“The fact that it’s still immensely readable at over two hundred years old,” Wendy began, shaking her head, “is…well, I don’t know what to say. Ninety-nine percent of the books published before the storms couldn’t hold a candle to this classic.”
“You know,” Scarlett said, “I found it kinda sad. Victor created life, and he just abandoned his creation because it was—what, ugly?”
“Pretty much,” George said.
“How about the irony in the story?” Wendy said.
I cleared my throat. “The whole ordeal was sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy, wasn’t it?” The others stared, their eyes urging me on. I had their attention. “Victor wanted to create life, beautiful life, but when his creation didn’t live up to his standards, he, along with others, started referring to the creation as a monster. And then what happened?”
George crossed his arms. “The creation became a monster. Wow, good point, Grady.” He clapped me on the shoulder, a gesture that almost knocked my arm from its socket. “See, I told you he’s more than good looks!”
“So you’re saying,” Wendy said, her brow knitted in concentration, “that if the monster was treated like a human, then it wouldn’t have turned out to be a monster?”
I nodded. “I think so, but that’d make for a pretty boring story, wouldn’t it?”
“Wish it’d work for the monsters outside our walls,” George muttered. “We be nice to them, they don’t kill us. That sort of thing.”
“With Victor’s monster, it at least wanted to be human,” Wendy said. “I don’t think we can say the same for the monsters outside.”
“Exactly,” I said.
In tandem, we all turned toward Scarlett, expecting a reply. She had crammed more cheese and crackers into her mouth. Chewy was perched at her feet with his ears perked up, his tail going like clockwork as he awaited crumbs.
“Oh,” Scarlett mumbled. “Wait a second, you guys actually read the book?”
“You didn’t?” Wendy said. She looked unamused, and she was the kind of person you didn’t want to disappoint.
“Honestly? I’m just here for the free food.” Scarlett shrugged. Once she realized Wendy’s glare was serious, she threw up her hands. “Joking! Take a chill pill, Wend.”
During the last shift Lee “supervised” me, he slept for five and a half of the seven hours, only waking during the last thirty minutes to smoke a few cigarettes and tell me how badly he needed a beer.
Then, when it was time to clock out, he did a little something that made me like him a bit more—not that I disliked him, that is; I just, for the first time since the blizzards began, would’ve rather been alone.
Lee stood from his chair. He was nothing but a beanpole, a clattering of bones painted over with perpetually suntanned skin (probably from years upon years of sitting out in the backyard and guzzling down six-packs of Bud). He stretched his arms above his head and twisted. His spine crackled sickeningly loud. I cringed, gritting my teeth at the sound. Either he had just slipped multiple discs or he was superhuman. Then Lee proceeded with the crackling affair by grabbing hold of his jutting chin, rotating his neck first to the right and then to the left. A deep crack followed each movement. If that wasn’t enough, he then laced his fingers together and popped eight before working on the thumbs. The sound was like a package of firecrackers going off all at once. Not only was I still gritting my teeth at this point, but I thought I was going to be nauseous too.
“Are you all right—?” I started to say before he laid a hand on my shoulder. He couldn’t have been more than a hundred and twenty pounds—I mean, I could’ve sneezed in his direction and sent him halfway across the country—but his grip, even despite seemingly breaking his fingers beforehand, was strong. My collarbone bent inward at his touch.
“You sure you’re gonna be able to do this without my guidance?”
I nodded, thinking he was being a little condescending. Anyone with a functioning brain could’ve performed these tasks.
“Good, good,” Lee replied. “I know you can, but I needed to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.” He grinned, but the grin didn’t last for long. It wavered the way your reflection does in a lake if you reach out and touch it. Then it fell completely into a worried grimace.
“What is it?”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth and blew out, causing a lock of his greasy hair to lift from his brow. He looked agonized, like what he might say next would bring about physical pain to him.
“Go on. Whatever you’re gonna say, I can take it.”
“Just wanna warn you, that’s all…”
“About what?”
“Well…after a while you might start seein’ things on the monitors. Things that ain’t there.”
“Wraiths?”
Lee shook his head and shrugged. “Maybe. Most likely. I don’t know for sure. All I do know is that they don’t show up on the tapes when we go back through ‘em. You know Paul, right?”
“Yeah.”
“He was the one who…well, you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
I nodded again. Paul Ellis was the man who’d let Berretti’s locked-up experiment free from its cage. Security camera footage showed him first getting on his knees and bowing to the monster before destroying the locking mechanism. As soon as it was free, the thing eviscerated him. Nick told me how Ellis wore a deep look of satisfaction on his face when the wraith consumed his life-force.
“He was seein’ the things on the monitors before you came along. Talkin’ about ‘em all the time. No one else saw that shit,” Lee went on. “Either they had taken a liking to Paulie and were a little shy about it, or Paulie was riding the train to Crazy Town.” He lowered his voice. “You ask me, I think he was crazy from the get-go, but you can’t never be too sure. I dunno. Me, I’ve been fine whenever I’m on watch—”
Probably because Lee was always sleeping.
“—but you might have it
