She took the keys off the support beam and ran past her mother's prone body to the hallway and out the back door.
Belle awoke to what she thought was probably at least one broken rib and the sight of her daughter's legs flashing by. She tried to speak but couldn't. She tried to sit but all she could immediately do was to get up on one elbow and try to breathe and ease the dizzy feeling. Everything hurt. Her head and ribs most of all - but everything.
She tried again. This time she was able to straighten her arm. There was a damp washcloth on the floor beside her and she used it on her face against the dizziness. It helped.
"Momma? I counted to a hundred. I didn't know what to do after that. Where is everybody? What's happening to the doggies?"
Darlin' stood hunched in the doorway, eyes wide, clearly scared.
But she was right. The dogs were going nuts outside.
She didn't want her little girl to see her like this and it was painful as hell but she managed to sit and then slowly, to stand.
"Come here," she said. "Come here, hon."
Darlin' rushed to her and flung her arms around her waist.
Her ribs screamed.
"Easy," she said, "Please, honey. Go easy."
Brian slammed the double doors.
His father dragged Rat-on Rat-on to the dog cage and tied her off to a link. The dogs were just on the other side, gnashing, frothing, barking up a storm, lunging at her through the wire fencing. Rat-on kept going to the dog cage and tied her off to a link. The dogs were just on the other side, gnashing, frothing, barking up a storm, lunging at her through the wire fencing. Rat-on kept going no no no no no no trying to keep her distance and at the same time loosen the knot at her wrists. But his father knew his knots. trying to keep her distance and at the same time loosen the knot at her wrists. But his father knew his knots.
"Hose!" his father said. "Nozzle it down, son. I want 'em mean." mean."
Had he fed the dogs today? Unh-unh. No, he hadn't.
So they would already be mean.
But he cranked the water and twisted the nozzle down to a single heavy stream which he sprayed half on George, Lily and Agnes and half on Rat-on. She kept trying to protect her face. He drenched her.
The cold water made her nipples hard.
Nice.
"Get 'em back," his father said.
So he concentrated on the dogs. Mama Agnes retreated to the doghouse. Growling, snarling at them. Fuck Mama Agnes. Lily and George fled to the back of the cage.
"You keep those two back there."
"Please," Rat-on said. "Stop this. I swear I won't say anything. None of this ever happened, okay?"
She was pleading. He liked that.
His father didn't seem to give a shit one way or the other. He simply untied the rope from the link, opened the cage door and dragged her short-leashed to the doghouse and pushed her down in front of it. Agnes snarled. Not at Rat-on but at his father. So his father did what he always did. Snarled right back at her and made as though to give the dog the back of his hand. Which she had felt plenty of times ever since she was a pup. She backed off, barking.
His dad threw the cage door shut.
Genevieve watched the dog. Watched the dog watching her. The look in its eyes scared hell out of her. The look was practically feral, as though the dog were a wolf in the wild and not some domesticated animal in a cage.
On the other side of the cage the boy still had his hose on the other two. But not on this one.
This one was stalking her. Slowly closing in.
She knew she could not take her eyes off the dog for a moment. If she did it was going to attack. But what she could do was to try to inch crabwise away, get her back against the doghouse - maybe even get inside inside the doghouse where she'd be protected on three sides at least. And from there she could maybe kick the damn thing until it went away. the doghouse where she'd be protected on three sides at least. And from there she could maybe kick the damn thing until it went away.
So that was what she did.
Oh, bad choice she heard Cleek say. she heard Cleek say. Can you say anopthalmia? Can you say anopthalmia?
But by then it was too late.
THIRTY ONE.
The Woman is with them, out there with the dogs. She hears their animal spirit, something in them yet untamed. It soothes her, this wildness. It reminds her that tooth and claw is the nature of the world and the nature of each beast in it. That nothing in the wild dies without great loss and gain. That no kind of beast was ever meant to live in cages. Or damp dark places such as this one.
She hears keys at the door and a moment later it opens.
The girl rapidly descends. Turns on the light. Then pauses breathless to look at her.
Behind her she can hear the dogs' violent voices more clearly now. On the girl she smells fear. Fear and something else. Anger perhaps. Yes. And protectiveness. The girl is protecting someone. Perhaps the baby inside her.
Protecting the baby from her? She poses no threat. Not as she is.
But then the girl does the most astonishing thing. The Woman could never have expected it.
She steps over to her, gazes once into her face and then bends down and begins unscrewing the restraint on her left ankle.
THIRTY TWO.
The child had been alive for nearly ten years but knew nothing of time. She was female but knew nothing of that either.
The child knew only the doghouse and the occasional venture outside to steal food from the others who were not hairless like her - she had huddled with them against the cold, slept with them curled around her, listened to their breathing which was not like her own - or to void herself or exercise her limbs.
For the child the world was always dark. Several shades of dark but always so.
She could smell herself. She could smell the others. So that she knew she was different from them but in what way she couldn't tell exactly except that she was hairless and they were not and they seemed to have no ability to grasp at things and hold them the way she did. Her teeth were long but theirs were longer. The pads on their feet were tougher. They were long and lean and she was thick and squat.
These things aside, they were family.
So that when she heard their rage and outrage it became hers too - and she braced herself against the wood behind her and waited for the shapes and shades of darkness to change from dark to darker. Which meant movement. Intrusion.
Perhaps the hand that stung.
She heard a low growl behind her and realized her mistake, that there were not three dogs in here but four, yet there was no time nor any way for her fix that because the dog outside was inching closer and closer, Genevieve hoping against hope that a growl was all she was in for and when the thing inside the doghouse leapt out at her roaring - the thing that had no eyes but only empty eye sockets, its skin like dirty melted pink wax, human, yes, but built like some kind of pit bull human, yes, but built like some kind of pit bull - when the child-thing sunk its teeth into the flesh between her neck and shoulder and its yellow cracked claws into her arms all she could do was to reach back with her roped hands and try to pull it off her and scream and scream. - when the child-thing sunk its teeth into the flesh between her neck and shoulder and its yellow cracked claws into her arms all she could do was to reach back with her roped hands and try to pull it off her and scream and scream.
"Brian! Hose Agnes!" his father was shouting and so he did, Brian having a fine old time here, catching the dog full in the face, backing her off and listening to Rat-on scream.
"Okay, sis," he yelled, "let's see what you got!"
Inside the house Belle heard the screaming and so did her daughter and Darleen wouldn't let go of her, she was holding on for dear life and Belle's ribs were doing their own screaming. Finally she pushed her away and held her at arms' length.
"Darlin'? Baby? I want you to go back to your room right now. Lock the door and don't come out. Don't come out unless it's momma or Peggy, okay?"
She was squirming in Belle's grip, tears running down her face.
"Noooo...I want to stay here... here...with you..." you..."
"You can't, honey. Now do as I say. It's really, really important. Okay?"
She let go of her and turned her around and gave her a little push. Darlin' ran for the stairs.
Then she turned too to find out just what the fuck was going on.
The child-thing was tearing at her, ripping at her back with its fingernails, tearing through her clothing to the naked flesh beneath and she heard herself mindlessly saying get away get away get away get away get away get away and pushing at it and whipping around so that finally she landed on top of it, heard the and pushing at it and whipping around so that finally she landed on top of it, heard the whoosh whoosh of air out of its lungs and smelled its awful breath full in her face but it let go of her and for a moment she was free. of air out of its lungs and smelled its awful breath full in her face but it let go of her and for a moment she was free.
She turned and scuttled back until she hit the chain-link cage and realized that all that flailing had done one good thing at least, she had some play in the rope that bound her - her left wrist was coming free. She tugged on it, clawed at it. She tried to stand but there seemed to be no strength in her legs. The child-thing was slinking toward her just as the dog had done. It was growling. Then barking at her. Some shrill approximation of a bark anyway.
You're not a dog, she thought, she thought, you're human. you're human.
And somehow it was all the worse for that.
She tried to stand again and fell and pulled at the rope. Her face was wet. She realized she was crying and that was when the child-thing leapt forward and sunk its teeth into her ankle. She felt bones break inside and shrieked and lurched forward, felt adrenaline rush through her like a hot burning liquor and suddenly her left hand was free of the rope and she slashed at the thing and clawed where its eye should be - the empty socket - and the child screamed a child's shocked scream and its hands went to its face. Then it shook its head like a wet dog and leapt again, blood and spittle flying.
It clawed down the length of her belly and gripped gripped there deep. And no dog could do that. No dog could reach into her and grip there and haul itself the length of her while its other hand clawed into her breast to pull itself up further and the last thing she heard before its teeth found her neck was the father saying there deep. And no dog could do that. No dog could reach into her and grip there and haul itself the length of her while its other hand clawed into her breast to pull itself up further and the last thing she heard before its teeth found her neck was the father saying turn it off, son turn it off, son and knew that to be endgame - the end of Genevieve Raton and the last thing she thought was - and knew that to be endgame - the end of Genevieve Raton and the last thing she thought was - Dorothy. Dorothy.
Brian turned the water off and looked at his father. His father simply stood there, arms at his sides, expressionless.
Then he watched the dogs go at her.
THIRTY THREE.
The Woman hears it all. The screams, the voices of the dogs, the voice that is like a dog's but is not a dog's and which briefly puzzles her. But what puzzles her most is this girl who has freed her legs and then her left wrist. Who touches her gently and yet is very afraid.
The girl reaches up to the Woman's right wrist and then draws back her hands. Her hands are trembling. The girl is afraid to release her completely.
The girl has good reason.
I must be out of my mind, she thinks. But is anyone in their right mind here? Certainly not her father or her brother and she has serious doubts about a mother who has gone along with all this - not only this woman in front of her but her sister and her own rape and pregnancy. Hiding her pregnancy. When the time comes you'll go to Aunt Joan's When the time comes you'll go to Aunt Joan's she said. she said. No one need ever know. No one need ever know.
Insane. Stupid. Miss Raton knew already.
So are you going to do this or not? she thinks.
Yes, you are. And damn the consequences. If she fucking kills you it might just be a relief.
She takes a deep breath and reaches up.
The Woman is free. She shakes her arms and hands which throb with pain as the heat of blood flows into them. She girl stands motionless before her like an animal in the wild which would wish to make itself invisible. But the girl is no animal in the wild. For a single moment the girl is able to meet her gaze.
Then the woman's hand darts suddenly out as though to punch or stab her in the belly - no, in the womb womb, in that most secret part of her, the part of her which has been violated by her father night after night, over and over so that she sees herself sobbing in her bed, sees herself sweating beneath him, and fearful that Darleen will wake she hears the bed creaking, she feels herself holding her breath against the smell of him, the stink of him, the woman's hand seeming to stab deep into the shame and pain that is her fertile womb.
And coming to rest there.
Gently moving, slowly. This is a caress.
Peggy can't help it, she begins to cry.
It's as though she's seen a miracle. Felt a miracle. a miracle.
And she thinks, maybe I have. maybe I have.
"Oh my god, Peggy!" her mother says from behind her. "What in god's name have you done?"
Climbing painfully down the front steps she saw that the cellar door was open and she thought is that it? Is that who's doing all that screaming out there in the barn? Has Chris finally decided to feed the damn woman to the dogs? It's crazy but no crazier than anything else he's done lately. So she decided to check.
And now she stands at the top of the stairs and sees her daughter down there with her looking up at her as though dazed and the woman free of her chains and coming at her like a bullet from a gun.