Unfinished Business

CHAPTER 15: I CONTINUE TO BE UNDEAD

The night was dark around the four of us. We were like a baroque painting, given the light of the moon. Willa sat with Sandy sobbing into her chest, covering both of them in mucus, mascara, and eyeliner. Blanche hovered over them gently like a cherub, still whispering horrific nothings into Sandy's heavily-pierced ear. I sat on a stone nearby with my elbows on my knees, flipping a stick over and over in my hands. It wasn't out of boredom; it was more like guilt and anxiety.

I wondered, vaguely, when this thing was supposed to show up. Before, it had been so full of celerity. Before, it ran toward me with a particular viciousness, and absquatulated at the sound of whatever Pavlov's bell called for it. So where was it? Why was the loathing not drawing it? Why wasn't my very presence reeling it in? 

The mellifluous reassurances from Willa to Sandy stayed were molasses-like in my ear canals, where the words lived, fucked, and died while I tried to figure out what we were supposed to do next. Sandy's cries stopped occasionally as she took deep, heaving breaths. Unfortunately, the crying was recrudescent. After a few moments, the snotty sobs came back and I was one step closer to snapping. I considered getting up and going for a walk, but didn't want to get up until I had to. 

It was hard to concentrate or form a cohesive thought, even in those moments when the world was silent or when I was jostling my leg in the way that Cash always hated. It shook the table and he couldn't stand it. He was a hypocrite, though, because he was always air-drumming to a tune nobody else could hear, and that pissed me off, so who was the real villain here? It was me, it had always been me, and I figured that the way the pieces were falling was proof of that. 

And where was Ethan? We wouldn't be able to kill this thing without him. And we were going to have to protect Sandy at all costs. The Eye For An Eye was going to flee as soon as she was gone or as soon as it was called away by whatever master held it close. 

That made sense to me, that someone was controlling it. Sure, it had its instincts, but there was something about the way it ran off that made me think that the Eye For An Eye wasn't entirely its own being. But who would kill a teenage girl with a monster instead of their own hands? Who would torment me with the memory of my demise? 

Maybe that was me. Maybe I was the one tormenting myself by thinking about it so often. But I couldn't not think about it. It was always there, just behind my eyelids. I was reminded of it constantly. My own body was like a mnemonic device I couldn't escape. 

God, everything about this set me on edge. We were sitting ducks here and, yet, no hunter came to pick us off. Even the cows knew to stay away from this place. They were lowing out in the distance near a small creek, but they didn't dare approach.

While we sat there, I couldn't help but notice a look come over Blanche's face. It was smething like recognition or familiarity. 

I sighed. "What, Blanche?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What's making you so happy? Because I know it's not just your wholesale torture of Sandy and the prospect of killing everyone she holds dear by messing all this up." 

"Wow. Melodramatic bitch much?" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just-- what is it?" 

"I know this part of the woods. Back when I was younger-- well, my grandpa was always a big doomsday prepper. He was Mormon, so he was already into the whole food storage thing, and there was the threat of, like, you know, nukes? And he built this bunker out here and he would take me down there all the time." 

"That's... weird." 

"Not really." 

We fell into a tense silence again, waiting. We were always waiting.