Page 51 of Innocence

“Th-this one is mine. Right?” she said. Miller nodded.

“It’s just an outdoor toilet.”

“But it flies,” she frowned.

“No. The plane flies. The waste goes into a bladder in the cargo hold of the plane. The hole in the commode is too small for anyone to be pulled through. Look at it. You couldn’t even fit your foot or hand in there without effort. There’s no way that your body would fit down that tiny hole, get through all the tubing, and into the bladder, and then, somehow, be released into the air. You can safely use the bathroom. It’s real. Shut the door, and we will wait out here for you.”

She stood for a long time, staring at the structure then moved toward it. Slowly. Turning, she stared at the men, then nodded, closing the door. It was less than two minutes later, but she’d quickly used the toilet and flushed it, making a remarkably similar sound to an actual airplane toilet, and now she was smiling.

“I peed in an airplane toilet,” she grinned. Miller and Angel laughed. “I actually peed in a toilet on an airplane. I don’t have to worry about peeing my pants on long flights anymore. I can tell my folks that I’ll go to Hawaii with them this Thanksgiving!”

“You did indeed pee in a toilet.”

“This is the coolest class ever.” She walked off down the path as the others looked around.

“Where’s the target?” asked Miller.

“Being led onto the last island. Ready?” asked Angel.

“Ready, brother. Let’s get our killer.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

So much fear. So much. It was oppressive, strangling, choking the life from the body. Every imaginable fear was represented. There were so many people to observe it was impossible to see it all.

“Swamp. My biggest fear.”

Crossing the pathway to the smaller island, the wetness and tall grass immediately made the heartbeat race.

“Can’t do it. Can’t do it.”

“You can do it!” yelled someone behind them. Turning, there was shock. They were staring. They were all staring.

“You can do it, Beatrice,” said Mary. “Isn’t that what you said to the others.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” she gasped.

“Didn’t you tell Tracy she could do it? She could overcome her fears. You could help her. You were such a good classmate. Who did you get to rape her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want to be done with this. They’re staring at me. They’re all staring at me!”

“Don’t worry. They don’t know that you’re a cold-hearted, ruthless killer.”

“No. No, I’m not!”

“Who raped Tracy?”

“It was just some random homeless guys. I gave them beer and fifty bucks. They were happy to do it.”

“And you blamed Sterling for her murder.”

“No, no, they did that. They positioned her body so it looked like he did it. I didn’t do that. I swear!”

“You killed Gifford. Sweet, lovely, God-fearing Gifford. Why?”

“Why? Because he was perfect! He was perfect! He wasn’t afraid of anything except fire. I didn’t want to do that. He chose it! He spoke it out loud!”

“What happened to you?” asked Rachelle, coming at the girl from behind. She was now surrounded by a dozen men and women, all staring at her. Across the path on the other island were all the students staring inquisitively.

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