November 2nd, 20:45.
Dec. 1st, 2006 01:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
secret_historyMickey contemplated the granola bar in her hand which she’d been nibbling at for the past five minutes without tasting it or being aware that she was eating it at all. If she paid attention, she imagined it tasted a bit like sawdust. She wasn’t hungry at all, though reason dictated she should eat, if for no other reason than she needed to avoid passing out from hunger. She took a larger bite, chewed and swallowed. If she took bigger bites, at least the bar would be finished faster.
Paul was unconscious, had been for hours, fever coursing through his body. There was nothing any of them could do, and yet everyone persisted in acting as though there was nothing wrong with him worse than a passing case of the flu. She grimaced, crumpled up the wrapper in her fist, and tossed it at a garbage pail in the corner of the room. The ball of wrapping bounced off the wall, ricocheted off the rim of the pail, and skittered across the floor. She muttered a curse under her breath, and got up to retrieve it, only to find Marco waiting for her, looking harassed.
“Mickey, could you come, please? The kid is impossible!”
She dropped the wrapper in the garbage and straightened up, her nerves tingling. “Paul? What’s gone wrong?”
“No, not Paul. The kid. The little girl.” Marco flapped a hand vaguely in the direction of the back of the store. “She won’t listen to a damn thing anyone says, and she’s... look, can you just come? You seem to have a way with her.”
Mickey managed with difficulty to stifle a grin. Now that Marco wasn’t speaking, she could hear Kitty’s voice raised in a petulant whine.
“All right. I’m coming. What’s the problem, anyway?”
Marco rolled his eyes. “Marlene told her she should brush her teeth and go to bed. She seems to think this is a bad idea.”
“Okay. Tell everyone to find something else to do, and I’ll talk to her, see if that helps.”
“Anything that makes her go to sleep is fine by me. At this point I’m ready to dose her with chloroform, or apply a well-controlled blow to the back of the head so she’s unconscious. Just so she shuts up.”
She swatted his shoulder lightly. “You don’t mean a word of it, and you know it. Softie. You just hate it when girls cry.”
“Guilty. So long as I don’t have to deal with her, I’m fine.”
She forced herself not to hurry, figuring that if Kitty was making a fuss and everyone rushed over to her, she would only make a bigger fuss. Marlene was speaking to Kitty in a low voice, her tone partly cajoling, partly peremptory, but it didn’t appear to be making much of a difference. Just as Mickey was about to cross the threshold into the room, the girl’s voice rose to an indignant squawk.
“No! No! You can’t tell me what to do: you’re not my Mommy!”
Mickey hesitated, and a moment later Marlene pushed past her, lips pursed. “Good luck. She’s in a terrible state, poor thing. I don’t know what to do with her.”
“Yeah.”
Mickey edged past her into the room, where Kitty was standing in the middle of the floor, fists clenched at her sides, her face red and streaked with tears, screwed up in an expression of unfettered anger and frustration, her whole body heaving with sobs. Mickey glanced significantly at Marco, who nodded in understanding and signalled to the others to follow him outside. When they were alone, Mickey got down on one knee next to Kitty. Wordlessly, Kitty threw herself at her and buried her face in Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey let her cry, patting her awkwardly on the back of the head, until finally the sobs died away into painful-sounding hiccups.
“Better now?” Kitty nodded, sniffling and hiccupping, and Mickey fished in her pocket for a kleenex. “Here. Wipe your nose. You want to tell me why you yelled at Marlene?” she asked gently.
Kitty shook her head. “She’s mean.”
“I think maybe you’re just angry and sad because of what happened this morning. Do you think maybe that’s right?”
Another stifled sob. “Maybe. Are they going to come back?”
“Your parents?” Mickey asked, wondering if Kitty might not mean the zombies instead. Kitty nodded, and Mickey sighed. “No, sweetheart, they’re not coming back. I’m afraid they died today. Do you know what that means?”
Kitty nodded. “Like Mr. Cooper on Sesame Street.”
“That’s right.” Mickey wondered when Kitty would have seen that episode, which had aired over twenty years before. Maybe they were re-running old episodes. “Like Mr. Cooper. You’re going to have to stay with me for a while, until we can find someone in your family to take care of you.”
“I don’t want them to be dead,” Kitty started crying again.
“Neither do I, Kitty. But we can’t help that now. You have to be brave, at least for right now. When we’re safe, then you can scream all you want. For right now, though, I need you to pay attention to what we tell you, because we’re trying to keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“I can’t brush my teeth. I don’t have a toothbrush,” Kitty stuck out her lower lip, and Mickey smiled in spite of herself.
“Okay, you don’t have to brush your teeth tonight. I want you to rinse out your mouth, though, and then you’re going to have to go to bed. It’s very late for you, and you’re going to be very tired if you don’t sleep.”
Kitty clung more tightly to her. “I don’t want to!” she cried shrilly. “They’re going to come in the night. Donnie said Paul is going to turn into one of them and kill us all in our sleep!”
Mickey mentally uttered a few choice curses in Donnie’s general direction and vowed to have more than a few words with him once she got Kitty settled. Damn the stupid kid already, filling the girl’s head with paranoia and panicking her even more than she already was. “Donnie’s just scared, Kitty. He’s saying things he doesn’t really mean. Paul is really sick, and he’s not going to get better,” she swallowed hard, “but we’re going to make sure nothing bad happens to you, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Mickey cringed as the small voice in the back of her mind reminded her rather sharply that she was making a promise she couldn’t keep. Kitty’s thumb went back into her mouth, her eyes wide.
Mickey was struck with a sudden inspiration. “Hey, you know what would be really cool? We can build you a fort right here. You ever do that at home, with blankets and chairs?” Kitty nodded again, her thumb still wedged firmly in her mouth, index finger curled over her nose. “We can do that here, with tent poles and stuff. It’ll be fun. We can pretend we’re on the frontier, how does that sound?”
Kitty’s thumb came out of her mouth with a wet popping sound. “Okay, I guess.”
“Great. Let’s get started. You can pick your own tarps and anything else. I bet Chuck has all sorts of neat stuff out here that we can use.”
She took Kitty by the hand and led her out into the store. With any luck, the child would sleep through everything that was bound to happen. For everyone else, it was going to be a long, long night.
Paul was unconscious, had been for hours, fever coursing through his body. There was nothing any of them could do, and yet everyone persisted in acting as though there was nothing wrong with him worse than a passing case of the flu. She grimaced, crumpled up the wrapper in her fist, and tossed it at a garbage pail in the corner of the room. The ball of wrapping bounced off the wall, ricocheted off the rim of the pail, and skittered across the floor. She muttered a curse under her breath, and got up to retrieve it, only to find Marco waiting for her, looking harassed.
“Mickey, could you come, please? The kid is impossible!”
She dropped the wrapper in the garbage and straightened up, her nerves tingling. “Paul? What’s gone wrong?”
“No, not Paul. The kid. The little girl.” Marco flapped a hand vaguely in the direction of the back of the store. “She won’t listen to a damn thing anyone says, and she’s... look, can you just come? You seem to have a way with her.”
Mickey managed with difficulty to stifle a grin. Now that Marco wasn’t speaking, she could hear Kitty’s voice raised in a petulant whine.
“All right. I’m coming. What’s the problem, anyway?”
Marco rolled his eyes. “Marlene told her she should brush her teeth and go to bed. She seems to think this is a bad idea.”
“Okay. Tell everyone to find something else to do, and I’ll talk to her, see if that helps.”
“Anything that makes her go to sleep is fine by me. At this point I’m ready to dose her with chloroform, or apply a well-controlled blow to the back of the head so she’s unconscious. Just so she shuts up.”
She swatted his shoulder lightly. “You don’t mean a word of it, and you know it. Softie. You just hate it when girls cry.”
“Guilty. So long as I don’t have to deal with her, I’m fine.”
She forced herself not to hurry, figuring that if Kitty was making a fuss and everyone rushed over to her, she would only make a bigger fuss. Marlene was speaking to Kitty in a low voice, her tone partly cajoling, partly peremptory, but it didn’t appear to be making much of a difference. Just as Mickey was about to cross the threshold into the room, the girl’s voice rose to an indignant squawk.
“No! No! You can’t tell me what to do: you’re not my Mommy!”
Mickey hesitated, and a moment later Marlene pushed past her, lips pursed. “Good luck. She’s in a terrible state, poor thing. I don’t know what to do with her.”
“Yeah.”
Mickey edged past her into the room, where Kitty was standing in the middle of the floor, fists clenched at her sides, her face red and streaked with tears, screwed up in an expression of unfettered anger and frustration, her whole body heaving with sobs. Mickey glanced significantly at Marco, who nodded in understanding and signalled to the others to follow him outside. When they were alone, Mickey got down on one knee next to Kitty. Wordlessly, Kitty threw herself at her and buried her face in Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey let her cry, patting her awkwardly on the back of the head, until finally the sobs died away into painful-sounding hiccups.
“Better now?” Kitty nodded, sniffling and hiccupping, and Mickey fished in her pocket for a kleenex. “Here. Wipe your nose. You want to tell me why you yelled at Marlene?” she asked gently.
Kitty shook her head. “She’s mean.”
“I think maybe you’re just angry and sad because of what happened this morning. Do you think maybe that’s right?”
Another stifled sob. “Maybe. Are they going to come back?”
“Your parents?” Mickey asked, wondering if Kitty might not mean the zombies instead. Kitty nodded, and Mickey sighed. “No, sweetheart, they’re not coming back. I’m afraid they died today. Do you know what that means?”
Kitty nodded. “Like Mr. Cooper on Sesame Street.”
“That’s right.” Mickey wondered when Kitty would have seen that episode, which had aired over twenty years before. Maybe they were re-running old episodes. “Like Mr. Cooper. You’re going to have to stay with me for a while, until we can find someone in your family to take care of you.”
“I don’t want them to be dead,” Kitty started crying again.
“Neither do I, Kitty. But we can’t help that now. You have to be brave, at least for right now. When we’re safe, then you can scream all you want. For right now, though, I need you to pay attention to what we tell you, because we’re trying to keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“I can’t brush my teeth. I don’t have a toothbrush,” Kitty stuck out her lower lip, and Mickey smiled in spite of herself.
“Okay, you don’t have to brush your teeth tonight. I want you to rinse out your mouth, though, and then you’re going to have to go to bed. It’s very late for you, and you’re going to be very tired if you don’t sleep.”
Kitty clung more tightly to her. “I don’t want to!” she cried shrilly. “They’re going to come in the night. Donnie said Paul is going to turn into one of them and kill us all in our sleep!”
Mickey mentally uttered a few choice curses in Donnie’s general direction and vowed to have more than a few words with him once she got Kitty settled. Damn the stupid kid already, filling the girl’s head with paranoia and panicking her even more than she already was. “Donnie’s just scared, Kitty. He’s saying things he doesn’t really mean. Paul is really sick, and he’s not going to get better,” she swallowed hard, “but we’re going to make sure nothing bad happens to you, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Mickey cringed as the small voice in the back of her mind reminded her rather sharply that she was making a promise she couldn’t keep. Kitty’s thumb went back into her mouth, her eyes wide.
Mickey was struck with a sudden inspiration. “Hey, you know what would be really cool? We can build you a fort right here. You ever do that at home, with blankets and chairs?” Kitty nodded again, her thumb still wedged firmly in her mouth, index finger curled over her nose. “We can do that here, with tent poles and stuff. It’ll be fun. We can pretend we’re on the frontier, how does that sound?”
Kitty’s thumb came out of her mouth with a wet popping sound. “Okay, I guess.”
“Great. Let’s get started. You can pick your own tarps and anything else. I bet Chuck has all sorts of neat stuff out here that we can use.”
She took Kitty by the hand and led her out into the store. With any luck, the child would sleep through everything that was bound to happen. For everyone else, it was going to be a long, long night.
