Kristen Simmons - Article 5

Behind the house was a car, and behind the car was a gravel driveway.

My spirits lifted. The woman looked friendly enough. She could have been any one of my peers’ mothers, sitting on the porch, waiting for her children to come home from school. Maybe she could give me a ride into town.

Maybe she could give me a ride all the way to the checkpoint.

190 Rudy Lane. I repeated the address over and over in my head.

The butterflies began beating in my stomach. I heard Chase’s voice cautioning me that nowhere was safe. Well, there was only one way to find out.

I emerged from the cornfield into the clearing, fifteen feet away from where the woman sat. She jumped up so quickly she nearly knocked the chair off the step.

“Hello!” I called, walking slowly toward her. I tried to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I’m sorry, I’m a little lost. I was hoping you’d be able to help me.”

She had widely spaced eyes and flattened cheeks, which drained of all color as I approached. Her mouth fell open, and she absently went to smooth down her salt-and-pepper hair.

It’s probably been a long time since she’s had surprise guests, I surmised.

“Oh!” she said suddenly, then motioned for me to come closer. “The rain! You’re getting soaked! Come up here!”

I moved cautiously forward toward the front steps. She was smaller than I’d expected, several inches shorter than me. When I was under the awning, she placed a tentative hand on my shoulder and then patted me gently, as though to assure I was real. I became aware of how I must have looked, covered in mud, soaked to the bone. I swiped the back of my hand over my face, hoping I wasn’t too dirty.

I could hear the wind chimes now; they were nearly deafening. I jumped at a particularly loud clang that she seemed not to notice.

“You look like you’ve had a hell of a day,” she said.

I laughed, or sobbed, one of the two. At the end of it, we were both smiling.

“Sorry, sorry! Come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

I hung by the door as she pushed through. The dog, which had ignored my presence up until now, sniffed my hand lethargically with his whitened muzzle, then padded inside.

I tilted my head in, looking from one end of the compartment to the other—and was blasted with a pungent odor that was so strong it made my eyes water. A cloud of flies swarmed through the tepid room, and the buzzing, combined with the clanging of the chimes and the downpour, made my head hurt.

It was a mess. Dirty dishes were stacked in the tiny metal sink and spilled over the countertop. Tissues and cloths of all colors and sizes were strewn across the compact table. On the bed at the far right end there was barely enough room cleared for one person to sleep.

The woman sorted through the dishes, probably searching for a clean cup. Finally she gave up and shrugged, her cheeks glowing with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her over the noise. “I’m really not that thirsty. I was wondering if you might be able to give me a ride. I’ve got family in Harrisonburg,” I added. The smell was so strong I had to take a step back.

The woman shuffled over to me and reached for my hand. It was warm and soft against mine, but I started at the contact. I was glad that she didn’t appear to sense my unease. I didn’t want to appear rude while asking for a favor.

“You can’t go now, sweetie. Not with this weather. Please come in.”

“Actually, they’re expecting me,” I tried to smile. “I’m sure they’re worried.”

Against my better judgment I took one step inside, suddenly aware of all four walls. The room was too small for both of us, the dog, and all this clutter. I could feel the stifling air sticking to my throat as I tried to swallow. Unconsciously, I began to tug my hand back.

“I’m sorry about the mess. Things have been so hard since Dad’s been gone.” Her lower lip quivered, sending rippling waves through the loose skin connecting her chin to her collarbone.

I couldn’t picture this woman living with a full-grown man in such a crowded compartment. I wondered where her father had slept. Hopefully not in bed with her.

“I’m sorry about your loss….” I stopped, eyes growing wide.

What had been hidden behind a coatrack when I’d stood outside was now visible. An animal carcass, maybe three feet long, hanging from a hook in the ceiling. The source of the sickening stench. It had been dripping blood onto the floor, which the dog was now slowly licking at. The thing — whatever it was — had been skinned and was turning a bluish white. Flies and maggots covered one side that had gone completely rotten. I tasted the sharp bite of vomit in my mouth and struggled to swallow it down.

“They shut off the water you know. Power, too. I get some supplies from old John’s place, but, well…” She batted a hand in front of her face, not sensing my discomfort in the least. “None of that matters now that you’re here.”

“I… um…” I turned to look at the door, feeling her hand tighten around mine.

“I like your hair that way,” the woman said. She moved closer to me, and I automatically stepped back.

“You… like…” I began, still too distressed by the dead animal hanging in what appeared to be her living room to finish. The dog continued to lick at the spot that had stained the patch of linoleum peeking through the dust.

“Oh, yes. I always told you it would look better short, didn’t I?”

Of all the things that had sent alarm bells ringing through my head since my arrival, this was the comment that scared me the most. It took everything I had not to push her down and run out the door.

“Miss… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” I started, jerking my hand away and bumping into the coatrack.

“Alice, you know I hate it when you say that. Call me Mother, please.”

“Mother…”

“That’s right, sweetie.”

It became explicitly clear that this woman did not intend to let me leave.

“No, I mean, I’m not Alice. You don’t understand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.” I turned to the exit. The woman moved with surprising dexterity, shoving her body in front of me and latching both fists around the doorframe.

“Let me go,” I said, voice trembling. The flies clouded the air between us. The stink was rising as I became more frightened. I could barely stop myself from gagging.

“Sweetie, is this because of Luke? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about him. But I told you. They shut off the power and the water. The corn’s gone dry, and there’s not much food that old John doesn’t need for his family. I had to kill him, Alice. I know you loved him, but I was starving,” she rattled frantically. Her face had gone white again, and all the empty skin quaked.

“That’s a person ?” I screeched, glancing against my better judgment at the carcass hanging from the ceiling. I gagged again.

“Luke? That’s your puppy! Don’t you remember? Oh, Alice, we’ll find you another, I promise.” Tears filled her eyes. She was genuinely upset that she had hurt me. Or Alice.

The sound of the dog licking up the spoiled residue on the floor pushed me over the edge. I tried to cover my mouth with my hand, but it was too late. I vomited all over the floor.

The woman stepped cautiously from the door and grabbed a towel. With a mother’s kindness, she dabbed my mouth. It smelled as sick as the rest of the room. I weakly pushed her back. My knees were wobbling now, and my head spun. I focused on the open door before me, and the cool, fresh air of freedom.

“I have to go,” I told her.

“No, Alice. We’re okay now. You came back to me, and we’re going to be okay,” she crooned. She lifted an arm around my shoulder for comfort. I jerked away from her touch, stepping on the dog’s tail. He barked viciously, snarling at me.