Chapter 11
The next morning I couldn’t look Mom in the eye. So much had been torn from her – her Bible, her security in the group, and her belief in the people she’d worked with, all because of me.
We plaited our hair into braids, Mom’s a single French down the back and mine in two different trails down the sides inches above my ears. The chill had reached our room and the cool tips of my fingers brushed my neck as I worked.
I had slept with the bindings on my chest. What if they compressed my breasts so much, I never saw them again? We were taking the whole twelve-year-old thing too far.
She didn’t speak as we grabbed our toothbrushes and pulled on our sweatshirts. The sun hadn’t been up long and a walk around the grounds as well as a visit to the outhouse before breakfast moved us out of bed earlier than we probably wanted. I would die before begging her to hurry. I had to use the toilet so bad I wanted to cry.
Opening the door quietly, Mom stuck her head out into the hall and waited. After less than a minute but what could have passed as eternity, she motioned me forward. I followed her, glancing back into our for-now-home before softly closing the door. I wasn’t completely comfortable leaving our stuff unattended, but Mom didn’t have any problems.
Windowless, the hallway’s dim interior didn’t register the rising sun. On the opposite end from us light illuminated the living quarters and the front door beyond. The house wasn’t huge but more than comfortable for a larger family.
We tread carefully over the hardwood floor which extended throughout the remainder of the home. Passing a door, I glanced through the small opening of the ajar panel.
A man’s body lay slumped over a desk. Black flies buzzed over a bloody hole in the back of his head.
I covered my mouth, smothering my gasp. Mom glanced sharply at me.
Swallowing, I shook my head and mouthed sorry. She hadn’t seen. I probably wasn’t meant to witness that. Who knows how long he’d been there. Since the uprising Jeanine had mentioned? Obviously there had been more violence than she’d let on. We moved past the door just as the fingers of a horrific odor stretched for us.
When would the fear stop raging through me? A normal emotion would be so nice right about then. Fear and anger had ruled me since – only a day or two ago.
Amazingly, the world had slipped into uncontrolled chaos only two days before. Two days. My life would never be normal again.
At the front door, Mom ushered me through, like she didn’t want me to be the last one in the building. After the man in the office, I didn’t argue or try to sidestep her maneuverings.
In the fresh early morning light, Mom and I lifted our shoulders as we breathed in. Dad had always called the move our shoulder breaths. I glanced at Mom. Did she remember that? It’d been so long ago.
She met my gaze, lifting her lip on one side. But her eyes had faded. Overnight my mom had changed. Facing the alterations in the brutally honest lighting hurt worse than if I’d taken her place last night. I reached for her hand, finding hers as she reached for mine. Our fingers clung to each other.
The outhouse had been constructed on a pier foundation and enclosed with brown painted paneling.
Groaning and creaking, the steps didn’t like us as we climbed the few stairs to get to the double doors. In a ten-by-ten square, four seats had been built for people to use at once. But they weren’t separated by partitions and they all accessed the same toilet paper which hung from the ceiling on a thick wire.
Over holes, plastic toilet seats screwed into place on crudely painted plywood. I pushed my lower jaw to the side and bit my lip. Tears threatened and I dashed them away as they overfilled and flowed from my eyelids. Porta-potties had always been the bane of my existence and there they were – something I’d have to live with the rest of… whatever this was.
“Let’s get this over with.” Mom sighed. She always hated them, too. And now we had to pee in front of each other. Oh, the stupid injustices.
The freezing cold seat, the lack of privacy, the odor of already spent waste – not one thing could be spun to a more optimistic outlook. Except my mom and I hadn’t died yet. The thought made me smile in spite of the questionable toilet paper I wrapped around my fingers.
“What’s so funny?” Mom stood, pulling her pants up, but not before fresh bruises below her underwear line caught my eye.
I looked away, determined to talk to her about Charlie and our circumstances. We could still leave. Why hadn’t we left?
“Trying to think of something positive and the first thought I had was we hadn’t died yet.” I followed her actions and stood, lowering the seat and not looking inside at other people’s remains.
She paused at the door, head tilted to the side as she considered my comment. “I guess you’re right.”
Accepting a huffing of air from her as the closest thing to a laugh I was going to get, I stretched my arms over my head.
Outside, no one else had arisen yet. At least from where we stood. Bathrooms were usually very busy places first thing in the morning.
The meal bell tolled once, the chime melancholy. My stomach grumbled as if on cue. “What do you think we’ll have for breakfast?”
“Probably oatmeal or creamed wheat. Cheapest stuff to keep on hand.” She didn’t lead us toward the dining area. Instead we headed to the fence-line surrounding the modest compound.
Built for permanently restricted privacy, the six-foot cedar fence surrounded the compound with determined stalwartness. Along the top of the border ran a two-foot diameter of tightly wound barbed-wire. The glaring points promised a fight and the metal cord wouldn’t lose.
With my chest bound so tightly, I could run without needing to change. The idea of exercising without fleeing from something or someone sent a thrill of giddiness through me. I glanced at Mom. “Do you want to go for a run? No one is out here.”
She lifted her gaze from the ground in front of us, careful to study as much of the camp as possible. After a prolonged moment where we trudged forward about twenty steps, she scrunched her nose and gave the barest head shake. “I don’t think we should let them see we can run.”
I grabbed her elbow, shaking her until she faced me. “Mom, why are we still here? Enough is enough. Thank you for your attempts to keep me safe. We. Don’t. Need. This. Seriously. Enough.” Tears pricked at my eyelids. Why was I so emotional that I couldn’t even plea for freedom without losing it? “We don’t trust them. They’ve taken our stuff. You’ve been… hurt… I mean come on, Mom. What are we doing?” Pausing, I allowed the silence to fill with the rustle of the tree limbs in the breeze. “My virginity isn’t worth that much.”
“Worth what?” She peered at me, like I knew something I wasn’t saying.
“Worth the bruises. Worth what you went through last night.” I lifted my jaw, challenging her to deny what I’d seen. I softened my grip. “Or the loss of your beliefs.” Raising my hands like in surrender, I released her arm. “I’m not saying I share the same faith as you, I’m saying nothing is worth trading that part of you, right? If nothing else, we shouldn’t give that up.”
She avoided me, watching the empty grounds and forest past the fence.
I nudged her shoulder with mine. “I mean, heck, maybe you and your prayers have kept us alive this long.” My playful laugh hid the sincerity of my words. I had no idea why we were allowed to survive. I couldn’t discount the power of Mom’s prayers and their potential role in keeping us alive. At some point we were destined to join Dad and Braden. Her prayers could sustain our lives there since each word was most likely built out of sheer stubbornness.
She nodded slightly and faced me. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
Uncomfortable with my impassioned speech to get through to her that I didn’t want her getting hurt for any reason, I shifted my feet. My stomach hurt. I couldn’t wait to eat – oatmeal or not.
We stamped around the fence line, careful to keep an even pace, not too fast nor too slow. I
understood the concept behind keeping our strengths and weaknesses close to our chests. We didn’t speak as we rounded the last hunting tent closest to the dining area.
Five women huddled in a group to the side while eight men sat and ate at the picnic tables. Dressed simply in gray cotton shirts and plain worn jeans, the women each had their arms crossed while they rubbed the tops of their arms and kind of jostled in place. The men, however, wore sweatshirts and flannels designed to ward off the chill.
At our approach, the men’s conversation died off as they spotted us one by one.
A thin, reed-like man stood, his features tightly pinched together like a weasel’s. “Where’s your man?” He growled, his voice much lower than his body would suggest.
“My man? Are you serious, Spencer? Don’t talk to me like you control me. I built this place just as much as you did – if not more. I’m here to eat with my daughter. Sit back down.” Mom’s derision drenched the immediate area. Authority strengthened her tone.
Glancing at each other, the guys sitting looked more constipated than confused. Spencer worked his mouth like he’d been shot and he couldn’t believe it. His face flushed and he barked at the women. “Get me more food.”
One of them jumped, dropping her arms to her sides and rushing toward the portable camp stove. A huge pot cooked over a propane-fed burner, the lid at an angle while a handle protruded from the opening. The girl fumbled with the lid then replaced it. She turned and ran to Spencer to claim his bowl.
He reached down and cuffed the side of her head. “I’m waiting you stupid girl.”
Mom jerked forward, then held back. She’d seen more than she wanted to. So had I.
“Well, well, you found the place.” Jeanine limped gracelessly under the canopy and grinned crookedly at Mom. Her right eyebrow had been split and discolored to a gnarly purple and red mix, swelling to half-cover her eye. With her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail which trailed down her back, Jeanine’s damaged ear and bruise-covered neck were plain to see.
Mom sidled toward her, careful to keep us distanced from the men sitting at the table. Whispering, Mom leaned in to Jeanine, placing her hand on her upper biceps. “Jeanine, are you okay? What’s going on? This isn’t what Larry had planned. What any of us planned.”
Careful to keep her expression light, Jeanine smiled brightly at Mom. She lifted her voice to encompass the group. “Let me show you where the restroom is. Sometimes, it’s hard to figure things out here – since Charlie reorganized things.” She smiled at the men and ignored the group of girls. “Come this way.”
The last time we followed Jeanine we ended up in a camp where a control freak had taken us to stay in a small bedroom off of his with a stolen gun – who took people’s things no less. Why, then, did Mom follow her so willingly? Why, too, did the men wiggle their eyebrows at Jeanine and catcall?
Over the yard, the distance to the bathroom went quickly as Jeanine picked up the pace the further from the eating area we got. She burst through the doors and slammed them shut behind us. Leaning against the panel, she slid to the floor, sobbing into her hands.
Mom flicked her gaze toward me then squatted beside the broken-down woman. “What’s going on?”
Heaven help Jeanine, if she thought she wouldn’t have to be straight with my mom. When Mom used that tone, you answered or you got ripped a new one.
Jeanine didn’t need encouragement or persuasion. Her sobs subsided enough she could lightly pant and talk. “This isn’t how life after was supposed to be. Larry had everything planned perfectly. We were all friends before and then Charlie came in and shot Larry—”
“Is he the one in the office inside the house?” I grimaced at the sharp glance my mom sent me. I ducked my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Nodding, Jeanine bit her lip. “After he killed Larry, Charlie brought in new people. Spencer and Sarge totally went for it because Charlie promised them all kinds of things – like girls.” She bared her teeth. “Because I can’t think of any girl desperate enough to want a jerk like Spencer, and Sarge is a dumb stupid animal.”
Her assessments seemed spot on. From what I’d witnessed, Jeanine had a firm grasp on the realities of the camp.
“Who did this to you?” Mom softly pushed stray strands of hair off Jeanine’s face, revealing more scrapes and developing bruises along her hair line.
Jeanine raised her shaking hand to wipe at her nose, ligature marks bright red and purple on her wrists as her sleeves pulled back. “Those men and some others last night.”
I gasped. What else could I do? I only ever read about the cruelty of people in banned books we’d traded behind the bleachers at school. Only a few hours into devastation and society had completely disappeared. “I thought this place was supposed to be safe, Mom. Haven’t you seen enough?” People had lost all sense of decency. I grabbed her arm. “Please, we need to get out of here.”
Clutching Mom’s forearm, Jeanine pulled her close, her one eye wide and focused. “Megan, listen to your daughter. You need to get out now. In between…” She averted her eyes for a moment, lost in a fresh memory burning pain into the creases of her face, then refocused on Mom’s face. “The men were talking about splitting up some of the women, trading them to other camps or groups for supplies.” She bit her lip, peeked at me, then focused on her lap. “They mentioned your daughter.”
Mom jerked back like she’d been slapped. “We just got here. Charlie promis—”
Angrily, Jeanine wrapped her fingers into Mom’s jacket. “Charlie, huh? You think he’s so great? He led the activity last night. And he was the one who brought her name up.” She paused, her chest heaving with each impassioned gasp. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
Slowly shaking her head, Mom whispered. “No. I never would’ve come.”
Searching Mom’s face then mine, Jeanine drew back her lips in a snarl. “Leave. You have to. Before…” She looked down at herself as if realizing she had survived the incident. Sobbing, she tried covering herself up – even though she was fully clothed. “They’re going to keep doing it. Over and over. They promised.” Her entire body shook with spastic jerks.
Mom reached forward and wrapped her arms around Jeanine. The tight hold calmed the woman and Mom rocked her for a minute, maybe two. After Jeanine calmed down, Mom pulled back and met her gaze. “If we go, you’re going with us. Do you think any of the other women would want to go?”
“You would want me to go with you?” Hope sparked behind the despair in Jeanine’s eyes and the deep lines around her mouth and lining her forehead smoothed as she watched us for a trick or a lie.
“Of course. If we’re getting out, you are, too.” Mom stood, offering her hand to Jeanine and pulling her upright. “We need a plan. Other than meal times, what kind of a schedule are we looking at?”
“We haven’t been here long enough for one to be implemented. Charlie kept the meal schedule because he didn’t want to have so many people eating together. Mostly the perimeter watch is where the change is. He doesn’t have everyone watching, only certain guys and they aren’t from our original group. Our last chance will be by tomorrow morning. The perimeter is getting sealed so that the only things going in or out are by the front gate and with his permission.” Her lip curved wistfully. “If only our plans would’ve worked out. We had some great things going, you know?”
“Still do, don’t give up. We need to get out of here. Finding something else won’t be hard.” Mom slung her arm over my shoulder and pinned me to her side. Drawing Jeanine closer with a tug on her wrist, Mom lowered her voice. “Get your stuff together and we’ll meet you tonight behind this building. When Kelly and I walked earlier, I noticed a small man-gate in the fence.”
“I didn’t see that, really?” How had I missed it? Oh, maybe that was when I had focused so hard on trying to convince Mom to leave. She’d been more aware of her surroundings than I assumed.
Jeanine pushed at the hair slipping
from her rubber band and falling around her face. “Yeah, but it’s guarded.”
“We’ll get around the guard. I’m not worried. Meet us right at dark and if you’re there before us, wait outside the fence in the forest. We’ll find each other.” She met each of our gazes. “Don’t wait inside, do you hear me? Just get out. Things are safer outside than in.”
The camp had finally hit the horror point of being worse than the end of the world. How was Mom handling the breakdown of her plans?
The only way she knew how – make new ones.