MELT: A Psychological Thriller (34 page)

 

 

CHRISSIE

 

Chapter Twenty-four

 

Victoria and Alex tumbled off the bomb in a mess of flailing limbs.

Chrissie hardly noticed.

The pistol shot felt like someone thumping her ears with boat paddles. Even her vision blurred for a moment.

'Who did you shoot?’ cried Megan.

Good question
.

Chrissie grabbed Megan's sleeve. 'Stay back.'

'Alex, get up!' yelled Megan.

He didn't answer.

Chrissie aimed at Victoria, a challenge given she lay tangled under Alex.

'Alex!' cried Megan again.

Alex didn't move. Neither of them moved.

Megan yanked her sleeve from Chrissie's grasp.

'Stay back,' ordered Chrissie. 'I might have to shoot again.'

'Why?'

‘Because I don’t know who I hit.’

Everything happened so fast.

Did I kill them both with one bullet?

'Look,' pointed Megan.

From under their bodies a dark line of blood began oozing toward the drain.

I hit someone then
, realized Chrissie.

If I killed Alex, then Victoria is waiting for a chance to grab that wood and detonate the bomb.

The wood lay within Victoria's reach.

Megan couldn't be held back any longer.

'All right,' began Chrissie. 'Move that wood away.'

For once, miraculously, Megan obeyed without arguing.

Chrissie kept her pistol trained on the bodies. She intended to survive the next few minutes, even if that meant accidentally shooting Alex.

Or even Megan for that matter.

'Check them,' ordered Chrissie. 'But stay between Victoria and the bomb.'

If Victoria even twitched, Chrissie would shoot.

Megan's body would stop any bullets accidentally hitting the bomb.

'Kneel down,' said Chrissie.

You're a better human shield that way.

Megan knelt and shook Alex gently by the shoulder. 'Alex. Alex.'

Nothing.

'Roll him off her,' ordered Chrissie. 'Away from the bomb.'

'I'll check his pulse.'

'Check Victoria's first,' instructed Chrissie.

'But Alex is—’

'Check her, you idiot!' hissed Chrissie. 'She's the one trying to kill us!'

Megan checked Victoria's wrist.

'She's dead.'

Chrissie lowered the pistol. 'Thank Christ for that.'

Megan rolled Alex off Victoria and checked him for bullet wounds. 'He's got a pulse, but I can't see anything wrong with him.'

'Check his head,' suggested Chrissie.

'Why?'

'If the falling wood didn't hit the bomb, then what did it hit?'

Megan checked his head. Her fingers came away slick with blood. She searched his scalp. 'You're right. There's a huge lump and a cut. What should we do?'

Chrissie carefully pocketed the pistol. 'Let's move Victoria closer to the drain before she bleeds too much.'

'I meant about Alex.'

'He'll wake up,' replied Chrissie. 'He's just unconscious.'

They slid Victoria by the feet and parked her beside Carl. Her blood smeared right back to Alex like the first stroke from a giant paint brush.

The smeared blood revolted Chrissie.

'Wrap his head up,' said Chrissie. 'I don't want blood where we sleep.'

Megan cut a fabric square from Carl's jacket. While Chrissie held that in place, Megan wrapped Carl's belt like a leather bandage around Alex's head.

'The pressure should help,' said Megan. 'I hope he wakes up soon. If he's cracked his skull or has brain damage or something....'

'He got it trying to save us,' said Chrissie. 'It wasn't for nothing. Let's drag him. You take that wrist.'

'Be careful of his head,' said Megan.

Jeez — he weighs a ton,
thought Chrissie. Moving bodies left her exhausted.

Chrissie sat, thankful the ordeal was over.

 
I just shot somebody. I just shot and killed a person and I don't really feel anything. Actually, I feel relieved. Very relieved.

She felt the reassuring weight of the pistol in her pocket.

'You took that gun from Ericsson, didn't you?' asked Megan.

Chrissie nodded.
No point in lying.

'How did you catch Victoria?' Megan asked.

Chrissie shrugged. 'She wasn't herself. She seemed calmer, like she'd decided something. When I saw her fussing with the block and tackle, I knew she was planning something. Then she made sure she slept on the edge and pretended to go straight to sleep.’

Megan nodded. 'You really did save us. Thank you, Chrissie. It must have been hard to...to shoot her.'

'It was,' lied Chrissie. 'I'm exhausted. Let's finish resting.'

Megan nodded and checked Alex.

Chrissie lay back and slipped her hand in her pocket. Her fingers curled around the pistol's handle. She needed to rest. She needed to be clear-headed.

It would be a long day tomorrow, and she had very big plans.

 

 

#

 

 

Chrissie woke with a sudden jerk.

Her eyes shot open.

She covered them against the bright fluorescent lighting.

Christ — that's too fucking bright.

Last night's events rushed back into her head. She remembered Victoria trying to kill everyone.

I shot her. I shot her in the heart and killed her.

Whenever Chrissie awoke she felt disoriented and confused. For a few seconds, she forgot about their situation. Then it all came rushing back.

Those first few disoriented seconds were the best moments of her day.

But I'm alive and now I can stay alive.

She pushed herself up wearily. Megan had taken the umbrella.
Alex lay unconscious with Carl's big belt wrapped around his head. The smell of the chamber always hit hardest in the morning.

Jeez — this place smells revolting.

The smell of human rot was the worst.

We need to push those bodies up against the ice again.

Sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

This place is heating fast. Like Victoria predicted. Look how much ice is gone. Surely we'll find food today.

Chrissie felt the pistol in her pocket.
I'll make sure we find food today.

Ouch!

A sharp pain jabbed through her ribs.

 Her stomach had stopped growling and started biting.

It felt like a confined beast was eating her from the inside, consuming everything in its reach — her heart, her lungs, her liver.

Chrissie pressed the painful area.

Food it wanted. Food or nicotine. They were the same thing for her.

She rubbed her shoulder patch.
Empty
. Her nicotine patch was spent. Her withdrawal symptoms would be even worse today.

For her own sake, Megan better not cross me.

When Chrissie fell pregnant, Michael had insisted she quit smoking during the pregnancy. That's when she'd learned to use the nicotine patches. They compensated for the cigarettes she missed when he was around.

She knew one last trick.

She peeled off the patch and listened for Megan.

I can hear her now. She's crying.

Satisfied, Chrissie began chewing the nicotine patch.

She chewed the patch into a bland pulp, extracting any nicotine that remained. Suppressing her gag reflex, she swallowed the patch.

Oh, Christ, yuck — that's horrible.
How can I get this disgusting taste out of my mouth?

She listened for Megan.

Still satisfied, she leaned over and checked Alex’s pockets.

Ha — I knew it.

As expected, he'd rationed his dates.

He had two left.

Chrissie took them both. She bit one, letting the intense flavor sweep away the chemical residue left behind by the nicotine patch. She waved the date at Alex. 'Consider this payment for saving your life last night.'

She was biting into the second date when Megan returned.

'I thought you ate all your dates?' said Megan.

Chrissie shrugged. Megan's eyes looked red from crying.

'Do you do that every morning?' asked Chrissie.

'Do I pee every morning?'

'No,' said Chrissie. 'Do you sneak off for a private pity-party?'

Megan didn't answer.

She knelt and rubbed an ice chip over Alex's lips, letting the water drop into his mouth.

'I thought he'd wake up this morning,' she said.

'Is that why you were crying?'

'No. Today's my Dad's birthday.'

'It was my brother's birthday two day ago,' said Chrissie.

Megan unclipped the knife from Alex's pocket. 'Why didn't you mention it?'

Chrissie shrugged again. 'Dwelling on outside stuff makes us weak. We need to set that aside to survive.'

Megan pulled off her jeans. 'What's his name?’

'My brother? Robert. Bobby. Whatever they all call him now. I only see him for Thanksgiving.'

'How old is he?'

'I don't know.' Chrissie thought for a moment. 'Twenty-eight. He's useless. His girlfriend got herself pregnant at sixteen. She's an anchor around his neck. She’s ruined his life.’