Tracey Ward - Writing on the Wall

“Joss!”

“Yes!” I shout back, surprising myself. My eyes are evening out, becoming adjusted to the light. I can see Vin’s face now. He’s being hauled out by three guys but he’s staring straight at me, his eyes focused hard on mine.

“Yeah, Vin.” I repeat calmly, slipping the shiv up into my sleeve as I step closer to his girls. “We have a deal.”

I have no idea where we are other than beside the water. In front of us is a huge white building with faded blue trim. It looks like a warehouse that was once dressed up to serve a grander purpose. Kind of like a train station or library. It squats on the upper left corner of a large lot full of green space that is being used for planting. The even rows suggest fields, though any crop is far out of season at the moment. I shiver against the cold, missing my jacket and hating being this close to the water. It surrounds the lot on all sides but one; the south side where we entered. When I look back at it I can see a row of multicolored, weathered shipping containers stacked two high. The line of them runs from shore to shore. Most containers are lined up end to end except for two right in the middle. They’re running the opposite direction so that they can be opened and vehicles, like ours, are allowed to pass through. Now they stand locked up tight, an impassible barrier for zombies and Lost Boys. And us.

They take Vin away immediately, leading him through a side door and out of sight. He goes quietly once I’ve made my promise, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. The tightness in his step. They’d be wise to keep an eye on him.

Breanne, Nats and I are left standing out in the cold surrounded by three men on guard. I don’t know what month it is but judging by the briskness in the air, I’d say it’s almost December.

Christmas time.

The thought pisses me off almost more than being taken prisoner. Almost.

“Can we go inside yet?” Nats asks a guard, glaring at him. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

The guy with the gentle hands shakes his head apologetically. “We have to wait for the women to come get you. They’ll take you to the showers.”

“Hot showers?” Breanne asks hopefully. She’s clinging to Nats’ arm the way she was clinging to Vin before and I find myself getting annoyed with her. It’d be brilliant if it was all an act, making herself look meek and afraid only to throw them off, but I’m pretty sure this is her 100%. I’m already regretting taking on the role of babysitter.

“Hot showers.” gentle guy says with a small smile.

“What then?” I ask, my voice hard. “What do you do with us then?”

“Then we’ll get you something to eat.” He smiles at Breanne again. “Something hot. After that you’ll get a tour and you’ll be assigned a bed. Then we’ll help you get acclimated, start helping you find the right job.”

“What if I don’t want a job?”

His smile fades. “We all work. You’ll need to contribute to stay here.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to contribute. So if you’ll just show me the door…”

“You’ll learn.”

“Learn what? To like prison? No thank you.”

“This is for your own good.” another guy tells me, his eyes pitying. “You can’t survive out there alone. We’re here to save you.”

I glare at him. “I’ve survived out there alone for the better part of a decade. I don’t need you or your protection.”

He shakes his head sadly. “You’ll learn.”

I’m certain I don’t want to know what they plan to teach me here.

A door swings open on creaking hinges, drawing all of our stares. Three women come out one by one in a line, all of them perfectly clean and groomed. Their soft, shining hair catches the sunlight and a small breeze, rippling like silk. They all look to be about late 20s or early 30s and they’re all beautiful. I feel especially grimy just looking at them and I realize that with the chill in the air lately I haven’t risked a full washing in almost a month. It’s too cold to have wet hair this time of year.

A blond walks up to us smiling brightly as she fakes a shiver. “Ooh, it’s cold out, isn’t it? Let’s make this quick! Ladies and—oh, I thought we had ourselves a gentleman as well?” she says, looking questioningly at the men guarding us.

“He’s already been taken in.”

She blinks once long and hard but her smile never fails. It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen and, as you can imagine, I’ve seen some seriously creepy things in my day.

“No matter. At any rate, ladies, welcome to the MOHAI!”

We all stare at her blankly.

“As you may not know,” she continues happily. “The MOHAI was, and some of us feel still is , the Seattle Museum of History and Industry. It’s a beautiful building with very exciting exhibits inside. Now, admittedly, we’ve taken a lot of them down and disposed of them due to space issues but there’s still some fun stuff to see.”

I look sideways at Nats. I’m relieved to see my confusion mirrored on her face.

What the hell is happening here?

“Now,” says Tour Guide Barbie, turning serious. “We are so excited to have you here and we can’t wait to show you just everything but first things first. We have to get you cleaned up. So, if you’ll follow me I’ll take you straight to the showers.”

As she turns her back, I look her and the other women up and down, searching for weapons. The men who have been standing guard all have utility belts on with knives, sharp screwdrivers and either a hammer or a heavy wrench. One even looks like he might have a Taser, something I’ve been eyeing since we left the van.

But the women appear to be defenseless. It has me thinking of the shiv in my pocket. As we follow them inside the door I notice how they break us up. They usher in Breanne, then one of them, then Nats, another of them, then the blond ushers me in ahead of her with that saccharine smile of hers. If I get a chance to cut anybody today, it’s going to be her.

The inside is warm and dry. And lit! There are actual light bulbs in sockets hanging from the ceiling at regular intervals. We walk down a long, narrow hallway that expands into a big open room, one wall of which is lined with showerheads. It’s been stripped down to just cement walls and floors with a big drain in the middle and I wonder what it was before. Storage? A break room?

“Alright.” the blond says, clapping her hands together sharply. The snap of skin against skin echoes through the large room sounding like a gunshot. “My name is Caroline. This is Melissa and Andrea. What we’re going to do is get you clean. All of you. Every last inch. You’ve been living in the wild for so long we have to take some precautions so this is going to be thorough. Please don’t be embarrassed, we’ve all gone through it.”

“What exactly are you going to do?” Nats asks, stepping closer to Breanne.

One of the other women, a brunette who I believe is Melissa, smiles at her reassuringly. “Nothing scary, don’t worry. We’re going to help you wash your hair with lice shampoo, use some exfoliating scrubs, use an antibacterial soap to eliminate… well.”

“Bacteria?” I ask dryly.

She looks at me, her smile slipping. “Everything undesirable.”

“So to begin we need you all to strip down, please.” Caroline says, closing the door to the hall and flipping the lock.

“Already locking us in?” I ask her.

“No, I’m locking the men out. Prying eyes are not welcome here. We want you to feel safe. Comfortable.” She smiles broadly, catching eyes with Breanne. “Pampered even.”

Breanne smiles and begins to pull her clothes off. They look clean but worn out, something unavoidable on the outside, even in the stables of the biggest gang in Seattle. Nats follows suite though she does it with much less zeal. The shiny trio smiles approvingly at them then casts their eyes on me. I can’t exactly escape right now, with or without Vin and the girls, and I’ll be honest, a hot shower with real soap sounds amazing. But I’m worried about my shiv. I’m going to lose it, there’s no two ways about that. I can’t hide it from them here and I know they’ll burn my clothes once I give them up.