When he came to an abrupt stop outside her cell, the bowl of oatmeal dropped to the floor. Lizzy lay in a pool of blood, rendered oily black in the low light. Her hair splayed out from her head like the branches of a dead oak tree. His gaze darted to her chest, waiting for movement. After his own had expanded five times, hers finally did as well.
Her eyes fluttered open, then traveled down to a pale wrist. A ragged incision there served as the wellspring for Lizzy’s river of blood.
“What have you done?”
“This is not a life, Ray,” came the faint reply. “We can’t take the captivity any longer.”
He scanned the visible parts of the cell, looking for any signs of a trap. Everything appeared in order except for the woman lying on the floor, her arm seeming to float on the surface of a miniature Black Sea.
He twisted the twelve thumbscrews that secured the small opening to her cell, then reached inside, his sleeve trailing through the blood on its way to Lizzy’s wrist. With careful fingers, he encircled the slender forearm and pulled it through the opening. He surveyed the damaged flesh, his mind already working through the next few minutes. A first-aid kit sat on a shelf in his quarters. Butterfly strips would be adequate for the incision that bisected the wrist. She’d cut across the wrist instead of along the length of the forearm.
A rookie mistake for anyone genuinely seeking to end their life. Whatever Lizzy was, she was no neophyte when it came to matters of death.
“How did you do it, Lizzy?” he said. He would not reveal that he had spotted her ploy. “What did you use?”
“A plastic knife. Now go away and leave us alone.”
“That must have hurt. I’m going to get the first-aid kit. I’ll clean you up as best I can through the hatch. But I’m not removing you from your room.”
“We don’t care what you do. We’re dying anyway.”
“You might. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He watched her face for a response. None was forthcoming.
“I’ll be right back.”
He placed the arm back inside the cell. It would take six minutes to get to his quarters and return with the medical supplies. He briefly entertained the idea of leaving the hatch open, but decided on caution, taking the extra time to secure all twelve screws.
When he returned, she was sitting up, wearing the smile that always filled him with dread.
“You seem to be coming around,” he said.
“We were hoping you would remove the fence for us.”
“Right. I’m not stupid, Lizzy. I know what you’re capable of.”
Musical laughter. “You can’t blame us for trying.”
He opened the hatch, gesturing for the wounded arm.
“Leave the strips on for a week,” he said a few minutes later. “Here are some extra paper towels to clean up your floor, and a bottle of peroxide. Pour some on your wrist several times a day. Watch for red streaks. If it gets infected, I have antibiotics.”
“What about our breakfast?” she said, the green-rimmed pupils glanced toward the spilled oatmeal.
He reached into his satchel, and handed a silver package through the hatch.
“Pop-Tarts? I thought they were for special desserts.”
“They were handy. You’re welcome.”
She accepted the package and watched him close the hatch. He mouthed the number for each thumbscrew as he secured it. Counting all twelve helped relieve anxiety.
“Interesting. We remember when you first found us. You said you had spotted us from the drone. You gave us Pop-Tarts then too.” She studied him with naked fascination, a crossroads demon waiting to see if its human counterpart would scribble a signature beside the X.
After cleaning up the oatmeal, he walked away. Her vocal tentacles reached him just as he rounded the corner.
“Have fun flying today. Maybe we’ll have company soon.”
He stopped, moving forward only when the laughter began.
***
The Freefly drone returned from dropping off its cargo at the glade, but instead of sending the Phantom out right away, he decided to wait. He didn’t want to spook the kids with too much aerial surveillance. He had attached a note to the bundle:
I AM A FRIEND. I HAVE PLENTY OF FOOD. LEAVE ONE BIG ROCK IN THE CENTER OF THE CLEARING IF YOU’RE OK. LEAVE TWO BIG ROCKS IF YOU NEED MORE FOOD.
He hoped they could read. Chicxulub happened three years ago. Surely these kids had been in school prior to that. Life in Appalachia may have been behind the times, but children had attended school even throughout the poorest areas.
A timer dinged on his iPhone. He couldn’t call or text anyone on the thing, but the notes and reminder features were still useful. It also told him the correct time and date. He had realized long ago that in order to survive the current madness, he had to retain some normalcy from his old life.
It was time to take Lizzy her dinner. He would provide something special tonight. Not that she deserved it, but after her stunt earlier, he had been thinking about her existence as a well-fed inmate. If their roles
