Regan Wolfrom - Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men

“You said that already.”

“This isn’t about you… or about this little twit. It’s about me taking out every one of those animals. It’s about me taking a chunk out of Kathleen Shannard’s neck.”

“A little lab work won’t get in the way of that,” I said.

He grinned. “I think you’re right.”

He left the room.

I twisted my body over to get my hands as close to Cadance’s knots as I could. I couldn’t see the rope and I’d barely found the loop to start pulling apart when Pouchon came back into the room clutching Tiara in his arms. She was bound with silk scarves but hogtied like us, or like Cadance, really, since she had the matching sock.

He dropped her onto the bed.

The right side of her face was bloody, but her eyes were open and she was conscious, a gaping red tear where her ear had once been.

“She’s still alive,” I said.

“You’re a smart one,” Pouchon replied. “It’s not time yet. I had a schedule.”

“So the medical examiner will wonder why her ear was chomped off an hour before your alleged zombie attack.”

“Yeah… you’re right,” Pouchon said. “Good thing you’re giving my script a little polish.”

“Are you going to bite off my ear, too?”

“I don’t want to…”

“Then don’t.”

He grabbed Cadance and picked her up. “She’s nice and light,” he said. “You girls be good, okay? Seriously… if you try to escape I’ll cut your tongues out and make them into toffee or something.”

He carried her out of the room.

I waited a couple of minutes, in case he was testing us.

I heard Tiara spit out her sock.

“He’ll do us in for certain,” she said.

“Oh, ya think?”

She started scuttling over to me. “We best hurry, Amanda.”

“Yeah. In two shakes of a lamb’s tail would be best, right guvna?”

She started pulling at my knots.

I tried to do the same to hers.

We both sucked at it.

“Cadence has a pair of scissors in her nightstand,” Tiara said.

“Why?”

“Scrapbooking. Does it really matter?”

“I hope I made it into her zombie collage.”

“I’ll see if I can get the drawer open.” She dragged herself over to the nightstand and started to fiddle with the knob.

She knocked it over.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

I rolled off the bed. I got the knob open pretty easily, and then I felt around in the drawer until I found the metal shears. I started dragging the leather reins against the edge of the scissor blade.

“Hurry up,” she said.

“Do you know how long this is going to take me? Sawing through leather with a pair of scrapbooking scissors?”

“Feck you. Have you seen my ear?”

“Yeah… that sucks… sorry.”

“We should cut these scarves on me first.”

“I don’t think so.” I kept rubbing my wrists against the scissors.

I wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Okay,” I said, “we’ll try the scarves.”

She hopped down and took my place.

“It’s working,” she said after a few seconds. “It’s cutting.”

After another minute she’d freed her wrists. She untied her ankles and stood up.

“Okay… hurry up and untie me,” I said.

She shook her head. “There’s no time.”

“You’re joking.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t cut you loose if I had a bloody fortnight.”

“Enough with the Brit talk already.”

“Enough with the chitter chatter. I don’t need you tattling on me to what’s-that-bloke. Have a sock.”

She grabbed the pink sock and stuffed it in my mouth; there’s nothing quite like tasting fabric that’s been pre-soaked in another person’s drool. Then she grabbed the roll of electrical tape I’d left on the dresser and wrapped it around my head a couple of times.

“That’s how you keep a sock in,” she said.

And then she left the room.

I started wiggling back to the pair of scissors. I didn’t know how much time I had.

I heard a gunshot before I’d sawed through the leather straps.

Just one. I didn’t know what that meant.

I freed my wrists and untied my ankles. I pulled off the electrical tape and threw the pink sock on the floor. I didn’t have time to fantasize about sticking it back in Tiara’s mouth after a slight detour through the toilet bowl.

I didn’t know who’d been the one to pick up a gun, but I made a guess that Tiara had the best chance at knowing where to find one.

I ran back to the long concrete building.

But then I realized that there was really no reason for me to go in there.

I could leave. I could run through the parking lot and up the driveway, and find some way over the gate. There were plenty of trees; I could climb up and jump right over. Better a pair of broken legs than a slowboat tour of Pouchon’s digestive tract.

Cadance and Tiara weren’t anywhere near innocent.

But Pouchon’s story didn’t just involve them. There was Julia, and Sayra, and the other three girls who’d thought “post it on YouTube? why not?”

I pulled on the door handle. The door was locked. I didn’t have an access card.

I ran back towards the house. I’d call the cops. Then I’d find a way over that gate and I’d pray to god that the next person I ran into wouldn’t enjoy the taste of earlobe or be named after My Little Pony.

“Turn your arse around.”

I stopped. “I will only turn around if you stop with the ‘arses’, Tiara.”

“I’ll just shoot you, then?”

I turned around. She was holding a shotgun. I was no expert, but I knew it was easy enough to kill someone with one of those.

“You must have known I’d be coming back for you,” she said. “I left you with the scissors.”

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“Come inside.”

“The house?”

“The stables. You really are dead from the neck up.”

“I hate you.” It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say to a woman with a gun.

She marched me back to the metal door, staying a good ten feet behind me.

“Pick it up and swipe in,” she said.

“Pick what up?”

“Look behind you.”

I looked and saw the access card on the ground a few inches behind me.

“Do it slowly,” she said.

“You really think I’m going to try and jump you?”

“Just do it.”

I knelt down slowly and picked up the card. I swiped it and opened the door.

“Don’t kill me,” I said as I slowly stepped through the doorframe.

And then I slammed the door behind me.

“Dammit!” she cried through the closed door. “Now I am definitely going to kill you.”

“But I’m in here and you’re out there.”

“I have a spare access card at the house. Idiot.”

“Better hurry,” I said. “Before the zombies get loose.”

I ran over to the lab, not sure who’d I find strapped to the table. I swiped the card and pulled open the door.

“Did you find her?” Cadance said as she turned around.

I punched her in the mouth. I’ve always loved the classics.

Pouchon was tied on the table. He didn’t look like he’d been shot, but there was blood pouring from the left side of his head. Someone had taken his ear.

“Untie me, Amanda,” he said. “These girls are insane.”

“Yeah, right.” I punched Cadance again.

“Stop hitting me,” she said.

“Then sit down on the floor. Hands on your head or something.”

She sat down and clamped her hands behind her head. “Where’s Tiara?” she asked. “Did you hurt her?”

“That depends… how many ears did she have when you last saw her?”