Regan Wolfrom - Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men

“Why should we listen to you?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t we just bash your skull in like you seem to be asking for, and head out the back?”

“Because Kathleen Shannard’s men will hunt you down and kill you.”

“They’ll kill you, too.”

“That’s why I need to get into that safe.”

“The guns,” Tiara said. “That’s what he needs from it.”

“There are guns in that safe?” I asked.

Tiara nodded.

“Then I guess we’d better get digging.”

We took turns, two girls digging, one girl resting, and two girls holding Fallon down in the dirt.

Pouchon had made a start before, but it was almost ten minutes before we struck the top of the safe.

We heard gunshots.

“I thought Pouchon was out of ammo,” I said.

“Do zombies shoot guns?” Sayra asked as she continued to dig.

“These ones can,” Tiara said, her knee still embedded into her stepfather’s shoulder blade.

“You people are seriously the biggest dumbasses on earth,” I said. “Let’s drug people up and turn them into zombies. Then we’ll give them guns and see what happens.”

“Most of them probably have machetes,” Fallon said. “In Haiti they gave machetes to the Marinette macoutes , since zombies have terrible aim. It’s much easier for them to just start swinging.”

“We should see if we can pull the safe up,” Julia said.

“You should be put on that, Amanda,” Cadance said. “You’re about the same size as a draft horse.”

Sayra and I started working to pry the safe up out of the ground, while Julia stood by to try and help lift it once it was high enough.

“Let me help,” Fallon said.

Tiara looked over to me.

I nodded.

She climbed off of her stepfather.

He reached down into the hole. “We bolted on a couple handles,” he said. “We’re not idiots.”

“Zombies with guns,” I said. “You’re an idiot.”

We pulled out the safe.

“What’s the combination?” I asked.

“I’ll just do it,” Fallon said. He started spinning the lock.

I held a shovel up over my head.

“What?” he said, looking up at me.

“I’m going to bash your head in if you try anything.”

“Makes sense.”

He finished spinning and pulled open the safe.

Inside were two black duffel bags, and on top of each bag was a handgun and a box of bullets.

“Do any of you little girls even know how to shoot a gun?” Fallon asked.

“It can’t be that different from using a cattle prod,” Cadance said. She reached in and pulled out a handgun.

I grabbed it out of her hands. “You’re not getting a gun,” I said.

“You think I’m going to waste bullets on your meaty ass?”

“I can shoot,” Julia said.

I handed her the handgun and kept the other for myself.

Julia ejected the magazine from her gun. “They’re not loaded,” she said. She reached in and grabbed a box bullets. “We’ll need as many of these as we can carry.” She started loading the bullets into the magazine, one at a time. She saw me staring at her and smiled. “My sister likes guns. A lot.”

I loaded my handguns the same way, with Julia checking things over before I popped the magazine back in.

“Are you really going to shoot them?” Sayra asked. “They didn’t ask to be zombies.”

“They’ll kill us if they can,” I said.

We put the boxes of bullets in the duffel bags, on top of what were wrapped stacks of hundred dollar bills; I would’ve expected more twenties.

“The keycards work on the back gate?” I asked.

“They should,” Tiara said.

We hurried along the rutted dirt road that ran from the stables to the trees behind the paddocks. Fallon was with us; I wasn’t about to shoot him.

I glanced back and saw a wave of men running in our direction, rushing out of the stable doors. They ran in formation, like a zombie civil war reenactment. They were completely silent, most grasping machetes, a few with what appeared to be rifles.

It was unnerving. They were on their way to kill us, but they didn’t seem to feel anything about it one way or the other. No angry screams, no hesitation… just a line of macoutes moving swiftly toward us.

“They’ve definitely seen us,” I said.

I turned and aimed my gun. I pulled the trigger and it fired. I almost tripped.

“Don’t waste bullets,” Julia said. “You’re not going to hit them from this far away.”

“There aren’t enough bullets either way,” Fallon said. “You won’t get a chance to reload.”

We reached the back gate, wide enough for a horse trailer and just as tall as the rest of the wall. There was a small box mounted on a steel pole, along with a heavy chain and a heavier padlock.

Behind the gate were two pickup trucks, parked just outside like they were meant for something.

“Tell me you brought the key for that lock,” I said.

“That’s not our lock,” Fallon said. “Or our trucks.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s not our lock,” Tiara said. “They’ve locked us in.”

“I know what this is now,” Fallon said. “It’s a killing pen. No way out. They’re going to see just how well this army can kill.”

“Not much of a test,” I said. “A few dozen zombies against five girls and two handguns.”

“I don’t think that’s the test they’re running,” Tiara said.

“What do you mean?”

“Six-man squads each spend three months mucking stalls. Testing to see if the chemicals are holding. Then off to the barracks for basic training. Then this, I guess… the last piece, to see just how suggestible they are.”

“How suggestible?”

“Whether or not they’re willing to kill a bunch of defenseless girls, and just how viciously they’ll do it. That’s the real test of an army, seeing how far they’ll go to follow orders.”

“But we’re not defenseless,” Julia said.

“I think they meant us to be,” I said. “Too bad for Kathleen that she won’t get to see the result.”

The passengers’ side door opened on one of the pickup trucks.

Kathleen climbed out.

Her left eye was missing; the left side of her face was pocked and shredded like she’d fallen asleep in a food processor.

She should have been dead. She probably was dead.

But she was looking at us with the eye she had left. Looking right at me.

And with binoculars hanging from her neck. She was here for the show.

“You were supposed to be unarmed,” she said.

“You were supposed to be dead,” I said.

“Not the first time. Where is Pouchon?”

“He’s dead,” Fallon said.

“I didn’t ask you for your medical opinion. I asked where he is.”

“Come on in here and I’ll help you find him.” He turned to me. “Just shoot her, already.”

I pointed the gun, following the sight marks along the top; I was pointing it right at her.

“Don’t waste your bullets,” Kathleen said. “Do I look like I’m easy to kill?”

A man walked up behind her. He was carrying an assault rifle.

“Drop the handguns,” Kathleen said. “Don’t mess up our test.”

I put down my gun.

Julia didn’t move.

“Come on,” Kathleen said, “drop it.”

“Julia…” I said.

Kathleen turned to the man behind her. “Take her down,” she said.

The man with the assault rifle took a shot.

Julia fell to the ground.

I wasn’t the only one who screamed. I ran over to Julia.

She’d been hit in the leg.

“Not bad,” Kathleen said. “We’ll see if they’ll kill a wounded girl. Maybe apply a tourniquet, Amanda, so she looks the part. And so she doesn’t bleed out before the macoutes reach you.”