CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Linda Johnson stared at the four empty walls of blue tarp, stark except for a single army cot in the corner. Her life had finally gone to shit. Even her prolonged time on the quarantine stage had felt more like home, and this extra space giving her a full stride of a ten by ten tent of her own only reminded her how lonely her life had become. Screw you, Bryan. Screw your need to visit Yellowstone. Her husband’s lifelong dream of visiting that park had taken away her family and placed her in this blue box of a prison—with baby on the way and forever alone in apocalyptic times. In fact, screw Theodore Roosevelt, too, she thought, for building a vacation spot over a volcano. Asshole.

  Had she been a poetic woman, the mother-to-be would have found solace in the fact this bit of The Shelter was hers, finally, a place to begin her new life alone with her infant—if lucky enough to be born whole. But she never handled tragedy well, nor did she believe in her own ability to take care of this child on her own. If it actually is a child, and not a spawn reject of radiation from a low budget movie. She wasn’t even certain she would love it, with twenty toes or twenty-two, or none at all. Then she both laughed and choked back a sob. The mother of Sloth on Goonies was a better mother than she when it came down to this growth in her womb.

  A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump.

  “What do you think?” Cat asked. “I know it lacks color,” she said without waiting for a response, “but James is out on a detail and promised he’d scrounge up something to break the blue motif.”

  “It’s a place to live,” Linda replied with a shrug of indifference. “I’m alive, I’m warm, and I’m not out there mutating in the radiation. The blue is fine.” But it wasn’t.

  “Well, I have something else for you,” Cat said with understanding. She really was turning out to be a good friend, and having another woman around helped soften the constant loneliness. She offered up a gently used bar of soap and a white gym towel. “I’ve already used the bar once, but I want you to share it with me as long as it lasts. We may not be the last women on this earth, but at least we’ll be the best smelling for as long as that lasts.”

  Linda stared down. The smell actually did work to return humanity to her thoughts regarding herself and the child. Maybe that’s all I need, she wondered, is a bit of normal.

  “Go on,” her friend urged. “I even made this sign.” She held it up and Linda read, Woman Time: Come Back Later. “I’ll hang it on the door as soon as you go in. No men are in there right now. The night shift finished their showers two hours ago and are all in their racks. The day crew won’t return for a few hours, so take your time and feel like a woman again. Trust me,” she added with a wink, “my first shower felt amazing and yours will too.”

  “Thanks,” Linda muttered, taking both soap and cloth, and digging her only change of clothes from the satchel she’d dragged from the quarantine stage.

  “Leave your dirty clothes just inside the door, and I’ll be in to launder those for you in a moment.”

  That was it. The woman’s kindness was finally too much to bear, and everything broke at once. Linda fell to a heap upon her knees, tears flowing and sobs heaving in her chest. This was the cry, the sorrow, she had held back since the accident. No. Since before, in the moment Old Faithfull ceased to be even reliable and took away Seth and Suzy.

  She didn’t hate this child in her womb. It wasn’t its fault as much as it wasn’t Bryan’s. He was a wonderful husband—loving and doting and insistent on making a family memory for the kids during a time when all they cared about was technology and social media fame. The trip was needed, a good idea at the time, and she suddenly hated herself for blaming him for the tragedy. She wanted them back. All of them, excited about the new baby and cozily turning the spare room into a nursery. Linda yearned for this nightmare to end and the real world to return.

  Cat knelt and wrapped empathetic arms around her. This woman had known loss in her life as well, maybe not as much as hers, but no doubt experienced plenty at the hands of the boy’s father. Yes, some of that had been spoken of, even if the worst of it had been avoided for Josh’s sake. They were different, this middle-aged mom-to-be and this struggling single mother, but they were united in a similar bond—mothers in a world now completely dominated by dangerous men. They needed each other to survive. She had no idea how long her friend’s embrace lasted, but missed it immediately when she let go.

  “I’m sorry,” Linda whispered as the sobs subsided.

  “Don’t be. You needed that. We all do, I think, and I’m sure my turn’s coming. Just be there for me when it does.”

  “I never thought I’d have a friend again.”

  “Well, you do,” Cat promised. “Now, go get your damn shower! You stink like chemical wash and antiseptic.”

  “Cathy,” Linda asked with weariness that seemed to drag her words.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

*****

  The Dove soap had been a luxury, Cat realized when she opened her ration of laundry detergent, one intimately given by a young man trying successfully to woo a beautiful woman. As much so as this scoop of harsh industrial cleaner, a way to clean dirt, dead skin, and bacteria from their clothing. The pungent whiff from opening the container made her gag. It was harsh, and smelled like chemicals, but there was enough here to wash their clothing once a week for three months. Less if James frequently overexerted in his uniform. In that case, she worried this would only last their small group about six weeks or so. She used it sparingly, adding just a dash to the hot water filling the sink.

  She scrubbed hers, Linda’s, and Josh’s clothing since those still reeked of the radiation cleanser. This would be the last time she’d do theirs first, she realized, because the water turned yellow immediately upon finishing the load. She had to drain and refill the sink, wasting more detergent for the most important load. She was halfway through scrubbing the knees of James’ tactical pants when the door behind her opened. Cat jumped. Someone had obviously missed the sign on the door.

  She turned to find two men had wandered in. “Sorry,” she said, “It’s ladies time in here, boys. You’ll need to come back in about thirty minutes.”

  Everything about them was wrong. The men lacked human sentience, animals on a mission of death or disaster, and their eyes focused on hers as if about to devour a meal after weeks of starving in the wilderness. These were no longer men. They were predators wearing officer uniforms.

  “You have to leave,” she said again with more urgency and hopefully conviction behind her words.

  Neither replied as they continued forward. Shock of their arrival waning, Cat realized she recognized them both. “Gentlemen,” she said, putting on the air she’d learned in Pussy Galore’s, “I’m afraid this is no place for our first official meeting.” This was the trick Tim had taught her to use when facing a man who refused to respect the word no.

  They’re after your control, Tim had explained, that’s what he wants more than your body itself.

  As fear crept in, she fought to maintain her steady tone of voice. “I’ve seen you both,” she said, “watching from the gallery and again in the hall.” She paused casually, drying her hands on the towel and stepping forward. “I’m Cathy Fletcher,” she said with a warm smile, “but my friends call me Cat. I hope we can be friends.”

  One of the men paused, the humanity within returning, letting her know there was hope at least for him. The other continued forward and she faltered, placing a hand on his chest and causing him to turn. She had been wrong. His eyes were neither hungry nor lustful, they were murderous.

  “What’s your name?” she asked casually, just as if she was still in the bar. But there was no Tim to come to her aid. Not this time.

  The sound of humming rose over the stream of running water coming from the showers. Linda had picked the wrong moment to cheer up and find some joy. The man pushed forward.

  “She’s pregnant,” Cat spurt out, as if hoping the child in her friend’s womb would protect from what was unstoppable by now.

  No matter what both women had endured in their lives, she was rather sure the housewife had never been forced by a man. Not like all the times Cathy had endured Clint.

  “Yeah?” the second man asked, the one most resembling an animal. “That supposed to stop me from wanting to take a look at her?”

  “Some men don’t like that,” she said. “Some it would turn off.”

Stolen novel; please report.

  “I like it. The baby makes their breasts fuller,” he said, “even at her age.”

  That made the first man laugh. “Fills out the saggy bags, it does.”

  “You men are officers,” she asked. “What will the Colonel think of this invasion?”

  “He promised us wives,” animal eyes said. “And Hank here is next in line to choose from the new litter. I’m second.”

  “Litter?” she asked. “So you have a deposit down and get to take your pick?”

  “Pretty much. Hank wants you, and I wanna know what I’m getting stuck with. The latest batch looked sickly, and this one’s at least got teeth and already a bun in the oven.”

  “Steve,” the man named Hank cautioned, “just get your glimpse and let’s go. You’re hurting my chances here.”

  “Chances?” Cat spun. “I’m taken, in case you haven’t noticed. James Parker is talking to me.”

  Hank laughed. “Corporal’s don’t get a choice. They get assigned what’s left after the officers take theirs.”

  Steve pushed past and Cat reached out instinctively to grab his arm, missing and losing her balance. She awkwardly fell against the sink. Hank grabbed her from behind and held her tightly while his partner moved toward the sounds of running water. Linda’s humming lured him.

  Cat struggled. The counter bit hard into her side as he placed his weight atop her.

  “Let him go,” the man hissed in her ear, an airy hint of passion lurking. He wanted her in a dangerous way, and his free hand moved to feel her body.

  “I guess you’re not a man to wait for marriage,” she said as his hands reached her waistband.

  His fingers paused amid unfastening her belt.

  “You’re not unattractive,” she continued flatly, “and you’re right, an officer is a better choice than a corporal, but forcing yourself on me now will do nothing, but maybe earn a knife in your throat while you sleep.”

  His grubbing fingers ceased their wiggling.

  The humming in the shower stopped abruptly, cut off by a guttural scream followed by Steve’s deep laughter.

  Cat squirmed, trying to get free, but Hank’s grip tightened.

  In the shower, Linda protested, her voice echoing over the sound of running water and begging for the animal to leave her alone. Her helpless pleas were pitiful, just the sort of whimper to lure the predator.

  Cathy held her breath, moving her right hand and dipping it slowly into the plastic container. They would have to make do without laundry for a week or more, but she grabbed a handful of harsh detergent and dropped her hip. Above her, Hank slipped, striking his chin against the counter just as her hand came up. In a flash the soap was in his eyes and her hands pressed the granules deeper, scouring the soft flesh and digging it deeper with her palm. His screams eclipsed those of Linda in the next room. After delivering a quick kick to the groin, Cat raced to save her friend.

*****

  Max peered inside every tent, carefully checking each face. Sergeant Walters, he noticed, never batted an eye when invading the privacy of those within, whipping back tent flaps or pulling open plywood doors to see inside. These people had no liberty, no privacy, and this man treated their meager property as if they lived in a police state. And the sad part of this, Max realized, was none of them ever flinched when caught in compromising positions or in half dress. America was dead along with its privacy. Long live the all-seeing King Regiment.

  “You haven’t spotted her at all?” Walters demanded, “Are you sure you’re actually looking?”

  “Are you certain she’s out of quarantine?” Max snapped.

  “You’re welcome to search the stage again, but the doc insisted he released the woman this morning.”

  Max scanned the endless maze of tents and hobbles. Though tidy and free of trash per the Colonel’s strict orders, the city within the coliseum was a mess—worse than he’d seen in Tijuana following boot camp. A single person among this room of tarps and blankets was a proverbial needle in a haystack. “Is this the only place civilians are housed?”

  “This is,” Shayde agreed, “unless one of the enlisted coaxed her into perimeter housing.”

  “Perimeter housing?”

  “Yeah, this place was built as a sports arena, so there are showers and old locker rooms on the east and west ends of the building.” He pointed at the balcony. “The officers live up there, where they can watch over the civilians. The Colonel has his own quarters on the second level near command and control.”

  “But the enlisted sleep in the hallway?”

  “It’s not that simple. The officers may enjoy a grand view of The Shelter, but us enlisted we have peace, quiet, and proximity to the showers and their endless hot water.” Before Max could ask for details, he added, “Geothermal aquifer. It’s heaven after a long night of radiation exposure.”

  “Sounds like it. I can’t wait to try it myself. So the men sometimes claim the women?”

  “Yeah, but not the high quality ones. That’s why the officers enjoy their view. They get first dibs at choosing a wife.”

  Max paused, remembering when society lived honorably. “None of that’s okay, Shayde.”

  “Not two months ago, it wasn’t. But this is a new world, R.H.I.P. Remember that acronym from the Marines? Rank. Has. It’s. Privileges. Always and forever it has, and this is martial law—or about to be.”

  “Do the women get a say?”

  “Of course. But which would you rather, if you were a gal? Would you want a highfalutin officer with potential for wealth following the reestablishment or a grunt who fixed crankshafts only a few months ago?” Before the other Marine could answer, he said, “Trust me, you’ll take the officer because there ain’t no more crankshafts out there to fix, and your handyman wouldn’t be anything more than a serf to the new lords. The women will always choose the wealthy officers.”

  “Show me the perimeter,” Max demanded, suddenly filled with urgency. He wouldn’t allow harm to come to Linda. “Each and every one.”

  “That won’t be difficult, since the night shift is sleeping and the day already set out to forage and scout.” Walters led him from the main arena and up the ramp. As if flipping a coin in his mind, he paused then turned right. “We’ll start here. You look portside and I’ll check starboard.”

  Walters had been correct. Most of the tents, though more elaborately constructed than those on the floor, were either unoccupied, or filled only with men. These had plenty of room in their ten-by-ten allotment, the maximum allowed each man by the Colonel.

  As they reached the end of the row, Shayde muttered. “What’s this nonsense?” A sign on the door read, Woman Time: Come Back Later.

  Max smiled triumphantly. “Now that’s the exact sort of thing I’d expect Linda to hang before taking a shower.” A scream from beyond the door clamped his mouth shut and set both men running.

  Max, fatigued from his time in captivity and out of breath from lack of conditioning, sprinted into what turned out to be a laundry. He spied a man on the floor with lieutenant bars pulling himself off the ground. As the officer turned, the Marine could clearly see the flesh around the man’s eyes had been chemically burned. Without hesitation, he grabbed the man’s armpit and thrust him forward.

  “Get in there,” he growled, not willing to allow the man out of his sight. He shoved the lieutenant, stumbling, into the showers behind Shayde.

  What Max saw next, nothing during the war had prepared him for.

  Shayde Walters had skidded to a stop, standing frozen and watching as a fully clothed wild woman sat atop a second man’s chest.

  “Don’t look at her!” the woman screamed. “Don’t look at her! Stop looking at her! She’s not yours,” the woman demanded, “You can’t look at her! You can’t look at any of us!”

  She was a beautiful woman, young but not unworldly so, with just enough experience lining her face to suggest a hard life. Her shoulders were set, with firm muscles suggesting fitness—possibly experienced in sports or dance. Max’s eyes followed the way her triceps quivered, fully engaged as she set her hands deep into the man’s face. With sadness he recognized the quiver of her forearms as her thumbs gorged the offender’s eyes. Neither he nor Shayde hurried to save the man, the damage was irreparable and she was nowhere near ready to calm.

  Max’s own eyes watered to watch and he looked away, finding a naked Linda crouching, horrified and looking on from the corner of the shower. He picked up a towel, calmly turned off the water, and draped the cloth over her dignity. Other than terrified, she seemed unharmed.

  In a low voice he whispered a question. “Did he touch you?”

  Linda, as if only noticing her traveling companion had arrived, nodded but quickly shook her head. “Yes,” she said, “but not like that. He was about to, but Cat got him first.”

  He inclined his head toward the young woman, now less frantic and muttering the words softer.

  “Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look at her!” They eventually faded under her breath.

  “You’ve found a good friend,” he said, “but she’s about to face a lot of trouble.”

  Linda nodded, staring unblinking at the orbital fluid turning frothy pink and slowly making its way toward the drain.

  The man, wearing captain bars, writhed under Cat’s weight and sobbed bloody tears running down his cheeks.

Shayde moved to lift the girl.

  “Stop,” Max commanded, and surprisingly the other sergeant complied. “Cat,” Max whispered, “My name is Max Rankin. Has Linda told you about me?”

  Only then did she look up from her handiwork, nodding recognition at the name.

  “Good. Now I need you to do as I say, so we can take care of Linda.”

  “She needs my help,” Cat said, unseeing the woman.

  “Yes. But you’ve saved her, and now you must help her find some clothes.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Clothes.”

  “Good. Take her into the next room and help her dress. I’ll take these men into custody, and see to it they pay for what they’ve done.”

  “Perverts,” she muttered absently. “Dirty perverts who just want to leer. That’s how they start, you know. But it always ends up with touching us girls, Tim. They touch us, then they grope us, then they wait for us outside the club. But you won’t let them follow us, Tim. You’re a good man.”

  Max didn’t know who Tim was, but did not correct her. “No, I won’t let them follow you.”

  Cat slowly rose and walked toward Linda, lifting her to her feet and helping her into the next room.

  After the women had withdrawn, Sergeant Walters let out a low whistle. “This isn’t good, Max.”

  “Why not? The way I see it, she stopped two rapes today.”

  “That’s not the problem,” Shayde insisted. “These are the Colonel’s cousins.”

  Max closed his eyes and cursed quietly.