by Joseph Storm
His name was Mika Sorka.
All the schemes made him the richest man in the world, though he would never be truly satisfied until the opposition was vanquished. He purchased every global T.V. station that existed, sending out orders to put his plan into effect. The man could imagine his past heroes of Lenin, Stalin, and Hitler, standing in the room as he signed into law the document, bringing all their “hard work” into fruition.
The monumental moment had arrived, as he signed his name on the dotted line. It would enact the final step to solidify his future dictatorship.
“It is time to begin phase three,” he said aloud.
Chapter Thirteen:
The Final Phase
“The amniotic sac is broken, crowning has begun!” Nurse White called out, as Kitty Judas’s legs were tucked into portable stirrups. She was uncomfortably laid out on an ultra large bed, though the room was no hospital. In fact, it was one of the lavish bedrooms in the historic White House.
“We need you to push,” Doctor Layman told her. He was much more comfortable delivering this baby, as opposed to the past horrors of extracting Rock. The man still woke nightly, covered in sweat from reliving the scene through night terrors.
Leader Simon Judas yawned in boredom. He watched from the back of the room, having already become sick of the process. This would be his eighth child, all of them girls. Each child was either delivered from the comforts of their palatial home, or the White House bedrooms. The leader was adamant in not using the medical system he created. “Have you seen the kind of medical care those ratholes deliver?” he once said. “My son will never be subjected to such filth. I’m the leader of government...not a meaningless civilian.”
The competent American doctors had either quit from endless hours of little pay or were removed for insubordination of patient rationing. Age and disease decided the order of who got treated and when. All that were left standing in the medical community were either foreign trained crackpots, or medics who were “passed along,” through government schools.
Kitty grunted, pushing with all her might. This is it, she thought to herself. This will finally be a boy. She shook with exhaustion, as her body never really had time to recover after each birth. With the disappointment of every new baby girl, she lost a little more will to have the next one. In fact, she lost a little more will to live. Her stomach was stained with stretch-marks, to the point that Leader Judas was disgusted by his wife’s appearance. He only had sex with her for reasons of procreation, and barely talked to her anymore.
“The baby is coming! Keep pushing!” Nurse White encouraged her, as the infant’s head peaked through the vaginal opening.
Doctor Layman guided the newborn’s head, letting it gently fall into his gloved hand. The baby slowly slid out, turning to the side, landing in the doctor’s arms. A look of disappointment filled his face.
“Well...what is it?” Leader Judas asked.
The doctor kept silent.
“It’s a girl!” Nurse White forced the words from her lips. She tried to keep the tone joyful, providing some much needed encouragement to Kitty.
The entire room went flat, as the fake smile of Leader Judas turned dark. The doctor cut the umbilical cord, wrapping the baby in a cloth towel. He went to clear the infant’s nose with a bulb syringe, as an angry Simon Judas knocked it away.
“Don’t bother.”
“But leader...it is necessary for the health of the...”
“Girl? She doesn’t matter! Remove her from my presence...put her with the others!”
Tears burst from Kitty’s face, as she shook her head in disbelief. “But it’s impossible! The sperm was spun!”
“It was,” the doctor said.
“And? I was told that it was 93% accurate!” Leader Judas asked angrily.
“Leaving a 7% chance of failure,” the doctor said. “It all depends upon the genes.”
“Her genes! Not mine!”
The doctor bit his tongue, forcing himself to speak the lie. In reality, it’s the father’s chromosome that decides the sex of the baby. “Of course not, leader.”
“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled at the doctor.
While they were arguing, Nurse White snuck the baby girl into Kitty’s arms. The new mother kissed the child on the head, having not held any of the other seven children. In fact, she barely even got to see them. They were sent off to minder families, eventually being used for government service. The girls were no longer the “problem” of the Judas’s.
“That is not permitted!” Leader Judas yelled, as his pent up anger finally took its toll. He hurried over, ripping the baby from Kitty’s arms, tossing it to the nurse. She rushed to catch it before it would smash into the wood floors. The concerned woman got to it just in time.
“Your chances are running out!” he yelled in his delicate wife’s face. He turned towards the Nurse. “Get that useless thing out of my sight!”
Kitty quickly stopped her tears, trying to convince her husband. “Forgive me, leader! I will make sure...I will guarantee a boy! The next one will be the boy...it has to happen this time!”
“Do it now! I want this room cleared immediately!” he screamed at the doctor and nurse.
“Leader...she has to heal! It’s too soon...to even conceive again!” the doctor said.
“Did I ask your opinion? Out!” he yelled, pushing them out the door.
He unzipped his pants, leaving Kitty’s feet in the stirrups. Blood and placenta still oozed from her, as she lay in her own mess. Leader Judas hopped up on the bed, having no trouble entering the gaping hole before him. The very sore Kitty cried out in agony. He slid in and out, as not a moment of pleasure would follow. This was purely business.
He finished inside her, yanking himself out. The cruel man cleaned himself with the soiled sheets on his wife’s bed. Simon pulled up his pants, saying, “You will see me again tomorrow. Be ready.”
Leader Judas stormed out of the bedroom, leaving Kitty in a sea of tears. In reality, she was not the only one under pressure to deliver a son. Simon was as well. Mika Sorka demanded a new heir to train while he was still alive. If he didn’t get one soon, he would do it himself, with or without them.
Kitty was left to stew in her filth, as any order to clean the mess was forbidden. “Let her learn a lesson,” the leader demanded to the doctors. Simon Judas, however, would not be left with the same punishment. Instead, he made his way to an adjoining bedroom, where two buxom government “interns” were awaiting his arrival.
“Now...where did we leave off?” he asked, removing his clothes, joining them in bed.
Sounds of moaning pleasure defiled any remaining honor which the stately building still possessed. Those sounds also filled the confines of the adjoining bedroom, as Kitty broke down in tears and depression. It wasn’t the first time she heard it, though it was the time when it hurt the most. She pulled the sheet over her head, and cried for the rest of the night.
******
It was déjà vu for Striker, who stepped upon familiar, but distant ground. He entered the replica confines of a place he once helped build. However, its purpose was no longer just a work camp. The sites had clearly morphed into something much more disturbing.
Joe gazed around him. He recalled the harsh day when he was called upon to hammer in stake after stake, witnessing the rolls of barbed-wire sitting aimlessly on the ground. The only difference between the two camps were the miles between them, indicating that there was more than one in existence.
The skeletal outlines were just the start, as lines of barbed-wire fenced in the large area. High guard towers stood in four corners. Armed men flashed their spotlights across every inch of ground, with their fingers at attention on machine gun triggers.
Large colorless buildings of block lined the grounds in rows. They consisted of prisoner barracks, guard quarters, a storage center, and a medical building.
The most mysterious feature was a deep, 15 foot pit, dug into the g
round. The hole was nothing but dirt and mud from the damp December air.
Each one of the new arrivals was lined up, awaiting orders. Rock approached them, covered with his mask. Two guards accompanied him, leading ferocious looking German Shepherds by sharp metal chains.
“I want men in one line, women in another, and children in another,” Rock yelled, as everyone looked at each other with confusion and fear. “Now!” he screamed, as the dogs lunged at them, being yanked back by the guards.
The vicious barks cut through the night air, as the scared group made their way into separate lines. Joe Striker focused closely on the hooded man, recognizing the voice as the guard who had taken his gun.
Everyone obeyed. Rock yelled out, “Let’s move them!”
Joe looked over at Jane, who was quite composed. He called to her, “Stay strong!”
He next looked over at Becky, seeing tears in her eyes, wanting badly to take them away. She looked at him deeply. It were as if she wanted to tell him something, but couldn’t get the words from her mouth. She waited, as panic suddenly struck her. What if I never see him again? What if I leave this earth without ever getting it off my chest? She wondered to herself. Moments before they were out of each other’s sights, she yelled out, “Joe Striker...I love you!”
Striker gasped, as the breath was sucked from his lungs. A pound of heavy thoughts suddenly entered his mind. Anger seeped from Jane’s eyes, seeing the effect that it had on Joe’s face. It was like the spell she had him under was lifted. He suddenly realized that his wife was long gone, and would never return. It was the first time in years that Joe had even paused to examine what the word meant. Love? It’s not a familiar face...it’s something much deeper, much more real, he said to himself.
Without a moment of further thought, Joe shouted the words back to Becky. “I love you too. For longer than I even realized,” he said, as the sound of his voice was even shocked at his own discovery.
Those were the last words Becky heard him say. She closed her eyes, letting them penetrate her brain. Even amidst the horrible possibilities that confronted her, a warmth consumed her face.
Jane leaned in and said, “He doesn’t love you...he loves me. You know it.”
“An impostor...is impossible to love,” Becky responded. “I don’t know what you are...but...I know it’s not what...and who...you pretend to be. Joe finally knows that too.”
“You’ll never see him again. I promise that.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she replied. “For the first time in a long time...I’m healed.”
Jane was confused by Becky’s answer, not caring to find out about her past. “Not for long,” she assured her. “Not for long.”
The groups were separated. All children were led from the camp, back to a gatherer vehicle. “My baby!” Julie Reed cried out, reaching out for her ten year old son. Becky helped pull her back into line. “He’ll be ok, you must stay positive.”
“Robert,” Stacey yelled. “Don’t let them do this,” she cried, though he looked helpless. The man was too scared to even respond.
“He won’t save you...I will,” Gunner yelled out to her.
She turned her gaze away from her husband, locking eyes with her ex-husband. She started to realize that Robert was useful for the residential points of her life. Gunner would be the perfect partner for the hectic ones.
The groups split off. The men watched the women fade away to the opposite side of the camp. Each man had a sickening feeling, wondering if they would ever see their loved ones again. However, thoughts quickly turned to themselves, as the group of males were led into a long, locker room type building. There was a large machine in the middle of the room. It had the look of a cannon.
Rock singled out Joe first, finding the striking resemblance strange. However, he knew better to form any self-opinion. “You. Step up,” he said.
“Kid...do ya think we should go out in a blaze of glory? I sure as hell don’t wanna go out on their terms,” Gunner whispered.
“We have the chip...we still have value. It’s not time yet,” Joe told him.
“I didn’t say talk!” Rock yelled, as he punched Striker in the face. Joe barely flinched, holding his own.
“Now go!”
Joe stepped forward in front of the group, when the guard yelled, “Strip!”
The apprehensive Striker complied, dropping his dirty clothes to the floor. They were scooped up by a man with a thin face, taken to storage. The others looked away in shame from his bare flesh, knowing they would soon be next.
“Flush him,” Rock called out, as the water cannon was activated. A powerful stream of scalding hot water shot out, having enough pressure to chafe the skin. Joe held strong, fighting the current which attempted to fling him into the wall. “I see we have a strong-willed one here,” Rock said. “Turn it up,” he instructed the guard at the water cannon.
The stream became stronger, leaving red welts on the skin. However, Striker still managed to hold his own.
“Stop,” Rock called out. Joe shook with pain, managing to stand tall and defiant. “He’ll break,” Rock said, repeating the words which were once said about him. “Delouse him.”
Next, the guards unlocked the water hose from the cannon, hooking another hose to it. They activated a switch, releasing a dust storm of delousing powder upon Striker. It assured that he didn’t bring lice or any other type of body parasite into the camp.
“Shave him,” was the next order from Rock.
A hard chair was brought out, as Joe was slammed down upon its surface. A prisoner in a black, pajama type uniform unleashed a long blade, removing the beard from Joe’s face. He quickly dry shaved him, tearing little bits of hair upon his skin. Joe was shaved bald, returning his head to a powdery shine.
“Brand him,” Rock said next, as the prisoner in black was handed a long stake. At the end of the stake was a set of removable numbers, in which a single digit was removed and replaced by a four. “10234,” he called out. Rock recorded it in a book.
The stake was lowered into hot, red coals. Steam rose into the air. Feeling the heat, Striker shut his eyes, preparing himself for pain. The burning hot numbers were singed into the back of his neck.
Joe gripped the chair, tucking every bit of expression into his mind. After it was done, disinfecting alcohol was tossed on it, causing him to flinch even more.
“Clothe him,” Rock yelled. Another man in the black uniform tossed an identical one at Joe’s body. He quickly dressed himself, being led to the side.
“Next,” Rock said, pointing to Robert Yale.
A trickle of urine spilled down his leg, making a puddle on the floor. “Clean it!” Rock yelled.
“I have nothing to clean it with,” his shivering voice mumbled.
Rock threw Robert Yale on the floor, using his body to wipe up the mess. “Now, strip...take your position,” he said.
The humiliated ex-college professor took his spot, trying not to collapse.
“Hose him,” Rock yelled, as the boiling hot water cannon fired, knocking him onto the floor.
“Hot! Hot! Please stop!” Robert yelled, sobbing like a baby.
Rock waited a moment as he was instructed to do. However, even he couldn’t take the agony any longer. “Stop.”
The cannons were immediately turned off.
“Delouse him,” he said, as the parade of humiliation continued.
******
The women’s side of camp offered the same dehumanizing experiences as the men’s camp. Becky watched in horror, as an unclothed Stacey screamed in bloody murder. She was held down in the chair, as her cherished locks of strawberry-blond hair were shaved from her. “Not my hair! I am a woman! Please...not my hair!” she cried out to no avail. She was shaved bald. Stacey screamed even louder as the numbers were burned into her neck.
Becky watched the feminine woman get dragged from the chair in tears. Jane was up next. Oddly enough, she showed little emotion. It was almost like s
he was prepared for the coming routine.
It was only a matter of time, before Becky’s turn came. She slowly removed her clothing, as she was mortified. It was hard enough for a self conscious lady to expose herself, though for one who had been so objectified, it was a tragedy.
She took the harsh bath as best she could, crying her tears as her long, blond hair fell to the ground. However, instead of falling apart like Stacey, she put on her black prison uniform. Fox took a deep breath, and ran a hand over her hairless head. I won’t let them destroy me, she said. For the first time in my life...I have a reason to fight. I have a reason to live. I will see Joe again.
******
After the unwelcoming ceremony to the prison camp, the men entered their sleeping quarters. It was pitched dark, only lit by a small window. Rows of bunk beds lined a very long room.
“I can’t see shit, kid...can you?” Gunner asked.
“No. Just sit...and hope for luck,” Joe said.
They did, as men yelled out, “Hey! Get the hell off of us!”
After making their way along the bunks, they realized there was not one space on the elongated beds. Each man was squeezed in. They jammed themselves into every nook and cranny, leaving no space for new arrivals. There were no sheets, blankets, or pillows.
“I think the whole country is shoved into this bed,” Gunner said.
“Where are we supposed to sleep?” Joe called out.
“The floor,” a voice sounded, one which had a familiarity.
“Tommy? Tommy O’Brien?” Gunner asked.
“And just who the hell wants to know?” Tommy barked.
“Captain Shoman.”
“Captain? Don’t you mean officer Shoman?” another voice called out.
“Jerry Simmons?”
The last time Gunner saw Tommy was at Leader Judas’s rally. The rookie officer had warned Gunner not to get rid of his pink slip. The two men got up, shaking hands with their brother-in-law-enforcement.