Read Online The Book of the Unnamed Midwife by Meg Elison - Free Book Online
Authors: Meg Elison
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She had enough to kill ten, if she could hit them. She tried to steady herself.
I can still get out. I can still get out.
A few seconds of silence.
A splintering crash as the hutch fell facedown into the living room. The base of it was inches from the door. Hands worked their way into the opening and she could hear them straining. The top of the hutch was wedged against the corner of the staircase. She knew it wouldn’t move.
She waited. The straining stopped.
One of them spoke into the crack, his mouth pressed into the opening. “We’ll be back, sweetheart. All of us. Get ready to come along. There’s no other choice.”
Bullshit. Let me show you some choices. I’ve got a clip full of choices.
She heard them scrape through the window to leave her. She went upstairs to the window where she could see their place. She sat on the floor with her chin on the windowsill, watching as they went back into their house.
They waited for morning. She watched.
When the sun rose, she could pick out the shapes of a couple of them standing around their fire pit. They had knives and pipes and other improvised weapons. She knelt on the floor looking at the two guns, deciding. In the end, she chose the new one. She thought it was slightly more accurate at a distance. The shot was a hundred feet, easy. She lined it up slow, breathing deeply. She took the shot. She did not know to account for the drop as gravity acted on the bullet. She had been aiming for his torso, but she could see his kneecap explode when the bullet hit. The morning was still; she could definitely hear the screaming. It scattered the rest of them, and she took three more, wildly, heart pounding too hard to aim. One man dropped outright, and she assumed she had killed him. The other bent over, holding on to himself and screaming.
She got down below the window and waited for return fire, for the sound of someone breaking in downstairs. After a few minutes had passed, she was sure that there were no guns among them. She waited. No sound. When she dared to look again, they were leaving. They left the dead one where he lay.
It wasn’t the first time she had killed someone. Threatening close and threatening far away felt different. She sat there with her back pressed to the wall, thinking about that. Knowing she would kill again, deciding what that would change in her. She flashed for one moment on the man dead in her bed, pulling the sheet up over his face.
She didn’t look out the window again.
Chapter Three
October
Fucking cold. Started trying on the winter gear I found. Got good wool socks and boots, a couple of sweaters and a ski parka filled with down. Nixed the one that fit me better- it was pink. Pink = girl. Any kindergartner knows that. Everything is baggy except the boots. Was so relieved that they fit I haven’t had them off in days. Had to strip off my compression vest and wash it. Standing there, topless and scrubbing this thing felt so strange. Me = not me. My breasts for the first time in ages. Washed them up with my hands and got lost in the sensuousness of it. My tattoo. Like returning to an old lover I left years ago. Can’t feel like myself. Finally put it back on when it dried. Felt better dressed. Not me = me. Me not now me then me new. Trimmed my hair again, not shaving it in this cold. Combed it and looked in the mirror. Too clean. Thought about it. Tried to stick some of the hair clippings to my face = doesn’t work at all. Used some makeup I found in one of the bathrooms with a sponge to give myself a 5 o’clock shadow. Not gonna fool anyone up close. Distance + hat = maybe?
Bitch I am a man. Females. Talk too much. Quit crying. So emotional. Be a man. Man up. Nut up. Jumpshot gunshot cumshot moneyshot. Posing but not to be sexy. Scare me. Lean a little forward. Invade my space. Quit crying. Give you something to cry about.
Back to the map again today. Have to look seriously at staying here for the winter. Don’t
I can still get out. I can still get out.
A few seconds of silence.
A splintering crash as the hutch fell facedown into the living room. The base of it was inches from the door. Hands worked their way into the opening and she could hear them straining. The top of the hutch was wedged against the corner of the staircase. She knew it wouldn’t move.
She waited. The straining stopped.
One of them spoke into the crack, his mouth pressed into the opening. “We’ll be back, sweetheart. All of us. Get ready to come along. There’s no other choice.”
Bullshit. Let me show you some choices. I’ve got a clip full of choices.
She heard them scrape through the window to leave her. She went upstairs to the window where she could see their place. She sat on the floor with her chin on the windowsill, watching as they went back into their house.
They waited for morning. She watched.
When the sun rose, she could pick out the shapes of a couple of them standing around their fire pit. They had knives and pipes and other improvised weapons. She knelt on the floor looking at the two guns, deciding. In the end, she chose the new one. She thought it was slightly more accurate at a distance. The shot was a hundred feet, easy. She lined it up slow, breathing deeply. She took the shot. She did not know to account for the drop as gravity acted on the bullet. She had been aiming for his torso, but she could see his kneecap explode when the bullet hit. The morning was still; she could definitely hear the screaming. It scattered the rest of them, and she took three more, wildly, heart pounding too hard to aim. One man dropped outright, and she assumed she had killed him. The other bent over, holding on to himself and screaming.
She got down below the window and waited for return fire, for the sound of someone breaking in downstairs. After a few minutes had passed, she was sure that there were no guns among them. She waited. No sound. When she dared to look again, they were leaving. They left the dead one where he lay.
It wasn’t the first time she had killed someone. Threatening close and threatening far away felt different. She sat there with her back pressed to the wall, thinking about that. Knowing she would kill again, deciding what that would change in her. She flashed for one moment on the man dead in her bed, pulling the sheet up over his face.
She didn’t look out the window again.
Chapter Three
October
Fucking cold. Started trying on the winter gear I found. Got good wool socks and boots, a couple of sweaters and a ski parka filled with down. Nixed the one that fit me better- it was pink. Pink = girl. Any kindergartner knows that. Everything is baggy except the boots. Was so relieved that they fit I haven’t had them off in days. Had to strip off my compression vest and wash it. Standing there, topless and scrubbing this thing felt so strange. Me = not me. My breasts for the first time in ages. Washed them up with my hands and got lost in the sensuousness of it. My tattoo. Like returning to an old lover I left years ago. Can’t feel like myself. Finally put it back on when it dried. Felt better dressed. Not me = me. Me not now me then me new. Trimmed my hair again, not shaving it in this cold. Combed it and looked in the mirror. Too clean. Thought about it. Tried to stick some of the hair clippings to my face = doesn’t work at all. Used some makeup I found in one of the bathrooms with a sponge to give myself a 5 o’clock shadow. Not gonna fool anyone up close. Distance + hat = maybe?
Bitch I am a man. Females. Talk too much. Quit crying. So emotional. Be a man. Man up. Nut up. Jumpshot gunshot cumshot moneyshot. Posing but not to be sexy. Scare me. Lean a little forward. Invade my space. Quit crying. Give you something to cry about.
Back to the map again today. Have to look seriously at staying here for the winter. Don’t
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