William Rose - The Seven Habits

Pebble had his toys. Gauge and Corduroy spent a lot of time playing a game that seemed to involve moving miniature horses and castles around a board. Levi always had her nose in books bloated with mildew, and Ocean, of course, had Baby.

There were also times when it seemed like everything that could go wrong, did. The gutters that they’d fastened to the walls of the tunnels would collapse beneath the weight of the rain that poured through the drains. They would suddenly realize that they were nearly out of wood at the same time that Pebble’s antics would send cans of food clattering to Heaven’s floor. During these times, their little home would bustle with activity, like an anthill that had just been crushed under the foot of a passing rotter, they would dart off in all directions, each person tending to a separate minor emergency on their own.

How long would it be before Pebble, Levi, and Gauge were busy in the tunnels while she and Corduroy remained behind? A week? A month? Sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Only this time, he would be more wary of the young girl and would, undoubtedly, be more prepared.

To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them.

Ocean’s gaze drifted to the entrance of the south tunnel. This time her mind wasn’t preoccupied with what might be transpiring further within its depths. This time, she was looking at the neat stacks of folded clothes bordering a mound of blankets on the floor. The pair of muddy boots that were held together by the same silver tape as Baby’s crib. The bulging duffel bag with it’s rope strap.

Corduroy’s things.

His secrets.

I bet he remembers more than he lets on, Ocean thought. I bet that son of a bitch remembers just fine.

She slid out of the chair with her back arched so as not to jostle the sleeping infant in her arms. The last thing she needed was for Baby to wake up again. There was always a chance, albeit a slim one, that his cries would draw the others back to the main chamber. She had to move as fluidly as possible, to be as patient as she’d been back when she’d had to trap flies for food.

Raising Baby to her shoulder, she settled his bottom in the crook of her left arm and his head lolled against her neck, then she crossed the room as silently as the ghost that Gauge blamed all the missing items on. Her footsteps were nothing more than a soft shuffle as she crossed the space between the table and Corduroy’s bedroll.

She stood there for a moment and craned her neck as her eyes peered into the darkness of the south tunnel. She watched for anything that seemed to be moving down there, listening for voices wrapped up in conversation that would grow louder the closer they came, but there was nothing more than the plinking of condensation dripping from the rounded ceiling.

Ocean lowered herself to a squat and balanced on her toes in front of Corduroy’s duffel bag.

To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them.

With one final glance at the tunnel, she pulled the zipper back as slowly as she could. The air in the chamber suddenly felt as thin as it had in the hot kitchen and she took quick, shallow breaths. With a trembling hand, she reached into Corduroy’s bag and searched through its contents like a blind person.

Her fingertips felt something coarse and thick, something else that was softer than anything she’d ever touched… and then a texture she knew all too well. It was so slick and cool that her fingers seemed to glide over its surface as if it were made of ice, but that smoothness quickly gave way to a dip that felt rough and jagged.

She jerked her hand out of the bag and stared at the little glass monkey with the missing tail. Pebble’s monkey. The one she’d given him on that first night and probably what he’d been searching frantically for earlier. But what was it doing in Corduroy’s bag? Why would a grown man take a toy from a little—

The color drained from Ocean’s face and her eyes grew wide as the realization hit her. It was Pebble’s monkey, true. But it hadn’t always been, before that first night it had been her monkey.

She plunged her hand back into Corduroy’s bag again and yanked out handfuls of belongings, no longer worrying about everything being in the exact same place it had been before she started snooping around. At first there was nothing more than the burned man’s belongings. Folded pieces of paper with words scrawled across them—ink so faded that the words seemed to be disappearing—a pair of rusty scissors, balls of twine, old shirts…Then, as she neared the bottom of the large bag, everything changed. Now she was pulling out tins of food, the can opener that had taken them nearly two weeks to replace, the grimy rags she’d been wearing when Gauge had first rescued her, and every single pair of her underwear that had ever gone missing.

The room seemed to close in on her as she saw all of her personal items mixed in among his. She teetered on the balls of her feet and had to put one hand on the cool floor to keep from toppling over. Now she truly understood, the man was so completely and utterly obsessed with her that he felt compelled to steal all of these objects. All of these things she’d touched or worn or possessed, he stockpiled them all in some sort of personal shrine.

Her father’s voice echoed through her mind again… To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them…

How could she understand someone who was not only dangerous, but obviously insane? How could she ever hope to beat someone who would be as relentless and focused as a rotter on the trail of the living?

Ocean realized that she would never be able to simply avoid him. He would stalk her like a predator, would always be lurking in the shadows or just around the corner, waiting for just the right moment to pounce again.

So I could feel consciousness slippin’ away from me, right? Now that’s an odd feeling. It’s almost like you haven’t slept for days and keep nodding off in the middle of a movie that you’re watchin’, only you’re playing the leading role in the film and you’re tryin’ to come to grips with how they can just write you outta the scene like that. Sure, you feel the panic eatin’ away at ya, and somewhere deep down inside, all these regrets and misgivings come bubblin’ up. All these things you woulda liked to have done or seen. All those missed opportunities. At the same time, you’re kinda detached from it all, like maybe the last time your head was pounded on the pavement, it jarred your soul loose and set it adrift in your mind.

This part of me watched everything through a hazy veil. Clarice fuckin’ Hudson was waverin’ in and out of focus, but I could still see the change that came over her. The snarl just kinda melted away from her face and her mouth hung open like a trapdoor. That weird energy that seemed to sizzle in her eyes, man? Gone. She raised her hands up in front of her face and just sat there on my chest, blinking at them like she couldn’t understand what they were doing attached to her wrists.

Her eyes flickered down to me and I’m sure I was moaning or something, and I was definitely trying to wriggle out from under her while pressing my hand into the wet, bloody tangles of my hair. I wasn’t so much tryin’ to stop the bleedin’ as I was protecting the wound. Even teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, see, I knew that if just a drop of her sweat or spit fell into that gash I was as dead as if she woulda continued bashing my brains out.

So, anyhow, Clarice fuckin’ Hudson kinda scrambles backward until she’s sittin’ on the little curb where the parking garage meets the entrance to the mall. At some point she’d managed to get some of my blood on her hands and she kinda absentmindedly wipes the sweat from her face and leaves this big ‘ole smear across her forehead and eye. She looks like she’s about ready to turn on the waterworks again. I’m staggerin’ to my feet, right, ‘cause at this point, I just want to get as far away from that mall as humanly possible. Shit, I woulda set up base camp on Pluto if I coulda. At the same time, I don’t really wanna turn my back on this bitch, ‘cause she might snap back into infectious mode at any second, ya know?