by Shade Owens
But what caught my attention most of all were their bellies—most of them stuck out past their breasts. Some were large and round, others small and hard-looking. A few women barely had a bump at all yet still walked with a hand held gently over their stomachs.
“What’s going on?” Dibs asked, leaning into Sammy.
Sammy did the same thing to Murk, who was in the middle of chewing a piece of poorly cooked plantain. She didn’t say anything and instead stared at the ground through loud chews. She hadn’t spoken a word to us since Sammy had essentially announced to Murk that she was one of us.
“Serenity Day,” someone said.
I turned around to find a girl likely close to my age chomping down on some braided leaf. The tip of her crooked nose was covered in dirt as if she’d tried to locate food underground.
Then, without a care in the world, she shrugged and added, “Pregnant ladies pretty much get a spa day. Guess to keep them happy, or, whatever. You know. For the babies.”
Sammy scoffed. “A spa day?”
The brown-nosed girl shrugged again. “Yeah. The Beasts basically give them free rein every five sleeps. They even take ’em to the beach to go swimming. Not like they’d ever let us do that.”
I watched as the dozen or so pregnant women crossed through the city, accompanied by Northers on either side of them. They weren’t shackled at the ankles, nor were they tied to each other.
“In other words, they get sex and treated like royalty?” Dibs asked. “Why the hell didn’t one of those men take me?”
“’Cause you’re ugly,” Scorch said.
She must have been projecting; Scorch was the one with the burn marks across her face. They reminded me of Sumi’s burns—bubbly pink flesh that resembled melted rubber. The burns ran along the right side of her face, slanting her brow down into an abnormal position. It looked fairly fresh, which meant the burns had no doubt happened during the attack on our Village.
Dibs retaliated by pinching her arm and Scorch swatted back at her.
“Stop it,” Sammy growled, and the two smaller skinheads stopped their childish bickering.
“One of our women was taken by those goddamn bastards,” she said. “You honestly think they’re taking BluJay for a joy ride? This isn’t some sick fantasy. Those brutes are having their way with her and probably abusing the hell out of her.”
Everyone cast their eyes to the ground until Dibs reached across Scorch’s shoulder and grabbed a green banana from underneath the food tent. Today, they hadn’t given us any meat, but we’d received lunch—nuts, fruit, and vegetables. It didn’t make sense to me given the amount of elephant meat we’d gathered. What were they hoping to do? Cure all of it? Why couldn’t they share a bit with us? Every now and then, some of the Northers came to Bear’s corner to grab fresh meat and pile it up on a wooden plank fastened by ropes. They’d then open the gates and drag it inside.
So that’s why the pregnant women looked so healthy—they were fed a balanced diet. The Northers were no doubt also feeding all of this meat to their growing army. I’d seen it for myself… They’d captured tons of women and brainwashed them into becoming their perfect little soldiers. They’d done such a good job at it that I could no longer tell the brainwashed soldiers from the Orphans unless I caught a glimpse of an orphan tattoo on a wrist.
They were all Northers to me; they were all Beasts.
And as for the Originals, well, I hadn’t seen them since I’d come back to this god-awful place. I’d learned to tell them apart from the Orphans by the wrinkles on their faces—they were much older than the Russian Orphans being that they’d escaped with Rainer decades ago.
Where were they now? Relishing in their lavish life of luxury? Eating grapes off grapevines and sleeping in feather-constructed beds? That was the whole point of our slavery, wasn’t it? So that they could enjoy their life on this island?
“Where’s BluJay?” I asked, eyeing the lineup of pregnant women.
They disappeared into the thick greenery, excited chatter bouncing off the trees.
Sammy shrugged. “Maybe they haven’t managed to impregnate her yet.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
“Maybe she was useless to them and they killed her,” Fran said as if describing the weather.
Out of nowhere, Sammy grabbed Fran by the throat. “What’d you say, grandma?”
Without hesitation, Pam came to her friend’s rescue. With a plump red face and a fist clenched so tight her knuckles looked like glass shards, she punched Sammy in the side of her shaved head, right on her ear.
Surprisingly, the impact was pretty hard—as hard as a punch delivered by someone far younger. It made a loud clapping sound, and Sammy’s head shook as she stumbled back, reaching for her ear.
“Yo, what the hell—” she started, looking disoriented.
As she tripped over her own feet, her elbow jabbed Snow Face in the back of the ribs.
Slowly, Snow Face turned sideways to spot the person stupid enough to touch her. Where had she come from? I hadn’t even noticed her standing there.
She didn’t have to say anything. Her eyes, hateful slits with webbed wrinkles on either side, shifted between Sammy and all of us.
“What da hell are you lookin’ at?” Fran said, her missing upper tooth still causing her speech problems.
Snow Face’s stare lingered on Fran for a few seconds, but she didn’t say anything. What was she thinking? Was she planning something?
When she didn’t look away, Sammy puffed up with fists clenched at her sides and her chest sticking out farther than her face. “What’s your problem, coke face? Piss off!”
Snow Face, along without her regular crew, simply smirked at Sammy. It was impossible to read Snow Face, which made her that much more unpredictable. Did she have it in her to attack someone? Or, was she all talk?
Finally, her deep, monotone voice carried over our heads. “You are foolish to make enemies here.”
Sammy scoffed. “You’re the one who’s foolish.”
Her last word came off in a mocking tone as if no one had used it in over a century.
Again, Snow Face smiled at her but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned away and made her way through the crowd and toward the city’s center tents.
“Dumb bitch,” Sammy muttered.
“I wouldn’t go trying to make enemies with her,” I said.
Sammy looked at me like I was as stupid as Snow Face.
“Brone, if you let people walk all over you, that’s exactly what they’ll do.”
“Brone?” Pam said, her thin, overplucked eyebrow rising past her brow bone. “You’re Brone? That girl everyone keeps talking about?”
My stomach sank.
CHAPTER 7
“Whoa, easy tiger,” Pam said, a raspy chuckle coming out of her rotten mouth.
How was any of this amusing? This was my life we were talking about. I refastened my grip around the collar of her shirt and pushed her even harder into the tree’s coarse bark.
“I’m not threatening you,” she said. “All I ask is for a fair exchange.”
I turned my head sideways and glared at Sammy, who seemed a bit embarrassed that she was the reason this was happening.
Obviously, Pam wasn’t willing to let go of this new information… Not without getting something out of it. And beating her wouldn’t solve any of my problems. The more she hated me, the more likely she was to tell everyone who I was to get revenge.
I shoved myself off of her and the back of her head hit the tree.
Rubbing it, she said, “No need to get aggressive, Brone.”
I raised a fist, prepared to bash in what remained of her rotting teeth, when she elevated two submissive hands and let out a short laugh. “Okay, okay… Relax. I won’t say it again.”
“Why not?” Fran said. “Those big ladies are looking for her, aren’t dey? Maybe this new info will buy us a ticket inside those gates. Maybe we can get some action.” She then slap
ped both sides of her hips and with them, made a swaying motion in the air.
I grimaced.
“What?” Fran said. “Don’t judge me. I haven’t been laid in over terty years. A woman’ll take what she can get.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes at her, I shook my head. “This isn’t going to buy you a ticket anywhere, trust me. Those Northers don’t give a shit about you.” She seemed offended by this, so I added, “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. All you’ll be doing is sentencing me to death. That’s it.”
Fran’s eyes glazed over, and for a moment, I didn’t see an older woman—I saw someone capable of slitting a person’s throat without any remorse whatsoever. “And how’s that our problem?”
“Because it is!” I snapped. But then, I took in a long, deep breath to recenter myself. “Look. It’s my problem, not yours. But the truth is, you need me.”
Pam and Fran both scoffed at the same time.
“Girl has a point,” Sammy cut in.
“How the hell—” Pam started.
“This girl saved hundreds of lives,” Sammy said, jabbing a finger toward me. “She did the impossible. She got women out of this shithole. Don’t you realize where you are? Hasn’t it hit you yet?”
“Who cares?” Pam said. “I only have a year left of my sentence—”
Sammy slapped a hand over her forehead, the clapping sound loud enough to make Pam blink. “You dumb old hag. You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” Pam sneered.
“Sammy—” I tried.
Was it worth telling them the truth about this island? They were new here, and up till now, they’d somehow managed to remain in good spirits despite their circumstances.
“No!” Sammy snapped, her finger finding its way to Pam’s face. She jabbed it so hard Pam flinched and pulled her head back. “She needs to know. They both need to know.”
For the first time, Pam and Fran looked a bit worried. They withdrew into themselves, staring at Sammy’s quickly swelling face.
“You ain’t getting off this island, grandmas!” Sammy said.
Somehow, I wished she was a bit more poetic about it.
“Is that a threat?” Pam said, lips curling over her front teeth.
Sammy threw her head back and laughed. “It’s not a threat. It’s the truth. Man, how dumb are you? You think some helicopter’s gonna come down here and pluck you out? You think that would even be possible?” She then twirled her finger above her head to imitate helicopter blades and started stomping the dirt with her bare feet, her eyes focused on the ground as if flying above Kormace Island. Then, with a nasal voice, she continued, “Rescue mission here. We’ve reached Kormace Island. Oh, look, I see Fran, right there. Oh, and that’s Pam. Yeah, that’s got to be them. I see their little gray heads. Looks like the pictures to me.” She pointed at her toes. “Yep, that’s definitely them. Let’s throw a rope down there and hope those other bitches don’t grab on.”
“Sammy—” I tried again.
“What’s that, George?” she continued. “Oh… Those are rotting bushes and not heads of hair? Damn it.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Pam shouted, her age-spotted skin darkening to a deep purple.
“You’re not getting out of this fuckin’ place alive!” Sammy shouted back, the veins in her neck bulging out so far it was a wonder they didn’t split through the skin. She was so angry with her giant eyes and her finger jabbing the air over and over again that I thought she might pass out. “You hear me? You’re stuck here! Forever!”
CHAPTER 8
After Sammy had calmed down, I’d agreed to take Fran’s dull meat-cutting blade.
That was it.
That was all they’d asked for after Sammy’s explosive outburst. It was a good deal, come to think of it. The dullest of the blades no doubt made cutting the elephant meat twice as hard, resulting in a lower production rate and a faster burnout rate, but I could handle it—probably much better than someone Fran’s age.
Fran had been stuck with that same knife the evening before and had spent all morning rubbing her arms, legs, and wrists.
When Fran handed me her blade—I knew it was the dull one because the tip of it was chipped off as if someone had abused it—I took it without saying a word.
With eyes cast at the ground, she nodded and walked toward the elephant.
Poor Fran and Pam.
Ever since Sammy had shouted in their faces, they hadn’t spoken a word.
I wanted to talk to them—let them know that with time, things would get easier—but I didn’t have the energy. And besides, I’d gone through this, too. What they needed was time. It had taken me quite a while to finally accept my new reality. The only thing that had helped me, however, was my delusional dream of one day getting off this island.
But these two? They were likely in their late sixties, which meant they’d already lived half their lives. Soon, their salt-and-pepper hair would turn white, and their bodies would begin to morph into weak, slouched shapes.
How could anyone survive this place at that point? Would the Northers abuse seventy- or eighty-year-olds? I had yet to see anyone that old on this island; no doubt, they had died of disease, infection, or injury.
Every few hours, the two of them looked at each other knowingly—it was a look that said, I guess this is our life now.
Sammy didn’t seem to care that she’d basically broken them. In fact, she looked happy about it, whistling to some old tune and hacking away at the bit of remaining elephant meat. After dropping off bits and pieces of hard-to-reach meat, she came to the back of the elephant, where half of its spine was visible, and leaned into me. “Ladies think they’re invincible when they don’t have much time to serve. Well, on this island. Ain’t like that in prison. If you don’t have much time left, you keep your damn mouth shut.”
When I didn’t respond, she cleared her throat and jabbed her knife against one of the elephant’s vertebrae. “They needed to know. Otherwise, they mighta gotten themselves killed.”
I stopped cutting and glared at her.
“What the hell do you know?” I said. She released her knife, letting it sit halfway in a thick piece of muscle, and stared at me. “If you hadn’t called me by my name, none of this would’ve happened. How can I trust you not to do that again? You do realize that if you do that in front of the wrong person, I’m looking at torture. Disgusting, inhumane torture. If they’re willing to cut women’s limbs off for not returning a damn knife, what the hell do you think they’ll do to me?”
I was breathing so hard my shoulders were moving back and forth.
“Look, I’m sorry…” she said, averting her gaze to the ground.
I was surprised to see Sammy like this. With everyone else, she was fearless, bold, and downright arrogant. But ever since Hawkins was taken out of the equation, it was as if she’d turned to me to be her leader, which was saying a lot when Murk was always right next to us.
“You got a nickname or something?” she asked. “If I can call you something else, this won’t happen again.”
I didn’t have any nicknames, at least none that I was aware of, and the idea of being called Lydia didn’t feel right to me. If anything, it drew me into my past, making me feel weak and vulnerable. I wasn’t that person anymore, and I didn’t want anyone calling me by my old name.
“Any passions? Favorite places?”
I stared into the webbed design of the elephant’s skin. It looked like wrinkled clay, full of bumps and uneven lines. Did I have any passions? I couldn’t remember. And what did she mean by favorite places? In the old world? It felt so distant to me. Some days, I wondered if I’d spent my whole life on Kormace Island and somehow fabricated this idea of land known as America.
I was losing my mind.
So no, I didn’t have any favorites. When would I have had time to think of something I like? Every day was spent trying to survive.
“What’s your favorite animal?
” she asked.
I stared at her. Did I even have a favorite animal? Not really. Not since I was a kid. I hesitated, trying to remember what it was. It may have been a koala until someone told me they were incredibly vicious.
Grinding my teeth, I shook my head.
“Hey, I get it,” she said. “It’s hard to remember these things… That’s why I’ve been repeating mine ever since I landed here. It reminds me that outside of this place, I’m a person. I have favorites, you know? It might sound stupid, but it helps.” She smiled, her rounded cheeks lifting up to form hills under her eyes. “Wanna hear mine?”
I wasn’t sure I did, but she went ahead anyway. “Red zebras eating at Louisiana Steak House.”
It was impossible not to smirk.
“Red zebras?” I asked.
She smiled proudly. “I love the color red. I love zebras. And I looooove”—she wiped a line of drool from the corner of her mouth—“Louisiana Steak House.”
Then, something strange happened. For a split second, I felt a warm, fuzziness inside. Favorites, I thought. I’d always loved the color purple. I’d also loved green, but I’d spent the last two years surrounded by nothing but green. Purple, however, was a rare find in this jungle. Then, I thought of sloths and how they were the strangest yet cutest-looking creatures I could think of. Ever since my mom had taken me to a museum where they’d had a special baby sloth exhibition when I was nine years old, I’d fallen in love. The memory hadn’t surfaced until now. I was grumpy that day because my best friend at the time had fallen ill and couldn’t make it.
So I was stuck with my mom.
On this island, looking back, I’d have done about anything to go back and enjoy that day with my mom. I wouldn’t complain or think about how my best friend wasn’t with me. I’d be grateful to be with the one person I loved most in the world.