Road Out of Winter by Alison Stine

Author:Alison Stine [Stine, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488056499
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2020-07-06T15:26:41+00:00

9

I locked the door behind me, but it was a cheap lock. All the locks were cheap. The men could break the door down, if they wanted to. They could break the building down.

I flung my arms out, almost knocking over a rickety table. My fingers fumbled over a Coleman lamp. I picked it up, found the switch, and cranked it high. Light flicked into the garage. A girl stared at me from the wall. It was me.

I flinched for a moment, startled by my own appearance in the mirror hanging there. There were leaves in my hair, dirt on my face. I touched my collarbone. The cord was still there, the leather pouch of seeds: pumpkin, apple, millet. I thought of them like a prayer to give me courage. I had a fresh scratch on my throat. There was a pink sticker on the top of the mirror. It said: Dirty girl.

I looked around. There were mirrors along the wall of the garage, bunk beds in the corner, and in the middle, a stage with a silver pole, glinting in the lantern light. Sleeping bags were slumped on the floor of the stage.

I heard a cough from the direction of the bunk beds. I spun around, the lantern swinging.

“Jesus, man, the light.” A hand came up from the bottom bunk.

I lowered the lantern and saw, raising herself up from a rumpled bed, another Jamey. She had a rounder face than Jamey, stringier hair.

“Where’s the way out of here?” I asked.

The girl pointed: past the stage. There was a doorway curtained by plastic.

“Thanks,” I said.

I didn’t look at the pole. I didn’t think about the stage. I pushed aside the plastic, and then the smell hit me: the salty-slick smell of blood.

The doorway opened up on a slaughterhouse. It was a room for butchering, but dirtier than any deer-processing place I’d seen. My lantern flashed into the corners. I saw a table, flecked with blood. I saw red parts, a barrel, knives, a saw. I smelled blood and meat left to putrefy. Something hung dripping on a hook.

“Shit.” I swung the light back through the doorway. The girl on the bunk was sitting up now. She looked sleepy, unconcerned. “Why is all that here?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Meat and meat.”

The garage door jumped in its frame. Fists pounded and the knob rattled.

“Bitch, let us in!” the men said from outside.

“Hold your horses, hold your horses,” the girl on the bed said loudly. “I’m coming, I’m a’coming.” But she didn’t move. She lifted her chin at me. “Well, get out.”

I ran through the butchering room. I ran past the table, holding my breath. I didn’t look at the animal parts. Whatever they were, they were dead now. My boots slid on the slick floor, but I didn’t look down or drop the lantern. Come with me come with me, I should have said to the girl on the bed.

But I didn’t. I just ran.

At the back of the butchering room, there was a row of metal roll-up doors.

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