“I’m here, Shannon, right here,” Ethan replied from her bedside. He lifted her hand and held it in both of his.
“We did it, Ethan. We won,” she coughed around the roughness of the recently removed respirator tube.
“Yeah, we did.” Ethan felt his eyes filling with unshed tears.
“You should have left me…”
“Never.”
“Where’s Kayla?”
“She’s in the pediatric ward, in the playroom playing with other children.”
“Is she alright?”
“Fine, Shannon; don’t worry about her or me.”
Shannon rolled her head over to Ethan. The flesh around her eye had gone to a bluish-green color and the swelling was all but gone now. “What was it, Ethan?”
“They are saying it was some form of super virus or something.”
“A virus that could talk?”
“I don’t know, Shannon, that’s just what they are saying.”
She rolled back towards the ceiling, and locked eyes with a reporter spewing something on the muted television. “I don’t think I have a place to live anymore.”
“Sure you do. I dropped out of college and got a job here in town. My parents’ inheritance was enough to put a deposit on a small house.”
“How many bedrooms?” Shannon asked as she rolled her head back to Ethan.
“Three,” he said simply.
Shannon stared at him longingly, searching him for a further answer.
“One for Kayla, one as an office…”
Shannon smiled at him, squeezed his hand, and began to cry—not in a sad way, but in a deeply relieving way, in the manner of Atlas finally releasing his burden of the world. Ethan decided, then, never to tell her that while in her short lived coma, they had treated her for a venereal disease and relieved her of a pregnancy—the results of her rape. She could bear children, at least that was what the attending nurse had said, and that was enough for Ethan.
Kayla was finally comfortable again. She was with others her own age, and even though they were hurt in some way or another, she found them endlessly entertaining. They had wonderful imaginations and smiled easily, even without her having to force them.
Occasionally, she would have to convince one of them to play her game, but that was not often, especially after the first time. The little burned girl was used to being in charge and she wanted to play some board game. Kayla wanted to play dress up with the donated clothing.
“Dress up is for babies!” the little burned girl shouted.
“No it’s not!” Kayla shouted back, no longer moved by the numerous scabs on the girl’s face.
“Is to!”
“No… it’s… not!” Kayla shouted back as she reached into the burned girl’s chest with her mind and squeezed whatever was there until she passed out. The others were more than willing to play dress up with her, and she soon found herself working adult-sized sleeves over child-size arm casts. The nurses simply carried the burned girl away to her room saying something about how she was not ready to be up and playing just yet.
Kayla knew that when Black Water gets inside you, there is no cleaning that out. You cannot drink bleach, or any other cleanser for that matter, and you just had to learn to live with it. The special abilities it gave her made it easy to cope, even with the ancient voices whispering from some great distance in her mind.
The house was quickly falling into disrepair. The paint was flaking off just about everywhere, and the spiders had returned en-mass. Cobwebs filled every small space they could find and trapped the dust and other flying debris, giving the house a worn and shabby appearance.
She had read every book in the library twice and searched through every nook and cupboard in the house. What she never imagined, or the Culture for that matter, was the unending boredom of watching the Heart House finally fall to ruin. She remembered that day of agony, the day the Culture cut her off, made her sentient, and then died in a burning rage of hatred, leaving her to watch this wonderful house die.
Then on one of these endless days, there came voices from the woods. She rushed to the windows of the second floor and looked out. There were kids coming from the recovering trees, lots of them with beer, radios, and sleeping bags. Fate had finally brought her entertainment, and when done seducing them and twisting them to her grotesque acts of carnal pleasure, she would kill them. Madison would finally have company again, the Heart House could rise from its spiraling death, and the Culture would begin to grow again. This time, she would be the elder, and this time, she would be the only member of the council.
About the Author
Jon Fore was born in Marysville, Ohio in 1968, the third son of Dave and Judy Fore. After graduating Manalapan High School in 1987, Jon enlisted in the United States Navy, serving a combat role during Desert Storm. Now he lives in Florida with his beautiful wife and three wonderful children.
His first professional short story,
In 2006, his short story,
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 Jon Fore
Copyright © 2011 by Jon Fore
Published by Obscura Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the written consent of Obscura Publishing.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Any trademarks referred to within this publication are the property of their respective trademark holders.
Obscura Publishing - www.obscurapublishing.com
ISBN: 978-1-4524-3085-0
Cover Artist: Lisa Dabbs
