Chartreuse

Chartreuse sat on the last step on her porch. The end of her cigarette glowed a sunset orange as she sharply sucked in. Smoke unfurled from her chapped lips as her blood caked fingers drew the cig away from her face. Dark patches of indigo began to stretch across the sky, stars revealed themselves one by one in the lonely countryside. Chartreuse brought the cig back to her lips, catching a whiff of the blood off her fingers. 

Around the bend, she saw a pair of headlights. Before she took another puff, she promptly set the cig out on the porch railing, leaving an unsavory black scorch mark. She flicked away the half smoked cigarette as a beat up old Jeep pulled into the driveway. Chartreuse stood, she could better see now her bloodied hands, scuffed knees and blood spattered overalls. 

“Evenin’ Char,” Vermilion stepped out of the car, it was still on. Chartreuse’s shadow, cast by the Jeep’s headlights, loomed over the front of the house, grazing over the broken down door and the trashed interior.

“Hey Mills.”

“Outlanders givin’ ya grief again?”

Chartreuse looked down at herself and opened her arms.

“Sure as hell looks that way,” she folded her arms back up against her chest. 

“Third time this month, they’re gettin’ pretty damn bold,” Vermilion moved to the backseat where he procured several rolled up tarps.

“You hear ‘bout the Rouges,” Chartreuse asked as Vermilion approached. He walked past her into the house. 

“What happened to ‘em?”

Chartreuse followed him into the house. 

“Lavender and Azul found ‘em, their living room painted with a thin layer o’ brains,” 

Chartreuse thumbed the gold ring on her finger as she spoke.

“Figures,” Vermilion looked back at her out of the corner of his eye, “How’s your pa?”

“Better, still legless and bitter.” 

The two didn’t speak after that as they scaled the rest of the first floor. The only light source came from Vermilion’s headlights. By the time they reached the kitchen, their shadows towered over them, reaching the ceiling. Vermilion clicked on his headlamp and peered around the kitchen.

“Yup, there he is,” Chartreuse stood behind Vermilion and pointed a shivering finger toward the back corner of the room, between the fridge and the backdoor. 

A thin river of blood snaked across the crème tiles, leading back to a puddle, and eventually revealing the gnarled body of the Outlander. 

“Just one,” Vermilion asked as he pulled a pair of rubber gloves from his back pocket.

“Other one got away,” Chartreuse admitted sheepishly.

“That’s fine, Scarlett and I’ll get him,” Vermilion said with reassurance, “now why don’t you scram so I can get to work.”

“I wanna help this time,” Chartreuse looked up at him, his face hidden in shadow by the bright headlamp. For a moment she thought she could see the ghost of a smile play across his lips.

“Ain’t no place for a kid,” was all he said before waving a dismissive hand, “and if you’re gonna keep stealing your pa’s cigs, at least finish ‘em.” 

Chartreuse huffed as she stepped out of the kitchen and back through the living room, her shadow growing and shrinking with each step. She stood on the porch and peered into the house, every piece of furniture cast a long flat shadow. Suddenly one wavered, it flickered from one piece of furniture to the next. With a gasp Chartreuse fumbled around her overall pockets for a knife.

“There’s one in the livin’ room! Mills!” 

“Get in the car! Lock the doors,” Vermilion’s thundering voice echoed through the house and reverberated in Chartreuse’s chest. She scrambled for the car, got into the passenger’s seat and locked the doors. For a moment she held her breath. It was dark outside now, the only trace of light came from the Jeep’s headlights, and Vermilion’s headlamp that seemed to be bobbing around the house. Chartreuse tucked herself in on the floor between the glovebox and the passenger’s seat. 

After some time, what felt like hours of silence, a bloodied hand smacked the driver’s window. Vermilion’s headlamp illuminated the inside of the car as Chartreuse reached up to unlock the door. Something felt off, Chartreuse hesitated. She squinted past the light to see a dark hulking shadow behind Vermilion’s body.

“Open up.”

It was a voice Chartreuse didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded relentlessly against her ribcage.

“OPEN UP,” it yelled as Vermilion’s mangled hand slapped across the window leaving streaks of red.

“Open. Open. Open. Open,” the Outlander chanted gruffly. 

Chartreuse awkwardly leapt up and into the driver’s seat, and looked around the car in horror. Chartreuse didn’t know how to drive yet. She threw the gear stick into reverse and stomped the gas pedal. The car flew backwards and wobbled as she clumsily spun the steering wheel. She quickly pumped the brakes, and bashed her face into the steering wheel. Her vision blurred momentarily as she blindly reached for the gear stick again, shifting it into drive. She gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white as she whipped her head around looking for the Outlander carrying Vermilion’s body. They were gone. Panic quickly set in as the reality of the situation set in. 

Suddenly a walkie-talkie in the cup holder crackled to life, it was his wife Scarlett. 

“Honey? You’re taking an awful lot longer than normal to respond.”

Chartreuse put the car in park and picked up the walkie and gently pressed the button,

“Scarlett, it’s me Chartreuse.”

“Char? Is everything alright over there,” Scarlett’s voice was laced with concern as Chartreuse’s lip quivered. 

“No, it ain’t okay, I dunno where Vermilion went, there was an Outlander earlier and I,” Chartreuse hiccuped, “I got him with the kitchen knife but there was this other one, and I thought it ran off but it was hiding and now-” Scarlett cut her off.

“Me ‘n your pa are coming to get you now. Stay put, turn the car off and wait.”

Chartreuse pulled the keys out of the ignition and waited in the dark.

“Open up.”