Today, it is destroyed.
Hensley loads her bag with pharmaceuticals. I go straight for the first aid aisle. That’s valuable. Iodine, bandages, peroxide, cotton balls, and adhesive tape. Now, at least, we can dress any wound we get. "Hensley, make sure you grab antibiotics also."
She nods at me. I knew she would be focused on narcotics. I wanted to dot my I's and cross my T’s. I see a rack of bandanas, so I grab a handful, stuffing them in my bag. With a couple of bottles of water in each hand, I see Hensley walking toward me with a lollipop in her mouth.
I didn't need to ask if she grabbed extra of those. She is clever enough to get it under her face covering. She makes me smile; she is so damn adorable. A part of me wants to keep her here to protect her. We can live in this pharmacy for a long time. It wouldn't take much to reinforce the doors. There was already some food, plus, she has enough drugs to get by for a while. I know, though, that we are on a mission.
We walk briskly, not seeing any signs of life. After a couple of miles, we need to make a pit stop to use the bathroom in one of the buildings, so I go in first. I do a superficial sweep, hear the skittering before I see the crouched man coming at me, pull my bat out of the holster, and beat him in the head. Now, like always, I'm doing a deep dive of each kill in chronological order. Each one I eliminate, I file away in my memory. Someone ought to remember them.
"It's clear, Hensley."
She comes inside, looks at the corpse, then steps over to walk to a door that boasts the labelBathroom. I unzip and take a whiz on the body.
"Um, Tieran, come here." I didn't like to leave the front door unattended with us in the back. But if she is calling me, there is a reason. I walk back to the small cubicle she is in. It has a wooden door on it. I notice marks on the wood. Long, thin lines run down the length of the door at about the level of my shoulder. I run my fingers over the indentations. They almost seem like…scratches. Like somebody was scraping at the door. Trying to get out. Like someone locked them in.
"Let's go." I wasn't sure what it was, but if it isn't the infected guy I just clubbed to death, then it is something else that is worse.
As we pass the shelter, I remember the boy's squeal. Hensley was sexually attracted to the boy that lived there—an attraction that could have been nurtured or rejected. Either could have led to hatred or inadequacy, which had festered in her soul and eventually sparked a series of killings. It marred her soul and has made me more protective.
She is mine.
I look at her to see if she is looking at the spot where we slaughtered an entire family. Skinned them alive. All because the son was foolish enough to fall for my sister, and although she vehemently denies it, she liked him, too.
I can feel her stare at me. I don't acknowledge it. Right now, we have to stay sharp. It can mean the difference between life and death.
So far, there have been no survivors. We can't possibly be the only ones left, can we?
___
"Boy, you are good for nothing. I bet you won't even make it out of this house alive," my mom scoffed. "I will sell your sister to the highest bidder when you take your last breath." She cackled, laughing until she started coughing, choking on the phlegm from all the years of cigarette smoking.
Keeping my mouth shut was easier said than done. Unfortunately, I ran my mouth before I could stop myself and Hensley took the brunt. "I'd rather be dead than be here."
"Is that right, boy?"
I knew as soon as I said it, that it was a mistake. She got on her phone and within a matter of minutes, there was a knock on the door. I was shoved into the closet before I realized how I fucked up. My mother grinned at me from the peephole in the slats. "Remember, I said if you died I would sell your sister? You only wish you were dead, so I will just rent her out." She blew me a kiss while I tried to break the door down, yelling for her to leave Hensley alone.
I begged my mother to use me instead of my sister. She laughed at me, telling me I did this to myself. She was right. As my sister screamed and struggled to get away from the men as they did vile things to her young body, my mother watched and cheered it on. That night I vowed I would never allow this to happen again.
The next morning, Hensley woke up before anyone else. The adults had coked themselves out, leaving her in her bed but not shackled. When she realized this, she came and let me out. She had both of our backpacks filled with what little we owned and the money she snatched from my mom's purse that she'd made in profit from Hensley's pussy.
___
We never looked back until now.
We have walked quite a bit in silence. I keep shooting glances her way to make sure she is still with me. I mean, I know she iswithme, but is shementally withme? When she starts to hum, my smile reaches ear to ear.
We both have an irrational fear of our mother. Even though at this point, she is much older. Sometimes, though, power isn't in physical strength. The mental part she has played with us is much harsher. I'm not sure what we will do if we get there and she is gone.
"Tieran?"
I’m lost in translation when Hensley called my name. "Yeah?"
"Do you know which way to go?"
It’s a valid question. We’ve been walking for hours and not seen a single soul, so it isn’t like we can stop and ask someone.
"Kinda-ish." I grin.