When She Was Bad

4

Strained small talk in the living room:

“Are you enjoying your stay so far, Lily?”

“Yes, very much, thank you, Dr. Corder.”

“Everybody treating you all right?”

“Oh yeah, everybody couldn’t be nicer.”

“Good, good.” Thoughtful nod. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Do you have any Dubonnet?”

“I was thinking more in terms of something, ah, nonalcoholic.”

“That’s okay, never mind.”

Corder checked his watch. “Maybe I’d better go see what’s keeping everyone,” he said, but before he could push himself up from the deep recliner, his wife came stumbling through the archway, with a blood-spattered Ulysses Maxwell shuffling in lockstep behind her, holding a knife to her throat with one hand, half-dragging young Alison by her long blond hair with the other.

“Lyssy, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

An amused glance, a barking laugh. “I’m afraid Lyssy is no longer with us, Dr. Al.”

“Who-who are you?” Corder managed to choke the words out.

“What’s the matter, don’t you recognize me, Doc?” he said, slinging Alison to the floor.

“Oh, God,” Corder moaned. “God, no.”

The familiar-looking stranger chuckled. “I’m afraid He’s no longer with us, either.”