Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men - By Regan Wolfrom Page 0,9

can have her,” Cadance said.

“No, he can’t.”

“I’m taking her,” Gary said. He walked over to the table and looked me over. “Ms. Shannard told me to handle it. So I’ll... handle it.”

I knew what was coming. He licked his lips again.

“You’re a sicko, Gary,” Tiara said. “And you’re not taking her. If she wants to play zombie, I say we let her. It’s not like she’s going to escape. So we hold onto her for a few days and then you tell little Ms. Shannard that we’ve chosen to keep her.”

“So you’re not going to let her out again?” Cadance said.

“If she tries to run or she tries to screw us, we kill her.”

Cadance smirked. “We feed her to the pigs.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Gary said. “I need to report back to say I’ve done it. I need to take her with me.”

“You do and you’re fired,” Tiara said. “I’ll see to it.”

Gary walked up to Tiara. He had a good twelve inches on her, not to mention the hundred and fifty pounds. “One of these days I’m going to take you to Lake George, Tiara.”

She didn’t flinch. “You’d like that,” she said with a grin. “I’ll let my father know about your friendly invitation.”

Gary shook his head. “You know what? Do what you want. When Ms. Shannard asks me, I’ll tell her the truth, that you wouldn’t let me do my job. And then if your father still has his job when he gets back, he can kick me out of mine.”

“Fallon Allen can’t be fired,” Cadance said. “This is our barn. Our great, great grandfathers fought the British browncoats on this very site.”

“I’ve got work to do,” Gary said, walking out of the room.

“I’ll take care of this one,” Cadance said. “If you can handle the rest, Tiara. They’re in Stable A. Try to keep a few of them from escaping for once...”

Tiara rolled her eyes and left.

I was still tied to the operating table.

Cadance looked me over.

“How are you going to untie me?” I asked. “Aren’t you worried I’m going to beat on you again?”

“That would be a bad idea,” she said. “Not very zombie-like.”

“So I should bite you? Isn’t that what happened to Rarity?”

She slapped me across my left cheek. “Shut up,” she said. “Don’t you talk about my sister. I’ll squeeze your goddamn throat until your poop-brown eyes pop out.”

“I’d like to see that.”

She grabbed me by the neck and started to squeeze.

For a moment I thought about letting her kill me. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an apology. But I didn’t like the idea of nourishing Gary’s pigs, or of dying in general.

I’m sure I have something to live for; for one thing I won’t get kicked off the team until I’m twenty, as long as I take Introductory Japanese by correspondence.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped.

She kept squeezing.

I wasn’t able to say anything else.

I woke up in what seemed like a different horse stall, lying in the shavings in a puddle of my own drool. Not my proudest moment.

I realized I wasn’t alone. There were two other girls lying in the stall, dressed in basketball shirts and shorts. Julia and Sayra. They’d been with me when we were taken; was it all because of me?

“Are you guys okay?” I asked.

I went over to check on them. Julia was asleep, but Sayra was staring into blank space.

“Sayra... are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t acknowledge me. She might as well have been wearing a Florida Marlins t-shirt and flared-out jeans.

I grabbed Julia by the shoulders and began to shake her.

“Julia... wake up...”

Her eyes opened and she was looking right at me.

“Julia...”

She blinked.

“Julia.”

She was looking right through me.

“Be glad they haven’t noticed you,” Cadance said.

I hadn’t realized she was watching me from the hallway.

“When they notice you,” she continued, “that means they mean you harm.”

“Mean me harm? What does that even mean?”

“We don’t understand how it works. It’s not like Gary’s the witch doctor. He’s a disgraced pharmacist from Long Island.”

“You don’t really believe in this voodoo stuff.”

“My father told me about Papa Doc Duvalier and his Tonton Macoutes. And about the Marinette macoutes, the zombie army, and the sorcerors. It all sounded pretty fucking real.”

“I guess that’s why you’re not a scientist,” I said.

“I don’t care what you believe. Either way, the toxins work most of the time as long as you keep injecting them regularly.”

“They didn’t work on me.”

“Obviously. Gawd.” Another eye roll. “But sometimes their system gets messed up