Page 21 of Stone Blind

JANESVILLE, WISCONSIN

Helen had questions and she wanted, no, she needed answers. She felt at least she’d earned that much from Apple, therefore her mouth opened and out poured the question. Theboy Kendrick, thin, bandaged, and wearing a diaper, brought the anger out of her soul. Helen understood little about what she was seeing and what she was seeing. She didn’t want to understand but needed to know.

“What does the brand on his arm mean?” she asked Apple.

“The brand means he belongs to a caterpillar in The Chrysalis,” he said. “A loathsome group of collectors who specialize in exotic toys. Branding means he’s not to be touched by anyone other than his owner. His owner didn’t do this to him; someone else did.”

“His owner?”

“Yes, in The Chrysalis, there are actual butterflies who survive the transformation from being owned, like Kendrick, to being owners themselves. The warehouses are where the toys are housed. Kendrick was used by a deviant because branded toys are not for the customers. The dolls, as desired by borderlines, who haven’t matured to collecting are used to recruit other toys,” Apple explained. “The person who owned him more than likely was grooming him as a companion, a loyal servant to share thoughts, keep an eye on the inventory, and in a pinch, serve as a recruiter.”

Helen sighed heavily and asked, “You mean this child was sent out to recruit more children to be brought into the tall grass of caterpillar habitats?”

“Yes, ugly, but true. Kendrick was an aide-de-camp to a senior officer in The Chrysalis, assigned to work in the Milwaukee area to bring back toys and dolls to the Field of Flowers, as the warehouses are named,” Apple said. “A child living on the street and tired of scraping by, will trust another child who says they know a safe place to eat, and the man or woman who has him, ain’t so bad. It can seem like a fair trade off to only have to deal with one terrible person, versus being on the streets having to take your chances.”

“Forgive me for being slow on the uptake, but where do these kids come from where they...never mind,” Helen said. “Is this Chrysalis nationwide?”

“No, it is a Great Lakes thing,” Apple said. “I have been trying for a while to find the low-hanging branches where the pupa and chrysalises meet and I can’t. Each time one is shut down, the Sweeper goes in to collect the residue, but no real trace evidence is found. Not even our best trackers can get to them fast enough.”

“Are you planning to train me to track them?”

“Helen, I plan to train you to do a lot of shit,” Apple said. “Taking me down was impressive. I know you can shoot. What else can you do?”

She sighed. “I learned to use a leveler to hang curtains the other day. I also learned to use a power drill to hang those curtains.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “You can’t cook worth a shit either.”

“Apple, what do you see me being able to do for the company? I mean, Cherry was a sniper, and that’s what she did, one long-range shot, and she called it a night. I know how to do that,” she said.

“No, Cherry did mostly sniper work, but she also could break down a body in less than fifteen minutes like you would a deer carcass,” he said. “She is an excellent tracker, she knows how to be a femme fatale and basic chemical manipulation with a solid understanding of knowing, if push comes to shove, how to stage an accident.”

“I’m going to learn to do all of that?”

“Not from me,” he said. “My job is to toughen you up, assess what comes naturally to you, and build upon that skill set.”

“What comes natural to me is caring,” she said. “As shitty as life can be, and trust and believe I’ve had my fair share, I still care. You can toughen me up, but inside, I am still me. It hastaken me a long time to like the person I am, so changing me to be something else entirely is not going to work.”

“You can’t be an assassin and care too much,” Apple said.

“Says the man with four broken winged birds in a sideways nest,” she replied. “We all care about something. You’re trying to tell me to not let my heart overrule what has to be done in a timely and expeditious fashion.”

“Well, there’s a five-dollar word.”

“I was starting college classes for accounting when I got sent here, so that will be put on hold for a minute,” she said.

“Nope, reach out and do the classes online so you can still move your needle forward,” he suggested. “In the meantime, I have to go and examine that child and I sure as hell don’t want to see the damage some creep did to him. However, I need the anger. It fuels me, keeps me focused.”

“Whatever gets you there, and shakes the apples from your tree,” she added, wanting to know, wanting to see, but not needing the imagery in her head. “Good night.”

She climbed the stairs to her room. In her hand, she held her phone and stared at it. Helen wanted to call Mustang, but it was too soon. None of this was his problem, and if she called, he’d assume she wanted out and couldn’t handle it. Another week, and she’d call. In the interim, she had a weapons cache to create.

“Shit, I need to really learn how to create one for my own home,” she said, thinking of all the land and woods around Slow’s property. She could be the rear defense for his home. A yawn sneaked up on her, making her feel more tired than she had in years. “Sleep Helen; tomorrow’s a new challenge.”

Chapter 7- Stalk

The morning didn’t start well. Downstairs, as Helen arrived for a hot cup of shut the fuck up until I drink this, seated at the table was a man, one who easily identified as a scary bastard with a scar on his face that hindered vision in his left eye. He scowled when she entered the room, which turned into an outright frown as Stephen sashayed into the kitchen in a bright green blouse, black and white leopard spandex, and green painted boots. Helen instinctively stood between the man’s line of sight and Stephen.

“Who is Him?” Stephen asked, looking over the rim of a pair of rose-colored glasses.

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