Everyone Dies in the End #61

When we last saw Todd, Susan, and Arty they had stumbled on a strange house in the little town of Henry. The somewhat strange and somewhat sexy mother invited the trio to dinner. They accepted. We join them upstairs. Worry not, we'll get back to Kat, and fear not... Cindy is still with Ramzke, rolling toward Philly. 

Todd

“You feel it?” Arty said from across the room. They were at the end of the hall, Todd reclining on the bed, his shotgun beside him. Art lounged in a weathered Captain’s chair on the far side of the room. The walls were light blue plaster, the furnishings sparse. There was the bed, a dresser, old enough to qualify as an antique, and the Captain’s chair. The room felt sort of odd, sort of like the furniture had been placed just for them. It smelled clean too, antiseptic clean. But Todd knew that wasn’t the feel Artemis was referring to. It was the strange feel, the feel of everything from the mowed grass to the clean bike to the little girl, to the slightly sexy mom with the squeaky-clean coating.

“Yeah, Art, I feel it.”

And then Susan screamed.

Todd was off the bed before Art’s feet hit the floor. Shotgun in hand he tore through the door and thundered down the hall, dust puffing from his worn boots. He grabbed the doorsill on the bathroom-endowed bedroom and swung himself in. Arty was right behind, his 9mm in at the ready.

A white sheet covered the bed, the late afternoon sun spilling through the back window, the bright beams illuminating the crumpled clothes on the bed. There was no sign of Susan and the bathroom door stood shut. Steam seeped past the lower edge, and behind the vapor someone sobbed. Arty swept past Todd, flicked the knob, and burst into the bathroom. Susan was on the floor, kneeling, a towel wrapped around her torso, and in her arms was the little girl, head on Susan’s chest, sobbing. The pentagram on Susan’s cheek glowed brightly as she stroked the girl’s hair.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.”

The mother stepped into the room. “Akasia! What are you doing?”

The little girl pulled away from Susan and attached herself to her mother’s leg. She whimpered, the words halting, punctuated with sobs. “I…just wanted to…see. To see…if she was a good un.”

“Akasia, stop it!”

The mother bent to the girl. “Not another word.” The girl peeled herself from her mother and looked up, “but Moma…”

“Not one,” the mother interjected sternly.

Above her Todd looked at Artemis and cocked a questioning eyebrow. Arty shrugged in return. Susan stood, tightening the damp towel, regarding mother and daughter. “Is she okay?”

The mother nodded. “She’s fine. I’m so sorry.” She stood. Her eyes lingered on Susan for a long moment. As if she wanted to say something, or was it as if she wanted something else, thought Todd. The moment passed, the mother took Akasia’s hand and left without another word. 

Todd stepped to Susan and she folded herself into his arms, closing her eyes. Todd said nothing, and a moment passed.

“The door is clear glass, no frosting,” Susan began. Todd didn’t need a diagram to understand she was referring to the shower door. It stood open behind her, clear, clean, the water still rushing from the shower head. “The water was hot. It felt so nice. So nice to be clean. I heard a squeaking, I opened my eyes, and there she was.”

She pulled away from Arty and pointed at the shower door. “She had rubbed the condensation off, rubbed it in a circle.” Susan mimed a rubbing motion with her small hand, and looked at the two men. “You know what I mean?” They did.

Todd could still see the cleared ring on the door, about eye high for the little girl. “She was watching, just watching.” Susan shuddered. “Freaked the hell out of me.” She looked at the shower door a second or two longer and then shook her head. “I guess I overreacted, huh?”

“No, baby, no.” Artemis pulled Susan close. “You didn’t overreact.” He kissed the top of her head. “That is some seriously weird shit.”

Todd nodded. “Seriously.”  Artemis and Susan stood together on the white bathroom tiles. Their arms encircling each other. Todd didn’t need a personal telegram. He could tell when it was time to leave, and he turned to do so.

“Todd?” Susan called. He turned back. She was facing him, Artemis holding her hand. “What do you think she meant?”

The condensation had evaporated from the shower door, leaving but a hint of the girl’s peephole. Through the bathroom window Todd could see the sky purpling as night approached. He understood the question well, but feigned ignorance. He wanted to hear the words from Susan’s mouth, make sure that he had heard it correctly on the first pass. “What do you mean?”

Her head bobbed, her fast-drying black shag bobbing with it. “Akasia said that she wanted to see if I ‘was a good un.’ What does that mean?”

Todd rubbed his face with his free hand, the hand that didn’t hold the sawed off shotgun. For the first time since the world had changed, he wished it hadn’t, wished he didn’t live in a life that required him to carry a shotgun everywhere he went, wished he did know what the little girl, and her suggestive mother, were up to, but he didn’t. He didn’t share those thoughts with Susan.

         “Beats me,” was all he said.