What She Found in the Woods

‘Too much adrenaline?’ a man asks.

I lift my hands and hear a clank. I try to sit up, and something stops me. I kick my legs, and they go nowhere. Every fibre of me is trying to run, but I’m tied down to a bed – or a gurney, more likely. I decide it’s a gurney, based on feel. I focus my eyes. The camouflage ceiling tells me I’m in one of Dr Goodnight’s barracks.

This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up strapped down, so I don’t try to scream. There’s no point, although the adrenaline makes my heart flutter, and I want to scream. I take a shivering breath to steady myself, and the man smiles.

‘You look so much like your mother,’ the man says, studying my face. ‘I don’t blame Rob. He said you were special. That you were one of us. Before you cut his throat.’

Michael Claybolt is a handsome man still, although older than he was in the picture Rob has in his wallet. He’s big and he’s stayed fit. Even the greying hair suits him.

He stands up from the chair next to my gurney and turns his back on me to go to a countertop along the sidewall. As he does, I see a long needle in his hand, and I feel the corresponding ache in my chest from where that needle burrowed into my heart. He drops the needle in a stainless-steel tray.

I hear rasping breaths, and I turn my head. Gina is strapped to a gurney next to me. There’s an IV bag dripping fluid into her arm. I notice I’m hooked up to an IV, too.

‘Rob says you have a taste for it,’ Michael continues. He speaks to me with his back still turned. ‘He said you’ve killed more people than he has.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ I say, trying to talk through a chattering jaw. ‘How many people has he killed?’

Michael faces me. ‘You know how many,’ he chides.

And now I’m afraid of him. Stark terror adds more icy adrenaline to my blood. I shake all the way down my body.

‘Three that have been found,’ I say, forcing myself to answer because I can tell an answer is expected. ‘There could be more, though.’

Michael shakes his head. ‘Rob likes to make a show of his kills. He thinks gruesome equals fearsome.’ He smiles indulgently. ‘He has a theatrical nature. In fact, he came up with the Dr Goodnight moniker. I’m not really a doctor – he borrowed the title from your boyfriend’s father. Said it made me more intimidating.’ He thinks, and then shrugs. ‘He’s still young.’

I hear Gina mumbling incoherently as she starts to come around. Michael notices as well and starts busying himself with medical equipment.

‘He tells me that you’ve managed to kill four people without even touching them,’ Michael says. He lifts a vial, sticks a needle through the membrane, and draws a viscous liquid into a syringe. ‘He says you’re so good, you convince them to kill themselves.’

‘Not all of them,’ I correct. ‘One of my kills didn’t commit suicide, but she was overdosed by a nurse because of me. I’ve also put two people in comas that they haven’t come out of yet.’

‘Interesting,’ he says, thinking. Like this is an interview to see if I’m worthy of joining his and Rob’s club.

‘The two I put in comas probably won’t make it,’ I say, trying to pad my résumé. ‘Neither of their families have the patience to keep watering vegetables.’

Michael pauses and studies me. I went too far with the vegetable comment. He didn’t like it. He wrinkles his nose distastefully and shakes his head.

And that’s it. The interview is over. I’m going to die.

Dr Goodnight brings a tray over and puts it down on a short table between my gurney and Gina’s. On the tray are two rows of three syringes. He pulls the chair over to her side and picks up the first syringe in the top row. He watches Gina deliriously rolling her head back and forth on the pillow for a while. Then he injects the first syringe into her IV line.

Her eyes flick open.

‘Hi, Gina,’ he says.

She rolls her head to face him. After a moment, she seems to recognize him, and she starts pulling on her restraints, trying to get away.

‘I remember you,’ he tells her. ‘And it looks like you remember me.’

He picks up the second needle.

‘I never had any reason to come after you. You were smart. You were there when my son was born. You survived and got clean. You kept your mouth shut.’ He’s speaking fondly to her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Gina looks like she would strangle him if she could. ‘I’m wondering what changed.’

He injects the second needle into her IV.

‘Was it her?’ he asks, gesturing to me. ‘Did she get in your head somehow?’

Gina’s already bruised face turns red. It’s like fire is crawling under her skin. She bites down on her lips to keep from screaming, but I can see her back bending, her fists clenching, until finally a broken shriek comes out of her.