Reichs, Kathy: Death Du Jour

As I reestablished contact with my body, the pain returned.

My throat ached and my breath was labored. My shoulders and elbows were stretched from the traction, and my hands felt cold and numb above my head.

Forget your body. Use your brain.

The room was large, the kind you see in inns and lodges. It had a wide plank floor and heavy log walls, and was lit only by candlelight. I was roped to an overhead beam, my shadow a Giacometti figure with arms held high.

I turned my head and the ovoid shadow skull elongated in the flickering light. Double doorway straight ahead. Stone fireplace to my left. Picture window to my right. I stored the blueprint.

Hearing voices behind me, I threw one shoulder forward, retracted the other, and pushed with my toes. My body twisted, and for a split second I saw them before the ropes spun me back. I recognized the streaked hair and eye of the man. But who was the other?

The voices paused, then continued in hushed tones. I heard footsteps, followed by quiet. I knew I wasn’t alone. I held my breath and waited for them.

When she stepped in front of me I was startled but not shocked. Today the braids were coiled on her head, not hanging down as they had been when she had walked the streets of Beaufort with Kathryn and Carlie.

She reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek.

“Are you frightened?” Her eyes looked cold and hard.

Fear will rouse her like a junkyard dog!

“No, Ellie. Not of you or your band of zealots.” The pain in my throat made it hard to talk.

She ran the finger down my nose and across my lips. It felt rough against my skin. “Not Ellie. Je suis Elle . I am She. The female force.”

I recognized the deep, breathy voice.

“The high priestess of death!” I spat.

“You should have left us alone.”

“You should have left my sister alone.”

“We need her.”

“Didn’t you have enough others? Or does each kill excite you so much?”

Keep her talking. Buy time.

“We punish the intractable.”

“Is that why you killed Daisy Jeannotte?”

“Jeannotte.” Her voice grew harsh with contempt. “That vicious, meddling old fool. Finally, she’ll let him be.”

What’s the right thing to say to keep the conversation going?

“She didn’t want her brother to die.”

“Daniel will live forever.”

“Like Jennifer and Amalie?”

“Their weakness was going to hold us back.”

“So you take the weak and watch them torn to bits?”

Her eyes narrowed into something I couldn’t interpret. Bitterness? Regret? Anticipation?

“I brought them out of the famine and showed them how to survive. They chose cataclysm.”

“What was Heidi Schneider’s sin? Loving her husband and babies?”

The eyes hardened.

“I revealed the way and she brought poison into the world! Evil in duplicate!”

“The Antichrist.”

“Yes!” she hissed.

Think! What were her words in Beaufort?

“You say death is a transition in the growth process. Do you nurture by slaughtering babies and old women?”

“The corrupt cannot be permitted to pollute the new order.”

“Heidi’s babies were four months old!” Fear and anger made my voice crack.

“They were perversion!”

“They were babies! ” I struggled and tried to lunge at her, but the ropes held firm.

Beyond the doorway I could hear the sound of others moving around. I thought of the children at the Saint Helena compound, and felt my chest heave.

Where was Daniel Jeannotte?

“How many children will you and your henchman kill?”

The corners of her eyes pinched almost imperceptibly.

Keep her talking.

“Are you going to ask all your followers to die?”

Still she said nothing.

“Why do you need my sister? Have you lost your ability to motivate followers?” My voice sounded tremulous and two octaves too high.

“She will take the place of another.”

“She doesn’t believe in your Armageddon.”

“Your world is ending.”

“The last I looked it was doing fine.”

“You kill redwoods to make toilet paper and pour poisons into the rivers and oceans. Is that doing fine?” She thrust her face so close to mine I could see vessels throbbing at her temples.

“Kill yourself if you must, but let the others make their own choices.”

“There must be perfect balance. The number has been revealed.”

“Really? And is everyone else here?”

She drew back her head but didn’t speak. I saw something spark in her eye, like light skipping off broken glass.

“They’re not all coming, Elle.”

The eyes never faltered.

“Kathryn’s not going to die for you. She’s miles from here, safe with her baby.”

“You lie!”

“You’re not going to hit your cosmic quota.”

“The signs have been sent. The apocalypse is now and we will rise from the ashes!”

Her eyes were black holes in the flickering light. I recognized the look for what it was. Madness.

I was about to respond when I heard the snarling and yapping of dogs. The sound was coming from deep inside the lodge.

I yanked desperately, but the ropes only tightened. My breathing turned to frenzied gasping. It was reflex, unthinking struggle.

I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t get free! And what if I did? I was there among them.

“Please,” I begged.

Elle stared, her eyes unfeeling.

A sob escaped me as the barking grew louder. I continued to thrash. I would not submit passively, however hopeless my resistance.

What had the others done? I saw the torn flesh and punctured skulls. The barking turned to growls. The dogs were very near. Fear beyond control overcame me.

I twisted to see and my eyes swept across the bay window. My heart froze. Had I seen figures moving outside?

Don’t draw attention to the window!

I dropped my gaze and rotated back to Elle, still straining, but my thoughts now on the outside. Was there still hope of rescue?

Elle watched me wordlessly. One second passed. Two. Five. I spun myself to the right and stole another peek.

Through the ice and condensation I saw a shadow slide from left to right.

Distract her!

I pivoted back and fixed my eyes on Elle. The window was to her left.

The barking grew louder. Closer.

Say anything!

“Harry doesn’t believe in—”

The door burst inward, then I heard deep voices.

“Police!”

Boots chocked on hardwood.

“Haut les mains!” Hands up!

Snarling and yelping. Shouts. A scream.

Elle’s mouth turned to an oval, then to a thin, dark line. She drew a gun from the folds of her dress and aimed it at something behind me.

The instant her eyes left me I wrapped my fingers around the ropes, threw my hips forward, kicked out with my feet, and arched toward her. Pain screamed through my shoulders and wrists as my body swung out, my arms in full extension. I flexed my hips and brought my boots up, hitting her arm with the full force of my weight. The gun flew across the room and out of my field of vision.

My feet slammed to the floor and I scrabbled backward to relieve the pressure on my upper limbs. When I looked up, Elle stood frozen, an SQ muzzle trained on her chest. One dark braid had fallen and looped her forehead like a brocade sash.

I felt hands on my back and heard voices speak to me. Then I was free and strong arms half dragged, half carried me to a couch. I smelled wintry air and wet wool. English Leather.

“Calmez-vous, madame. Tout va bien.”

My arms were lead, my knees were jelly. I wanted to sink back and sleep forever but I struggled to stand.