by Dan Yaeger
Elsom stood there, awkwardly but at a rigid soldier’s picket, and did not make eye contact. He left us be soon after. Even he didn’t want to waste everyone’s time. But that time, my arrival was a wind of change through the place.
In the Pen, there was an electricity and jubilant feeling in the air. Despite that time being milking time, the women were feeling the greatest sense of hope they had in a long time. Now protected by Rob, not jailed by Maeve, even the immediate was looking good to them.
A dozen breast expressing pumps were going and getting vital human mother’s milk. It was the treatment used to stem the tide of the Divine virus in all those at the Rock. Despite the captivity and warped dictator controlling them, this group of people refused to accept death and lived in hope for a cure, not just the interim measure. Jesse had taken hope and turned it into a possibility which verged on a reality. They had the same high hopes as Raj and Angela that a cure would be soon, now a survivor who had immunity had arrived.
There were smiles and humming of tunes all around. Some ladies rocked and bopped to victory tunes or music they loved from a time gone-by. One woman even danced around with her pump, holding it like a dance partner. This was much to the intended mirth of the ladies in the room. Even Sam was smiling. Dimi sat on a bed next to her, singing and swinging her legs back and forth, expressing.
“We’ve almost got it y’know. We could be free soon?!” Dimi said naively. Sam was also expressing and realised she was dry. “I hope I have just enough for this evening.” She concluded in thought, almost shivering. “Did you hear what I said, we could be free soon!” Dimi repeated. Sam had heard her friend the first time and did not want to respond. She just nodded with a slight smile. Her friend was not going to drop her point so Sam would need to make her thoughts clear. Sam knew that Dimi wasn’t going to like what she was going to say.
“Don’t bet on it my girl,” Sam responded gently but unexpectedly. She shook her head and made eye contact persuasively. “He may or may not cure us but I don’t think he will let us go, either way.” Her smile softened and left to her usual look; intelligent and focused. “I have heard he has people here, others, in the basement. He has been doing, er-work, on them.” Sam could not hide it any longer.
“What?” Dimi looked at her in disbelief. She didn’t understand what was underneath those concepts or their feet. “Why would he keep us here? Why would he keep others separate from us? I don’t know Sam,” Dimi was confused but starting to pick up the main points. “We all want a cure so we can go back to our lives, right?” she asked naively. Sam knew the evil in the Doc, and was trying to gently educate her friend without ruining her youthful optimism in life. The room continued to hum with a false sense of salvation, allowed and fostered by the Doc and his inner circle.
“The Doc has been experimenting on these other people, testing the limits of the virus, a sort of tipping point.” Sam continued. “He told me about it once,” Sam was becoming less sure of her choice of audience and timing to reveal such a dark secret.
Dimi looked white and ignored the potential for others and their suffering. It was too much; Sam acknowledged the blank face and took things back to general life.
“Dimi, it’s not that simple anymore. Life won’t go back to where we were.” She put down her breast pump and took her friend’s hand softly. “Remember the squads and the reports that got leaked to us through some pillow talk?” Sam looked at her friend expectantly: Dimi nodded. “People have almost been wiped out, Dimi. We aren’t the last people on Earth or anything but we must be rare.” Her hand gently and soothingly patted her young friend’s. Dimi had so much to learn about the world before and the world then. “Other infected people are out there and having been surviving somehow. Not immune people like the Survivor, people moving around working out ways to survive; like us-“ Sam gestured at the breast-pumps. “There must be other ways people are making it out there.” Dimi nodded blankly; too much for her to take. But Sam needed to proceed. She had a feeling change was in the air and if Dimi and the others were going to make it, she needed to do her part and making sure they had a chance.
And then there was a lightbulb moment; Dimi’s brain had computed the inputs Sam had provided. The look on her face changed and she turned to look at Sam, in her eyes, nodding with purpose. “Things are very different out there. We have been sheltered here but we need to remember what we are going to face out there if all this falls apart or we go free. Do you get me?” She looked to Dimi who was nodding more solemnly and the realisation of some of the issues they were facing had hit home. No matter how basic Dimi had boiled it down in her head, recognition was there. Sam knew she was getting somewhere and decided to continue.
“Dimi, I am not convinced he will just let us go. Look at him without us. He was nothing in the world before. Kian was just a bored, frustrated GP that never fit in. If we get back on our feet, no-one will want anything to do with him after this situation is all said and done. He is a fucking bastard; a rapist, creep. I want nothing to do with him. Who the hell would?” She started to get red-faced and irate at the thought. Dimi looked shocked and Sam knew she had to bring things back to a more safe level of conversation. A joke would work. “If the doors open, I’m running for the hills!” Sam said with a laugh. Some humour was welcome after conveying some heavy concepts. They looked at each other with a warmth and friendship, in fact it was kinship, and grinned.
The hope of being cured gave way to the hope of escape; all of the women had spoken about it and continued to talk on the topic with a renewed hope. The fact that a survivor and potential cure had been found just magnified the thirst for freedom. Dimi would talk with the other girls about Sam’s thoughts over the coming days. She believed in Sam and her ideas. Sam was believed to be the smartest woman in their group. She was educated, a professional and independent person thrust into a world of confinement, servitude and abuse. She was their unofficial leader and wore the associated burden and sense of duty to them.
Dimi was thinking more than ever about the future and that conversation helped gel the ideas she was unable to make for herself. The pretty, curvy, fun-loving young woman who had once been ready to have babies and live in the suburbs of Sydney with a “good Greek boy” was done thinking about her future. She was back to the immediate and, after processing such heavy things, was back to her calm and cool soul.
Dimi finished expressing more than her fair share, still with plenty left, humming to herself while Sam sat in an uncomfortable silence: thinking. The dark haired lady carefully put away her breast pump and changed the subject; her turn to cheer up Sam. “How about that survivor guy, Jesse? Ooohhhh!” she puckered her lips and kissed the air many times comically. Sam smirked, “Yep, definitely hot. A nice looking guy now or before the zombies. Fit and, you said it oooooh– but don’t go around saying anything about it.” She was fun at first but returned to the business of survival. “He has shown the Doc and the disgusting pigs in the squads that they can be beaten and they don’t like it. Kian hates that message and what is says to all of us; we don’t need him or want him and he can’t enforce that. You see Dimi?” Dimi nodded and was taking mental notes. The concepts were something Sam was good at. Dimi was good at recalling simple concepts and could spread the word like wildfire. She would.
Sam looked around and saw Rob sitting with Alicia, oblivious and not listening to her conspiratorial conversation. So she continued, reminding her friend of what Jesse had set in motion. “The Doctor will hate any challenge to his authority and anything that explodes the fantasy that he is a gentleman and a ladies man.” Sam finished. It was then clear to Dimi as well; she understood completely and knew things wouldn’t be easy in the changing times that lay ahead of them. Dimi nodded. She then considered her thing with the former MMA champion; Sirocco may take the idea of competition badly. She considered how she would manage that. The young Dimi was a survivor too and remembered that she had something she needed to offload. It was something she
knew they could use to their advantage, she just wasn’t sure how. Dimi knew, of anyone, their unofficial leader would know what to do with what she had acquired. Dimi looked around, almost copying Sam’s earlier scan of the room to make sure no-one was paying them undue attention. People were busy and celebrating.
“Hey Sam,” Dimi grabbed Sam’s hand again, whispering.” Rob looked their way, just for a moment and Dimi teased him by blowing a kiss and laughing. He nervously looked away. She was far more cunning than people gave her credit for, despite having a lot to learn. Dimi’s soft hand, almost childlike, placed something round, heavy and cold into Sam’s grasp, closing it before anyone could see. She pulled close to her friend and whispered in her ear again. “Siro dropped this before going out on a mission,” Dimi said. The object was spherical and metal; unfamiliar. Sam’s mind registered what it was and its value. She nodded and whispered “You’ve done the right thing, sister,” Sam touched Dimi’s soft hand gently and withdrew her own, holding the device. “We can use this,” Sam whispered.
Sam looked around to see if anyone was watching. Rob was there, still busily talking to Alicia and keeping a watchful eye over them. Leon arrived and was also watching them. He had evidently not noticed anything in their conversation and exchange. Other than being a spineless pervert, he was a bureaucratic pain in the arse that didn’t actually have an eye for detail.
He would have run off to report them already if he had noticed the largely obscured grenade being carefully passed between the two women. He was still a little flustered and awkward after he had left the room for a moment of “relief”. Everyone knew he did this after getting too worked up over the whole milking process and he was busted wanking a couple of times a week by someone there. “That Leon is a pervert,” Sam said to Dimi. “Yeah,” Dimi agreed, both of them looking at him with a smirk. “He’s got a small dick too!” Dimi mused, slapping her friend’s thigh. “Dimi?!” Sam had a quick glance around and then gave up. She didn’t care who heard, things were changing. They looked at each other and laughed like women did before the Great Change.
Rob was sitting with Alicia and they talked with the awkwardness of two teenagers with mutual feelings but not sure how to progress things. They talked and nervously looked up from one another; eye contact was regular, short and intoxicating for both of them. They broke each other’s gaze during some awkward conversation but, despite all of the discomfort, they exuded humidity together. They were part of the buzz going on in the Pen.
That buzz was infectious and Rob, who had been doing his best at small-talk with the very pretty Alicia, moved onto the topic of the Rock, the universe and everything. He was telling Alicia about the battle up at the farmhouse (the Waystation) which had been spread by Dimi. Dimi loved spreading information and had been told too much by her lover; the place was a veritable rumour mill.
Rob broke the awkwardness by getting excited about something, wide-eyed and boyish which Alicia loved. The humidity between them rose a little higher.
“He apparently shot all of Xavier’s squad!” he was lively and animated doing impressions of a sniper-rifle and the squad-men getting hit and bleeding with great theatrics. Alicia went a little flushed in the cheeks, laughed and smiled sweetly at him. He would have done anything for her and she knew it. It was taking some time but she had warmed to him. She had known just a few men before the great change and a few after, there in the Pen. She could feel something different, something enduring, with Rob. She could feel a brighter future in his company. Previously, things were different between the two of them. They had barely known each other.
Alicia had been a very “expensive” companion to just two of the more senior men in the squads and it had meant her survival and benefit. One was a wealthy farmer’s son, “Mr Handsome”, Rob had nicknamed him. Rob was on patrol with his squad when Mr Handsome had bought it. It wasn’t Rob’s fault but he could have worked harder to save the dashing but uncoordinated rich-boy. The other contender for Alicia’s affections was a former real-estate agent with a Hollywood smile and a knack for finding and procuring expensive and high-value items for the Doc. The Real Estate Agent had his ticket punched when a horde of zombies overran a squad scavenging anything of value from a nearby town. At the time of these convenient relationships, Rob had been jealous. They were all dead now and he had little competition for her affection. He smiled at the thought of having Alicia to himself; no other suitors. She sparkled her eyes at him and smiled back, naïve to what he was thinking about but feeling something in her chest.
That jealousy of her two prior relationships did not diminish Rob’s infatuation with her. In fact it magnified the yearning and desire to get her attention. He realised that she wasn’t inaccessible, especially if those other dicks could gain her attention. As he looked at her with another uncomfortable, unstoppable meeting of the eyes, she told him about the wounds Angela had told her were on the survivor. Like a typical bloke, he tuned out and nodded and kept thinking about how he could make things work between them. He knew that with less competition, it made him more comfortable with his task to win her over, without people getting in the way. It was really easy to court her and he could take his time, as he liked to do with things. She got his attention after saying “He sounds very dangerous and looks hot,” waiting for a response to gauge how jealous he would get. It worked “Yeah, he looks like a rugged bloke with all the looks and that.” Rob’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “But he’s not what you think though,” he said shaking his head and blushing a bit underneath his sun-hardened skin. “He’s no thug Leesh. He aint that dangerous either, no sir.” He shook his head and looked at his boots with embarrassment. He was lying but he couldn’t sit there and agree with her.
Rob had been on guard duty and had overhead Jesse’s conversations with Angela in the clinic. “He talks real smart, he’s a bit of a posho or a toff of somethin’. But he is somethin’,” he said shaking his head again and thinking about a guy who he both feared and respected.
“You’ve got a man-crush! You’ve got a man-crush!” Alicia teased playfully. “Is he a big brute that you want to be your daddy?” She continued the teasing and was having great fun doing it to someone who was meant to be her jailer, like Maeve had been. “He is a fit guy and stuff but he doesn’t look like a gorilla. He’s a big, strong man, no doubt, but his hands aren’t so big, he has a different look about him. He’s a sort of a refined guy, smart looking and, yeah, a bit handsome, sure.” He nodded, not looking at her. He was thinking of the right words but couldn’t find them. “Handsome,” she laughed in mock disbelief, “I didn’t know you like men?! I heard Barlow likes men, but I didn’t think you-“she had reeled him in and he blushed and fumbled, totally enfeebled by her humour. He cut her off to set the record straight and his sexual reputation as soon as he could. “No, y’know what I mean. He’s like a leader, someone who you want to help. He isn’t like Xavier or Siro or Price or any of those other guys. He has somethin’ Leesh, he has somethin’ Somethin’ no-one else here’s got.” He was still on her invisible teasing line, like a tuna. “Look I know that sounds a bit queer but I ain’t gay.” He drew his gaze into hers “I like girls. Ermm,” he cleared his throat, “Girls like you,” he said what he had wanted to say for a long time. She knew anyway but she was not going to make it easy for him without him putting in the effort. “Awwwww,” she said and hugged him. He looked shocked at first and then grinned like a little boy with a trophy. He squeezed her back; it felt amazing between them; electric. Rob noticed a few people looking at them and he broke the embrace, feeling awkward or uneasy that others would know his feelings. “What are you sayin’: Barlow is gay?” Rob asked her, changing the subject with a poor transition. She let him off the hook and said “I’ve seen the way he looks at men. Why do you think a guy like him, with power in this place, hasn’t got a girl?” Alicia laughed at Rob’s sweet naivety. They both laughed and they moved past the awkwardness and back to “normal”. Life presented pr
ospects, potential and hope for both of them; warm feelings. But it would get worse before it would get better.
The Doc sat in his chair, smoking his pipe and making his own tea for a change. Nothing was as good for him as when Sam made it for him. He especially enjoyed the certain power the tea exuded when she made it when on a leash, held by Maeve. He secretly missed Maeve. His cracked lips hurt and they were out of lip balm. “Fucking Survivor,” he muttered in his real, average Sydney man’s voice.
For Penfould, all was as it should be just a few weeks before; his control of people was his entitlement. Sam was out of his league and he could have her by his will. The Great Change had brought him power and, despite all appearances, he had little or no intention of solving the zombie plague. “What is wrong with what I have established?” he mulled over his situation and returned to the pompous, regal accented inner voice. “They give me a little milk to stop the virus and I provide all; a true king and lord of his people,” Penfould justified to himself. “They adore and worship me,” he deluded himself some more. Loyalty was purely based on people’s fear of turning or being eaten alive. He had even used the stem-cell rich milk rations, and depriving people of them, as his means of enforcement. Penfould made a slight grimace as the tea had become too bitter; a pained expression, not just about the tea. He then thought about his secret captives in the parking basement. “I shall have to end my experiments,” Penfould concluded to himself. “The results are conclusive and there are only three left anyway.” He thought. “I will get Maeve, no, Xavier; no he’s dead. Ah, Nasser then- dead too. Who the fuck can I get to clean them up?” Penfould puzzled over his lack of nasty henchmen. “Barlow, yes, Barlow is always good for wet work.”
“That fucking survivor has ruined things!” he concluded, having another sip of the bad tea. His perch had become precarious and he knew it. “Maybe I should kill him while he is sedated?” he thought with a filthy smile. “Yes, I think I will pay him a visit before dinner and fill his drip with something a little lethal.” He nodded to himself. His fat, cracked lips swelled into a smile; enjoyment at the thought of killing the Survivor before a cure could be found.
