Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy

by Carol James Marshall

  We are all the same and none different

  She took one last look at Teresa as she was wheeled away. That is not so.

  Sunny was calculating, always one thought ahead of her keepers. It was this that kept the two mothers in charge of Sunny jittery. The jumpy actions of Mother Cass and Jess caused the other mothers to believe them lacking in the brains department. Superior Mother knew better. The mothers that had raised Sunny so far worked with a daily overdose of fear. They kept the tiger in the cage and spent their days, wondering when the cage door would suddenly pop open.

  Sunny was one of Superior Mother’s secrets. The Women of the Grey did not know much about this daughter of The Grey. They knew only the bits and specks of rumors they heard from the occasional person who had gotten a glimpse, first of the baby kept in a cage, then of the toddler that was kept in chains, and now of the little girl, again in a cage. This daughter of The Grey was rumored to be dangerous.

  “They have no idea,” Superior Mother said to the ring. Sunny was kept secret for a good reason. Caged for an even better reason. Mother Cass and Jess had let the word “Original” leak out into the rumor mill when they spoke of their charge. This caused a small wave of interest, but not much.

  “Original.” Superior Mother wanted to savor the word, chew on it, while sucking at its juices. None of the mothers that knew of Sunny believed she was special. How could she be? We are all the same and none different. How could this caged girl be any different than the rest of the daughters?

  She was different. She had the capacity to turn into original form, then kill for the pleasure of it. This gift had been lost for many generations. When Sunny popped up, killing her own mother at birth with purpose and gratification, Superior Mother knew better than to let that beast loose.

  Turning towards Sunny’s hallway, Superior Mother felt the stress of keeping her charge under wraps more and more each day. Sunny the secret was getting harder and harder to keep. Superior Mother had thought nothing of giving the two nursery mothers charge of Sunny. Mother Cass and Jess had been nursery mothers for ages. Superior mother assumed they had seen it all.

  She had never counted on the two mothers being gossipy and trite women. They were the kind that forgetfully dropped information about Sunny to a passerby. The Sunny secret was starting to crawl down the hall. It would soon open doors and be whispered into every ear in The Grey.

  Over dinner, Mother Cass whispered to another mother of the baby that was fed bottles of blood. Mother Jess told a mother about the baby Superior Mother called an Original that needed looking after 24 hours a day and would most certainly be the death of them all.

  Mother Cass and Jess were considered the old biddies of The Grey. They had been around for so long that all the generations knew them. They were thought of as harmless, and the things they giggled over was considered nonsense by most.

  Superior Mother was almost to Sunny now and could feel the hair on her neck rise. Most thought the whispers of Mother Cass and Jess to be in good fun, but some knew better. Those some were a worry for Superior Mother. What could they do with that information?

  “Original.” Superior Mother let it roll on her tongue as she took the door knob in her hand.

  Sunny

  Lately, the air in The Grey had felt as if it was trickled in. Sunny could not find comfort anywhere. Every ounce of her wanted to climb the walls and beat to death those that glared at her while she did it.

  Stories had some mothers questioning the belief of we are all the same and none different. The different one is placed in a cage. Different meant bad. Different meant jailed. The possibility of different hung around the hallways, worming its way into the thoughts of the mothers who spoke in hushed tones to one another.

  Like all adults speaking softly, they did not notice that one girl of the Grey listening to the stories. This quiet good girl listened to the questions of “what if we are not really all the same?” The adults never paid mind to the little girl of the Grey who leaned in with special interest when they spoke of a girl kept in a cage behind a locked door.

  When one little girl whispered to another little girl of these rumors, the girls held to each other tightly in fright. Both little girls remembered the threats of what happens to the naughty girls. The naughty girls that didn’t mind their manners. Those bad girls that stuck out their tongues, were untidy, and always jumped around in line. Those naughty girls, where did they go?

  The girls wondered, asking of each other was this caged girl one of the worst? Was that where they put the naughty girls? Naughty girls who went away and never came back. Did the mothers have the naughty girls caged up?

  The little girls of The Grey would gather late at night, wiggling their toes together, foot to foot, and hand in hand, speaking of such things. Promising each other they would be good. Nodding, the little girls would agree to be the tidiest they can be. Speak only when spoken to and always make their beds. They didn’t want to end up in that cage.

  As it always does when small children gather to tell each other stories that spook the spirit, one daughter of The Grey would eventually start to cry, and all girls would gather to hush her. Do not wake the mother with your whimpering. The mother will send us back to bed with unkind words and those looks that the mothers give that scald feelings.

  The one girl, the quiet and calm girl, knew her friends shouldn’t worry. If someone was to lift the mother’s pajama top just an inch or two, they would see a small brownish streak on her torso. The dirty little slap of color meant that mother would be sleeping very soundly. She’d sleep deeply, with content sighs and not a moment of eyes being wildly opened.

  The little girls of the Grey couldn’t wake that mother; the streak took care of that mother’s frustration and anxiety. Every worry in that mother’s head popped out of her and floated away with just a smear of what The Women of the Grey called Red. Red was the Women of the Grey’s boyfriend, girlfriend, therapist, best friend. Red took all sensation away, and that is what the mothers craved most. The need to be numb was the one thing almost all Women of the Grey had in common.

  At first, the gaggle of girls would console the sobbing girl sweetly, then threaten to bash her head in if she did not quiet down. The daughters of The Grey knew that gentle sentiment towards each other did not last long. In the Grey, everyone had to save their own skin. Solidarity only lasted a blink.

  It seemed nobody ever noticed the quiet girl. The girl that wasn’t bothering the others. Kia was the good girl, the girl that leaned in to listen. Kia was thinking of everything she had heard from the other girls. Everything she had seen that week while planning her next move. Her wheels were turning while the others marched along with the drum beat.

  While the daughters of The Grey gathered in a cluster to silence the one that sobbed, Kia wasted no time. She snuck past the snoozing mother, swiping keys as she went. This girl, the good quiet girl who listened to the mother’s chat. The girl who knew about the caged girl, and was going for a walk.

  Lisa

  Closing her book, Lisa gently shoved it into her backpack. She leaned over to her side, watching Israel struggle to sleep. His eyes were tightly closed, clenched like fists. She was sure she could see his heart pop out of his chest with every breath.

  It was horrible to see him like this. To see Israel, struggle so much with something as simple as sleep. Lisa was kidding herself. She knew Israel struggled every minute of his life now. He was possessed by his obsession with The Grey.

  Maybe he was dreaming of Superior Mother again? Lisa had mistakenly told him about her, about almost everything.

  She didn’t know it at the time, but spouting information to Israel had damaged him. Being on the run with Israel for so long, Lisa came to believe that he was someone she could purge herself to. Lisa truly believed Israel would be her soft place to fall.

  Her regret of educating Israel on the Grey hangs on Lisa with every step she takes now. With every bite of food. Every action. All movement.
All her thoughts are tinged with regret. Not for defying Superior Mother, but for telling Israel of her.

  Superior Mother was Israel’s fiend. Israel now believed that she watched everything he did. She witnessed each breath he took. Each step forward was a step viewed by Superior Mother. Israel believed she was everywhere and that he was number one on her hit list. Lisa couldn’t get him to understand that he was number two. Lisa was sure she was number one “most wanted” by the mothers in The Grey.

  Lisa sighed. She held the distinctive honor of being number one on Superior Mother’s list of who to torture and kill. “Life goals…”

  Yawning, Lisa knew it was time to get up, get going, away from where they had spent the night. Constant movement was something she was paralyzed by before. Now, Lisa knew that being stagnant was death. Israel had taught her that. He believed that if they stopped, they died. Lisa agreed, but not for the same reasons as he.

  Israel believed that Superior Mother would catch them if they didn’t keep moving. Lisa knew that was true, yes, but she also now believed that to live is to keep moving forward. Whether it be mentally, physically, or emotionally.

  She had been working on all of those things, inhaling every book, she could get her hands on, trying to work her mind. Every book Lisa read stirred something in her that she hadn’t known before. Each book was a world of new knowledge to Lisa, having been raised incarcerated in The Grey. The Women of the Grey were an ignorant bunch and Lisa was using that to her advantage.

  Taking the tip of her finger, Lisa pushed it against the blanket that covered Israel, who still slept despite Lisa’s wiggling. Finger on the blanket, Lisa watched the ice first form under the tip of her finger, then spread like mold. Smiling, she lifted her finger when the ice formed an almost perfect circle the size of a silver dollar.

  She had almost perfected her mental and physical workouts. Daily she expanded her thinking and the powers of her frost. It was emotionally that Lisa was lost. The Grey was a place of efficiency. A place where resources and tidiness were honored. Emotion was for the humans. Feelings were for the lesser beings.

  Reaching into herself, trying to deal with her “feelings” was proving fruitless. Lisa was clueless on how to move forward with emotions. Sitting up, Lisa ran her hand over Israel’s hair. She did this with a light touch, not wanting to wake him and not wanting to be caught.

  Israel was a thing of want for Lisa. A man that stood by her side day in and out. Yet, he wasn’t hers. He was unattainable. Lost in his war against The Grey. He didn’t see her, and Lisa was sure he didn’t want her in that way. While her chest caved and heart fluttered at the thought of Israel, he saw Lisa only as a monster.

  “I know this. I know this,” Lisa whispered to the air in front of her, air that was speckled with dust that danced in the sunlight. Would that dust be tolerated in the confines of The Grey? If dust sparkled in sunlight, would a mother come to quickly vacuum it away?

  Standing up Lisa laughed a bit. Sunlight in The Grey. There was no such thing, except for the garden. Yes, there was sunlight in the garden. Maybe? She wasn’t sure. Although raised in The Grey, few areas had been open to her.

  Lisa couldn’t remember how long she’d been gone from The Grey, and that made her uneasy. She needed to be more organized. More in command of details. She wouldn’t allow sloppiness to happen again. She couldn’t be haphazard about things any longer.

  Touching her fingertips together, Lisa shivered a bit, remembering the naughty girl she had strangled in the black. There was no choice but to kill it, the girl. What lesson did she learn in the black? Thinking, Lisa scratched at her head, trying to pry a lesson out of being in the black. There was none.

  She tried over and over again to make sense of Superior Mother’s antics. Lisa almost wanted to side with her, believe in everything she did and how she did things. If Lisa could believe in The Grey, the mothers, and their leader, then her choices for the future would be simple.

  Scratching harder, Lisa knew she’d never come up with a valuable reason for things like the black. She learned nothing there. What did Superior Mother mean for Lisa to learn from the white? The choking words of her elders that raped her mind with utterances from her real tongue. In the white Lisa’s real language pounded down into the pores of her skin.

  Why had Superior Mother done that? Lisa did not speak their native language. How was she to grasp what was being said? What lesson could be learned from such intrusion into her mind and what was left of her soul? Now, in retrospect, Lisa cursed the white, the black, and all their nasty hidden rooms in The Grey.

  Shoving her shoes on, Lisa felt like spitting. Anger bubbled in her mind and trickled down her body. This happened when she over-thought The Grey. When Lisa tried to lean on the side of those that were essentially her people, she couldn’t, and that meant only one thing.

  It meant that Lisa wouldn’t feel bad when she broke it. She excused herself from emotion when it came to The Women of the Grey. She told herself that any hint of “I shouldn’t do this” is gone.

  This is how Lisa lived each day, rubbing the ideas and concepts of Superior Mother in her hands. Hoping that it would eventually make sense, but it never did. Lisa knew it never would. Maybe this was her meditation. A daily ritual of remembering why she did the things she did now.

  Going to the kitchen, Lisa poured herself a glass of tap water. Drinking, she stopped only once to hold a sip of water on her tongue. Closing her eyes, Lisa felt the ice crystals bind to her tongue. Doing this brought a smile to Lisa’s face.

  The things Lisa does now are bad things. No way of talking her out of her actions. Lisa consoled herself with the knowledge that these daughters of The Grey she hunted were given a choice.

  They never choose Lisa’s view of things. For months Lisa couldn’t understand why when confronted with truths, these Women of The Grey, alone in the world, thrust out of their womb by Superior Mother to do her bidding, would turn away from Lisa’s words.

  It’s as if the truth would cut them to pieces. It always left Lisa wondering if it was Superior Mother that put fear of truth in them. They would rather scamper away, owned by a leader, ruled by a clan that had never bothered to tell them who they were.

  It always confused Lisa and left her feeling befuddled and sad for a moment or two. Then she would brush it away, reminding herself that she had long ago absolved herself of feelings of guilt when it came to The Grey.

  Israel was up, pulling on his pants. He was abnormally thin now, the definition of gaunt. The once handsome young man was gone. It hurt Lisa to see his mental injuries so visible on the outside. It hurt Lisa to watch Israel exist on the edge of life.

  Worst of all, nowadays Israel reminded Lisa more of Iggy than of himself. Iggy, the homeless man who had noticed The Women of the Grey, and lost years to madness because of them. Lisa wondered if that was the future for Israel. Had he already begun the descent into it?

  There were days now that Israel wouldn’t speak. He’d nudge her, lean against a wall, and point to a light pole, car, house. Anything that he believed Superior Mother had her hands on. Then there were nights that Israel never slept. He paced floors, looked out windows, and readied his guns. What would Lisa give to see him calm and healthy? She knew the answer. She would give everything. Every bit of whatever it took to give Israel peace, she would do it.

  Packing her bag, Lisa looked across the living room to the dead body that had been absentmindedly shoved into a corner. The dead body had her face, hair, shoulders, the shape of her knees. The girl look startled. Her eyes were open and wide, as if she didn’t know what hit her.

  Huffing, Lisa didn’t feel sorry for her. She knew what was coming, that dead girl of The Grey, because Lisa had given her a choice.

  Knife to the girl’s throat, Lisa had said, “Join me in destroying The Grey. Join me and live.” The girl shuddered and then shook her head while whimpering out a clumsy “no.” It was then that Lisa let go of her, standing in front of her show
ing her true face to the girl. Hissing at her, “this is who we are.”

  The girl looked away and violently shook as Lisa formed small ice crystals all around her, floating them midair inches away from her face. Lisa’s true face was their true face. Yet it was rare that these women used theirs. Did they not know how?

  Israel was standing by the door, eager to leave before the sun came up. She couldn’t blame him. Too many eyes on them would be a bad thing. She had forced him to spend the night in the apartment. Exhaustion, filth from the streets, and hunger had forced Lisa to camp in the apartment for the night with the body of the dead girl of The Grey.

  It was risky, as a mother could show up at any moment to check on this daughter of The Grey. Taking one last look around, Lisa wished she had asked what mission this one was on. She had only been on two herself.

  Lisa’s first mission for The Grey was like all others — murder innocent people because Superior Mother said so. It was a test of loyalty that Lisa had badly failed. The second mission was to breed. To get pregnant by a human male and bring back a daughter to The Grey. She had also failed at that. What came after that? Superior Mother sent them out into the world to do — what exactly? Lisa just could not fathom.

  Walking over to the body, she took the dead girls boots off and put them on her own feet. Israel shook his head at Lisa, but she didn’t care. Lisa had long ago become the boogeyman of The Grey. No act was beneath her.

  Ally

  Ally stood in front of her bathroom mirror, admiring the flowered print dress she wore. Smiling, Ally moved from side to side just to feel the swish of the bottom of the dress against her thighs. She then stopped and smelled her arm. The smell of flowers floated up and Ally wanted to swoon.

  Flowers on a dress. The smell of flowers on her skin. It was so wonderful. She had dreamed of this day. A day where she was finally sent out on a mission and could for once celebrate flowers anyway she pleased.