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JESSICA
A ripple of commotion runs through the old Rotchev House. At first, I think it’s Alvarez once again moving through the rooms to spread his kind smile and words of comfort.
Except it doesn’t take long to discern there’s a different edge to the ripple. A sharp sting of fear hits me.
“Everyone out!” bellows a shrill woman’s voice. Jeanie. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. She’s the bitch with the zombie who bit Shaun. “I want every last one of you outside and on the ground in five minutes. I’ll shoot someone for every extra minute it takes. The timer starts now.”
A single second of stunned silence hangs in the air. Then every person surges toward the single exit provided to us.
I position myself just behind Bella and Steph. A worry for them has been growing in my mind.
Steph barely escaped the last time Rosario’s goons got their hands on her. What’s going to happen to her now? To her and Bella?
I’m not stupid enough to think I can provide any sort of protection against men with guns, but I stick close to them anyway. Once upon a time, my whole world had been built on taking care of Shaun and my girls. If I’m honest with myself, I miss it. Desperately.
I miss making little ham and cheese sandwiches on sliced whole wheat with the crust cut off for Claire. I miss cutting out paper gingerbread men for May’s class. I even miss ironing Shaun’s shirts. Up until the apocalypse, I’d always assumed my calling in life was to be a housewife.
It had been a great gig.
We rush outside into the open dirt area around the old stone well. Shaun’s head lolls to one side, eyes slit as he watches us. Armed men and women form a lopsided circle. Jeanie waves us into the circle with her gun. She has on a new shirt that reads Assholes Live Forever.
“Into the circle, assholes,” she shouts. “Anyone who tries anything stupid will be shot. No warnings, no questions asked. Everyone on your knees with hands behind your head.”
I jostle Steph and Bella toward the center of the circle. Maybe if they’re in the thickest part of the group no one will notice them.
“Keep your heads down,” I murmur to them. “Don’t make eye contact.”
I surreptitiously take note of our situation. Four men and three women contain us in the lopsided circle, each of them with a leashed zombie. There are more perched on the rooftops of the surrounding RVs, every last one armed with multiple weapons. More people stroll about, all of them also armed.
“Thirty seconds.” Jeanie taps her wrist to emphasize the time, even though she doesn’t wear a watch. “Chop, chop.”
Fear and terror ripples through our people. I put my hands on the backs of Bella and Steph and push them to the ground. I drop to my knees beside them.
“Nice.” Jeanie rests her automatic in the crook of her arm to applaud us. “Twelve seconds to spare. We’re going to get along famously if you can keep this up.”
In my right periphery is Shaun. His head has lolled to the other side, but other than that, he hasn’t moved or made a sound.
In my left periphery is Alvarez. He’s also on his knees, playing the part of the cowed subject. I’ve spent enough time with him to know he’s taking advantage of this moment to size up our situation, to look for anything we could use to our advantage in the future.
It doesn’t take a genius to see there’s no advantage here. Rosario had us out-gunned and out-smarted from the beginning. Some of us are going to have to die. It’s the only way out of this situation. There are no fairy tale endings in the apocalypse.
“Slaves.” Rosario stands on top of an RV, staring down at us with her hands on her hips. Her voice cracks through the air like a whip. “You’re all familiar with the generic meaning. I’m referring to the pre-Civil War meaning of the word. American slaves. You are the first of a new generation. Get used to it.”
Slaves. I taste the truth of that word on my tongue. Slaves.
“The only good slave is a useful slave,” Rosario continues. The ruffles of her wide cotton dress puff up in the wind. “Anyone who doesn’t serve a purpose will be repurposed.”
The lackeys with the zombies waggle their long poles, causing the zombies to moan and swipe at the empty air in front of them. Our community contracts in response, all of us squishing closer together in the dirt.
“There’s only one rule: obedience in all things.” Rosario faces us, hands on her hips. “Just in case any of you have any ideas about being a hero. Anyone who defies me or my people will be beaten without question. If you survive that, you’ll be required to choose one among your fellow slaves to submit to death by zombie. If you don’t survive ...” She grins as the people shrink further into the ground at her words. “Well, if you don’t survive, my girl Jeanie will pick one among you to join your fearless leader on the post.”
Shaun.
“I’ll leave you with that warning,” Rosario says. “You get to decide whether or not I’m bluffing.”
She’s not bluffing. Anyone can see that. And there isn’t a soft face among her followers.
“Now,” Rosario continues, “we need able-bodied men and women who can fish. You will be expected to bring in a quota of food every day. Volunteers?”
Eyes dart back and forth. Heads turn.
A hand creeps into the air. Andrew. He’s out on the fishing boats almost every day.
A few more hands inch into the air.
“You, you, you.” Rosario scans the rest of the hands. “And you. Scooby, round ‘em up.” Rosario gestures to the man with one of the zombies. “I expect to be dining on fresh fish tonight.”
“You heard her,” Scooby barks. “Fishermen, with me.”
Slowly, hesitantly, Andrew and the others rise to their feet and make their way to Scooby.
“Now,” Rosario continues, “you can’t have fish without people to cook them. Who among you is a decent cook?”
Bella and Steph immediately raise their hands. Both have spent their fair share of hours in the communal kitchen. Hands of several older men and women also shoot into the air.
Rosario selects four people to cook. They’re taken to the communal kitchen, which has been set up in the largest of the RVs.
Bella and Steph are not among them. I notice two men leering in their direction. Sick dread takes root in me.
Rosario continues to tick off her list, dividing us into our new roles. It feels like we’re in a Sorting Hat horror movie.
Cleaners. Gardeners. Hard labor. Maintenance. Scavengers. Group by group, our people are led away.
Alvarez is among those who volunteer to tend our pathetic gardens outside the gates. He tries to get my attention as he raises his hand. No doubt out of his so-called obligation to Shaun to look after me.
We both know I have a black thumb. I ignore him and keep my hand down.
There are any number of roles I could fill. I don’t raise my hand for any of them.
Instead, I stay close to Bella and Steph. The two of them have raised their hands multiple times but have yet to be chosen.
And then the role I’ve been waiting for. The word crashes over my head like a shattering vase.
“Whores.” That brings grins to many faces, including some of Rosario’s women. “It’s a time-honored tradition for slaves to serve their masters in all capacities.”
No one raises their hand.
“No volunteers? We’ll just have to pick from among those who are left. Darren, pull out a few willing ladies.”
Darren, a skinny man with a wicked leer, beelines across the clearing. A sob breaks from Bella’s throat. It doesn’t take an idiot to know he’s heading straight toward her and Steph.
I can’t let him take the girls. Even though Alvarez has a plan in motion, I can’t risk anything happening to them.
“I’ll do it.” The hoarse words push themselves past my dry lips. My stomach threatens to empty itself onto my shoes. “I volunteer.”
“That’s more like it.” Rosario beams at me. “Darren, help the woman up.”
“But—”
“Get the woman up, Darren. She’s volunteered, after all.”
“But what about these two?” He jerks a sullen chin at Bella and Steph.
Bella looks like she’d rather be electrocuted on the spot. Tears of terror streak Steph’s face.
“I’ll take care of everyone.” Fury beats in my chest as I speak the words. I’m doing the right thing. Someone has to do this. I raise my chin to look at Rosario. “I don’t care how many. I’ll do it.”
“She’s a nympho,” bellows one of the men with an automatic. Chuckles run through our captors.
“No.” The single word rises from Shaun’s throat. His chin lifts as he looks in my direction.
I ignore him. There’s two of us who can fall on our swords, asshole.
“She’s either a nympho or a martyr,” Rosario says. “Guess we’ll find out. No other volunteers? Well then. If this pretty lady wants the job, it’s hers. If she isn’t up to the task, we can always institute the draft at a later time.” The threat is clear in her voice. “Darren, take her.”
As Darren grabs my arm with a venomous glare, I glance at Steph and Bella. I want to tell the girls these fuckheads can’t hurt me. I want them to know there isn’t anything worse than what’s already been done to me. I want to tell them to find a way to escape and get the hell out of this place.
There’s no chance. I’m taken to a smaller RV and thrown inside. Darren leers at me with promise in his eyes before slamming the door.