Chapter Ten

Addey cried and cried. The release of tears was as potent as ten shots of alcohol. She wiped the tears with the backs of her hands, ending the moment. She couldn’t fight the split-second images of Deke’s death. His blood. Junior’s concave wound to the skull. And she was dead on paper, but more importantly, to her family too.

“I’m so sorry, Deke.”

Odd talking to herself in the dark, so she finally flipped the switch on the wall. The room was compact. Twin-size bed. Oak bureau and matching desk. A Zenith flat screen hanging on the wall like an oversize picture frame. The bathroom and shower left barely enough room to stand in place without bumping into one of the fixtures. The floor was tiles, the walls an ugly mother-of-pearl color.

“It’s not the Ritz, and it’s sure as shit not home.”

She opened the standing bureau. Rows of clothes faced her, the same as what she was wearing now: white button-up tops and black pants. The shoes ranged from pumps to steel-toed boots. Panties, stockings and socks were on the bottom shelf. The room stank of fresh bleach. Had someone else resided here recently?

I bet people die here all the time.

The inhabitants of the boat didn’t fully realize that reality, but it was finally sinking in for her. Death was a possibility—an expectation—and she was her only bodyguard. Tomorrow morning would be the beginning of work. She had a feeling she was going to meet one of the monsters from the manila folder up close. She was curious as much as alarmed at that prospect.

Addey showered clean the smell of salt water and layers of sweat she’d built up on the boat. The products were institutionalized, the ugly tan bottles labeled soap, shampoo and conditioner. There was another tier to the plastic shelf installed in the shower, containing shaving cream and a razor.

Finished cleaning up, she wrapped herself in a dark blue terry cloth robe and sat on the edge of the bed, patting dry her hair. She was so tired now, and against her intuition, she rolled back on the bed and closed her eyes.

Sleep came effortlessly.

 

 

“Addey.”

It was a summoning from the bottom of a chasm.

Again, “Addey…waaaaake up.”

The statement was wispy and broken apart by distance.

“Addey, you’re in danger!”

She was jolted from sleep. Static electricity clung to the bedsheet, shocking her enough to give her a real startle. The room was dark, though she didn’t remember flipping off the lights. She gawked at the tall-standing mirror on the wall. In the glass was a ghastly figure lit up by a bluish-white light, like a Bunsen burner flame. The face was a mere reflection of a reflection, weak, but sharp enough to distinguish the speaker. It was Deke. He was sodden in blood, drenched from the still-gushing bullet wound to the chest. The villainous expression he’d worn before had faded into humbled fear. He beckoned to her with every shred of his life: light, energy and soul. Addey wasn’t sure what was left of him.

Farther away his image fluttered, as if something was dragging him back to where he’d come from, and he shouted at her in one last round of desperation. “This island won’t be the same soon, maybe in days. There will be a war. So many will die brutally. I can see it now, but I don’t know why. You have to find out why, Addey. You must escape before it happens!”

“But how do I find out what’s going on?” She couldn’t believe she was talking to a mirror, even seizing it by the edges and shaking the thing. “Jesus, they’ve got electric fences up. I’m on an island without transportation. Nobody can swim that far. I can’t escape. There’s nowhere to go!”

Deke’s image turned murky and then all went dark the moment his final words were issued. “The monsters are plotting against us.”

She clung to the mirror. “Please come back. I need you. I’m all alone here. Come back! Deke, don’t leave me!”

She stared up at the mirror, reflecting a woman out of sorts.

“It hasn’t even been a day yet, and I’m already losing my mind.”

She recuperated from Deke’s visit after fifteen minutes alone with a blank mirror. She checked the clock. It was eleven at night. They would get her up early in the morning to put her to work doing God knew what.

Addey was about to slip under the sheets again when there was a knock on the door. The face behind the door was a militant one. She was buzz cut—a Demi Moore GI Jane replica. The woman’s speech was straight to the point. “I am a friend to all the women here. May I come in? I have a few things to go over with you. I want to fill you in on some details.”

She didn’t feel like having the stranger near her, but it wasn’t her choice to let her in or not by the way the woman wedged her foot in the door and teased it open. The door closed, and the woman began talking. She stood in the same uniform as the rest of them, except the gold name tag over her left breast read Grace Moony.

“My name’s Grace, and I know you’re Addey Ruanova.” She scribbled on a clipboard. “I’m going to level with you. This is no cakewalk. There’s no police. I receive complaints of misconduct on a daily basis, even on the hour. Rape, for one, perpetrated by male and females alike. This happens most often in the working yards and in living quarters. People plan, orchestrate and perpetrate sexual crimes. That’s why it’s my job to tell you any defense goes. You can’t get in trouble for defending yourself.”

How about making people not rape at all? How about some fucking regulation?

“Do people get punished for these offenses?”

Grace’s smile shifted, and her eyes went small. “Yes, they do.” She moved on without providing the details. “Defense classes have taught us men hate their balls being punched, but I prefer to squeeze them and really grind them up. The next sexual thought on their mind will send a jolt of pain into their libidos. The eyes are another pressure point too. Poke them out. Shove your fingers into the back of their scandalous heads. Reports do little to prevent rapes, I’ll confess.”

The woman removed her holster belt and handed it to Addey. “You now have a .28 caliber pistol, a spray can of Mace and a Ka-Bar knife. My best advice, and I’ve been doing this for the better part of six years, is to grow a spine. If anybody tries anything funny, shoot them without hesitation. It’s your decision if you shoot to kill, but know this: if your attacker gets up after a bullet to the arm or leg, you’re in deeper trouble than you were before. It’s best to finish them off. Nobody will hold it against you.”

“Nobody will hold it against you.” I keep hearing that phrase.

“What if somebody shoots me, and I didn’t do anything? Will there be a trial?”

Grace’s eyes honed in on her; then, dodging the question, she moved on. “The first and only summons will be a knock on your door promptly at five thirty a.m. You will be expected to be waiting outside your door at six, ready to go. That will be all. Good night.”

The woman closed her door; then Addey locked it.

“What a consultation.”

She clutched the holster, unsure of the protection it offered. Addey hadn’t fired a gun before. She laughed nervously, holding the Mace and teaching herself how to use it. The label of the mace read, Maximum Strength. Will Cause Temporary Blindness and Possible Loss of Faculties.

Will somebody shit themselves if I use this?

Now that might be helpful. Nobody wants to rape you if they just dookied their pants.

She unsheathed the Ka-Bar knife. The blade was six inches long, the girth an inch. She’d seen a Ka-Bar knife before from her uncle, Eddie, an ex-Marine, and his was much larger. This was modified for the masses, like the kind you could buy at Walmart. She pictured jamming it in somebody’s stomach. The image repelled her as much as the idea of having to use it.

Addey wasn’t fond of hiding a gun under the pillow, so she placed the holster on the floor and kept the knife in her clutches. It never hurts to be too careful.

She turned off the lights and tried to sleep.