Page 91 of A Better World

The sound of a flush. Gal came out from a small washroom. Dressed appropriately for the weather for the first time, she was in slacks, her crimped fingers laboring to align the zipper teeth of a puffy, coat-length parka.

She didn’t startle at Linda’s presence. “Oh. You again.”

“You’re leaving?” Linda asked.

“Yeah.” Stiffly, she favored her left leg.

“Where will you go?”

“There’s a halfway house in PVE, I guess. So, what do you want?”

The psilocybin in Linda’s system hadn’t worn off. Thingswonkedand pulsed. “You said your kids were still here. You said they’re not in Palo Alto.”

“I said that.”

“Do they sacrifice a goat on New Year’s Eve at the Parson Mansion?”

“Nope,” she said, like this break-in, this random conversation, was the most normal and expected in the world. “It’s stuffed. They haul it out every year and take the real goat back to the farm. I think. I mean, I’ve never been to one of those things sober.”

“Me neither,” Linda said. “Why do they do that? Make it seem like they’re doing something awful when they’re not? They had these skulls on Samhain. They looked real, too.”

“I don’t know,” Gal said.

“Is it because they want us to be confused when they do the actual awful things?”

“I don’t know,” Gal said. Her movements were heavy, her speech slow. But her eyes were focused. This was sadness, not drugs. “I don’t care.”

“Why did you say they sacrifice people at the Winter Festival?”

Gal tried to bend her fingers to work the zipper but her scarred skin had lost all elasticity. She couldn’t get a decent grip. “Maybe they don’t. Maybe I’m crazy like everybody says. Maybe my kids are safe and healthy with their mother who hates them.”

“Is there a way I could contact Trish to verify your story? You must have a way to reach her.” Linda’s voice echoed in this house now, because it was so empty.

“Trish got what she wanted and she’s gone.”

“Where are your kids?” Linda gasped.

Gal gave up on her coat, opened her locket. Linda came closer though she didn’t want to. Gal didn’t spit or lunge or try to kiss her. She seemed just as uncomfortable with their nearness.

On the left of the locket, Katie. On the right, Sebbie. A cold chill ran all down Linda’s spine and radiated icy electric shocks.

“That’s definitely the kids I saw last night.”

Gal closed and touched the locket to her chest. “You saw them?”

“I think so. I was high. But I think so. They were okay. They were holding hands. Zach Greene took them inside the mansion and I looked for them but I couldn’t find them.”

“They were holding hands?” Gal asked. She sounded dazed.

“Yeah. I think so. It happened fast. I made a scene, looking for them. But I couldn’t find them. I could be wrong. I want you to know.”

A tear slid down Gal’s cheek. “They fight like cats and dogs. But I always knew,” she said. “I knew if things got bad, they’d be close. I did that right. I did some things wrong, but I never played favorites, never turned them on each other, so I did that right.”

“Yeah,” Linda said. “Where are they now, do you think?”

“I told you. Try the hospital. That’s where they keep them. Maybe the tunnels. But the tunnels are scary, and they want to be humane about it. They trot them out sometimes—the black ribbon winners—so maybe at some event if you pay attention.”

In the way that everything happening lately was surreal, Linda didn’t react when Gal took hold of her waist and awkwardly, painfully,lowered herself to the floor on gnarled knees. “Please,” she begged. “Get them out.”

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