Monstrous Affections Read Online Free Page B

place. She could feel
Herman, his father, God knew how many others like them — all of
them here, an indisputable presence.
    Mrs. Sloan stood, using the axe-handle as a support. “It is,” she
agreed. “We’d better get to work on it.”
    Mrs. Sloan hefted the axe in both hands and swung it around
her shoulders. Judith stood back and watched as the blade bit into
one of the drooping ropes, not quite severing it but sending a spray
of green sap down on Mrs. Sloan’s shoulders. She pulled the axe out
and swung again. This time the tube broke. Its two ends twitched
like live electrical wires; its sap spewed like bile. Droplets struck
Judith, and where they touched skin they burned like vinegar.
    “Doesn’t it feel better?” shouted Mrs. Sloan, grinning fiercely at
Judith through the wash of slime on her face. “Don’t you feel free ?
Put down the flashlight, girl, pick up the shovel! There’s work to be
done!”
    Judith set the flashlight down on its end, so that it illuminated
the roots in a wide yellow circle. She hefted the shovel and, picking
the nearest bulb, swung it up with all her strength. The yellow
juices sprayed out in an umbrella over Judith, soaking her. She
began to laugh.
    It does feel better , she thought. A lot better. Judith swung the
shovel up again and again. The blade cut through tubes, burst bulbs,
lodged in the thick round carrot-roots deep enough so Judith could
pry them apart with only a savage little twist of her shoulders. The
mess of her destruction was everywhere. She could taste it every
time she grinned.
    After a time, she noticed that Mrs. Sloan had stopped and was
leaning on the axe-handle, watching her. Judith yanked the shovel
from a root. Brown milk splattered across her back.
    “What are you stopping for?” she asked. “There’s still more to
cut!”
    Mrs. Sloan smiled in the dimming light — the flashlight,
miraculously enough, was still working, but its light now had to
fight its way through several layers of ooze.
    “I was just watching you, dear,” she said softly.
    Judith turned her ankle impatiently. The chamber was suddenly
very quiet. “Come on,” said Judith. “We can’t stop until we’re
finished.”
    “Of course.” Mrs. Sloan stood straight and swung the axe up
again. It crunched into a wooden root very near the ceiling, and Mrs.
Sloan pried it loose. “I think that we’re very nearly done, though. At
least, that’s the feeling I get.”
    Judith didn’t smile — she suddenly felt very cold inside.
    “No, we’re not,” she said in a low voice, “we’re not done for a long
time yet. Keep working.”
    Mrs. Sloan had been right, though. There were only a half-dozen
intact roots on the cellar ceiling, and it took less than a minute for
the two women to cut them down. When they stopped, the mess was
up to their ankles and neither felt like laughing. Judith shivered, the
juices at once burning and chilling against her skin.
    “Let’s get out of this place,” said Mrs. Sloan. “There’s dry clothes
back at the house.”
    The flashlight died at the base of the ladder, its beam flickering
out like a dampened candle flame. It didn’t matter, though. The sky
was a square of deepening purple above them, and while they might
finish the walk back in the dark they came out of the root cellar in
time to bask in at least a sliver of the remaining daylight. The weeds
atop the mound were still as the first evening stars emerged and the
line of orange to the west sucked itself back over the treetops.
    Mrs. Sloan talked all the way back, her continual chatter almost
but not quite drowning out Judith’s recollections. She mostly talked
about what she would do with her new freedom: first, she’d take
the pickup and drive it back to the city where she would sell it. She
would take the money, get a place to live and start looking for a job.
As they crested the ridge of bedrock, Mrs. Sloan asked Judith if there
was much call for three-fingered manicurists in the