"Uh, sure. I believe it is!"
It was not my birthday, of course. And that wouldn't even matter. What did matter is how serious Jamila was, and if I could let her dance for me without feeling guilty. Even the luckiest guy in the world has issues to deal with on a daily basis.
CHAPTER FOUR:
Jamila helped Riley assemble a list of usable items in the other four houses of our stubby little street. Among them were four whiteboards, only two of which were identical in design. I reentered the house just in time to see Bianka mounting the last one on the living room wall. They had to remove some family photos of the previous owners to make space.
"Mason," Bianka said urgently as soon as she spotted me. "I'm going to get all these pictures back up on the other walls." She knew how I felt about the couple that had lived here before. If it wasn't for them, we would be in quite a different situation. They left their home stocked full of food and powered up. A good fence with barbwire on top, and a port-a-potty made the place a perfect compound for surviving the apocalypse. I vowed to keep their photos up as an eternal thank you.
"What are all the whiteboards for?" I asked. They were converting our home into a command center by the look of it. They had not moved the bulky furniture from the center of the room, but a sofa table had been repurposed to hold markers, erasers and a variety of other items along the wall.
"This one is for a daily task list," Riley told me as she pointed at the first board. It was the largest. It was clear that she was the mastermind behind this endeavor. That knowledge alone reduced my trepidation. "We'll be able to assign projects to the different girls off to the side. The second one is a schedule for the reborn."
"They need a schedule?"
"Mason," Bianka addressed me again. I glimpsed the necklace that identified her as one of my top girls in her smooth tan cleavage. She paused until my eyes reconnected on hers. I half expected her to say Hello! I'm up here! "There are a lot of people to keep track of now. We have to rotate the girls through guard duty, fence building, and training sessions. Some of them are now responsible for our water supply. Others will do the majority of our hunting and fishing. We need to coordinate all that plus stagger our meals."
"Will Riley be cooking for all of them now?" I asked.
"Oh, hell no!" was her instant reply. "We'll be working on getting the kitchen in the first house as functional as possible soon. Since we are no longer worried about making noise, we can use a generator for an hour or two each day just for cooking. I understand that we have plenty of gasoline."
"We might need that gas," I started to say. Moving out of the area was still an option. The three trucks would be invaluable with all the people that we had acquired. With the tremendous amount of effort that the girls were putting into the fence building and house cleaning projects, I knew that had to be a last resort. No one was eager to bug out.
"I'll let you know before the surplus runs low," Bianka said to pacify me. “We should be able to get more.”
"The third board is for project status,” Riley continued her presentation. “That should help us decide if we need to shuffle the work force. What do you think?"
"Sounds like you have it all planned out. You all are making my job easy."
"That was the plan," Bianka told me. I knew that they were all getting a good sense of accomplishment from what they were doing as well. It wasn't all about me. They felt good about themselves and the work that they were doing. And the people they were helping. The reborn were reclaiming their lives, then in turn, dedicating themselves to our collective. What were just recently my only clan members had become the core leadership group of a growing movement.
"What about the fourth whiteboard?"
"That one is yours," Riley told me. "You can work on battle plans, make your own list, or draw a big pair of titties. Whatever you want."
"Thanks," I said as Bianka chuckled over the titties comment, almost snorting. It obviously struck her even funnier than it did me. With breasts everywhere I looked these days, I shouldn't be needing to draw any myself. But I was tempted to, just to be funny. "How can I help?"
"We're good here, Mason," Riley said. It sounded like dismissal.
"I can at least help put the pictures back up."
"I've got it," Bianka said, snatching the hammer before I could grab it.
"You know what would be great, sweetie?" Riley asked. She rarely called me that in front of people, except very early in the day before she got her game face on. Not that she was embarrassed by it. No, she just exuded a serious business-like manner during most of the day, not really letting her hair down until late evening. Not literally. Her straight black hair stayed down all the time, though it was usually pulled back while she was working in the kitchen.
"What?" I asked as I turned toward her, a little frustrated that they weren’t accepting my assistance. She stepped close enough to give me a kiss but didn't. "You can walk the compound and talk to the girls. It would mean a lot to them to meet the great Mason, savior of all women."
"Which women?" I asked, knowing the title she just gave me was an overstatement. I was still hesitant to shake hands with the skanks, understandably.
"The reborn, sweetie. Jamila is working on getting them cleaned up as they heal. She is also in the process of handing them each a bright colored bandana for them to wear anywhere on their body to help identify them."
"Yeah," Bianka jumped in. "I told her to sort the colors by the preassigned groupings to help us shift them through assignments according to the schedule. She has enough yellow, green and purple bandanas to get it done."
"Great," I said, and I meant it. If I were a job supervisor, they would all be getting raises. I used to think that they weren't leaving any work for me, but I now know that my job had changed. I couldn't be stuck in the trenches all the time and still be an effective leader. "I'll go meet the troops."
"You might want to check in with Jamila first," Bianka suggested. "She can introduce you to some that are healing well and already washed up. Your visit can be a reward for looking their best."
I walked out the front door onto the porch as I pondered the impact of that last statement. Just a few days ago the yard would have regular activity. Farming, patrolling. With our compound expanding the excellent fence around our single residence became a last line of defense. Our garden rarely needed any attention until the produce was ripe. All farming efforts were in other yards to feed our growing population. The perimeter that needed guarding was now hundreds of feet away.
Between the mass of humans and the new fence, we weren't likely to get any easy pickings when it came to hunting, except maybe the ducks. We would need to venture out in groups to obtain most of our fresh meat. The river was still supplying a decent amount of fish, but we needed to move up and down the riverbank to find them.
The first house on the left as I walked was home to a lot of activity. I was able to observe them from my front gate before they could see me coming. That was the house that the bear had ran through. The job of cleaning up the corpses of the dead and mutilated skanks was a nasty one. I was glad that I didn't have to participate in that. It was probably the best thing about my promotion. I rarely got called upon to do the dirty work anymore.
Two women were carrying boxes of books and figurines out the front door. Stripping the house down to just the basics made thorough cleaning much easier. There were probably several people inside scrubbing away. We did not have enough rubber gloves and paper masks for everyone. Having those that were still a little skanky able to handle the most nauseating jobs was a blessing.
Off to the side yard four women were working away with shovels. Digging was hard work in this heat, even for completely healthy people. Just as I thought that, one of the women said that she needed a break. That was when I noticed that one of the workers was Ling. She turned and shouted at the woman to keep working.
"We are still weak," another woman complained. The three laborers had all stopped a
nd were leaning on the handles of their shovels in protest. I could clearly see that they weren’t lazy. They were tired, and weak.
"One more hour," Ling told them. "Then lunch break."
"We can't work non-stop," the first woman informed her. "Our bodies can't handle it."
Ling dropped her shovel and spun around in anger. The other two women stepped over close to their friend, prepared to defend her. Ling stopped short and clinched her fists. I started jogging her way hoping to get there fast enough to prevent the scary demon ghosts from coming out of Lin's head. I wasn't exactly sure how that worked, having only witnessed it once. I was not eager to see it again until there were real enemies to face down.
The three women noticed me first. I assumed that they were all reborn. Their instant smiles then gave way to concern. They perhaps were unsure of which side of the argument that I would be supporting. Ling lived in my house, and was a survivor, not a skank. She was also a mutant, probably well known as such since our last battle. That put her in high rank.
The tall blonde then said, "We'll keep working. We'll be fine." The three of them returned to using their shovels as Ling turned my way.
"Mason!" she shouted like she was calling out bingo in a fire hall. She then sprinted to me with her arms wide. We collided in an awkward embrace, her arms attempting to choke the air out of my lungs. She typically hugged me the least of all my roommates. I quickly deduced that this was a display for the other women. She wanted them to know that she was in a favored position.
When she finally pulled away, she blurted out, "I want my M!"
"Oh, the necklace?" I asked. She nodded with a pouting face. "You'll get one, I'm sure. You are not being too hard on these women, are you?"
I tried to speak quietly, but I could plainly see that the reborn women were listening closely, though they continued to shovel at a snail’s pace.
"Stella and me work hard! Everyone should work hard!"
"You do work hard, Ling," I acknowledged. "And I appreciate it. We all appreciate it. I'm so glad that you will have more help now with the farming. But they are not strong like you. Not yet. Be patient with them so they don't get hurt. If that happens, you won't have any help."
"Okay," she said without complaint, accepting my instructions. I didn't know if she agreed with my logic or was just happy to follow my orders. She was the least predictable and most confusing woman that I had ever encountered. If it were just her and me surviving, she would drive me bat-shit crazy, like herself. As just one of the mix, she was often a delightful change of pace. A pungent spice that you didn’t quite want to do without.
"Can I meet them?" I asked. The women perked up when they heard me.
"No! They are dirty!" Ling replied like I was being silly. "After lunch, when they clean. They go to class then."
I didn't want to go against Ling's wishes twice in a row and damage our relationship. She was, after all, the most unstable member of the group. Possibly even more important, it would lower the respect that these women had for her.
"Okay," I replied. Then to the eavesdropping girls from a distance, "Hi ladies!"
"Hi Mason," they waved at me like flirty little schoolgirls.
"I'll see you later," I told them. "Don't work too hard." Then I walked away, not turning back to see how Ling treated them. I needed to trust people, even if they made mistakes. Not supporting your top people could lead to bigger problems than the ones that their poor leadership could cause. I learned that somewhere, possibly from a reality television show.
Jamila then came out of the same house to wave at me. Perhaps she heard my voice when I raised it for the girls to hear. She walked up to me slowly, not looking like she was coming in for a hug this time. Her body looked tired the way that she was moving. I knew that she was like me in that regard. She didn't like to boss people around without doing her full share of the dirty work herself. I truly respected that.
"You're back," she said with a smile, blowing strands of hair out of her face, unwilling to touch them with her dirty hands.
"I'm here for my lap dance," I told her jokingly.
"Shhh! I serious! Don't tell!" she whispered loudly as she got closer.
"I'm just joking," I replied.
"Too loud," she said, looking more serious than usual. "Girls hear stuff. They not stupid."
"I know that they are not stupid," I said. "Sorry, I'll be more careful."
"Thank you," she said. Then as she ran one reasonably clean finger slowly down my sternum, "In private I do for you whatever you want. Don't make me little out here."
She was already the smallest woman in the whole community in physical stature. But I understood what she was trying to say. "Don't belittle you in front of others."
"Yes."
"No problem. I'm actually here to support the troops. Those were Riley's exact instructions. Can I meet a couple of the new girls?"
"New?" she asked. "Reborn, you mean?" I nodded, looking past her into the house. Three women were peeping around corners to look at us. They darted back out of view before I could wave.
"These not clean yet," she said as she pulled her hand back from my chest. "They sweaty and stinky, like me." She raised one arm to casually sniff her armpit. I refrained from laughing outright at the gesture.
"That doesn't matter to me," I said, taking the slightest sniff at the air to see if I could pick up on Jamila’s scent. It couldn’t be near as bad as she smelled when I first met her. In this dystopian world of garbage, shit and decaying flesh, body odor was one of the least offensive smells.
"It not for you," she told me. "It for them. Come, two of my favorite girls are ready. They just got dressed nice for lunch."
"Oh, where are they having lunch?"
"Picnic tables behind that house," she pointed at the house across the street.
There was no current activity around the home, but it was being slated to be reconditioned for residence of the healed women. She guided me around the right side of the building through dry lawn that had been well trampled. There in the backyard were three large, heavy looking picnic tables. I instantly wondered why they carried them from other yards without getting my help. Women were supposed to call on men to do heavy lifting. It had been ingrained in me.
A patio of paver stones covered a section about twenty feet square. It wasn't incredibly level, probably placed there by the previous occupants instead of a contractor. But the overall appearance was that of a nice outdoor dining section at a country barbeque.
There were currently only two women seated at the tables. They each had a paper plate in front of them, holding a half of an apple, a carrot, and a small filet of fish. It looked like they just sat down and barely started their meal. They quickly wiped their mouths and stood up, like I was their commanding officer.
"Hey girls," Jamila greeted them. "I brought someone for you to meet."
They were obviously excited, wide eyed and pulling on the fabric of their shirts to remove the wrinkles. I almost laughed. I couldn't imagine worrying about wrinkles these days when the whole world around us was like a garbage dump. Of course, if we didn't take pride in our appearance, it would be hard to take pride in our homes. Slowly together, we were going to clean up this section of the neighborhood.
"This is Josie," Jamila introduced the first woman. She was in her mid-twenties, fair skin, dark cropped off short hair. She had brilliant green eyes and a lovely smile, if it weren't for the two missing teeth in the front. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts with a purple bandana around her arm, as was the other girl.
"And this is Melanie," Jamila gestured toward the bigger girl. She was a little heavier than Camilla, and shorter. Not very pretty in the face, but her expression told me that she was probably a very likable woman. She was also the one that said that she felt reborn, which coined the phrase used for those successfully healing from the treatment.
They both stepped around the table and extended their hands in greeting, saying, "It's so nic
e to finally meet you, Mason."
"No!" Jamila told them, reaping instant frowns. "You are clean and reborn. Mason hugs."
Their smiles immediately reappeared as they anticipated the body contact. They smelled clean to me from just a couple feet away, not the least bit like an infected woman. I knew that a bath could have that temporary effect even on diseased flesh. I stepped forward and gave them each a brief but real embrace, telling them, "It's nice to meet both of you, too. Thank you so much for helping with our projects."
The statement looked like it confused them. "Of course," Melanie replied. "We are happy to do our part. You and Jamila have saved us. Why wouldn't we?" Josie nodded her agreement. I was told regularly by my top women that the reborn women felt that way, but it was hard to completely accept until hearing it from their own lips.
"You both look familiar," I told them.
Dystopian Girls 4 Page 4
