“Yes,” Kia smiled at Sunny, “and so are the naughty girls. I need to know where they are. I need to…”
Sunny let go of Kia’s hand, straightening herself so she could look right at Kia “Help them?” She watched Kia’s face. Was she lying? No, Kia doesn’t lie. She hides things, yes, but she wasn’t a liar.
Kia nodded rapidly, as if she was trying to convince herself of her own convictions. “I don’t know. Save them. I just need to know. I need to know where they are. Who they are. I can’t explain it. I need to know.”
Reaching her hands through the bars, Kia wrapped her arms around Sunny, hugging her as best she could. The world stopped for Sunny then. No one had ever expressed anything but fear towards her — or hatred.
Images of Kia’s death bounced in Sunny’s thoughts, but she pushed them back. Sunny didn’t want to listen to that side of herself. Sunny often held Kia’s hand, but that was for show. She wanted to win Kia over, so she could trick her into getting her keys. Sunny had always reached out and Kia had taken her hand. This was different.
So very different that Sunny felt split in two, a chopped up bloody mess on the floor. Kia was a true friend. An actual sister. Swallowing, Sunny, who thought for endless hours about how she would kill everything that came within her sight, swore she would never hurt Kia.
“Sunny,” Kia’s voice squeaked, her face smashed against the cage, “I’m going to get you out of your cage. I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out. But…” she let go of Sunny and grabbed hold of her hands, “promise me you’ll help me.”
Sunny nodded. She didn’t need Kia to tell her what she wanted help with. Kia smiled and squeezed Sunny’s hands “And promise me…you won’t hurt me.”
Lowering her head, Sunny felt the floor fall out from under her. Kia knew that Sunny was dangerous. She knew, and for some reason this hit Sunny in the chest, almost knocking her heart to the floor.
“I could never…” Sunny looked at Kia then, “hurt you.”
Kia couldn’t sleep that night. She felt happy but confused. Something in her told her that Sunny wouldn’t hurt her. She knew Sunny wasn’t lying, but would Sunny hurt everybody else?
Kia closed her eyes tightly. She wanted Sunny to hurt everybody else. All those mean mothers, standing around waiting for the girls to go away so they could smear that red stuff on them. Kia wanted to watch Sunny beat those mothers up for being so crabby. She wanted Sunny to punch those mothers for all the times Kia had been thirsty and hungry, but was too afraid to speak.
Kia wanted them hurt, and the thought of that kept sleep at bay. It was too exciting of an idea. She felt like screaming.
Superior Mother
Standing at the pulpit, Superior Mother looked over the room. The sea of mothers from The Grey, all with the same thin blond hair and pouty lips, all impossibly skinny. Sometimes, it was difficult to look over at an ocean of these women and take in the fact that she looked exactly like them.
Superior Mother was looking out at her own reflection, eyes wide, mouth shut, posture perfect. Did they still respect her? Did they still fear her? These were things she needed to know. She wanted them to respect her, but what she needed was to have these women fear her.
Today she must instill fear in their minds. Her words had to express kindness, prickled with threat. They must love her and be terrified of her. Raising her hand for silence, Superior Mother smiled at the crowd.
“My loves, I must address a detail that some of you might have noticed.” Superior Mother looked into the crowd, furrowed her brow and then cleared her throat “You may have noticed that Mother June has changed her appearance. The crowd wiggled a bit, murmurs drifting down the rows.
“June, our June, did this with the best of intentions. She needed a disguise. A way to fool the humans and walk among them without suspicious eyes shifting her way.” Superior Mother watched her crowd as they all looked around at each other. Such donkeys. Superior Mother wished she had a carrot. “June is hunting the fugitive, Lisa.” There were louder murmurs in the crowd at the mention of Lisa. She was hated by almost everyone — everyone but Superior Mother.
Every time Superior Mother saw evidence of the hatred they all had for Lisa, her legs went weak and her mind went numb. “How can she hunt Lisa if she looks the same as Lisa? June changed her appearance recklessly, but she was in the right.”
Swallowing, Superior Mother looked from one side of the room to the other. She had never used the word fugitive before. The word felt stiff on her tongue and Superior Mother was sure it left splinters not only on her tongue but on what little was left of her heart.
“BUT.” Superior Mother raised her voice, telling herself to layer the fear here. “We are all the same and none different.” The mothers began to roar, tossing fists in the air and nodding at one another in agreement. “Our strengths lie in our equality. No one here is stronger than another. No one here is prettier, smarter, braver than the other.”
“We are strong because we are one unit. We think the same. We follow the same rules.” Superior Mother smiled then. How many lies could she spout tonight? We are all the same, lie. None different, bigger lie. Lisa was very different. Sunny was very different. Teresa — Superior Mother stopped herself at Teresa, a shiver of fear crawling up her back.
“Remember, my wonderful Women of the Grey. This is our home. We must protect it and ourselves. How can we do this if we get sloppy, if we change? We must remain the same. WE ARE ALL THE SAME—” Superior Mother raised her hands, impatiently waiting for the correct response.
“—and none different.” Came roaring out from the crowd of mothers.
“Sadly, because of the need for privacy, the absolute care with which I must do things to protect all of you and our elders, The Originals, I must insist that you all obey our laws.” The energy in the crowd dropped; she had their attention.
“Those that change their looks, be it with hair color, makeup, haircut, or clothing, will be dealt with in the manner I see fit. If anyone has an opinion to share with me on that I will gladly listen, but let me remind you all that a leader must do the bad things, the ugly things, to protect their flock.”
Superior Mother bowed her head slowly. She wanted them to believe that she felt a tenderness towards them. A genuine flow of care from herself to them.
“I do the ugly things, my buttercups, because I have to. Because I care.”
Superior Mother’s assistant stood up from her seat, furiously clapping her hands, signaling to them all to do the same. She hoped they all clapped. If anyone didn’t, Superior Mother would surely see it. The assistant couldn’t handle a situation tonight. She was too tired from too many days of picking up everything that Superior Mother dropped, both emotionally and as their leader.
The crowd clapped in unison with Superior Mother’s assistant. They all watched as Superior Mother left the stage for her office. When she was gone, the Women of the Grey filed out, all whispering to one another. The gossip this evening would be thick. How could they lie to one another about what they heard, when they were all there?
That always confused Superior Mother’s assistant, the way all mothers could hear the same words and yet each hear something different.
Once the hall was empty, the assistant walked to Superior Mother’s office and tried the door. It was locked. Shaking her head, the assistant sat on the floor beside the office. Unable to handle the exhaustion any longer, she buried her face in her hands and laid on the floor next to the door.
Sleep fell on Superior Mother’s assistant, crashing her mind first and then claiming the rest of her. How long would she sleep there, lost over what to do when the leader she believed in didn’t believe in their cause anymore?
`Superior mother sat up in bed, watching her hands shake. She didn’t know what was true and what was a lie anymore. Everything she had said to her horde she believed in, whether it was lies or truth. Truth and lies blended together now, nothing but a soup of words that Superior Mother gul
ped down and then vomited back up to the masses.
Her ring was stinging more than usual. Was it upset that she had such a bad case of the shakes? She always wondered. Did her ring feel? More importantly, did the ring witness her triumphs and atrocities?
There were no triumphs lately. She was at the end of her rope and willing to hang herself. Hang herself with which rope? The rope of leader? The rope of the addictive Red? Red, her bed buddy. Red soothed her worries and drowned her despair in the tub. Red was everything Superior Mother had ever needed.
Daily, she wanted nothing more than to close the door to her quarters tight and forever. She’d pour a gallon of Red straight down her throat. What would happen then? She’d turn savage for sure, but locked up in her bedroom, she could harm no one but herself. That mattered less and less with each hit of Red.
She’d be her own assassin. Superior Mother liked that idea. Life in The Grey was about efficiency. What was more efficient than being one’s own murderer? She could tuck herself in before somebody else did. She wanted to beat those bitches at the race.
Soon one of them would make a go of it, just as she had once done to her own leader. One sneaky mother would softly knock on her door, playing possum with some dumb question, waiting for Superior Mother to let her guard down a bit. Then BOOM, the knife would be in her back.
Freeing her ponytail, Superior Mother scratched her head and let her hair fall to her shoulders. “It will probably be that cunt June…” Opening her dresser drawer, Superior Mother picked up her glass bottle, wanting only Red, even if it was the last drop of it she had.
Superior Mother stuck her tongue into the glass bottle, digging at the residue of the Red left behind. She knew she looked desperate, nothing more than a dog with a bone, but shameless behavior was now routine.
Shameless, and Superior Mother spoke lies not only to the Women of the Grey, but to herself. Each hit of Red was her last. Daily now she told herself these lies. Today she wouldn’t put it in her mouth. Oh, she wouldn’t do Red again for a week.
“Liar, liar pants on fire.” Superior Mother reached into her dresser drawer again and pulled out a piece of bubble gum. Bubble gum was not an approved food, but she had it smuggled in. The flavor of human blood blended well with the sickly-sweet bubble gum, and this reminded her of the mothers. They were sickly sweet to speak to, but deadly.
Red made it okay to be a liar. Superior Mother blew a large bubble, and then popped it with the ring and sighed.
Teresa
When Teresa woke, all was the same. She was still held hostage inside Uni, who remained silent. It was as if two best friends had argued, and Uni was now giving Teresa the silent treatment. She imagined Uni as if they were in their worlds. It has its back turned to her, giving her a cold shoulder.
Teresa felt like the offending friend, but knowing that sooner or later her friend would come around. Uni let her out, after all. That meant it was listening. It did feel for Teresa and sympathize with her and their cause. All was not lost.
There was still hope. Not hope of escape, but the hope of death and a slight possibility for revenge. Death was an escape in itself. Teresa knew and accepted that death would probably be the only way she and Uni would ever leave this lab.
This cold, still, sadistic lab. When Teresa had been on a mission and could watch television, she always enjoyed the shows where humans discussed their homes. Humans seem to enjoy their environments. Humans wanted their homes to represent them.
Teresa leaned her head against the inside membrane of Uni, staring at the nothing of the lab. What did the Grey’s environment say about them? The lab was heartless, and Teresa had concluded The Originals were heartless. The halls and living quarters of the Grey were dust free, tidy places, where the walls seemed to swallow you whole. “Prison.” Teresa thought. The mothers were inmates in a prison.
The daughters of the Grey were kept in large dormitories with beds in rows and nothing but dressers between them. Not a doll in sight or a poster on a wall. What does that environment represent? What’s the opposite of nurture? What’s “no love at all” called? Teresa couldn’t think of a word for “no love.” That is what The Grey is. A place where love is absent. Not only absent, but not taught.
Uni began to tremble. Teresa pushed herself against the walls of Uni, straining to see through the membrane or hear what was causing her dear friend to shake with fear. As suspected, Teresa saw the grey shadows flit back and forth before her.
The Originals where in the room, and that meant Teresa was about to have a bad day. Uni’s trembling was contagious. Teresa felt it begin in her gut and spread over her, gripping at her insides. The word sleep would come, and then they’d cut her again and again.
There was nothing left of her to cut. She had seen herself in the mirror. What could they possibly believe was in her that would be worth their time? Rocking back and forth Teresa, inwardly screamed to Uni. She’d have her revenge not only for her, but for him. Before their death she must kill at least one of the Originals. “At least one.”
Two small grey hands, followed by two more, came through the membrane just as Uni’s tentacles let Teresa go. They effortlessly placed her on the cold stainless-steel table, as if she weighed no more than a piece of paper.
Teresa dug her fingertips into the table, bracing herself for what was to come. Today Teresa dared to look them in the face. Turning her head, Teresa locked eyes with one of the Originals. She was looking for something in them. Something that she had never thought of before. A thing that until that very second had not passed through her thoughts about herself and them.
Teresa felt the Original glare back at her like a beacon of hatred and impatience. She had her answer then. They have no soul, and sadly, neither did she. Looking away, Teresa realized they were not carting her away. Instead one of them was walking towards her with a small vial in its hands. What was that?
June
Running her fingers through her now stringy black hair, June wasn’t sure where she had put her red lipstick either. June was both fragmented and completely in control. She knew what she wanted and the path to it, but her own doubts were blocking the fluidity of her movements.
Walking up to the ATM, June checked the balance on her account. She never touched the money. She promised herself long ago that it would be deposit only until the day came to disappear. This money was earmarked for her escape. Every ounce of Red equaled dollars in her account. Crumpling the receipt and tossing it in a nearby trash can, June couldn’t help but giggle just a bit. Her money was, literally, blood money.
There was enough money in there. She knew she was ready to go. June had her fake passport and enough money. She could go now, leave the Grey now, but June felt sticky. She was still stuck in The Grey, although the stepping stones to leave were there. June felt unfinished, though. “I’m not done yet” hung in the air around her. She couldn’t leave just yet. It was all there everything was set. Yet her shoes seemed glued to the floor.
Standing on the city street, June enjoyed the feel of grungy she had going on. The dirty hair, the bad attitude. The lingering idea that Superior Mother was nothing but a chump sat in June’s thoughts.
“Not yet,” June reminded herself. She needed to speak to Lisa first. It was a coin toss as to what would happen when June met Lisa. She imagined a standoff, like in western movies she had seen on TV. June and Lisa eye to eye, both with bad intentions on the mind.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about Lisa. Lisa, the killer of her own kind, left June bitterly angry and hungry to cut her throat. Lisa, the one who got away, left June a bit amazed. Maybe even a tiny bit enamored.
Some days June wanted to sit with Lisa, pry her head open, look inside to get a feel for the woman. Other days June only wanted to take a hammer to Lisa’s head. June started walking towards her favorite bar. She had a friend to meet, one that she hoped had some good news.
“What the hell,” Scott looked at June. “You look like Joan Jett.” June s
at down on the barstool next to Scott. She gave him her best smile, not knowing who Joan Jett was. She made a mental note to look her up later, hoping it was a compliment. Scott was her best human informant and supplier of Red. She’d hate to kill him.
Meeting the bartender’s gaze June pointed two fingers up, gave her a wink and a nod. This bartender knew June well. They had gotten tangled in bedsheets together one too many times. The bartender gave June a weak smile, then turned to grab some mugs.
The weak smile should have nudged June a bit, given her a taste of heartache, but June had no heart to give. She guarded her feelings, carefully keeping them safely hidden, only to be used in connection with saving her own skin. No one, as far as June was concerned, was worth emotion.
“Anything new?” June sipped her cold beer, allowing the foam to sit at the tip of her tongue for a second longer than she should.
“Yes. I believe I have found,” Scott stopped and turned on his barstool, “the one.” Using air quotations. “The almighty Lisa is locked up in some dingy hotel in some shit desert town,” he then pushed June on the arm a bit, “that is surprisingly close to The Grey.”
June wrinkled her nose. She knew exactly where Scott was speaking of. The dirt of that town would haunt June sometimes. The Women of The Grey had many paths to take when they left The Grey, and various areas to reach and conquer. They never went down the desert roads.
Gently putting her hand over Scott’s, June patted it, shoving herself a bit closer to him. “Got any Red?” She knew he would. There was a part of Scott that loved the idea of alien hybrid women locked up in a secret fortress, all high on human blood. Some, in fact, high on his blood. June was sure he got off on the idea.
Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy Page 50