John Ringo - Islands of Rage and Hope

Although, she was an unabashed slut. She hadn’t just been batting her eyes at the guys to get them to bow to her every command.

“They turned it over to the local gendarmerie when it was deactivated,” Athena continued. “So it is, yeah, a fortress.”

“How much farther do we have to walk?” Christy Southard whined.

“Probably to the great big building, Christy,” Athena said, slowly and carefully. “Maybe if you had worn real shoes it wouldn’t seem so far.”

The “singer” and reality TV star, mostly known for enormous boobs and being one of several live-in girlfriends of an eighty-year-old producer, had worn her de rigueur stiletto stripper heels for the walk across the island from Anse Grand Saline to the police headquarters. She’d worn them the whole shoot except for her occasional ventures into the water. Give her credit, she was actually good at underwater foraging. Athena had pointed out, on camera no less, that Christy had the benefit of a built in flotation system.

“I’ll be happy to help you up the hill, miss,” an older English gentleman said, holding out his arm.

“Do I know you?” Christy asked, warily.

“Let me handle the introductions,” Athena said airily. “Jerome Arthurson, Top Speed announcer, Christy Southard, professional slut. Christy, Jerry, Jerry, Christy.”

“Hello, Athena,” Jerome said, smiling broadly. “I see you’ve been enjoying the sunshine.”

“Better than your show,” Athena said. “Does it ever not rain in Sheffield? And I swear I could still smell Michael Moore on the seats. It’s a distinct smell. Don’t you fumigate it? Ever?”

“Positive and encouraging as always,” Jerome said. “Miss Southard, please let me take this opportunity to invite you on my show as soon as this unpleasantness is passed.”

“What show?” Christy asked.

“ Top Speed ?” Jerome said, sounding somewhat miffed. “Number one show on the Beeb?”

“What’s the Beeb?” Christy asked, confused. “Is that like Bravo? I’ve got my own show on Bravo! It’s called Christy Says !”

“Jerry,” Athena said. “You learn to dial it back a bit with Christy. Speak slowly and use words of no more than two syllables.”

“It is a car show on the BBC,” Jerome said slowly.

“They put a star in a cheap ass car,” Athena said. “And then you race around a track like a crazed squirrel.”

“Oh, like NASCAR?” Christy said. “I just love NASCAR!”

“How…unsurprising,” Jerome said. “Yes, somewhat like… NASCAR,” he finished with a wince.

“What are you doing on Sunny St. Barts?” Athena asked.

“Vacation, oddly enough,” Jerome said. “Quite ruined at this point.”

“Unaccompanied?” Athena said.

“My wife and I are having some complications,” Jerome said. “Nothing serious. Just time for a short change of scenery.”

“Wasn’t what I asked,” Athena said archly. “That would be wife four, right? Interviewing for five were we?”

“If I were I assure you I’d have a beautiful lady on both arms,” Jerome said. “And, no, just some time off. As it is…”

“Worried about your family?” Anna asked.

“Very,” Jerome said. “Friends, family. Family.”

“We all are,” Athena said seriously. She patted him on the shoulder. “They’re not going to let anything happen to Jerome Arthurson’s family, Jerry.”

“I think my educational background might have prepared me more for the eventuality that nothing ‘they’ can do may matter,” Jerome said. “I understand the Black Death is rather scarcely covered in American schools.”

“I didn’t go to most schools,” Athena said. “Although I think Poe covered it best. It won’t get that bad, Jerry. She’ll be there when you get home.”

“I’m worried about Steve,” Christy said. “The last time I got through to his cell all I got was voicemail. And that was two weeks ago.”

“We’re all worried, Christy,” Anna said. “We all have people we’re worried about—”

“ Attencion! ” a man with a bullhorn said. “We will use English, then I will translate to French and German. There are two storehouses for disaster materials in the building. You will be segregated by sex so as to avoid any…problems during the period of your, hopefully short, stay. It is hoped it shall be very short as there are minimal facilities of all types in this building. But it is the most secure building on the island and here we, the gendarmerie, can deal with any problems that arise much more swiftly and surely. Now, English speakers please wait while I translate…”

“Well, it appears I must bid you adieu, fair lady,” Jerome said, kissing Christy’s hand. “I hope that you enjoy your ‘hopefully short’ stay in the castle.”

“I’m already hoping for Prince Charming,” Athena said, looking up at the gray, three-story, precast concrete building. “Or Princess. I’m easy.”

“That you are, dear lady,” Jerome said. “That you are.” He winked at the group and headed over to the “male” side.

The room was, as promised, a storehouse. More like a warehouse. There were industrial shelves holding boxes, as well as pallets with more boxes and stacked five gallon cans. There were three windows but they were covered by roll-down hurricane shutters. If the lights went out, the room was going to be quite dim.

What was entirely missing were cots, mattresses, blankets, sheets or, perhaps most importantly, a loo. Nor were there any apparent bottles of water. All of which was causing the various women who had been led to the room to have conniption fits.

“I can only drink Holister Springs…”

“Are there vegan meals…?”

“Where are we supposed to sleep …?”

“Where’s the bathroom…?”

“HEY!” Athena suddenly bellowed like a drill sergeant. “Shut up all you bitches or I swear to God I will cunt punt you. Next bitch says a word I will slap you silly. Monsieur, ” she said, changing to a purr. “ De la plus grande importance est la question d’une toilette? Et de l’eau?”

“ Mademoiselle, ” the harried gendarme said, nodding in thanks. “We will take individuals to the toilet in the main police area. As to water, those boxes have emergency water bottles in them,” he added, pointing. “For the rest…there are currently no good answers and with that I must leave.”

He quickly shut the door and was gone.

“There is no way I’m—” Brenda McCartney started to say.

Athena took two steps and hit the larger girl with a roundhouse slap so hard it knocked her off her feet.

“We are in a fucking disaster !” Athena shouted, striding to each woman and looking them in the eye. “Not a fucking movie . Not a fucking reality show. Real reality. A fucking disaster! Who knows how much worse it’s going to get? Which of you are going to turn, huh? Am I? You feel sick? How’s that head? Huh? Spinny? Got a fever? Huh? We’ve all SEEN IT.

“So forget the bullshit ! We are fucked. Screwed. Blued and tattooed. There is no Evian! There are no special meals! There are no PAs with fruit baskets. There is no kosher if that’s your bitch. There is pure and simple really real survival . Not the fucking show. So start acting like it! All a human needs is a little nutrition and some water that’s hopefully not too fucked up. Or you can sit in the corner and starve, which in your case, Brenda, wouldn’t be a bad idea. But you will die in three days without water and I guarantee you you would drink piss long before that.