Islands of Rage and Hope

by John Ringo

  There were a series of prettily furrowed brows, then Christy tentatively raised her hand.

  “Yes,” Athena said, pointing. “Christy.”

  “We could tie each other up?” Christy said tentatively.

  “This isn’t a porn flick, Christy,” Athena said with a sigh.

  “No . . .” Anna said. “She has a point. If we’re secured, the . . . afflicted is easier to subdue. Or she should be.”

  “I’m not going to be tied up when one of you goes nuts,” Sarah Cassill said. “Not going to happen. And besides who is the last to get tied? Leaves one untied, right?”

  “Possibly light restraints?” Princess Julianna said. “Easily removed on the wrists. When we’re not moving around, tight on the feet. Possibly comes sort of hobble when we are forced to move. That way, at least, the afflicted isn’t free to move around. When one of us turns, we can pile on?”

  “What’s this we shit?” Sarah said. “I’m not getting bit.”

  “It’s a thought,” Athena said. “I’m just having a hard time with it being Christy’s good idea. No offense, Christy.”

  “It’s okay,” Christy said.

  “Is there any rope? Yes . . . Christy,” she said, pointing as the girl raised her hand again.

  “I gotta pee,” Christy said.

  “Why didn’t you go before we left?” Athena said angrily.

  “It was a long walk,” Christy said, hanging her head.

  “Fine,” Athena said. “Somebody bang on the door for our friendly—”

  She paused as there was a clearly heard shot in the corridor beyond the door. Then screaming.

  “Or . . . perhaps not,” Athena said, running over to one of the partially empty shelves. “Julianna, Anna, Sarah, Christy! Help me push!”

  There was a loud bang against the door followed by a series of irregular thumps and a keening howl.

  “PUSH DAMNIT!” Athena yelled.

  The shelving section tipped over and effectively barricaded the door. Whatever was on the other side just kept banging, though. And now there were ration boxes all over the floor.

  “Now I really gotta pee,” Christy whimpered. She had her hands over her crotch.

  “I think we all do,” Athena said. She walked over to a pallet of five gallon buckets and read the labels. “Sarah, Brenda, new job. Get into this pallet and get out a bucket. It’s semolina, basically cream of wheat. Dump it on the floor. Keep some in the bottom for absorption. Christy, use that. Everybody else, start looking for anything that resembles rope before one of us turns . . .”

  “Fuck you, you pampered bitch!” Snoopi Lucessa suddenly screamed.

  “What did you say?” Athena said, raising one eyebrow.

  “I said fuck you!” Snoopi screamed. “I don’t take orders from some . . . what the fuck is on me? WHAT THE FUCK IS ON ME . . . ?”

  “TURNING!” Princess Julianna yelled.

  Most of the women scattered, screaming, but Julianna, who was slightly behind the smaller woman, height-wise anyway, hit her with an expert rugby tackle and drove the New Jersey native facedown to the floor.

  “Rope! String! Anything!” Athena yelled, grabbing Snoopi by the hair and holding her gnashing teeth away from the princess.

  Christy, who hadn’t run but only because she was standing dumbstruck, reached under her blouse and whipped out a Texas-small bikini top at the speed of light. There was a tidal-wave of objects. Cash, change, lipstick and make-up, a tiny Bible, a micro bottle of Hennessy brandy, four packages of peanut M&Ms, a bottle of mouthwash, a package of nylons and three Trojan “SuperMax” unlubricated condoms all tumbled out. After a moment a small gold bar clinked to the floor.

  “Yeah,” Athena said, taking a moment to boggle. “That works.”

  It eventually took six women to subdue the “afflicted” but with various bits of underwear, bathing suits and strips of cloth ripped from blouses and sundresses, they finally had her hogtied. Christy also turned out to be surprisingly good at knots.

  “That caught me off guard,” Athena admitted. She was sitting on the struggling Jersey City star since it was the only pillow around. “I’m still not sure she’s actually turned. Is there a difference between this and her regular personality . . . ?”

  “God, Athena, you are such a bitch,” Brenda McCartney said.

  “Takes one to know one,” Athena said. “And, yeah, I am. I’m such a bitch I’ve already thought about what happens next. Like, what the fuck do we do with her, now?”

  “Wait till the guy outside seems to be gone and throw her out the door?” Sarah Cassill said after a long moment of contemplative silence.

  “Do we untie her first?” Athens said. “No? Think that’s a bad idea? Me too. So we turn her into zombie chow? That’s the same as killing her. Worse, really. Not saying no, but be clear about it. That’s killing her. And letting her be eaten. Votes on throwing Snoopi off the island?”

  “We have to take care of her,” Brenda McCartney said definitely. “She’s sick. We have to take care of her.”

  “That’s so . . . paladin of you, Brenda,” Athena said. “Fine. You do it. How are you going to keep her from getting free and biting the rest of us? In here. We don’t even have a fucking mattress. You going to feed her? Clean up when she craps and pisses? You want the Snoopi puppy, you have to take care of it. Speaking of which: What do I smell?”

  “I don’t have to pee anymore,” Christy said, wiping her eyes. Her makeup was smeared all over her face.

  “Do we have anything to clean it up?” Julianna said. “Don’t worry about it, Christy. I think I peed myself, too.”

  “Snoopi’s clothes?” Anna said. “And you obviously know what to do, Athena. You’re using Socratic Dialectic to lead us to your conclusion.”

  “I don’t have a good answer,” Athena said, frowning prettily. “I have an answer but it’s not a good answer. I don’t think there is a good answer. The best is probably Sarah’s in some ways. If we could safely open the door. I don’t think we can. Can we get those shutters off the window?”

  Ten minutes of fruitless searching for a control or release yielded the answer: No. The shutters were immovable. And when they tried the door, even moved the shelf blocking it, there was an immediate response from the other side.

  “So what is the bad answer?” Julianna said.

  “She’s already gagged,” Athena said. “Hold her nose till she stops struggling.”

  “Mercy, Athena,” Julianna said. “Even for you that is cold.”

  “That’s murder,” Brenda McCartney said. “You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life. At least you’ll deserve it!”

  “That is what well-paid lawyers are for,” Athena said. “ ‘Oh, it was so terrible in the storeroom!’ ” she said in a little girl voice, looking pitiful. “ ‘The claustrophobia! Boo hoo! I don’t know what came over me! It was just like Patty Hearst. And it was Brenda’s idea!’ But there are still more physical, nonsocial, problems. The body will . . . decompose. It will get much nastier than a puppy puddle on the floor in here. It’s going to, anyway. But a decomposing body is a whole other order of nasty. And I’m not sure I can do it. I mean, I’ve thought about holding her head under water until she stops struggling since her show started, not to mention the whole damned shoot. But actually doing it is another thing. So I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Table it,” Anna said. “She is not going anywhere. We still need to find something besides Christy’s reducing remnants of clothing to secure ourselves. And in the meantime, we can build . . . facilities and possibly find some answer to the dilemma.”

  “I don’t think there is an answer to the Plague in here, Anna,” Athena said, standing up. “But I take your point. Let’s go shopping!”

  * * *

  There was more than food and water in the room: The storehouse had been set up to respond to a variety of disasters. St. Barts was subject to both hurricanes and earthquakes, as were surrounding islands. Besides food and wat
er there was a supply of blue tarps, three boxes of “thermal” blankets, rope, rigger tape and other materials of the disaster response trade. There were even boxes of baby wipes. What there was not came down to medical supplies, a knife to cut the rope—couldn’t they have included some box cutters?—toilet paper, so much as one chemical toilet, damnit, or a cure for H7D3. Or some toilet paper for God’s sake? And, oh, yeah, some tampons maybe?

  “What are these?” Anna said, holding up what looked like an American MRE package except for being an odd pink.

  “Emergency meals,” Athena said. “Hey, Sarah, good news! There’s vegetarian! It’s even halal.”

  “What’s halal?” Sarah said warily.

  “Kosher for Islamics,” Athena said. “Just one case of toilet paper is too much to ask?”

  “Baby wipes,” Anna said.

  “We only have two cases of those,” Athena said. “These bitches will go through them in a day. Baby wipes are only for personal body cleaning. You can use one to clean your ass when you’re done with the rest of your body. Open up one of the halal meals and see if it’s got toilet paper in it.”

  “How do I get it open?” Anna said. The package was strong plastic and had no convenient opening tabs.

  “A knife,” Athena said. “Your teeth?”

  “I’ll get it,” Christy said. She tore into the package with her teeth.

  “God, I hope you don’t turn,” Athena said, wincing as the girl chewed through the heavy plastic. “If this was being recorded, no guy would ever again accept a blowjob from you.”

  “She’s not going to be able to bite through this rope,” Julianna said, holding up a coil of line.

  “Speaking of Brenda . . .” Athena said. “Sorry, I meant Snoopi . . .”

  “Very funny, Athena,” Brenda snarled.

  “How you feeling, Bren?” Athena said with mock sympathy. “Wishing you had some vaccine?”

  “Just shut the fuck up, Athena,” Brenda said.

  “Prisoners figure out how to create knives out of nothing,” Athena said. “Now if we only had Linsey in here with us . . .”

  “You take a piece of metal and grind it on the concrete till it’s sharp,” Sarah said.

  “Sounds about right,” Athena said. “Where’d you pick that up?”

  “Hello?” Sarah said. “Jailhouse Island?”

  “Ah, yes,” Athena said. “Academy material at its finest. Right up there with Casablanca in the annals of American cinematography. I was surprised you didn’t win the Oscar for that one. Especially given your nickname in the Academy.”

  “And what do you call this?” Julianna said, amused. “A group of female celebrities trapped in a storehouse during a plague. What madman would try to submit that script?”

  “A total pervert,” Athena said. “That’s for sure. And the answer is: ‘Celebrity Survivor, Zombie Apocalypse: The shit just got real.’ Still not getting the rope cut. We need sections of rope to play bondage-girl-party. We can’t just keep tearing up Christy’s clothes. I mean, well, we c— Just try to find something with an edge! I can’t believe none of you have so much as a nail file.”

  “Like this?” Christy said, pulling one out of her hair.

  “In your hair?” Athena said, clearly trying not to scream. “Your hair, for God’s sake? Do I even want to ask what a full body cavity search would turn up? Do you happen to be carrying a helicopter somewhere?” She looked at the girl’s face and sighed. “I’m sorry, Christy,” she said, hugging her. “I’m scared, too. And it’s great you were carrying so much useful stuff. I wish I had your . . .” She looked down, then back up. “Foresight.”

  As she spoke the lights went out.

  “Joy,” Athena said, with a sigh. “In seriousness, I don’t suppose you have a flashlight . . . somewhere . . . ?”

  “No,” Christy said. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved,” Princess Julianna said, chuckling.

  * * *

  Fortunately, there were enough gaps around the edges of the hurricane shutters that after their eyes adjusted they could see. Sawing through the ropes with one small nail file took time However, they had nothing but. And, even more fortunately, the gagged Snoopi was so far the only one to turn. And gagged.

  There was, surprising Athena not at all, a massive collective knowledge of various ways to tie someone up.

  “Or we could tie our wrists to our knees, like this . . .” Sarah said, using Christy as a model.

  “We need to be able to get out of them,” Julianna said.

  “Tighter,” Christy said huskily.

  “Not the point, Christy,” Anna said, hands on her hips.

  “Wanna make out?” Christy asked, her eyes lighting.

  “LATER!” Athena bellowed. “Just concentrate to the extent you can.”

  “Getting harder,” Sarah said.

  “I always wondered if you had those parts, Sarah,” Athena said.

  “Why is everyone in my industry insane?” Anna said, holding up her hands. “Can we get serious for a moment? I am going to kill my agent for talking me into this. ‘It’s in St. Barts, for God’s sake. You’ll have fun!’ ”

  “Honestly,” Athena said, “I’d rather be here than L.A. And if there is a God, all agents are going to be eaten. Not getting the problem solved . . .”

  * * *

  Best ways to secure themselves were eventually determined and Sarah and Christy got some, more or less, alone time at the back of the compartment. Although it was pointed out that either one could turn at any moment.

  “I just wish they would keep it down,” Anna said, hopping over to sit next to Athena. She leaned up against the shelving and sighed.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Athena said, shrugging. “If I didn’t have a strong sense of self-preservation, I’d think about joining in.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Anna said. “Go see Rebekah if you want someone’s neck to bite.”

  “But it’s a very nibblable neck, Anna,” Athena said, smiling.

  “Not funny in the circumstances, Athena,” Anna said. She gestured with her chin to Snoopi. “And that problem still remains. The answer to your earlier dilemma is the tarps and tape in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I did,” Athena said. “But . . . I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

  “Fine,” Anna said, standing up and hobbling over to Snoopi. She dropped her light wrist restraints, turned the struggling girl over facedown and sat on her back, pinning her to the ground. Then she reached around and pinched the former reality star’s nose closed.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Brenda said angrily.

  “What does it look like I am doing?” Anna said. She had her head turned away and her eyes closed. But she was still holding the girl down with almost no expression on her face.

  “You can’t do that,” Brenda protested weakly.

  “Just bloody well shut up, Brenda,” Anna said. “If I face the High Court I’ll simply plead guilty.”

  Finally, Snoopi stopped struggling. Anna checked for a carotid pulse, then stood up with the back of her hand over her mouth.

  “Brenda, go get a tarp and a roll of gaffer tape,” she said, her voice muffled. “Julianna, Athena, strip her. We need the rags and ties. Now, I’m going to go throw up. And don’t anyone make a joke about the world ‘becoming a better place.’ ”

  * * *

  “How are you doing?” Athena said, sitting down next to Anna.

  Brandon Jeeter, a “male” teen heart throb of such questionable sexuality French police categorized him as a woman, had just been added to the growing pile at the back of the storehouse. One by one over the last week members of the group had turned. First Snoopi, then Brenda McCartney, who before her death confessed she would have “cracked her own mother’s skull” for access to a vaccine despite her long-running opposition to the entire concept of vaccination. Rebekah Villon, famous mostly for her role as insipid character Berra from the Mid
night movies and amazingly useless douchebag. Ines Moretti, has-been Beverly Hills Teen Force star, PETA activist, aggressive sponsor of all things vegan, peace activist and flaming bitch, frankly. Heather Marks, overendowed blonde-bombshell super-model, virtually an Untouchable in Hollywood since coming out of the closet in opposition to abortion and as a concealed carry proponent. Also one of the small group Athena had come to depend upon to get things done. Last, prior to Brandon, was Michelle Bazuin, just about the most cold-hearted bitch in a land of cold-hearted bitches, whose transformation was particularly ironic, in Athena’s opinion, given her one big movie was Zombiehood.

  And Anna, quiet, composed, caring Anna, had strangled every single one to death with that same quiet, composed, cold expression.

  “Strange,” Anna said, rubbing her hands. “Feeling very much like Macbeth. The king, not the lady. Out, out, damned rope burns. And conflicted. I feel immense loss when someone as wonderful as Heather turns. We needed her.”

  “Agreed,” Athena said. “I miss her.”

  “And I feel even more guilt with those who . . .” Anna said, her face working. “I hate that . . . It was Brandon. The only guy, sort of, in the compartment and he could barely be forced to lift a box of rations much less be any real help. The world truly is a better place. God help me for thinking it much less saying it no matter how true. Conflicted.”

  “New rule,” Athena said, slipping out of her restraints and putting her arm around the girl. “Only you get to. And I think you switched a u for an a in that sentence. But you’re right. This is certainly a better place with him gone. Now if I could suggest Sarah?”

  “Don’t, please, Athena,” Anna said.

  “I’m scared,” Athena said. “I’m also . . . I’ve had a fever the whole time we’ve been in here. It won’t go away. I know what that means and it scares me. I get . . . bitchy, sarcastic and have a bad sense of humor when I’m scared. We all are. Christy just wants to fool around as much as possible before she goes. I don’t know why that girl never did porn.”

  “She told me nobody would take her seriously as an actress,” Anna said, holding up her hand as if swearing. “Honestly. That’s what she said when I asked.”