“We hear yoouuu...”
“I know, Lizzy. You always do. Your hearing must be exceptional.”
When he reached her cell, everything seemed normal again. She was always pale, but after losing a half-pint of blood earlier, she’d had the appearance of a corpse. Now she merely looked like the remorseless psychopath he knew her to be.
“Oh, my. You must not be too angry with us. You brought our favorite.”
“Do you really have a favorite?”
“Of course. We love Turkey Delight because it reminds us of our childhood.”
Lizzy had never shared anything about her life other than gruesome details of the people she had murdered. She loved to talk about them. Without being told, she faced the opposite wall, hands pressing against the concrete. Her head pivoted so she could watch him with her peripheral vision.
“I thought you could use the extra calories,” he said, loosening the screws. He reached through the hatch, placing her meal on the floor. Scrawled on the beige-colored cafeteria tray with a Sharpie: TUESDAY DINNER.
“How was the flying today?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he replaced the hatch and began securing the thumb screws. One, two, three...
“It would make us less unhappy if we could have a conversation every now and then.”
“That hasn’t gone well for me in the past.”
“We promise not to talk about our conquests. We want to hear about the world outside.”
He stood, forcing himself to look at the side of her exposed face. His gaze traveled down to the bandaged wrist.
“Autumn has arrived,” he said finally. “The leaves are turning. It’s quite lovely.”
She sighed. “Tell us about the colors. Describe them in detail, please.”
“Russet brown, burnished copper, amber and yellow-gold.”
“Did you see animals?”
“Yes. Mostly deer. A spectacular twelve-point buck.”
“Bambi’s daddy!”
He almost smiled.
“What about people?” she said in her sly tone; the miniscule change in inflection would be easily missed by untrained ears.
“No people.”
She turned to face him through the mesh now that the hatch was secure. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. He didn’t blink. “Nope. Why would I lie?”
“We don’t know. Perhaps you don’t want us to know that there are still people out there.”
“Of course there are people. Just not around here.”
“Maybe not in this storage-building complex, but there must be people in the surrounding forested area. They’ll be living off animals now that modern food is mostly gone.”
“Do you know what the mortality rate of the pandemic was?”
“No. The news reporters wouldn’t tell us while television still worked. Do you know?”
“Yes. It was over ninety-nine percent. And yet with so few people left in the world, you felt compelled to murder everyone you came into contact with.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Those seventeen people you killed had beaten incredible odds,” he continued. “They survived a plague that most didn’t. In that way, if not in others, they were special. They deserved a chance to make a life in this new world, but you denied them that.”
She shrugged. “We can’t help what we are, Ray. If you hadn’t discovered our trophies, you wouldn’t have known, and we would be blissfully cohabitating in this splendid place, instead of being subjected to your cruel torture. How long do you think we can remain locked up? We’ll die of boredom, if not blood loss.”
“That wouldn’t be so terrible.” He instantly regretted the words. It was never a good idea to lower himself to her level.
“There’s that mean streak we knew lurked beneath the George Clooney exterior.”
“Flattery doesn’t work on me, Lizzy.”
“You like to think that you’re not like us, but you are. Everyone is, on some level. People are born killers, whether they indulge those instincts or not. We know you would love nothing more than to poison us and be done with the burden. But you won’t, because you’re a coward.”
“And therein lies the difference between me and a monster like you.”
He turned to leave.
“Nice chatting with you, Ray. We’ll see you in the morning.”
The laughter’s tentacles didn’t reach his ears this time. He had slipped on headphones and listened to John Denver all the way back to his quarters. He sang to Rocky Mountain High and Calypso while heating his dinner in the microwave. John Denver tunes soothed him like no other music could. His mother had been an avid fan, so he grew up listening to all the old songs. After Lizzy came into his life, he had found himself ignoring the other artists in his music library and listening exclusively to the older albums: Aerie, Windsong, and his favorite, Live at the Apollo Theater. Hearing the cheers and applause of the audience made him feel less alone.
Once the beef stew was gone, he decided to indulge in some of the Four Roses bourbon he kept in the bottom desk drawer. Two fingers, no more. A person with anxiety issues like his could become addicted to the stuff. He had no desire to add battle alcohol addiction to his chores list, and with Lizzy nearby, he had to remain clear-headed and vigilant.
The amber liquid heated his belly nicely while he watched again the Freefly’s footage from earlier in the day. After dusting off, the drone had failed to catch any images of the children. He would send the Phantom out in the morning to see if the food was still there. He found his hopes rising that it would be gone, replaced by two large rocks.
Chapter 6
Willadean
“What do you reckon is in there?” Cricket stage-whispered to Willadean and Harlan.
The three stood just inside the tree line, scrutinizing the small, plastic-wrapped pallet at the center of the sunlit meadow.
