Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy

by Carol James Marshall

  Allison grabbed her daughter’s foot. It was a strange thing they did when sitting together. She loved her daughter’s toes the first time she saw them. And now, even when her daughter was older, it was just known between the two that sooner or later, Allison would want to hold those toes. Allison ran her fingers over her daughter’s toes, seemingly content to sit, but in reality she was consumed with Lisa, with these women—the who, why, and how was sitting on her chest, mocking her every breath.

  She couldn’t bring herself to watch another cartoon, have another tea party, or cook dinner; nothing was going to happen until she got an answer. Standing up, she told her daughter she’d be back in about twenty minutes. Allison walked over to Lisa’s apartment knowing that what she was about to do was stupid. There was no other way to describe her actions other than ‘stupid’, but there was also no stopping this train. There was no way Allison could breathe another moment without this riddle being solved in her head.

  Watching herself walk over to Lisa’s, Allison had no idea how to do it. She thought of a dozen lies, then settled on truth. She’d just ask Lisa for the truth, even though she knew these women were not capable of it. She watched her hand knock on the apartment door, then decided that she had no clue what she was doing besides standing in her own stupidity.

  Opening the door, Lisa looked ragged. She blinked at Allison as if she hadn’t seen another person in weeks. “Can I come in?” Allison was nervous to the point she thought she would vomit. Lisa moved aside and waved her hand. The same way a person would wave a fly off them, but Allison ignored that. Closing the door, Allison stood there, awkward like a middle school girl, looking at Lisa. Lisa wrinkled her eyebrows and watched Allison intently, but not with care. Allison got the impression that no matter what she did, Lisa would not care.

  In what felt like the start of a race, Allison put both hands on Lisa’s cheeks. The two women just stood in the doorway; Allison perversely holding Lisa’s face. Lisa’s eyes twinkled; she looked amused.

  “Whatcha doing?” Lisa almost cackled. The twinkle in Lisa’s eyes was deceptive; it wasn’t soon after that Allison felt the cold start at the tip of her nails, then crawl through her ligaments and grip her palms. She tried to let go, but Lisa grabbed her hands and held them to her, never losing eye contact.

  Lisa was tiny, frail looking, but stronger than Allison could ever imagine. She held Allison’s hands on her face, smiling at her. The cold was stabbing Allison’s palms over and over. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t, wouldn’t, give Lisa the satisfaction.

  With a final grin and a wink, Lisa let go of Allison then shoved her towards the door. “Satisfied…MMMMmmmm. Do you need more? Need to know everything, right little lady? Apparently, you fear not for yourself or your child…” in what seemed like a two second decision, Lisa grabbed Allison back into her apartment, slammed the door, and pushed Allison against a wall. The cold was immediate, with frost building around Lisa’s hands, then crawling over Allison’s skin.

  Again, Allison wouldn’t scream. Lisa put her face up to Allison’s, rubbing cheek to cheek, gliding her lips across Allison’s jaw line, allowing the chill of her breath to fall on Allison’s neck. She whispered to her, “It affects some humans more than others. I don’t know why. I don’t care why.”

  Lisa changed into her true face, taking those tiny frozen teeth to Allison’s ear. Softly, she gave Allison the feel of what those teeth could accomplish. Gently, she began to freeze Allison’s ear, watching ice form in her hair while her hands gripped Allison’s arms. Lisa took deep breaths, smelling Allison, taking her in, dragging her teeth across Allison’s jawbone, delighting in the trail of ice they left. She focused on Allison’s pain; she wanted the frost to needle its way into her.

  Lisa put her lips against Allison’s mouth, shoving a cold breath into her, watching her lips turn a pretty shade of blue. Allison drew her breath in—the scream was coming, it was building. Lisa knew it. She wanted Allison’s scream the way she often wanted cooked beast, but it would bring attention, and attention is what she hated most.

  She dragged her frigid lips across Allison’s face to her ear, “No, no, no. Not a peep from you…” Lisa let go. Allison fell to the floor in a heap, reminding her of the dead naughty girl in The Black. “Sooner or later, we all fall down,” Lisa said. “I needed to know, Lisa…I just needed to know…” Allison shivered.

  Lisa opened her front door, gave Allison a tired look—a tired that was beyond sleep or boredom—and replied, “Your need to know will get you and that pretty little girl of yours killed. I’ve warned you, and I have shown you, but if you don’t care, then I, dear lady, definitely don’t care.” She gave Allison a ‘get out’ wave, then just before Allison stepped out, grabbed her hand, shooting cold into Allison’s heart so violently that she couldn’t take another step.

  Lisa stood right behind Allison, uncomfortably close, wanting her to feel a sense of creepy so thick that it would stick to her skin. “They know everything. They see everything, and they will be coming for you.” With that, Lisa let go again, shoved Allison out, and slammed the front door. Allison stood outside the door for a second or two, rubbing the frost off her hands.

  The needles of cold faded the more Allison rubbed them. She knew she should be terrified, but she couldn’t shake off the questions that ran rampant in her mind. Who is coming? She didn’t bother to think about what had just happened. The warnings meant nothing. Damn it! There are never answers with these women. Only more questions.

  Back at her apartment, Allison was picking ice off her eyelashes. Surprisingly, this amused her, once again reinforcing her own ideas that she was walking waist high in stupid. Her actions were dangerous. Her obsession with this alien ice lady was even stupid, boarding on insane. She crapped on the internet people speaking of these women, declaring them crazy, and here she was a crazy herself.

  Putting her daughter to bed with poems and kisses, Allison stood in the middle of the living room. Thinking on Lisa, she went over every inch of what she was. Then, she thought of herself, where she stood in this whole story. She was part of this now; there was no walking away. Looking around her living room, Allison asked herself what she should do. The “now what” stomped at her feet.

  “Israel’s a pussy,” Allison told absolutely no one but herself.

  Lisa

  Closing the door, Lisa looked at her hands. She didn’t know she could do that. She had absolutely no fucking idea she could concentrate and get colder. She found it all fascinating and infuriating. The Mothers, with their continual information on every conceivable tiny screw that held The Grey together, never gave anyone any decent information.

  Thinking to herself, hey you can freeze a fucker to death, if you want. That would have been nice to know. Why? Why, not tell us? Lisa sat on the floor right where she stood, looking at her hands and trying to focus her attention to cold. Nothing happened. Then, Lisa got up and grabbed a piece of newspaper off her table, held it tightly in her grasp, and tried again. Nothing.

  Anyone’s first instinct would be frustration or anger. Maybe a go-getter type of person would keep trying until something popped. But, Lisa was her very own type of thinker and quickly gave up. She gave up because it would never happen again unless all the right factors were in place. She gave up trying, but not thinking of trying. All possible reasons floated around her head; maybe she had to be angry. Maybe she had to be close to a human. Self-loathing crept in and, she assumed it was because, as usual, she was lesser than every woman of The Grey that had ever lived. Maybe it was her empathetic loser tendencies fighting her own loser self. There were too many ways to think of it, too many solutions to a simple problem that, if only her dear leader would have bothered to enlighten her with, she would be so much more than she is now.

  There was no doubt in Lisa’s mind that the whole experience was sensual. There was something to dragging her cold lips against Allison and feeling the fear pop off her. The warmth of Allison is what lingered
with Lisa. The warm against cold. The tiny teeth dragging against her skin. Lisa sat down on the couch, but there was something else. She looked at her fingers and pushed her tongue around her mouth. There was something in Allison that Lisa wanted, but she didn’t know what. It was primal. Lisa felt confused and feral.

  The feeling of feral soothed her. It was a wave over her, singing to her, pulling her in. Lisa wanted it, but how to get it—along with how to do everything else—was left hanging in the air above her head. Standing up, she thought that maybe the answer to it all was not being herself. To break The Grey, to find the feral, she would have to forget herself, or who she thought she was.

  Hanging her head down, Lisa couldn’t help but laugh. She’d have to forget how to be her? Forget what? She didn’t know what she was in the first place. Who the fuck was she kidding? She wasn’t that deep. There was no depth to being who she was; there was only fumbling around daily existence, questioning her every mundane moment. There was a tingle to Lisa’s toes that was reaching her legs and would, sooner or later, work its way to her brain. She knew this was joy. The joy of, for a minute or two, letting go of herself, forgetting the baggage of being different. Be the bitch that broke The Grey, instead of the loser of The Grey. Laughing, Lisa looked at her couch. It was terrifying.

  Despite the whirlwind of thought, Lisa got up, went to her bathroom, brushed her teeth, and ran her fingers through her hair. She knew what she was doing; she was going for a night walk, to wander the streets in search of that feral high.

  Jacob

  The neighbor sat quietly next to Abigail. She soothed her hair and held her hands. Jacob took this time to silently get a gun and a hammer. He wasn’t sure what would happen when the baby came out, but he’d be prepared. He told himself that if he had to bash its skull in, he’d do it. If he had to end his daughter, he’d do it. And, if he had to end his neighbor before she told the world what she saw here, he’d do it. There was nothing left but resolve for him now. Nothing left but bracing himself for the grizzly acts he was sure he’d have to do.

  With the gun and hammer within his reach, Jacob laid on the floor next to Abigail, putting his head next to her ear. He needed to tell her things. He needed to comfort her. He needed to warn her. Jacob knew she needed words from him. Words that, despite the gore that would soon happen, would help her find her peaceful spot in the woods to calm herself.

  Jacob steadied himself, looked at her smoking belly, burnt clothes, and the puddles of sweat all around her. His tongue felt numb. His brain went thick; every intelligent thought he’d ever had in his life was in the sweat puddles surrounding Abigail.

  “Whatever happens when Sunny comes out, good or bad, don’t stop me Abigail. Promise not to stop me.” Jacob’s words were neither loving, encouraging, nor slightly helpful. Abigail nodded. Tears dropped from his eyes and found their way to Abigail’s puddles. He didn’t give her that peaceful spot in the woods. He couldn’t.

  Teresa

  Eleanor stood outside The Grey for twenty minutes, maybe more. It was time to bring in Teresa. There was no more delay she could excuse off. There was no way to shoo the questions away. Teresa was top of the list and that was that, darn it.

  Looking at the sun peak over the dusty rock filled mountains, Eleanor sighed. Every time she left the hidden home of The Grey, it was inevitable that she would wonder about their true home. What was it like on their planet? Was there water, grass, dust? Was there nature? What kind of nature? It was all so unclear, never any answers. All Eleanor knew, she had concluded through spying on the elders and just plain guessing. Shaking her head, she knew there was no rock, grass, or nature on their home planet. It was a joke. The Grey were cold women and nothing grows in ice.

  Touching her hands against each other, Eleanor knew that home was cold. Frighteningly cold, the thought of it scared her a bit. She had been on earth since birth, she was born here among the dust and sunlight. How would she handle the cold of their home planet? A breeze kicked up and reminded her that she would probably never see their home planet, and would probably never get any information from the older Mothers that were in the know about it. It was better to leave the ideas, and the fright of those ideas, at rest.

  The breeze turned into wind, pushing Eleanor to check the time. Time, yes it was time to go get Teresa and bring her home to her fate. What the fate was, she could not guess. She had absolved herself from it. It was the only way to convince herself to go get Teresa, giving herself permission to not take responsibility for what was done to the girl once she was home. This was the only way she’d get the job done.

  What pain Teresa was given, physical or mental, was on Superior Mother, not her. The wind kicked Eleanor towards Teresa. Time to go; eventually it was always time to go.

  Some Mothers gathered around an oval table. The table was handmade by The Grey. It shone with perfectly done varnish, and in the center, was a vase full of spring flowers. These flowers were considered not necessary, a waste of time and resources by most, but the last Superior Mother had been fond of flowers. A few of her most dedicated followers kept with the tradition of placing flowers here and there among The Grey.

  This vase of flowers, however, was not enjoyed by the current Superior Mother, who took it more as a nod to her by the last Superior Mother. “We are watching you…” the flowers hissed at her. Superior Mother wanted to bash the vase and send the flowers into a fire. Instead, she sat straight in her chair. She was the leader; eventually they would all stand down or be made to do so.

  A slight cough from a Mother and Superior Mother was back to paying attention to the others who were in a heated debate about what to do with Lisa’s neighbor—the busy body who knew too much and would bring nothing but harm to The Grey. The discussions involving Lisa were always heated. No one liked her. No one understood why Superior Mother guarded and protected her. She was not special. In fact, Lisa was a lost cause—no ambition or gut. She was not good for much.

  “Time and resources on this mutt,” Mother 35 chimed in. “It’s insulting.” Superior Mother’s eyes landed on Mother 35. The word ‘mutt’ stood out, and it placed itself directly under Superior Mother’s skin.

  “Watch yourself dear…” Superior Mother looked at Mother 35 with as much kindness as she could possibly muster. “We make the choices we make for reasons beyond your level of clearance or intellect.” Tapping her ring against the table, Superior Mother was sending a message not only to Mother 35, but to all at the table. She was in charge, and they would bow. They would do as she said, or she would tuck them all in, forever.

  Mother 35 wasn’t even bothered to flinch at the hateful remark. Snippy bitch remarks were the very fiber of The Grey. Instead, Mother 35 sat with her eyes wide, fixated on Superior Mother, preparing herself to speak out once again. “Lisa does nothing but sit on her couch and watch TV in some vegetative state that I’ve seen only in humans. Give this task to her…either she hushes that Allison up, or we do it for her.”

  At this, Superior Mother was the one to flinch. She nodded. Superior Mother wanted Mother 35 hung up by her tits, but instead she’d side with her. Better to hand the beggar a small token of what they desire in hopes they go away. Superior Mother had learned that it was best to allow followers to believe they were getting what they wanted; that way, they stayed in line even if the line became a bit askew.

  Superior Mother stood up. “Mother 35’s idea is the way to go. Inform Lisa that she must get herself and that neighbor under control, or she shall be brought back and dealt with.” Superior Mother tried to leave the room, but again Mother 35 would not let things go.

  “How long does she have?” she questioned. Superior Mother’s chest was going to cave in. She needed to give Lisa time to stay alive, but she needed to stay Superior Mother to keep Lisa alive. Either way, she’d have pain. Either way, it was going to break her and torture her love as a mother.

  “Two days.” Superior Mother returned to her quarters to lay in her bed and dream of
a life where Lisa would just—for once—do as she was bred to do.

  Teresa

  James left. The moment he walked out the door, Teresa forced a cry. She forced it because she knew, somehow, that she’d never see him again. And not because she would be gone, but because he was now lost to her. The man boy was gone; he was replaced by a staunch man who would never allow physical pleasure to replace his now set beliefs. She didn’t understand the human belief of a man in the sky that was all-knowing, cruel, and kind all at once. A being they could not see nor speak to, but was everything to them. What tripped her up was that they could not see this man; they just believed in him. The more Teresa listened to James speak of this man, of his ways and the devotion humans had towards him, the more this man in the sky sounded like The Grey’s Superior Mother.

  Superior Mother, a leader who was all-knowing, cruel, and kind was just like their God person. The women of The Grey, most of them, had a devotion to Superior Mother without question. James was now in the vortex of that belief. He was lost to its will, just as Teresa would be lost to Superiors Mother’s.

  Would James’ God turn on him if he did not complete his task? What if he decided that it was all a lie? Would that God turn against him then, like their Superior Mother? Are all leaders, ‘do as I say or burn’? Why was there never any room for error, for second thoughts, for small crimes against the soul?

  In the past, Teresa was one of those blind women of The Grey, believing all she was told. Never questioning why she should do as she was told. Now, there was a foretelling in her thoughts that those she had been most devoted to, would turn on her once word of her condition spread. With one nod by Superior Mother, would all turn on her without thought of her years of service? Without consideration of her devotion and belief in their cause? In a split second, all fingers would point to her, and all she had done, and was willing to do, would not be given a thought. “We are all the same and none different” was more of a sentence than a cause.