Misfits
Part Seven
“So, let’s not do this anymore. Let’s do something else.”
“Like what, Shiloh? We eat people, you have to kill them to do that. We can’t go off into the country and herd goats. Dad’s way works, its just, we don’t have money. These assholes never have any money. We can’t get jobs because if anyone found out we were both underage with no parents we would get thrown in foster care.”
“You don’t have to though.”
“Have to what?”
Shiloh motioned at the corpse in the back of the van. “You don’t have to eat them. I do. I can hunt by myself, just show me how to drive and I’ll take the van out. You’re better at finding them and doing the research anyway.”
“You don’t have to wear that wig, or my old clothes either but I’m not suggesting you throw away your identity. Please stop suggesting I throw away mine.”
The change came again, suddenly and almost seamlessly. Shiloh turned away from Wendy, feeling disgusted and betrayed, and saw bare feet, human feet. Hands as well, hands that had begun to require shaving just like other areas that constantly reminded Shiloh of how ill at ease and not a real home her body was and would continue to become with age.
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, I’m the bad guy. I get it.” Wendy started the van up again and got them rolling, slow and careful to obey every law of the road, until they reached the old garage.
Just like the house before it, and the warehouse before that, the old garage was abandoned. The place was boarded up and fenced off by one of the millions of land owners/business owners hit hard by this last depression. Those who could afford it hired people to come along and make sure the place stayed that way, for the rest, well…
Father showed them, just like with everything else, the tell-tale signs of a place abandoned for the long haul. A place left to rot and return to the earth because property, even empty property being taxed, still and always meant more than people.