INTERIM · BEN PARISH | ✓

Twelve

"Hey, Stil," Pluto says to Stiletto, who's busy sharpening her knife while hunched over the campfire. "Can you say those prayer words again? I found them pretty calming."

"Of course," she says. "I'd love to teach you some more as well, if you'd like."

"That'd be wonderful, ma'am."

"Okay. First I want you to imagine yourself at total peace. Picture yourself in complete paradise. You got that image in your mind?"

"Yeah."

"What are you thinking of?"

A tear falls down into the dirt. "I thought of my mom."

"Your mom... is paradise? That's some weird, Norman Bates shit right there."

"No, dum-dum. Her and me. And my dad. The three of us at Disneyland."

"You know way too much shit goes down there for it to be even close to the definition of paradise," she snorts.

"Well, there's this area that not a lot know about, like Aladdin's Oasis, I think. We used to eat there during breakfast, lunch, and dinner during our trips. We had an annual pass until we moved to Ohio last year. And then- strange. I can't remember. It's like I'm already forgetting my old life."

Stiletto has no words until Musket crouches down next to her and closes his eyes, breathing in sharply and concentrating. I see her shuffle a little bit closer before turning the color of my namesake.

"Can you keep going?"

"Oh, yeah, right. Anyway, next you're gonna have to... uh..." she clears her throat, looks nervously at Musket and back to the fire. "Keep picturing yourself in that little moment of paradise and let the Heavens clear your mind of all evil done in your life. You are pure, you are alive, and you are loved."Then she begins her prayers, thanking Mother Nature for protecting our squad and praying to other gods I have never heard of to protect us on our little crusade.

She says the last words, blessed be, when we hear footsteps not a few feet away.

I stand up quickly and bring out my knife. 

The footsteps are louder, quicker, and there's more we can hear. The voices are hushed, nearly inaudible. All of us have our weapons.

The bushes rustle and suddenly a face appears in the darkness. I drop the knife.

•••

Ringer liked to pretend sometimes. She would pretend she felt nothing when you could see the slightest bit of remorse show in her eyes. It was a little bit heartbreaking, honestly. She would also pretend that she cared when really she was figuring out a way to get something for herself out of the situation.

But not with me. Never with me.

"Mind if I join?" she said one time. She was brave for sneaking to our table, I'll give her that.

I shrugged. It was the last day. I couldn't care less about what she would do today.

"So. Hey guys. I missed you all so much," she said. "I really did."

"No wonder you're so close to Zombie. Because you miss us," I said sharply. It slipped out before I could catch my own sarcasm.

She swallowed and looked at her hands. "It's been tough, you know that. Vosch heard about my theories but he's said nothing."

"And how do you know?"

"Reznik warned me. Said the next time I try to spread any.. Rumors.. He'd personally deliver my head on a pike to the infested."