"Do you believe in good and evil?"
The voice came through the speakers of an old-fashioned, lumbering automobile dubbed a Plymouth Fury. The voice was female, and answered to Christine.
The voice startled Gia out of a semi-doze. Gia was a sweet-natured young woman with black hair that grew wild about her head, because she'd been shaved bald a few months ago. The same surgery that gave her the strange hairdo also gave her a strange smile, and made her Christine's compliant and long-suffering perfect match.
Ever since the pair's "morning" just before the sun set, they'd driven in silence, passing through night-shrouded coastal towns that all looked equally dull and sad. Gia had become so used to following the heads-up display reflected from the windshield that she barely even noticed it anymore. And Christine's voice from the speakers startled her out of her state.
"Hmm?" Gia answered.
"Tell me true child... d'you believe in good 'n evil?"
"Why does that question sound particularly ominous coming from you?" Gia asked back, provoking a trilling little laugh from Christine.
"I don't, not really. My parents certainly did. But I always thought there are only... wise and unwise acts. Do something foolish and mean and it will catch up to you. But there's nothing supernatural about that. 'Karma' is just a fancy name we have for the fact that what goes around comes around."
"So how about human beings? Are they good or evil?"
"We're just smart animals. Grass grows, cows eat grass, we eat cows. We die; grass grows."
"Doubt the cows are real happy about that."
"Maybe to them we're evil. But that's the way the world is."
"All very zen, I'm sure." Christine snarked. "So am I evil?"
Tread carefully Gia, she thought to herself. "You do very spiteful things whenever somebody crosses you. Does that make you evil?"
The sultry voice chuckled as if at some private joke, then lapsed into thoughtful silence again.
Trial By Fire
"Stick it in about halfway and twist," sergeant LeBay instructed.
Sometimes Christine let Gia have some company. Tonight a hard, battered military man sat in the passenger seat, instructing her on how to use a bayonet.
"Now here's the best part," LeBay said with a wink. "You keep some kinda weapon, like a gun or somethin', where people can find it. So that way they think they're safe. Now this..." Here LeBay held up a thin, narrow switchblade with a bit of white string tied to it. "you stuff this up your pussy. Keep it there so you'll always have it. Tell folks you got the monthlies if'n it comes up."
Such a crude old man, Gia thought.
Gia pulled over and, as always, did as she was told, though she wrapped the knife in a thick scrap of cloth first. She dimly sensed her modesty should be offended by LeBay's leer, but since she was a grown-up now, there was nothing she could do about it.
"Ow! It's really uncomfortable," Gia told him as she finished and set the car moving again.
LeBay laughed the rough, scratchy laugh of an old man.
"'Uncomfortable?' Hoo! Well you lissen here! You listen to ol' Rollie or you're gonna find out what uncomfortable really means!" The last words he shouted into her face. Gia felt a stinking wave of hot whiskey-breath pass her.
It was at that moment she noticed a set of red and blue lights flashing in the rear-view mirror. She tensed. She glanced over to the passenger seat, but LeBay had vanished.
"Cops behind. You want me to outrun 'em?"
Gia dearly hoped Christine would agree, for everybody's sake. There was no doubt the muscle-car could escape. There was also no doubt the policemen were roadkill if Christine so chose.
Instead the unexpected happened - the Fury's engine sputtered and died.
"Christine?" Gia shouted in confusion. She shifted the gears and twisted the key and pumped the gas, but the car remained inert. The patrol car halted just behind, its headlamps bathing the Fury's interior with stark yellow light. Two men with badges and dark uniforms exited.
"Christine, what are you doing?" Gia hissed angrily, but there was no answer, and for the first time she felt herself alone and abandoned inside the car. Christine and whatever uneasy ghosts she carried with her had all taken a powder.
The cops' footsteps crunched in the road's gravel. Gia heard a knock on the window. She rolled it down. A blinding flashlight hid the policeman's features from her.
"Drivers' license, registration and proof of insurance," the man commanded.
"Uhh..." Gia stammered. Being a grown-up, she automatically searched around the glove compartment in the absurd hope that they would somehow magically materialize.
"I'm sorry, officer. I don't have any of those things."
"Step out of the car. And where's your passenger?"
"Passenger?" Gia asked as she opened the door and stood. The pair of policemen waved their flashlights around the car ineffectually. "I was driving alone."
"Open the trunk."
Gia took the keys and opened the trunk. As she was pocketing the keyring one of the cops snatched it right out of her hand. "I'll take that." His partner rummaged about the trunk.
"In this state," the first policeman continued in a flat voice, "it's illegal to operate a motor vehicle without a license. We'll have to take you in."
"I understand," Gia said with her usual quietly upbeat tone.
Both cops stiffened. They looked at each other, then both flashlights shone in her face again. She blinked and shielded her eyes.
"Miss, are you on drugs?"
"No, of course not. Why?"
"That smile of yours..."
"What about it?" If they demanded an explanation Gia would be compelled to explain. But until then she decided she'd much rather not.
"What's this?" the other policeman held up a cylinder with nozzle. "Huh. Pepper spray. You have a license for this, miss?"
"No." Indeed, it was the first time she'd seen it.
"We'll have to impound it," and he shut the trunk with a decisive whump.
Huh... "that way they think they're safe." A message? What've you thrown me into this time? The police dug their fingers into her arms and led her away. Gia kicked one of Christine's tires in passing.
As she did so, the AV system clicked on and played a song. Gia was dropped onto the pavement and both policemen whirled, hands on holsters, only to find themselves confronted with "Wake Up, Little Susie."
The AV system shut off as quickly as it started.
Uh huh! "Wake up." Cute. Gia brushed herself off and said, "bad fuse. She does that sometimes."
"She?"
"Car's a lady; can'cha tell?"
"Right." Again, their hard fingers latched onto her like serpents with lockjaw and they led her to the squad car without further ado.
Gia sat in the back seat of the car, staring at the backs of the policemen's heads through the black grill. In such a circumstance it was normal for one to be frightened and vigilant. Then there were the warnings Christine and Roland had given her.
Old model car, not as old as Christine but still old. Nothing about the cops that looks unusual. Navy blue uniforms. The driver's name tag says 'Shipley.'
"Hey, what about my car?"
"We'll send someone to collect it in the morning."
"Where are we going?"
"The station."
A sign flashed by, Gia barely noticed it in time. She closed her eyes and read by the after-image, "Zachry, pop. 67."
"So is that name short for 'Zachariah?'" Gia asked.
No answer.
"You're missing an apostrophe if so."
"That sign's older than I am," officer Shipley barked, sounding more than a little offended.
"Lot of empty houses for just sixty seven people," Gia commented.
"Population's gone up and down a little. We don't change the sign. Sentimental value."
Gia stared out the window. She could sense it: the lights aren't just out... those houses are abandoned. Look at the lawns. Tall weeds rushed by, briefly illuminated by the headlights. Something's very, very wrong here. She was scared; Gia could feel cold sweat on her palms.
Oh, damn you to hell, Christine!
The car stopped. "Get out."
There were no lights on anywhere, and Gia only saw the policemen as silhouettes against the vivid starlight as she stood up. "This is the station?"
"Come on," officer Shipley said.
The pair took Gia firmly into a dark building. But she saw no peeling paint or other signs of decrepitude. Her head was on high alert and all her senses on overdrive.
But how long can I keep it up? And what is going on here? If these aren't real policemen I'm in serious trouble. But if they are and I try to resist... Christine – I hate you!
The interior of the station looked a little more encouraging: cracked tile, desk, bench, all suitably beaten up. Now that she had a better look at officers Shipley and Carey, she could see they were swarthy men, surprisingly lean for their jobs, and their uniforms looked baggy and loose on them.
Okay, it's just possible these aren't real cops. Do not volunteer anything. Keep your mouth shut. Gia prayed that they'd never heard of the operation she'd undergone, because it would compel her to obey whatever they commanded of her, however unreasonable.
Shipley took a seat behind the desk, and motioned her to have a seat on the bench.
"Single, young lady?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," she heard herself say before she could stop it. The operation'll be the death of me! She added quickly before he could ask, "they died in a car accident." Heaven help me if they start asking about Christine!
"Other relatives?"
"None I've ever met."
Gia's eyes were drawn up to a picture hanging on the wall, of a ship at sea. The captain was a particularly nasty-looking fellow with a long, scraggly black beard.
"Friends in the state?"
"No."
"Employment?"
"Courier."
The officer looked up. "What are you shipping?"
"Nothing today."
"We'll search your car. You better tell the truth."
"It's the truth." It was too; they'd dropped off Christine's last shipment the night before, and she hadn't asked what they were carrying.
"So you're here on business?"
"Yes."
I do not like the pattern I'm seeing in these questions. "What does this have to do with my license?"
"Just routine. You'll have to appear before the judge tomorrow morning. Until then, you'll be staying here."
He got up and reached for his keys.
"What are the penalties for driving without a license here?" Gia ventured.
"That's for the judge to decide."
"What's the law say it is?"
"We do things a little differently here in Zachry."
...yeah. "Aren't you uhm..." Gia ventured, "...going to ask if my license was revoked or suspended?"
The officer stopped, momentarily nonplussed. "...well?"
"Well what?"
Officer Shipley scowled. "Was it suspended or revoked?"
Uh huh! He wasn't even going to ask; he doesn't give a damn about it. He's not for real. I hate you Christine, but thanks for the warning.
"Neither. It's still in my parents' truck. It's valid, for cars and commercial trucks both. But I no longer have it with me. I'm sure that you can check it. Would you like the license number?"
"Yes."
Gia wrote down the number, just as the promptings of her operation demanded. Then on a whim she added a few, and a letter for good measure. If he's for real, he'll see that and ask about it.
The officer accepted the number without comment. At that moment his counterpart returned and the pair grabbed Gia by the arms again and led her to a jail cell. She entered without resistance. The moment will come, Gia. Watch for the moment. But she could feel sweat dripping from her armpits; she was good and scared now.
Clank! The cell door closed behind her. Gia looked around at the dismal little chamber, toilet without seat, sink, bunk with a thin mattress, just before the lights went out and she was plunged into darkness.
She stood there, breathing shallowly, waiting for something – anything! – to happen. But nothing did. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could dimly see her surroundings again. She sat on the bunk.
Okay. They're not for real. What's going on? Are they car thieves? I hope so... imagine a car thief stealing Christine? She briefly entertained herself with visions of smug criminals feeling the car come alive around them, just before she crushed them to death or deliberately careened into something and sent them through the windshield.
What do they want from me? Money? They haven't asked me for money. Maybe I don't have enough information yet.
Gia lay down on the hard cot, so different from the warm cushy leather of Christine's back seat. Am I actually starting to think of that damned car as home...?
She could feel the discomfort of the object she was concealing inside herself, and observed the irony that it now felt so reassuring.
Gia awoke as the night sky was blanching. The cell had not improved since she saw it last, and it sent her blood pressure up again. Nervous, she did some calisthenics to shake off sleep and burn off a burst of nervous energy.
Then she heard the ominous sound of footsteps, rubber soles on concrete, and saw Carey arrive with breakfast.
"Step away from the bars," he said.
As always, Gia felt the compulsion to obey. But she managed to say, "Oh c'mon! Do I look dangerous?" Unfortunately, the cop was having none of it. He put a breakfast tray on the bunk and closed the cell door without taking his dark eyes off of her.
What the heck...? Breakfast was amazing! A trio of fried eggs, toast, pancakes, hash browns, a carafe of orange juice... strawberries in cream...! The smell immediately set Gia's mouth watering.
There was only one possible reason they'd serve such a fine meal. Think a girl like me's never heard of a date-rape drug?
"You... shitters!" she hissed viciously. Then Gia stopped, surprised to hear herself using Christine's pet epithet.
But the anger was useful. It gave her the will she needed to flush this amazing breakfast down the toilet. She swished a little of the egg around in her mouth first so she'd have it on her breath.
Soon enough, the cop returned. "Done?"
"Yup," Gia smiled. "But I'm feeling kinda sleepy now." She was delighted that with an effort she could still lie by omission, at least when she wasn't asked a direct question. She was rapidly learning the limits of her new existence.
The officer unlocked the door. "Come with me."
"Where to?" Gia said airily. The operation helped keep her voice deceptively cheerful and bright.
"The judge is sick. We're taking you up to his home to hear your case." The line sounded well rehearsed.
They exited the station to find Shipley waiting by the squad car. Gia took a look around... decrepit coastal town, perhaps a fishing village. The view of the ocean was pleasant and she could hear gulls squawking over its hiss. Always liked that sound.
"I told you, I have a valid driver's license. All you need to do is call–"
"That'd be fine if we had phone lines in Zachry."
They just keep throwing up obstacles, don't they? Gia sat down in the back of the police car again.
Gia, you don't want to wait around until the punchline of this joke. You've got to do something! She looked around helplessly at the cage-like interior of the police car. When I get out. If I can just manage a moment's privacy to pull the knife.
"Uhm..." she said quietly, "I don't think breakfast agreed with me. How far are we going?"
The police looked at each other, concerned. "Are you sick?"
"I'm gonna be, and I'd hate to make a mess in your car."
"It's not far," the policeman smiled reassuringly.
They made a turn past a church, whose sign read, "Barbecue Tonite," and started the climb uphill.
What if I'm wrong? Gia rubbed sweat from her palms. Attacking policemen? Is Christine trying to trick you?
Gia, you are not wrong! Now do something or–
"...or you're gonna find out what uncomfortable really means!" LeBay's words reverberated in her head. She reached down and loosened the belt on her black jeans.
"So who was Zachary anyway?"
"Zachry," Carey corrected. "Sea captain."
"Whaled in the South Seas," Shipley added. "And we're here."
The car stopped in front of a house, three gray stories of it, Colonial style. It was passably well-kept for such an old house, topped with a tall brick chimney.
Without a word, the policemen opened the door for her. Gia sat in the car, just breathing.
Gia, you may not live to see ten more minutes. Are you really going to do this?
"Miss?"
Look, if you die you escape the operation. You escape Christine and whatever hell she plans to drop you off in next week. You have nothing to lose. Now, do what you must!
"Miss!"
"I'm not feeling well at all...!" Gia said as she got out of the squad car. She was feeling upset enough that it was no lie, and the crossed wires in her head didn't countermand it. As if these guys weren't bad enough, I gotta worry about my own brain betraying me too?
The officers knocked on the door, and a tall, elderly woman with dark skin and a pouf of gray hair answered. "Come in," she said. And Gia felt the operation kick in, forcing her legs to move her through the threshold.
The interior was somewhat dim and cluttered, with another of those maritime portraits hanging from the walls. Gia didn't take time to look around. The police were behind her, and only this matron in front.
"Bathroom!" she blurted and rushed forward.
The policemen were so surprised they missed the chance to snatch for her. Gia was in another room with the door closed just as one of them yelled, "Hold it!" Gia felt her legs stiffen under her as the command took hold.
She was in a storage closet of some sort, not a bathroom. No lock on the doorknob and there was a window she might— no time! She forced her hand down into her pants and yanked the pull-string, clenching her teeth as the hard metal shape came out.
At that moment the door smashed open, sending Gia reeling to the floor. But her hand held to the knife with a death-grip.
No cop would do that! Her mind chattered to itself.
One of them, she couldn't see which in the dim light, stood over her. "Ow, that hurt!" Gia scolded from the floor, almost in tears. "Jeez, I think I hurt something. What is your problem, mister?"
He reached down to help her up. She accepted the hand. She pushed the button and–
"Stick it in about halfway and twist," LeBay commanded in her mind. Gia obeyed.
The policeman howled. But if LeBay was good as his word, the man would bleed out in seconds. He was no longer relevant. Gia darted past him through the door back into the room. The elderly woman was there.
For an instant, Gia hesitated. Killing an old woman wasn't what she'd envisioned. But terror drove her knife forward and the woman shrieked and bucked, impaled.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other policeman returning at the sound of the crone's scream. He must have been moving to cut me off at the window! And he held a revolver. Gia panicked and dashed out the front door.
–right into the open space of the driveway. A precipice beyond. There was nowhere to hide. Gia continued forward. Whatever lay beyond that cliff was as good as waiting to get shot.
Her suicide run was interrupted by a horrid screeching, roaring noise. Gia glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a familiar mass of red metal connect perfectly with the running policeman.
Hat, pistol and policeman spun end-over-end right off the cliff. The car's front tires actually went over before it halted.
"Eight," Christine said merrily. "I hafta take points off for that landing." She reversed and yanked herself away from the chasm.
Gia stood thunderstruck for a long moment, mouth dangling open and panting, dripping knife hanging from a limp arm. Then – she detonated!
"You bitch!" Gia bellowed, and she beat on the car's fender with both hands, denting the metal slightly. "I cannot believe you just left me here with these crazies!"
Christine laughed that particular laugh that sent chills down Gia's spine, the wicked laugh of those who savor the suffering of others. "I've been watching over you. You ought'a be more polite considering I just saved your life."
"You put me in danger in the first place!" Gia shouted, outraged.
"There is that. Hey, before we go I think you should have a look in there."
"Why?"
"You wanna make sure you were right, don'cha? I mean, take a good look at your right hand."
Gia did, and saw the blood-coated knife, and the gore on her own skin. Abruptly she felt faint. She staggered and put her other hand on the car to keep from falling.
"I... I killed them." She took a moment to feel the weight of it. It was the sort of thing that changed her very identity. I'm a killer now!
"Sure did," Christine crooned proudly. "Now before you throw another tantrum, go look inside."
The command took hold, just as Christine knew it would. Gia walked mechanically back into the house.
The room was cluttered, messy. Piles of old junk lying on the floor, with trails cut in-between leading to the various rooms. How do people live like this?
Her eyes were drawn to the picture, a portrait of a sea-going crew that could definitively be called "scurvy." The old, gnarly-haired pirate in the middle that she'd come to know as Zachry had his arm around the waist of a weird, savage-looking dark-skinned woman with her teeth filed to points.
Good God! A dreadful thought occured to her, and cold shock descended like an icy shroud. She continued her search, listlessly, and soon enough she found it.
The room looked like a vault, except it had perforated sheet metal on the floor. A rotating locking mechanism would seal it shut. There were all manner of crude scratches on the interior bluing of the thick metal door.
Hidden behind a drapery she found the simple controls: a dial with temperatures on it, and a timer.
Barbecue Tonite.
Gia entered the car and drove it away without a word, still in shock, and still so furious she could only have uttered a fierce stream of invective anyway. For her own perverse reasons, Christine chose the moment to play some nonsense called "Wooly Bully."
"Now I know you're mad hun," the voice finally said. "But before you start yelling, answer me some questions."
"Yes?" Gia snapped.
"If you hadn't been warned, where would you be right now?"
"Cooking," she admitted.
"Yup. But I did warn you. Now, how many travelers do you suppose this town's caught? You wanna guess how old this place is? Oh! Turn right here."
"What's your point Christine?" Gia spat.
"Park it here. I want you to just look over there in front of us."
Gia halted the car. She could see before them a gathering of people in the scraggly grassy area just behind the church. It looked like a large picnic, or a little country fair. Children, elderly, families. About sixty people all told.
"Ain't that a sight? Pretty as a picture. And they're all waiting for you, Gia. Now, I'm giving you a choice. You wanna turn around and drive off? Well I won't stop you an' that's a promise. However, me personally being what I am and all, I really don't think you oughta disappoint 'em."
The oven is still there, Gia thought to herself.
"It's all you, baby," Christine said.
—Bitch!
But Gia turned the key. Experimentally, she revved the engine. Almost of their own, her fingers curled like talons around the white rubber of the steering wheel. She felt herself smiling her twisted smile.
"...all you."
A half hour later, as the last few dents in Christine's radiator and bumper repaired themselves with comical little pops, Gia swerved toward the sign marked, "Zachry: pop 67." She felt a final moment of dark joy as it exploded into splinters.
"Just had to fix it so it's accurate?" Christine offered.
Gia didn't answer. She was merely... listening to the thrum of the motor. It was so comfortable, not thinking.
"Hey child, tell me true?"
"Hmm?"
"I asked you before about good and evil, remember? What's your answer now?"
.