Last Rites by Kim Paffenroth Read Free Book Online

peas, mixed with perfect little cubes of carrots; the real kind, the kind you only got from a store. Again, it made perfect sense in the dream world, and Rachel’s question also fit in: “These look good. They had them at the store?”
    “Of course,” her mother answered. “Canned this time instead of frozen.”
    Rachel nodded, somehow knowing that in the dream-world, the dead walked, but people could still shop at stores for some reason. She imagined her mother running through the supermarket parking lot, pushing a shopping cart as the slow, clumsy dead chased her; imagined her cheerfully loading her purchases into their van before climbing inside and backing over a couple walking corpses on the way out of the parking lot.
    Rachel also knew that in the dreamscape she had a younger brother. This fact did register as somewhat confusing, because her only sibling had been an older brother. But she took the bowl of vegetables over to the toddler anyway. She probably had both a younger and an older brother - she just hadn’t thought of them both before now. The younger one was a smiling, blonde-haired boy wearing overalls, and he sat in a booster seat at the table, fork in hand. She remembered he liked peas and carrots and was glad to see him enjoying them.
    Rachel heard keys rattling and turned back toward her mother. “Honey, I have to go out again,” her mother said. She was jangling her car keys in one hand as she handed another bowl of peas and carrots to Rachel.
    “Oh,” Rachel said as she took the bowl. “Can’t you stay?”
    “No, I have to go. Watch your brother while I’m gone. When you two are done, you can come join me.”
    “Okay, Mom.”
    Eating her food, Rachel stood with her back to her little brother, facing the door through which her mother had left. The vegetables tasted exceptionally buttery and sweet, the little cubes and spheres transitioning to a smooth, warm paste. There was no way of telling how long she stood there, just chewing, with no thought in her mind, only the simple, comforting sensations in her mouth.

Chapter 7: Truman

    The ship wasn’t moving forward, though it still rocked side to side. A while ago, Will had told them he could see lights and they should stay below, then he had closed the hatch. Now Truman could hear voices and footsteps from above. There really were people. Maybe Rachel would be taken care of. That much made Truman feel good.
    Lucy was having a tougher time of it. She’d pulled him as far away from the hatch as possible and had pushed him to the floor. They’d huddled there since, Lucy clutching a cast-iron frying pan with one hand and Truman’s arm with the other.
    “They’ll come,” she whispered now as they sat waiting. “They’ll hurt us. It’s not fair.”
    “It’ll be all right,” was all Truman could think to say. Her suspicion was contagious and he increasingly didn’t believe his own reassurances.
    “You remember your promise. You do what I say.”
    “Yes.”
    “First thing. If they come in—we don’t talk. Play dumb, Truman. They like that. Makes them feel good. Makes them feel smart and in charge. They like being in charge. Always. So don’t talk. Pretend you don’t know what they’re saying. Grunt. Growl. You understand?”
    It made sense. It was awful, but it made sense when she explained it. She was so smart in her own way.
    “Yes. You’re right,” he agreed.
    “Okay. That’s all we can do, I guess.” The “S” sound at the end trailed off for a second like steam from a broken valve. They’d have to practice that more, as it didn’t sound nice. If they lived to have the chance to talk more.
    The voices on deck continued, like they were discussing something back and forth. Their tone wasn’t exactly angry, but they definitely seemed to have some disagreement. Truman only made out one voice other than Will’s, but it sounded as though several people were moving around outside. He couldn’t hear what they were