Page 116 of Dark Surrender

Let’s kill these motherfuckers.

Iris

Channeling Dee, I cover the bartender’s face and mouth with a towel and sink a kitchen knife into her stomach, over and over, trying to make it quick. Kali showed her how to make a drink, sprinkled a little poison in it, and when the woman was going down, which didn’t take long, she shoved her into my laundry bin that I just so happened to be removing from the pool, full of wet towels to clean. Now we’re in the industrial-sized laundry room, and I’m officially the worst version of Ghostface. As the towels soak up her blood, turning them bright red, I try not to think about what’s actually happening.

That I killed someone.

With a knife.

At least she was mostly unconscious when the stabbing started.

She didn’t put up a fight.

Once the woman’s dead, dead, I toss even more towels over her to hide the evidence and shove the cart into the corner of the room.

Step one down, only a million more to go.

Before I leave, I drop the knife in the trash and rinse my hands in the sink.

The chorus of little girls’ screams has me racing back into the thick of this living nightmare.

Four men are doubled over, puking their guts up, grasping their throats as I enter the chaotic pool yard, where twinkle lights set the disgusting mood alongside the soft sounds of the ocean they pump through hidden speakers.

Bile rises in my throat as little girls and boys race to the far side of the pool area and huddle together as more men fall. Then a child. It goes on for what feels like hours, even though it’s not. I hide behind a potted tree as other employees race to help and try to figure out what’s happening.

Kali’s no longer behind the bar by the time a team of men in black tactical gear rushes in and splits into two groups. The one corralling the kids and random young women into a nearby room is my sole focus. I note the location as a nurse drops to her knees to tend to a man seizing on his pool lounger.

Part of me knows I should feel an inkling of sadness for these men, but I can’t seem to give a single fuck. Not one. No sadness. No remorse. Only respect for Kali and her talents. Talents that I hope, should we make it out of here alive, she will show me more of. Sure, I’ve learned a lot about plants and their medicinal purposes over the years, but I’ve only ever wielded them as she does… once.

When I killed my father.

It was slow.

To draw out his pain.

He deserved every moment of agony. Every heavy breath. Every wide-eyed moment in panic.

He is the reason I never knew my real parents. Why Dee is the psycho she is. Why I’m scarred and hate men the way I do. Not that I don’t understand why he did what he did. But had we been his children, born from him, and not soldiers he sought to corrupt, then maybe I’d have a semi-normal life. Not one where I slept on a cot and stole to survive. Not a life where I had to find a way to kill him, so he couldn’t use Dee for his bidding anymore.

The chaos ramps up as Kali’s poison takes man after man out.

When the clock above the bar hits midnight, I stick to the darkness and tiptoe to the empty bedroom from earlier to meet Sola and Kali as planned. They’re pacing when I arrive.

“Fuck,” Kali hisses, with a towel over her shoulders to cover her breasts as she stares at the ceiling, gripping her hair like she wants to rip it out by the roots.

Sola wraps her sister in a big hug, squeezing her tight, then waves me over. I awkwardly join in. My arms hang heavy over their shoulders.

“Give it time to work, okay?” Sola whispers, trying to sound supportive. “Now let me check in with Rot,” she adds, then disengages from us to do just that.

From a spot at the end of the bed, she tucks a flyaway curl behind her ear and, hunched over, mutters into the device. “Rot, are you there?”

Static screeches through the line before his voice connects. “They’re coming, Red.”

“Who is?” Sola asks.

“Everyone.”

“Are you coming too?”