Stephen King - Sleeping Beauties

“Better not hurt her,” Angel said. Her voice was trembling; tears stood in her eyes. “Just better not, you bastards. She’s a fuckin goddess.”

Frank took three steps forward, not knowing or caring if his remaining men followed. He looked at Evie so long and hard that Clint turned to look himself.

The greenery that had twined in her hair was gone. Her naked body was beautiful, but in no way extraordinary. Her pubic hair was a dark triangle above the joining of her thighs.

“What the fuck,” Carson Struthers said. “Wasn’t she—just—green?”

“It’s—nice to finally make your acquaintance in person, ma’am,” Frank said.

“Thank you,” said Evie. Bold nakedness not withstanding, she sounded as shy as a schoolgirl. Her eyes were downcast. “Do you like it, Frank, putting animals in cages?”

“I only cage those that need to be caged,” said Frank, and for the first time in days, he really smiled. If there was one thing he knew, it was that wild went two ways—the danger a wild animal presented to others, and the danger that others presented to a wild animal. In general, he cared more about keeping the animals safe from the people. “And I’ve come to let you out of yours. I want to take you to doctors who can examine you. Would you allow me to do that?”

“I think not,” Evie said. “They would find nothing, and change nothing. Remember the story of the golden goose? When the men cut it open, there was nothing inside but guts.”

Frank sighed and shook his head.

He doesn’t believe her because he doesn’t want to believe her, Clint thought. Because he can’t afford to believe her. Not after all he’s done.

“Ma’am—”

“Why don’t you call me Evie,” she said. “I don’t like this formality. I thought we had a lovely little rapport when we talked on the phone, Frank.” But her eyes were still downcast. Clint wondered what was in them that she had to hide. Doubt about her mission here? That was probably wishful thinking, but possible—hadn’t Jesus Christ himself prayed to have the cup taken from his lips? As, he supposed, Frank wished that scientists at the CDC would take the cup from his. That they would look at Evie’s scans and bloodwork and DNA and say aha .

“Evie it is,” Frank said. “This inmate…” He tilted his head toward Angel, who was staring at him with wrath. “She says that you’re a goddess. Is that true?”

“No,” Evie said.

At Clint’s side, Willy began to cough and rub the left side of his chest.

“This other woman…” This time the tilt went toward Michaela. “ She says you’re a supernatural being. And—” Frank didn’t like to say it aloud, to get close to the fury that it could lead to, but he had to. “—you knew things about me that you couldn’t have known.”

“Plus she can float!” Jared blurted. “You may have noticed that? She levitated! I saw it! We all did!”

Evie looked at Michaela. “You’re wrong about me, you know. I am a woman, and in most ways like any other. Like the ones these men love. Although love is a dangerous word when it comes from men. Quite often they don’t mean the same thing as women do when they say it. Sometimes they mean they’ll kill for it. Sometimes when they say it they don’t mean much of anything. Which, of course, most women come to know. Some with resignation, many with sorrow.”

“When a man says he loves you, that means he wants to get his pecker up inside your pants,” Angel put in helpfully.

Evie returned her attention to Frank and the men standing behind him. “The women you want to save, are at this very moment living their lives in another place. Happy lives, by and large, although of course most miss their little boys and some miss their husbands and fathers. I won’t say they never behave badly, they are far from saints, but for the most part, they’re in harmony. In that world, Frank, no one ever pulls your daughter’s favorite shirt, shouts in her face, embarrasses her, or terrifies her by putting his fist through the wall.”

“They’re alive?” Carson Struthers asked. “Do you swear it, woman? Do you swear to God?”

“Yes,” Evie said. “I swear to your god and every god.”

“How do we get them back, then?”

“Not by poking me or prodding me or taking my blood. Those things wouldn’t work, even if I were to allow them.”

“What will?”

Evie spread her arms wide. Her eyes flickered, the pupils expanding to black diamonds, the irises roiling from pale green to brilliant amber, turning to cat’s eyes. “Kill me,” she said. “Kill me and they’ll awake. Every woman on earth. I swear this is true.”

Like a man in a dream, Frank raised his rifle.

Clint stepped in front of Evie.

“No, Dad, no!” Jared screamed.

Clint took no notice. “She’s lying, Geary. She wants you to kill her. Not all of her—I think part of her has changed her mind—but it’s what she came here to do. What she was sent here to do.”

“Next you’ll be saying she wants to be hung on a cross,” Pete Ordway said. “Stand aside, Doc.”

Clint didn’t. “It’s a test. If we pass it, there’s a chance. If we don’t, if you do what she expects you to do, the door closes. This will be a world of men until all the men are gone.”

He thought of the fights he’d had growing up, battling not for milkshakes, not really, but just for a little sun and space—a little room to fucking breathe . To grow. He thought of Shannon, his old friend, who had depended on him to pull her out of that purgatory as much as he had depended on her. He had done so to the best of his ability, and she had remembered. Why else would she have given her daughter his last name? But he still owed a debt. To Shannon, for being a friend. To Lila, for being a friend and his wife and his son’s mother. And those who were with him, here in front of Evie’s cell? They also had women to whom they owed debts—yes, even Angel. It was time to pay off.

The fight he’d wanted was over. Clint was punched out and he hadn’t won a thing.

Not yet.

He held his hands out to either side, palms up, and beckoned. Evie’s last defenders came and stood in a line in front of her cell, even Willy, who appeared on the verge of passing out. Jared stood next to Clint, and Clint put a hand on his son’s neck. Then, very slowly, he picked up the M4. He handed it to Michaela, whose mother slept in a cocoon not far from where they now stood.

“Listen to me, Frank. Evie’s told us that if you don’t kill her, if you just let her go, there’s a chance the women can come back.”

“He’s lying,” Evie said, but now that he couldn’t see her, Frank heard something in her voice that gave him pause. It sounded like anguish.

“Enough bullshit,” Pete Ordway said, and spat on the floor. “We lost a lot of good men getting this far. Let’s just take her. We can decide what comes next later.”

Clint lifted Willy’s rifle. He did so reluctantly, but he did it.

Michaela turned to Evie. “Whoever sent you here thinks this is how men solve all their problems. Isn’t that right?”

Evie made no reply. Michaela had an idea that the remarkable creature in the soft cell was being torn in ways she had never expected when she appeared in the woods above that rusted trailer.

She turned back to the armed men, now halfway down the corridor. Their guns were pointed. At this range, their bullets would shred the little group in front of the strange woman.

Michaela raised her weapon. “It doesn’t have to go this way. Show her it doesn’t have to.”

“Which means doing what?” Frank asked.

“It means letting her go back to where she came from,” Clint said.