He looked at her. She stared back with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, I’ll run through it again before you leave if you can come back and say goodbye.” He said with a little speculation in his voice. He handed her the small white envelope, taking the larger orange one and locked it back up.
“Thanks,” she said, folding it up and tucking it into one of the front pockets of her pack. “I also want to pick up my dry.”
He came back to her and held up his hands. “Well I’m not going to have that here. Too wet to keep in this place. Violet said she’d hold it for you.” He gave her a bit of a childish guilty look.
“Yeah, I bet she did.” She put her pack back on and was about to head out, when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“When you head over there, I know Melody would like to see you. Have her chance to thank you. She’s been apprenticing since she came back.” His eyes got misty again, but he didn’t look away from her this time. “The others are there too.”
“Yeah, ok,” she said finally after a moment of consideration.
He gave her another heartfelt smile and patted her shoulder.
“If there’s anything else, just let me know. I mean it. It’s yours.”
“Got it.” She took a step away, then stopped and looked back at him. “Thanks,“ she said, then she started off again, the rest of them following silently.
“Thank you,” he said after her.
They started their way back around the rest of the pool. At one point they had to step over yards and yards of gutters that went from holes in the glass and stretched out to lead into the pool. The set up was genius, collecting rain water to keep the pool filled, and the plants watered. The gigantic greenhouse was a wonder. As they approached the entrance once again, a younger man jumped out from a plant row to stop Mac.
“Hey! Hold on, just a minute. I have some ready for you.” Before Mac could stop him, he was running off. When he returned he had a rag open in his hand, his palm full of marijuana buds.
“Not today, Lee, but I appreciate it.” She started to walk off.
“Oh, ok! Next time then.” He turned and went back to his business.
Joe watched him go with wide and hungry, disbelieving eyes.
As soon as they left the pool, Mac made a right to a painted brown door with gold looping letters that read Women’s Locker Room, and she didn’t hesitate to walk right it. The smell hit them immediately when they entered the space of a former lounge area. The scent of rich smoke wafted around them confusingly. They walked deeper in, first through the bathrooms with a few stalls and a wall of sinks with smudgy mirrors, then the large open showers where large slabs of meat hung to drain from the shower heads. Past that, it opened up to a two story space; its walls once a soft robins egg blue, now dingy with stains. A large skylight perfectly centered in the cieling over their heads let in the sunlight, illuminating the space. The top floor above them came out about five yards from the wall in a ring, closed off around the space with balconies. A few small tables were set up there with men and women working. The ground floor they stood on, once filled with rows of lockers, had almost all the doors missing. In the cavities were now stacks of dried meats.
They kept walking through, wondering where the smoke was coming from. As they were about to reach the other end of the locker room, they passed a set of three identical doors. One opened as they walked by, and inside they saw racks made from locker doors stacked up to the ceiling, covered with strips of drying meat in what used to be a sauna, now converted into a smoke house. In the center of the floor was a platform of patio stone, walls coming up all four sides where hot coals were placed. Now full of smoldering wood, a few animal legs hung directly above them from the ceiling. It was beyond impressive.
They passed through the other side walking through another bathroom, and then they were out in a hall again. Right across from them was a sign pointing to their right to the Spa, but Mac walked across the hall, and knocked on a door with a blue circle on it. They waited a bit, and Mac gave it one more knock. When there was still no answer, she mumbled shit under her breath, and then turned to follow the sign pointing towards the Spa.
Jack wondered what that was now going to be. It didn’t seem strange that there were guards at the double doors, but it was a little odd that the doors were covered over with what looked liked curtains from the inside. On the glass outside of them were blue circles all over. As they closed in on the facility, Mac stopped just in front of the guards as they stepped in to meet them at the door handles, blocking their entrance. Mac put on her meek persona again and spoke.
“I need to see Violet, please. She’s not in her room and it’s well…” She turned back and looked at Joe again sheepishly, then back to the guards. “It’s kind of important.”
One guard had already stepped back to his side while the other opened one door allowing her through. Cara started after her first, then Jack and Joe, but the guard stepped in front of the last two, blocking entrance.
“Women only,” he said, letting the door swing closed behind him.
“But I’m, uh, I’m her guard,” Joe said in his best attempt at sounding territorial and annoyed, which was pretty easy for him.
Jack peeked in as the door closed and only made out some women waiting around in the front room as Cara followed Mac further into the space out of view.
“Yeah. And now so are we, and we will be doing it from outside of this room. Here,” and the guard went back to his spot next to the doorway, and didn’t speak another word.
Jack pulled at Joe’s arm. “Come on, we’ll just wait over there,” he told him as he moved to the door Mac had first knocked on.
Inside Cara was following Mac through a labyrinth of hallways. Doors spotted the walls as they went, each closed. At the end of the hall was a larger room, the door open. The back wall was made of smooth pebbles that led down to what seemed had once been a fountain. Inside was a group of women sitting on worn couches set up in the shape of a horseshoe. At the opening stood a middle aged woman, hair wild around her head in more pepper than salt. Mac stood outside the doorway as the woman spoke.
“The latch is important. If it’s not done correctly, it will cause great pain for you and frustration for the little one. Lacerations can occur. Infections can set in causing fevers. We do not want to go down that road here. So please, if there are any problems, come to me right away and we’ll go over it again.” The woman seemed to have finished and was about to move on to her next topic, when she looked up and saw Mac standing there. “You know, I think we did great for today. Let’s save the rest for tomorrow. Focus on what we discussed. Same time as always.”
As the women rose up Cara noticed that out of the five women there, four were holding small new born babies wrapped in bath towels. She caught sight of a monogram embroidered on a hanging corner: Mind & Body, it read. The fifth woman still sat, struggling to get up as she was extremely pregnant. The speaker walked over and gave her a hand, helping raise her up off the couch. She patted her hand as she stood.
“Soon, it will be soon,” the speaker said to her kindly, with a huge warm smile on her face. “You can do this.” The pregnant woman looked exhausted, but gave her a small smile back as she waddled out the door and past them.
The speaker then gestured for them to come in. “Please close the door behind you. I have about ten minutes before they start to realize I let the group out early, and they all come rushing in with questions.”
“It seems you’re much busier than you were before. What’s changed?” Mac asked, leaning forward on the back of the couch that made the handle of the horseshoe shape.
“Well, it seems the problem that occurred the last time I saw you has become common practice now. Some come here to hide, others for help and education, or an ear to listen.”
“What do you mean, common practice?” Mac said. Cara noticed her hands gripping the upholstery hard.
The older w
oman sighed, and took a seat on the chair that sat at the opening to the couches. “It’s seems that Carmichael noticed that if certain allowances were made, there were less of other problems, and many more benefit. Particularly for him.”
“Hi, yeah, I’m sorry. What are we talking about?” Cara took a few steps into the room, sick of standing there feeling like an idiot.
The woman smiled at her and gave a soft chuckle. “Hello, my dear. I’m Violet.”
“Hi. Cara. Um, I’m going to need more information,” she paused as Mac looked back at her, face tight as stone, and eyes a blaze of anger. Cara was pretty sure none of it was directed at her, but she wanted to cover her bases. “If that’s alright?”
“Well, Ms. Cara. This entire place is quite large, and quite full. As a state of emergency was called at the beginning of all this, the Mind & Body Health Center was kind enough to open their doors as a shelter for those in need. Being that we are in a city center here ourselves, and close to another, even larger city, the place filled up fast as the sickness swept through even faster. I still believe Carmichael, the owner, didn’t think it was as bad as it was being told on television and was looking for some free publicity. But as things went on, we’ve now lived here as a permanent solution to the outside world. Inside is now its own city. There are laws, people in charge, occupations, and residences, currency and a sort of justice system. There is also a large spectrum of people. It started out as mostly the high end clientele of the establishment. This isn’t exactly an affordable place for the middle class. Then more people floated in of all kinds of backgrounds, but they were good people. Thank goodness they came because Bill, the plastic surgeon, wasn’t exactly skilled in agriculture, and Vivienne, the stock broker, wasn’t well versed in proper food prep. We eventually built what this place became: a hub, a market. But word spread, and other people came. Ones who didn’t need shelter, and were from other groups, and from there our trouble started.”
Cara interjected quickly, “So what are you? Violet, the therapist?”
She chuckled again. “No, I’m Violet, the midwife. One of the stragglers who found her way here in the first few weeks.”
Cara’s mind started working, going over everything she just saw and heard.
“And Evangeline here, is one of those people who heard of us and comes to trade at the market every now and again. A good one. But we also know, I’m sure, that she does other things too. When you need it most.”
Evie had paced over to the other side of the room as Violet spoke.
“When Evie had arrived last, we were in the middle of a new problem. More and more strangers were flooding in. Suddenly the guards, most of whom were police before and sent here to over see and keep us safe during the state of emergency, became the proud new owners of some larger, noisier weapons. And a few strangers seemed to be hanging around a bit longer, with a bit more access. Some of them began to, well, they took without asking, daring to be challenged. When little push back occurred, they began to take other things. People, women for the most part, at least for a few moments until their usefulness was had. That was not as easily looked past. But it gave the leader an idea to just open up another part of the market.”
“The red circles,” Cara said, clarity creeping into her brain.
“Yes. But where Evie comes in, is that, though the red circle is for volunteers only, willing participants looking to work, some customers wanted more of a selection. Which brought us back to the initial problem. They started to solve it in a way that was quick and efficient. I believe you saw some of its outcomes as you walked here down the path outside.”
Cara remembered all the wandering turned with bullet wounds. “Well, I’m not going to say I disagree with that solution for that behavior.”
Violet gave her an understanding nod, but took a long, sad breathe and continued, “Just as word spread of our food markets and facilities, the news of the red circle market got around faster, and something else started to happen. Instead of girls being forced, girls started going missing all together. Five in total by the time Evie came around last. People began to talk of outsiders wanting to start their own red circle market, but they weren’t waiting on volunteers. That’s when I spoke with Evie on behalf of my friend Garret, the gardener. His daughter, Melody was one of the taken.”
Cara began to put more pieces together, and her people started to come into the picture.
“Evie brought our girls back, and they told us about what happened. They were taken, and brought to a storage unit. I think we know what was done to them. But what Melody also told me was that they were being held for someone else. Sold to another party.”
Evie turned her head to Violet and locked in. This part of the story she didn’t know yet.
“That is where we find ourselves now. The strangers who became too comfortable here are even more comfortable here. But there are no more disappearances. What there are, are new punishments. Lately it has become very easy to be found guilty of something, even if you don’t have any idea what they’re talking about. Then you’re given a choice: become what they call ‘defenders’ now, the ones who line the path and lot, or pay the fine. The fine is usually one of their daughters or wives, sisters or girlfriend. All are sent to the red circle, but some are handed over to Solomon.”
“Solomon?” Evie questioned her, looking agitated by the new information.
“He seems to now be Carmichael’s right hand man. The power he came with was too intoxicating for him to pass up. You may have seen him before. He’s hard to miss at his size.” A look of comprehension flickered on Mac’s face, and Violet continued. “Solomon was an occasional visitor, hard to miss. He was the one who happened to bring the big guns a few months back, and then his visits became more frequent. His dealings here are almost entirely with Carmichael, always ending with his own hospitable invitation to enjoy the red market. And then the fines began, and the push back started. Suddenly Solomon was speaking to our community like Carmichael used to, while he sat in the background and watched, reaping in the rewards. That is when the Arena became part of our lives. No longer did they even attempt to hear out the accused crimes and the accused perpetrators. We would all be given a choice if found guilty: the arena, a defender, or pay the fine.”
“The arena? That’s not what I think it is, is it?” Cara asked, concern and disbelief mixing on her face.
“The larger dome, at the back, was built a few years ago when our city hosted the little league semi finals, contrastingly enough. Carmichael won the bid and had it built, making money during the region’s tournament hand over fist. Solomon has taken it now. If you dare to fight for your freedom, your life, you go there, no matter how pointless it may seem to the rest of us. Another occupation has been developed, marked with a black circle.” She now only looked at Evie. “No one ever wins. The dark fighters train all day in the gym. They’re fed, housed. There’s about five of them, all from the outside, brought in by Solomon. Those whose last chance is in there, never stood a chance to begin with. No challenger has yet to win. But it brings in even more people to the markets: spectators, customers, more goods coming and going.”
“So you’re telling me this arena is the stage for spectated killings?” Mac asked.
“They call is justice, but yes. If the body is a quick changer, then the winner is given a gun with one bullet to finish it. If they have the time to pull him out of the arena, it becomes a defender any way. And if they entered to protect someone they love, Solomon usually claims them at the end regardless. It’s a win, win, win for the house. There are some that volunteer out of desperation. Ones who bet on themselves to win food and supplies, but again, they never win.”
“What does it mean to be claimed by Solomon?” Mac asked with a tinge of disgust in her voice.
Violet took a deep breath and looked her right in the eye. “I think you know what it means, but sometimes, he takes them with him when he goes. They may not be disappearing anymore, but they are stil
l being taken. And they are not coming back.”
“Where?” she asked, growing more and more intense.
“We don’t know for sure. There were rumors of a place, even of someone Solomon answers too. But we assume it’s another red market, probably his, but frankly, who knows.” Violet’s voice faded off, and she rubbed her temple. “And Carmichael is happy enough with less mouths to feed, more room, and constant gains. The irony being that there will most likely be an influx of mouths in the coming months. I’ve had to take on three apprentices just to be able to consider being capable of meeting the needs of all these woman.”
“How many?” Mac asked through clenched teeth.
Violet looked at her confused for a moment. “How many of what, dear?”
“How many woman are unwillingly pregnant from all of this?”
“That we know of?” She paused considering the number. “Fifteen. At least that have come forward. We’ve had a few suicides that I believe stem from the realization.”
“Jesus Christ!” Cara exclaimed from the side of the room.
“I’ve tried to speak to Carmichael about it, but he doesn’t care to listen. He said when they start to show he’d start considering options, but for now, they’re still good product.”
Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone Page 45
