Fatalis

Chapter Thirty-Two

Dressed in new overalls, her sad freckled face framed in long, curly red hair, six-year-old Eugenie Budette sat eating microwaved macaroni and cheese and drinking iced tea at the small Formica table in their camper. Eugenie's stuffed, scruffy white rabbit, Blankie, was sitting on the bench beside her. There was a window to her right but the amber drapes had been drawn-by her. Eugenie didn't want to see where they were because she didn't want to be where they were. And though the drapes didn't make it all go away, at least they were familiar, more like home than this place whose name she didn't know because she hadn't really been paying attention when her father had said what it was.

All she knew was that they had parked here in these stupid hills just a few minutes ago after driving for nearly five hours. Her father had wanted to get an earlier start but the movers took longer to get the truck loaded. Because it was late, Eugenie's parents decided to stop at some stupid campgrounds instead of going to a stupid motel. Her father said he needed to stretch his legs and her mother needed to get fresh air, so they'd gone outside. Eugenie hadn't wanted to go with them so she made herself and Blankie food, pulled the drapes, and sat here quietly sharing bites of dinner and hard swallows of sadness.

"Frizzuh brassa mugga lugga?"

"Shoomy noomy, hahahahaha!"

That's what her parents sounded like, talking on the other side of the wall. They were happy. That made Eugenie feel even sadder, lonelier. They didn't understand how dumb this was.

There were more voices now. There had been five or six RVs up here when they arrived. These people were probably from another camper. Eugenie knew from other trips, more fun trips, that campers liked to get to know each other, even though they did it by always saying the same things, asking the same questions.

"Hi, we're the Happy Dappy family from Arizona. Where are you folks from?"

"Hey, we're Joe and Sue Dumbhead from Minnesota. Where are you folks from?"

"We're from San Di-e-go," Eugenie said defiantly, possessively stressing each syllable. That's where she was born and that's where she was still from.

A moment later the young girl sighed.

"No we're not, Blankie," she said unhappily. There were tears behind her eyes. "We're not from there anymore."

Eugenie took a forkful of macaroni. She chewed it slowly, without pleasure. Whenever they went camping she usually didn't mind the talk. She and Blankie talked too. But this wasn't a trip the young girl wanted to make. The Budettes were leaving their home in San Diego and driving up to Seattle, where her father had taken a new job. Eugenie didn't know why her father needed a new job. She thought he liked working for the navy.

Eugenie put her plastic fork down. "I'm not really hungry, Blankie. Are you?"

"No, I've totally lost my appetite," the rabbit answered from the side of Eugenie's mouth.

Eugenie put her left fist under her left cheek. She looked across the table at the bathroom, the shower, and the little sleeping area of the camper. She didn't want to sleep here. She wanted to sleep in her own bed, in her own house, where she'd always slept. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to make new friends, she wanted to keep the old ones-not on E-mail but in real life. She wanted to be able to watch TV with her best friend Ana and videotape the plays that they put on and-

Something thumped hard against the side of the camper, just under the window. It rocked the RV back and forth and then it was quiet outside. There was no more shoomy noomy or laughing.

Eugenie listened carefully after the RV stopped moving.

"Mom?"

The young girl's mouth twisted. She picked up Blankie and slid off the bench.

"Mom?"

She walked toward the door at the front of the RV. There was no one talking at all now and she was scared. She'd seen a TV show about the world's most ordinary serial killers where people had gone to the store and parked next to killers, who seemed like friendly people until they followed them home and killed them. Serial killers probably went to campgrounds too.

She reached the door and hesitated. She turned to Blankie, who was huddled in her left arm.

"What do you think?" she asked the rabbit.

Eugenie didn't bother answering. She thought that everything was all right, that maybe another RV had arrived and backed into theirs and her father was going to inspect the damage. But why hadn't her mother come in to see if she and Blankie were all right?

Eugenie reached for the knob. As she did the door suddenly swooshed open. Her mother was standing there, the top half of her body leaning across the door of the RV, her bottom half still outside. There was blood all over her forehead and cheeks, in her long red hair, and down her green sweater.

"Mom?"

"Get back!" her mother screamed at her.

Eugenie just stood there, scared and confused, as her mother put her right foot on the first of the two steps. The woman grabbed the sides of the doorway and tried to pull herself inside. But something stopped her. Cold. The woman's mouth pulled tight on both sides and her eyes shone white beneath the blood.

Eugenie started to cry.

"Stay inside!" her mother screamed. "Close the-"

Her mother vanished as she was speaking. She just disappeared to the side, like a balloon someone had popped. Here-then gone.

The door was still open. Eugenie heard gurgles and growls and things moving, but no voices. No talking.

Eugenie was squeezing Blankie so tightly that a finger went through his scraggly neck. But she wasn't even aware of it. She was only aware of the sounds and the cool air coming through the door-

The door. Her mother had said to close it.

Eugenie sniffed back her tears as she took a tentative step toward the door, then another, and then another before she could finally reach it. She stretched out her small hand and when she did she saw outside, not because she couldn't help it but because she had to see what was there.

Eugenie nearly fell as her legs went wiggly. She had been to the San Diego Zoo many times but she'd never seen anything like the thing that was holding her mother facedown and sideways in its mouth. The woman was so limp and the animal was so large that it seemed almost like her mother was Blankie.

Eugenie screamed. And screamed. And then she turned and ran, not because her mother had told her to but because her legs got their strength back and were telling her to.

She heard a roar behind her, one that filled the RV and shook her ears, but she didn't look back. She just screamed and ran and didn't even stop when Blankie's head dropped and rolled under the Formica table…