MELT: A Psychological Thriller (31 page)

Victoria grabbed the umbrella. 'You're despoiling the name of a wonderful man whom none of you knew.'

Carl said, 'It doesn't sound like you knew him either.'

Victoria held back her hostile reply and kept walking.
Don't be drawn into their muckraking. That's what they want.

At the drain, she unfolded the letter and recognized Alison’s handwriting.

Alison had begun school with poor penmanship
, but every day they practiced until Alison's handwriting was perfect. Victoria could see Alison had kept it up.
Graham often said that manners and a good pen were a person's two greatest tools in life.

He also had another saying.

Once a liar, always a liar.

Victoria calmly tore Alison's lies to smaller and smaller pieces. When no piece remained larger than a thumbnail, she fed every shred down the drain with the shit where it belonged.

 

 

#

 

 

Victoria hated them.

She truly did.

She stopped near Ericsson and Glen.

Both corpses lay exposed again. Everyone avoided this spot because of the radiation. The place had terrified Victoria before, but now she preferred it over being with the others. Death didn’t horrify her any longer.

If I stay here, no one will come near me because of the radiation. Maybe I'll just sit down and keep these two company.

Then she spotted it.

It lay in the depression forming behind Ericsson as the ice retreated. She recognized it immediately. It didn't belong in this pile of death.

Bracing a knee on Glen and a hand on Ericsson, she leaned over the bodies and jerked the toy free.

It was an antique jack-in-the-box.

It’s beautiful.

The handmade wooden box was intricately carved and in near-perfect condition. Generation of families had obviously passed this down to their children.

Does it still work?

Victoria held her breath and turned the silver handle.

TINNNNGGGG

A perfect note sounded out.

 
The others don't deserve to enjoy this, but they'll hear it anyway. I might as well show them.

As she walked, she turned the handle. The song played out. She recalled the words from her early years teaching children:

 

All around the mulberry bush,

The monkey chased the weasel,

The monkey stopped to pull up his sock...

 

SLAM!

Alex slammed his hand down on the box.

Victoria shrieked.

Alex wrenched the box from her grasp.
He acted like it might contain a bomb.

Because it might,
realized Victoria
. What was I thinking?

‘Are you crazy?’ shouted Alex.

'Sorry,' she blustered. 'I wasn't thinking. I just picked it up to carry around.'

Alex gripped the box tightly. ‘At least you didn’t throw it at me this time.’

‘We need to weigh the lid down,’ said Victoria.

Alex showed the others.

Megan had a better idea than weighing down the lid. She slid her belt off and wrapped it twice around the box. She fastened the buckle on top.

'Well?' Alex asked.

Megan shrugged. 'I don't know when these were invented. Do you, Victoria?'

Victoria just shook her head, still shocked at how careless she'd been.

'What if there's food inside?' asked Chrissie.

'Then it stays in there,' replied Megan.

Alex added, 'Otherwise Jack might jump from his box and bite your face off.'

 Chrissie looked frustrated. 'Did you smell it, Victoria?’

‘No,' admitted Victoria.

'Jesus,' said Chrissie. 'We're all starving to death and you just wanted to hear the music?'

Victoria realized it sounded crazy, but she would truly prefer to hear music than eat food right now.

Her soul felt empty, not her stomach.

'Be careful, Chrissie,' warned Carl.

Chrissie pressed her nose to the edge of the lid and sniffed. 'I can't smell anything. I think we should open it.’

Everyone looked at Victoria.

‘I don’t know this time. It’s too obscure.’

Megan said, 'My instincts say it's a trap.’

'Of course it's a trap,' said Alex. 'Even normal jack-in-the-boxes are traps to scare the shit out of people.’

‘We’ll never find food like this,’ complained Chrissie. ‘What if the Trojan horse was the only real trap? What if Megan’s theory is wrong and Glen just got unlucky. What proof does she really have? No one else has been hurt.’

‘No one else has been hurt because we’ve been following the rules,’ insisted Megan.

‘I think you’re wrong. I don’t think these artifacts are as dangerous as you claim.’

‘Well, I don’t really care what you think,’ said Megan.

'Let's vote,' insisted Chrissie.

According to the vote, only Chrissie wanted to risk opening it. Jack was staying indoors today, and Victoria felt better for it.

Chrissie didn’t.

'Aren't you people hungry?' demanded Chrissie. ‘I'm so hungry I can hardly think straight. What if I open it around the ice by myself?'

'The vote is over, Chrissie.' Carl pointed at the ice. 'If you want more food, find some we know is safe.'

'According to Megan's retarded system?' complained Chrissie. ‘She was a frigging charity-mugger before this!’

Megan spun and pointed at Chrissie. ‘I’m sick of your constant bitching. I change my vote. Let her open it. You're too much hard work to keep alive, Chrissie.’

'I change my vote too,' agreed Alex. 'But open it near the burial mound so we don't have to drag your body far, Chrissie.'

Chrissie and Megan glared at each other.

'Do it,' said Megan. 'I dare you.'

Chrissie glanced at Victoria, and Victoria for once found herself feeling much the same way as Megan.

She didn't offer any response.

Not a shrug.

Not a nod.

Nothing.

Chrissie had led the charge in attacking Graham. There was no coming back from that.

'Fuck it!' shouted Chrissie, pushing herself away from the box. 'Fuck it and fuck all of you.'

Chrissie picked up an icepick and attacked the ice.

'I hope I find your bottle, Megan. I just hope I find your bottle before you die.'

Chapter Twenty-two

 

Victoria shed her cardigan.

This place smells revolting.

The drain, the corpses, themselves, every smell grew worse by the hour.

Victoria sat on her cardigan and watched Alex fussing over Megan’s ear.

They both have secrets.

They’re both hiding something.

Something dreadful.

I don’t need to find their bottles.

After days locked together, Victoria knew their sins.

Alex was easy.

His mutilated leg was proof. Scarring like his usually resulted from a car wreck. From a high speed car wreck. Too young for a driver’s license, Alex must have stolen the car.

The wreck killed someone.

Not a passenger or a friend. Someone riding in the
other
car. An innocent child, Victoria guessed, or children — killed by Alex in the wreck. Their parents had lived. Or maybe an uncle. Whoever, they meant to settle the score with Alex.

That's why Alex carries the knife. He's terrified.

His bottle will have photos. Wait until Megan sees the young faces of the children he killed. He won't be her golden boy then.

Victoria knew Megan’s secret too.

Megan repulsed Victoria.

She’s a slut.

Megan flaunted it.

She was constantly the center of male attention.

She’d needed no extra encouragement to shed her clothes for the rope. The tiny scrap of yellow cotton she called underpants were practically transparent. She couldn't wait to be nearly naked and surrounded by men.

Then she'd volunteered to go up the ice.

The men had no choice but to watch her slither up the wet ice.

They could see everything. It was repulsive. And then when they'd pulled Megan off Glen, Victoria witnessed all the evidence she needed.

Megan was aroused.

Sexually aroused.

Her nipples had swollen so hard the engorged red skin was visible through her bra.

'It was just the cold,' Chrissie commented later, but Victoria knew better.

Megan had probably dirtied herself with a dozen different men.
And
she had brothers. She was the girl that would do anything for male attention, even from a family member.

That's Megan's secret.

Incest.

Incestuous...filthy...little...slut.

Victoria knew it. Megan was dirtier than the public toilet she'd been abducted from.

 

 

#

 

 

'Megan!' Alex called. 'Come check this out!'

Victoria followed, hoping Alex had found a bottle.

Carl waved Victoria closer. 'What do you think, Victoria? Is it safe?'

Alex had excavated a clay pot.

Victoria knelt beside the pot.

It's sealed
.
Is this stretched animal hide?

Victoria scratched the material, collecting a yellow residue under her fingernail.

She smelled it.

'Bee's wax,’ she said. ‘This is waxed paper. The wax makes the pot waterproof and airtight.'

'It’s food then,' said Chrissie excitedly. 'Preserved food.'

'The Egyptians preserved brains and body organs,' said Alex. ‘How hungry are you?’

Chrissie scowled at Alex.

Victoria tapped the drum-like seal. 'It sounds full.'

'Full of food,' insisted Chrissie. 'They haven't given us any food since the tofu.'

Turning the pot, Victoria found two small markings.

'What language is that?' asked Carl.

'Arabic.'

'So from Iran, Iraq or Syria, right?'

'Or Mesopotamia,' answered Victoria. 'What period has our timeline reached?'

Megan peered over at their collected artifacts.

'We've just gone from BC to AD. The last artifact is the Roman helmet.'

Victoria nodded. 'If this pot is Persian, it's safe.'

'Well?' asked Chrissie. 'Is it Persian?'

Do these people think I'm a computer?
thought Victoria
. I'm a person who needs food to think. I haven’t had my medication. I’m not even myself.

'I was a teacher,' replied Victoria steadily. 'Not an archaeologist.'

Alex spoke up. 'Anything sealed this carefully was probably used for trade. I bet those symbols are like canned food labels. One symbol describes the contents and the other symbol shows the weight or the price.’

He's probably right
, thought Victoria.

'But that doesn't date the pot,' said Megan. ‘And what’s the technological innovation? Clay pots were invented long before 100 AD.’

'Maybe using beeswax was a new technology,’ suggested Alex.

Victoria stroked the pot’s smooth surface. 'I don't think it's the bees wax or the symbols. I think it's the pot.'

'How?’ asked Megan.

'It's glazed,' answered Victoria. 'Glazed pots were valuable. They probably weren't used for food storage until the beginning of the 2nd or 3rd century.'

'So is it safe?' asked Carl.

Victoria replied, ‘I'd say this pot dates back to the Persian culture after the crucifixion of Christ.'

Chrissie pushed forward. 'Give me your knife, Alex.'

'Screw that,' said Alex. 'It could be full of angry scorpions. Let's throw it at the wall and stand back.'

'You watch too many movies,' said Chrissie. 'Scorpions would have frozen to death.'

'He's got a point,' said Carl.

As the others argued, Victoria unwrapped the waxy string and peeled open the stiff paper.

She leaned her face to the opening.

'No, wait!' cried Megan.

The impact was stunning.

Victoria felt it hit her face.

The chemicals seemed to ram through her nasal passages on a one-way trip to her brain.

Her mind instantly disconnected from her surroundings.

Nothing could bring Victoria back.

The beautiful aroma held her like a magic spell.

Perhaps she'd watched too many movies, but the smell conjured images of the Euphrates River. Of palms around an oasis. Of palm-filled gardens.

Of date palms.

Victoria opened her eyes.

The others stared, waiting for her to begin foaming at the mouth.

'Dates,' announced Victoria.

Drawing one from the pot, she took a bite, closed her eyes, and let the flavor saturate her senses.

If these are poison, then this is the way I want to die.

She heard the pot tip over as the others raced for food.

When Victoria opened her eyes, everyone shared similar expressions of rapture.

'These are incredible,' said Megan through a mouthful of chewed date. 'And they're huge.'

'How many are there?' asked Chrissie.

Carl emptied the pot.

'...eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Twenty left. So five each.'

Victoria collected her dates.

No one thanked her.

They never do.

 

 

#

 

 

Victoria couldn't hold back any longer. Megan was driving her crazy.

'For God's sake, Megan. Stop doing that!'

'Stop what?'

'Stop making those awful groaning sounds. You sound like a sick dog.'

Alex stopped tinkering with the Roman helmet. 'What is it, Megan?'

Megan shook her head. 'Nothing.'

'Now you’re lying,' said Victoria.

'I'm not lying!' barked Megan. 'I haven't even said anything.'

Alex got up. 'What is it?'

Megan looked torn, but finally blurted out, 'The music.'

Victoria watched Megan pace.
She thinks she can hear music? She's losing it.

'There is no music,' said Alex.

'I know,' said Megan. 'Where is it?'

'Oh, shit,' said Alex. 'She means the alarm on my phone. In the vent.’

Megan checked her watch. 'It should have played by now.'

'She's right,' said Carl.

'Are you sure?' asked Chrissie.

I'm missing something important
, realized Victoria.
Why is everyone so worked up about the music not playing?

'I'm surprised it lasted that long,' said Alex.

'What are you all babbling about?' demanded Victoria.

'My phone is out of charge,' replied Alex.

Victoria suddenly understood.

 'Are you saying our SOS message has stopped sending?'

Alex just nodded.

Something shut down in Victoria.

She sensed the wheels in some part of her mind grinding to a halt.

Now we're truly isolated.

No one is coming.

No one can come.

We're really going to die in here. We're all going to be cooked alive.

 

 

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