Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy

by Carol James Marshall

  As close as they had become, neither Uni nor Teresa could share the one defining truth of themselves. It was a taboo thing to mention, so they didn’t. How could either console the other about the truth that they are prisoners? Teresa was captive despite her loyalty to The Grey. Uni did not consent to being taken away from its home. Both were prisoners to the Originals of The Grey. Neither of them was there by choice. Both wanted nothing more than to escape. Uni and Teresa felt hungry for the taste of not there.

  Teresa floated inside of Uni, attached to its many tubes. Uni was her friend, but also her cell and that truth was never lost on what little remained of Teresa’s sharp mental core.

  Teresa should hate Uni for sinking its tentacles into her flesh. Uni could stop it at any moment, but it didn’t. Uni was what kept Teresa alive. Its healing powers had been long since harnessed and abused by the Originals of The Grey.

  Once Teresa learned the source of her immortality, she started a campaign of begging Uni to not heal her again, to refuse to attach itself to her. Uni’s healing did nothing but prolong the slices, the cutting, everything that the Originals inflicted on her.

  Uni would not bend. How could it kill her, when Uni itself desired the same from her? Teresa and Unit were at an impasse, each craving a quick murder from the other to end the torture. To end the long hours of being nothing but a science experiment. Neither could budge the other. Friendship often has strange bonds.

  After weeks of communicating, Uni and Teresa concluded that they would somehow go together. They both wanted nothing more than to help each other. Uni and Teresa did not know how it would happen, but they decided that together they would achieve their goal.

  They had no plan how to do this yet. “Yet,” Teresa explained to Uni, meant they did not know now how both of them would die together, but they would know soon. Soon there will be a time when both Uni and Teresa’s thoughts would collide, as they did all the time now, but with an answer.

  For now, they waited. Waited for a thought or moment of brilliance to come their way. Both Uni and Teresa stopped dwelling on their anguish and forced themselves to remain alert, paying attention to where the answer might be.

  Teresa spent her time watching the Originals come and go. Spying for any hint of where she could strike. Sharing her concepts with Uni, together they drew mental maps of how they could kill themselves before the Original Women of the Grey could stop them.

  Superior Mother

  There was a pounding in Superior Mother today, an anxious feeling that she wanted to rip out of her chest and stomp and spit on. To be the leader of the women and yet feel as small as a bug was the sensation of the day, and Superior Mother couldn’t shake it.

  Sitting in her office, she watched her assistant, who happily dusted shelves and made tea as if the world did nothing to offend her. Superior Mother felt it must be peaceful to live like that, to have a life where all things were soft and kind. Maybe it’s because mothers like her never see the grim of The Grey. They live in between the lines of rumors, never knowing the truth and not caring to participate in it. These mothers seemed content, and Superior Mother could not comprehend why.

  How could the Women of the Grey be content to live in the pit of a mountain, with the watered-down DNA of a grand race of alien females in them? They had nothing but each other for company. Was the occasional mission and romp through the human world enough to sustain them? Why do they come back to The Grey? They come back to nothing but chores in a dust-free purgatory, hopelessly waiting for their next turn outside.

  Superior Mother’s own questions were slowly ticking away at whatever mind she had left. Lately, Superior Mother could not answer her own rants. Seeing Teresa today had shaken her. She now questioned the how and why of every step she took in any direction. The Grey is about order and obedience so that they may thrive. So that they may survive on this planet.

  “Not live on this planet, but survive on this planet.” This thought is what kept Superior Mother grounded. She would remember her duty, and because of that the ring stayed on. Because of that, she remained where she felt she floated in loathing from those around her.

  Now, Lisa, her own daughter, was gone. Superior Mother knew she was alive and well. She could hear her daughter’s breath if she tried hard enough. Many days Superior Mother didn’t bother to listen. She knew Lisa was up to no good.

  Superior Mother supposed that a human mother would know that her daughter was doing bad things and go after her. Is that what humans did? They would speak to their daughter, trying their best to understand why their child went off their path. Would a human mother tell her horde to grab her child and toss her to The White? Superior Mother didn’t think that’s how it worked for humans, but the humans’ soft ways, jokes with a mixture of violence and rules, was confusing to Superior Mother as well.

  In the Grey all was defined. It was clear how things are and were going to be. There was always a firm hand to deal with it all. It seemed to Superior Mother that humans spent so much time stuck in between what they believed was right and what they thought was wrong that they got nothing on point at all. To Superior Mother humans were a bunch of mice running circles in a field, nothing more.

  Startled out of her thoughts by her assistant who was now standing in front of her with dust cloth in hand. She nodded at Superior Mother and then silently left the room. It amused Superior Mother that she dismissed herself in such a way. Her assistant could have easily snuck away, Superior Mother noticed her that little.

  Clapping her hands together Superior Mother said out loud “She’s off to conquer her day and I, the leader, still sit.” Superior Mother felt woeful about this, but not enough to move. She needed more time to ponder. Time to take her thoughts out and let them run wildly about, but mostly she thought of Lisa.

  Human mothers did get to hold their babies. They fussed with things like potty training, learning to spell, fevers, and the child’s first time catching a ball. Where these things Superior Mother should envy?

  If she had had time with Lisa as she grew, could she have guided her towards the right path? The path of being loyal to her own kind, not the path of destruction. These questions were what kept Superior Mother awake deep into the night.

  There was one question that Superior Mother couldn’t let go of. Why was Lisa killing them? Was it a mutiny? Maybe Lisa offered them freedom. Could she be showing them a way to never go back to The Grey again? Did they refuse and in return she slaughtered them?

  Did Lisa know how powerful some of the women are? There were some, few but some, that had more of home in them than the others. These women had the ability to drop temperatures to depths humans could not endure. It was a killing kind of cold that Superior Mother knew too well from the frigid feel of her ring.

  Now standing Superior Mother braced herself for the day. She must show her assistant that she was fierce, not contemplative. The rumor of contemplation would spread quickly in The Grey. The women would babble that she did nothing but sit and stare, doing nothing at all. Plus, Superior Mother could no longer think about Lisa. She knew what the next question was, and she did not want to ponder whether Lisa was killing her own kind.

  Besides, Superior Mother already knew the answer to that question.

  Superior Mother’s assistant needed to speak to her, but the jitters kept her from speaking up. She did not want to make waves with her leader. She did not know where her previous assistants were, and the thought of where they might have gone sent a stab to her gut. It was best to seem jolly, play the quiet kitten who does as she should. Never rock that boat.

  Yet, there were signs that the sky was falling in The Grey. Everyday there were small hints of things that should not be. Superior Mother’s assistant kept waiting for her leader to notice these faults. She wanted their leader to point them out to her with a “fix this” attitude.

  Superior Mother’s awareness of the problems was not apparent, and her assistant grew more skittish as the days turned to weeks an
d then months. She knew if it turned to years, the floor would fall out from under The Grey. She needed to speak up, but the terror of Superior Mother’s response kept her at bay.

  Lisa

  Letting the windows down in the stolen car Israel was driving, Lisa tried to take in the moment instead of stressing over their current situation. The car being stolen was not an issue for Lisa. Living on the streets and hunting down Women of the Grey was a criminal life. A criminal life that was necessary, and she accepted it. She couldn’t change the fact that she and Israel’s lives were what most people considered wrong. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word.

  Putting her hand out the window and reflecting, Lisa knew she and Israel were doing what had to be done. Specifically, she did what had to be done. It wasn’t nice. I wasn’t pretty, but it was necessary. So wrong wasn’t the best way to describe how they lived.

  What bothered Lisa was feeling uncertain about who benefitted from her actions. Sometimes that wasn’t clear. She believed in what she did. Lisa knew that The Grey had to break. She had to tear it down, but to save who? Herself? Humanity? Pulling her hand back into the car, Lisa gave Israel an unnoticed sideways glance. He hadn’t said a word in two days. Again, Lisa wondered if this, all of this, everything she had done so far and will continue to do, is solely for him.

  All that he does — stealing cars, breaking into homes and apartments, witnessing the ugly things that Lisa does almost weekly — was any of it for her? She didn’t think so. Israel was lost in his battle with his own hell — The Grey and his Devil, Superior Mother. He battled them any way he could. Lisa was only “just there.”

  She knew, damn it, she knew he’d be doing this or some version of this without her. What angered Lisa, what made her want to carve out Israel’s heart, was that she couldn’t do any of this without him. She couldn’t be without him. Lisa could picture herself in the ashes of The Grey. Standing in the rubble, Israel would silently walk away from her. There would be no passionate kiss, not even a quick hug. He’d leave her, and this would be the end of Lisa, and she wished she knew why.

  Unbuckling her seat belt, Lisa crawled into the back seat. Using her backpack as a pillow, she made herself into the tiniest ball she could. She wanted nothing more than for Israel to tell her where they were headed to now. Or to just turn on the damn radio.

  Instead, there was nothing but the sound of the whipping wind through the open windows. That sound would have to be her lullaby. She needed something to focus on so she could sleep. If she slept, she wouldn’t be tempted to grab Israel by the throat and choke words out of his mouth.

  Lisa didn’t want to hurt him; she just needed more from him. More of what, she didn’t know, and was starting to wonder if she would ever know. All Lisa knew was that Israel made her ache, and wherever he would go she wanted to follow.

  The sound of a car door slamming woke Lisa up. Sitting up and looking around, all she saw was a vast desert. There was nothing else for miles. Getting out of the car, Lisa looked behind her. The city was long gone. How long had she slept?

  Israel stood at the trunk of the car, map spread out over it. It was hard not to want to walk up to him, toss her hands around him, smother him with emotion. Emotion that Lisa was so very ill-adapted to.

  Where did these urges to hug, protect, and smother with care come from? It often worried Lisa that she had gone soft. The months on the road, traveling and dealing with The Women of the Grey, had ticked away at her layers. Now she was pink flesh. Mushy, with a need to cry. Lisa was becoming a bit too human for her liking. Sometimes she wondered if she was still a bit too alien for this world. There seemed no happy medium of alien and human in her.

  Israel’s map had circles with Xs in them. Each circle was a Woman of the Grey that they had found, and Lisa knew why he drew an angry-looking red X in the circle. He didn’t agree with her ultimatums. Superior Mother was his villain, not the young ladies of The Grey, tossed out to the outside world like newborn babes.

  Lisa had explained to Israel, each time he winced at the sight of a body, that these sweet, innocent girls had made their choice. They chose to be martyrs. How was that her fault? She gave them a choice. The rest wasn’t on her.

  There were lines all through Israel’s map. Places they needed to check, and sometimes double check, for the women. Truthfully Lisa didn’t see any sense to his plan. The lines led back to themselves in an oblong circle. His strategy was as twisted as his thoughts.

  In months of travel, they hadn’t yet made it out of California, and they still had so much more ground to cover. How would they ever finish? Covering her head with her hands, Lisa sat on the ground by the car.

  The asphalt was hot and she could taste the sand in the wind. There was a roar of dirt bikes or dune buggies in the background. The scene in front of her eyes appeared apocalyptic, and that matched her thoughts. Sucking in her breath, Lisa got a mouthful of sand. Tears were forming in her eyes and she knew that soon her cries would turn ugly. At any moment a violent sob would escape her mouth. She’d pound the road with her hands if that happened. If she raged, soon after it began the tears would become ice, the frost would cover her skin, hair, and…

  Lisa stopped herself. It had only happened once.

  Just once she had lost all control and turned into her real form, fueled with her real desires. It was when she thought she had lost Israel. Her fear and rage tangled together, creating a surge in Lisa’s powers. That night, a confused and distraught Lisa had hidden among the filth in an alley as she felt the ice seize her heart.

  She had been beside herself with grief, believing she had lost Israel in a chaotic weekend crowd. She didn’t notice the billowing of her breath on the warm summer night until it was too late and the cold had covered every inch of her.

  She could feel it within her, slowly making its way through her bones, creepily crawling all over her. She had crouched on the ground, hugging herself with her arms, rocking back and forth behind a dumpster like an injured rat. There was no stopping it by then. Lisa had felt the cold inch its way through her, felt the frost wrap her brain, feeling like it was splitting apart. After that Lisa lost all control.

  Her real face was showing — teeth like a shark, perfect for ripping flesh; eyes that were bulbous and stretched almost to the back of her head; her skin gray and smooth. Most of all, Lisa felt the want to kill. Not just to kill, but to shred. To savagely take her teeth and pull something, someone, anything, to threadbare pieces. The cold that wrapped her mind blocked all fear. She was left with only rage.

  What would have happened that night if he hadn’t found her? She would have killed many. She might have been killed herself. The world could have seen something that it had suspected all along — there are other things out there.

  Israel, bravely as well as stupidly, threw his sleeping bag over her, which knocked Lisa over. Israel kicked her till she passed out. When Lisa woke later, Israel wasn’t beside her in the sleeping bag, but standing over her, watching her with the look of startled despair on his face. Thinking on it now, Lisa realized that is when he went almost completely silent.

  Israel had seen exactly what Lisa really was and had tackled it. How heroic of him, and how foolish. Standing, Lisa reminded herself that if she ever wanted Israel to have a conversation with her again, to simply look at her without the reflection of who she really is in his eyes, that needed to not happen ever again. She must stay in control. If only she could control her emotions like she controlled her frost.

  Sunny

  Kia’s hands were shaking as she tried to put the key in the lock. She knew how locks worked — that wasn’t the problem. Terror was the issue. She didn’t know what she would find behind this door. Still, she needed to see the caged naughty girl for herself, even if she felt as if she would pee her pants.

  The lock clicked, giving Kia a second of relief. She hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Looking up and down the hallway, Kia hoped this was the right door. The Grey was filled with d
oors that had no doorknob or lock, like the door right behind her.

  Looking over her shoulder, Kia wondered how that door opened. Did the Mothers just push it? Was there a special button somewhere? Kia forced herself to look back at what she was doing. If she didn’t learn to be more careful her nosy nature would someday get her shoved in a cage as well.

  Taking the key out of the lock, Kia pushed the heavy door forward and walked into the room. The door shut with a thunk behind her. The noise startled Kia. For a moment, just a brief second, she wished she had brought along another girl with her. But she knew that wouldn’t happen.

  All the girls were afraid of becoming a naughty girl, of disappearing or being put in a cage. They wouldn’t disobey, and would warn her not to leave, even if the mother was oblivious to everything. Kia wouldn’t listen and when they saw her leave they’d scoff at her. Worse yet, the next day, and the next and the next, the rest of the girls would shun her, as if naughty was contagious.

  Kia was alone in her adventures. She told herself it was better that way. She wasn’t like the other girls. The girls who smiled and nodded always living in fear of what the mothers would do to them. Kia minded her manners, did what she was told, but she looked around and paid attention to details.

  Details like that brownish smudge that a lot of mothers had on their skin and things like where the keys were hung. Kia spied on that mother and watched where she went with those keys. She memorized locations by finding something in them to remember.

  The hallway that leads to the gardens has a door with a red piece of tape on it. It was the third door on her right. If she saw that door and then walked all the way down the hallway, she’d find the garden. Kia paid attention to the small details and tried hard to memorize them.