. Perhaps the foremost in the world. And I think, I think that you would be perfect for my experiments.”
“Lester is keeping Georgia girl.” Lester draped his long arms over her.
Doctor Plincer nodded. “But of course, Lester, of course. But perhaps your little girlfriend could be,” he smacked his lips, “
Georgia didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Lester doesn’t want Georgia girl to be like the ferals,” Lester said. “Lester and Georgia girl are going to make babies.”
“This one won’t go feral, Lester. This one has all the traits I’m looking for. Plus she’s young. Strong.”
Ferals? Lobotomies? Procedures? Georgia didn’t like the way this conversation was heading.
From somewhere else in the prison, Georgia heard screaming. A girl. It sounded like Laneesha. She held her breath, resisting the urge to run away, making sure her face was calm even when she was close to freaking out.
“Lester won’t let Doctor take Georgia girl.”
“You hear that, Frankenstein?” Georgia said. “Back the fuck off.”
The doctor nodded again. “I see. I see. But I think, Lester my boy, that this is the best for all concerned. For me, for you, and for her. So I’m going to ask you, very nicely, to bring her to my lab. I promise no harm will come to her.”
Lester’s protective hug turned into a grab, seizing Georgia in his gigantic hands.
“Lester!” she cried, squirming to get away. She might as well have been bound with steel cable.
Doctor Plincer came closer, smiling. He was bent over with age, and Georgia could see straight down his collar. He wore no shirt beneath his lab coat, and his hairless pink chest was covered with shiny, puckered scars.
“Don’t you worry, my dear. I’m going to take very good care of you. You may even thank me for this later. Thank me, or…God forbid…try to eat me. Let’s all hope it’s the former.”
Georgia tried very hard not to scream as Lester dragged her off to the lab.
She almost succeeded.
Martin closed his eyes. The throb in his jaw was finally going away. He wondered how this had all gone so horribly wrong, and questioned his decision to bring everyone to this island.
He rubbed his eyes and dismissed the thought; regretting the past was a fool’s game. The thing to do now was think ahead. But was that even possible? What could he do to save Sara, the one-time love of his life, from the horrors in the woods?
The key to saving her was predicting her next move. What would she do next? Where would she go?
He stared down at his son, asleep in the sling, and an idea came to him.
Martin began to plan.
Moments after Cindy dropped the gun, Tyrone was dragging her away from the scene. It had been a mistake to try and shoot the cannibals. No one could have looked at that horrible feast and still been able to act. Tyrone would never be able to forget that image, even if he scrubbed his mind with steel wool.
He winced at the pain—he’d stuck his burned right hand under Cindy’s armpit to pull her, while his less- injured left held the torch. The extra illumination allowed them to move fast, sidestepping obstacles, minding their footing. Unfortunately, it was also like a beacon to those cannibals. From the sounds of it, they had no problems moving quickly in the dark. Tyrone guessed they were less than twenty yards behind them.
Seeing he had no choice, Tyrone ditched the torch, tossing it into a clump of bushes and then tugging Cindy to the immediate left, breaking their current trajectory. Without the light it was like swimming in ink. Tyrone was forced to slow down to a quick walk, moving with one hand in front of him so he didn’t knock himself out on a tree. Gradually his night vision adjusted, and the trees thinned a bit to let occasional moonlight in, and the pair moved at a jog, Cindy in step beside Tyrone.
The figure stood in front of them, so still it almost looked like a tree. But the outline was definitely human, and there was only one, and rather than change directions yet again Tyrone lowered his head and charged.
His aim was good, and he prepared for impact, bunching up his neck and shoulder in a driving tackle.
But then, as if by magic, he was ass over head, flipping through the air, landing on his back so hard it knocked the wind out of him.
Tyrone had heard the term before, and knew what it meant, but he’d never had the wind knocked out of him before. It felt like a car was parked on his chest, and he couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t make a sound.
This brought instant panic, and he began to flail around. Not at the figure. Just random, spastic movements, as if that could somehow fill him with the oxygen he so desperately craved. Little sparkly motes began to float through his vision. He felt close to passing out.
Then something dropped on his stomach. A person. Miraculously, the pressure forced his diaphragm to work
