“The o-o-o–” He looked on the verge of having one himself.
“Yes, Dad. The orgy. Where there’s tons of the sex.”
“Wh-where?” he said. “Wh-wh-when?”
“Oh, I don’t even remember I was so high on the drugs at the time.” She slid a window up and grabbed Matt by the wrist, ushering him toward it. A confused expression hung on his face, but he got the hint and began climbing out. “Matt was there, he could tell you.”
“Wh-what?” Matt said as he pulled his other foot through.
Cindy’s father charged him. Matt windmilled his arms, rebalancing after taking an unsure step back and kept his footing.
“That’s why he’s here now, Daddy,” Cindy said, getting into it. “We’re going to do it. We’re all going to do it.”
By now her father was near frothing at the mouth with rage. His tan skin was a deep burgundy at his neck and face, his eyes shiny brown pricks jutting from his head. He climbed out after the boy and Cindy followed just as the first palms slapped against her bedroom door.
“I’m going to kill you,” Cindy’s father said to the boy. It took her a moment to orient herself so she could balance on the sloped roof. But she got between her father and Matt and manage to halt his forward progress.
Matt was almost as wide-eyed as her father, his eyes filled with terror instead of rage.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said as if he really had been to an orgy with Cindy. He took a small step backward, teetered, and righted himself again.
Cindy got between them before her father could charge. She ignored the silent accusation in Matt’s eyes, considering violator-of-daughters a fair label in exchange for still being alive.
Her bedroom door burst in. There were only seconds before they got to the window and Cindy had to get her father ready.
“Don’t be silly, Daddy,” she said. “Matt’s gay. The other boys are here for the orgy. Today.”
The top of her father’s head must have been as red as a volcano because his forehead was almost purple. He looked at her but she didn’t think he saw her. At least not a sixteen year old version of her. He probably saw his little girl, around four or so, in one of those summer dresses that had been too long for her that she’d countered with a pair of her mother’s highest heels. Daddy had a picture of that very thing on his desk in his study.
“Daddy, don’t hurt them. They love me!”
She hated to say it, but she needed something to push him the rest of the way over the edge. If she couldn’t have his trust or even have him believe his own eyes then she would take his rage.
He turned to the first boy as his arm was poking out the window. Daddy grabbed him by the elbow and the scruff of his neck before hurling him over the edge of the roof. There was a wet smack as flesh met driveway and Daddy was reaching in the window as the next boy approached. The boy growled, nude from the chest up, his skin a wet, emerald green.
We’re coming down the home stretch! Please check back for the next (last?) installment! In the meantime, have you downloaded your copy of Anything but Zombies?