The Girl in the Walls

Dust. Asbestos. Human skin. They all fell into his face as he tore open the wall…

A body – he thought as he gathered himself on the ground – for fuck’s sake.

“Eww Dad,” said his 14-year-old daughter Ashley, “you’re gonna stink all the way back.”

He pushed the mostly empty skeleton off and onto the well-worn tiles of the school hallway.

“I’m fine, by the way” he said, getting up.

“‘Course you’re fine. Bitch is already dead,” s aid Ashley.

That she was. The corpse had blonde hair barely attached to what remained of her scalp. The rest of her features were eaten away. The only distinguishable feature was the bullet hole on her forehead.

Ashley tilted her head.

“You reckon we can get anything for the hair?” she asked.

“What? Are you volunteering to take it off?” h e said.

“I’m not touching it," she said, "But since you already have-”

“-No.”

He looked around. A water fountain was a t the other end of the hallway.

What’re the chances there’s still some water in there? - he thought.

He jogged up to it and jigged the nozzle: nothing…

Of course not. - he thought.

Of course, there hadn’t been running water there for years. A school in the inner suburbs was useless when all the food was out west. Not that there were that many people left to feed…

He returned to Ashley. She was standing there with a look that said plainly: 'Why did you even bother?'

"It was worth a try," he said.

She rolled her eyes. He remembered when she used to dream about being a movie star...

“Chuck me the rag,” he said, “and a bottle.”

The father wiped his face and washed his hands with as little soap as possible. They had to make it last one more day...

There was a clink clink.

He turned: Ashley was poking at the bones with a broken broom handle. He snorted and then gritted his teeth. He didn't know why it made him angry, but he couldn’t be fucked telling her off. I f he upset her, she would go from callous-but-involved Ashley to mopey-and-distant Ashley.

Looking back at the wall he had just torn open, the pipes he was there to take were corroded.

Shit.

It had taken a whole 40 minutes to find the spot and that was with Ashley helping. This work was faster when there were three of them…

Don’t think about that.

But that never stopped him from thinking about it.

She could still come back.

But it had been two years. He’d failed as a father.

Now he scratched a living scavenging infrastructure for the towns out west. People didn’t have the manpower to build the way they used to, so they repurposed the old stuff and kept an eye on their farms. So, he was here, with his gun and his second daughter, ripping out piping from a high school in the inner suburbs where he grew up. It made him sick.

Lost in his reverie, he hadn’t noticed that Ashley now had the blonde skull affixed to the end broom handle and was making it cackle like the Wicked Witch of the West as she ran around with it. Jolted, he bit back a laugh and then remembered when this same little girl would scream hysterically as her sister chased her around with a cockroach caught in a tissue.

He saw the jaw of the skull chatter and felt a sudden rush of anger. He was on the point of telling her to stop when he was cut off by a jangle and a ching: the sound of light metal falling to laminate flooring. Then he saw it… A small heart-shaped locket. His stomach turned over. He didn’t know why.

“Ash, you dropped your locket,” h e said.

“Huh?” s he said, stopping.

“Your locket, you dropped it,” h e said.

“I don’t have a locket,” s he said.

“Sure, you do” he said, picking it up.

“I don’t,” s he said.

“Well, you do now” he said, h olding it out to her.

“I don’t like jewellery," she said, "Gabby w as the one who liked jewellery."

He froze. She froze too. They didn’t talk about Gabby… Ashley turned away.

“We should at least bury this body,” h e said.

“Oh, please. What’s the point?”

“Ash…”

“But Dad"-

“Put the head down.”

She dropped the broomstick unceremoniously, and yet she paused, looking at the empty sockets where two eyes once were. She stomped off, her footsteps echoing down the derelict hall.

Whatever. Fucking do it myself.

He looked back down at the locket in his hand.

I could have sworn-

-Ashely's footsteps got closer. He looked up: Ashley had brought a broken piece of plywood wall that was large enough to carry a body on. She paused.

"I'm not touching it," she said, her voice betraying a hint of trepidation.

His anger melted away.

"Lay it down next to her," he said, "We'll carry her out, and I'll do the rest."

She placed the plywood down alongside the body, and he rolled the body onto it. He was kneeling and just about to lift up his end but Ashley had frozen.

“There’s…” she said.

She stepped over to the hole in the wall.

“Umm, Dad?”

“What’s wrong, Ash?”

“There are more in here.”

“What?” h e said.

“More bodies…”

There were. Six or seven in total. This was a dumping ground.

Fuck...

“Dad, I think we should go.”

Her voice had become serious in every way.

“We’re not dropping this girl like trash”-

-"What if this psycho comes back?!” s he said.

“We’re never going to rebuild anything if w e don't appreciate what's in front of us." he snapped.

“Says the guy who was ripping up the walls five minutes ago!” s he snapped back in his exact tone.

“I- Shut up. End of discussion. Pick up your end.”

She glared at him but gave in. They carried the body outside in a cold silence.

The weather, at least, was kind. They carried the body down to a garden bed that lay halfway down the slope, almost out of sight of the school entrance. The father dug the grave while Ashley sat on the edge looking around nervously.

He supposed he should be more understanding, but he was pretty fucking over her swinging wildly between skull-parading, apathetic Ashley and fearful, world-weary Ashley. She hadn’t been her self for two years, not since the news came back that Gabby had been carried off.

S he could still come back.

The grave wasn't deep when it was finally dug, but it was enough. It hadn't taken long either.

Maybe we can do them all?

"C'mon," he said to Ashley.

Both standing in the grave, the dragged then lifted the plywood stretcher slowly in and then lowered it to the bottom. Ashley did everything she could to not touch the body, her movements slow and melancholic.

They stood there for a moment. Ashley was staring empty-faced at the body. The father removed the locket from his pocket and held it against his palm. His heart beat faster and faster. The urge to swallow in his drying throat came and hung there. It wasn't Ashley's locket... But he had seen it.

No-

-Ashley pulled him down sharply! The sound of a cheap, electric engine crescendoed into his awareness. He shot his hand out of the grave and pulled his bag and gun in.

The engine stopped. There were voices. All men. Their echoes bounced over the grave:

“Set up the panels”

There was s ome clanging as the men set up to recharge their car while there was still daylight.

“Whaddyou reckon? Time for one more romp while it charges.”

There was some laughter. The kind of laughter that said nothing good was about to happen. The father peered out of the grave: there were six men and one woman. The men were armed, and the woman was bound. They threw her to ground. The father ducked back down. He didn’t need to tell Ashley to stay quiet. Her face said it better than he ever could have.

The locket gleamed in the sunlight. He was ripped out of reality by a memory. But there was no stopping it. The truth came burning into his psyche as the terrible noise nearby grew. His hands shaking, he pried open the locket to see three faces, two of which were in the grave right now.

Two years of questions were answered.

Gabby.

He rocked back and forth-

Gabby.

The hands gripping his gun shook – it was them – his jaw seized – it was them – his skin was cold but every inch of him felt hot.

Gabby

His jaw seized. His hands strangled his rifle.

Gabby.

His vision blurred every inch of his skin burned.

I have to.

He tried to take a breath and realised that he was covered in sweat. His hands were pure white from gripping the gun so tightly - the sounds of the woman faded in and out - There were only six of them. It was possible. He began to rise-

-ASHLEY GRABBED HIS FACE! Though she spoke with barely a whisper, every muscle in her face and every bone in her body went into the next syllable:

“DON’T”

G abby's gone.

He rose further.

"I'm here! Ashley whispered. It was the first time he'd seen her cry in two years, "Please don't."

He looked into his daughter’s terrified face and thought of this being her last day on Earth, and that look being the last look on her face. His breath came back. Things were getting worse for the woman up there. He let go of his gun, placed his hand over one of Ashley’s ears, and held the other against his chest.

The sun crawled towards twilight and the noise less and less as it got closer. Eventually it did. He knew from the skull what was coming next-

-BOOM. The single shot of a rifle broke across the grass. Then a voice came:

“Chuck ‘er in there. Let’s get gone…”

And soon they were.

Father and daughter sat silently in the grave for a time. He was still holding her.

She's still here.

He fought back tears.

She's still here. Thank God.

Eventually, exhausted, he got up.

“We should go” he said.

“No…" said Ashley,"Let's finish."

With both hands, she removed the skull from the broom gently and placed it upon the shoulders of the body. The father knelt beside her and placed the locket around the body's neck.

They moved the soil over it in silence. They went back west. They never returned to the grave.