The Book of Kell

by Amy Briant

  Tres Hermanas

  An hour later, my butt was numb, but my brain was abuzz. We had left the vineyards behind, first riding through an area of paddocks, barns and other outbuildings, then a ramshackle collection of living spaces. There were tents, yurts, tepees, lean-tos and tiny shacks constructed of odds and ends of building materials like boards, sheets of tin, scraps of tar paper and whatever else their scavenging occupants could find. As best as I could tell from the curved dirt roads we bisected at regular intervals, the place was designed more or less in a circle. The fields were the outermost ring, the paddocks and barns the next layer and the residences were one away from the inner circle. After an hour’s leisurely ride—and by leisurely I mean hellishly uncomfortable, bumping along on the back of the bony, stumble-prone steed, forced into close proximity to Marta, who herself smelled of horse, hard work and cinnamon—we had made it to the center.

  The most striking feature was a round amphitheater, built in a natural hollow surrounded by towering eucalyptus trees. A broad unpaved street of yellowish dirt circled the amphitheater, providing access to it at four equally spaced entrances—north, south, east and west. On the other side of the street were buildings, better built and larger than the hovels in the residential area. Signs on some of the buildings identified them: clinic, library, supply, security. Other structures were unmarked.

  The biggest building was the kitchen—half enclosed, half an outdoor cooking area with a canvas roof held up by poles, with canvas sides that could be rolled up or down depending on the weather. Next to the kitchen was an open grassy space with wooden tables and benches, shaded by trees. Smoke emanated from a chimney. Whatever they were preparing for dinner smelled really, really good. The late afternoon sun shone down on a few dozen women who were already in line for the evening meal, which had not yet begun.

  Obviously, this place was large and well-organized. As big or bigger than the Settlement. My rough estimate of the seating capacity of the amphitheater was well over three hundred. This place didn’t look like it had sprung up overnight. Perhaps it had been in existence Before and had, by some small miracle, survived the collapse more or less physically intact. It was, as Nancy had made clear, a community of women—I saw no men, although we did come across some women tending to a group of small children, both girls and boys. We had passed a few people on the ride in without comment, but now that we were “in town,” so to speak, we were attracting a lot of inquisitive glances. I felt tension and hostility in more than a few of the looks directed at me. I felt extremely self-conscious, but yelling, “I’m a girl, damn it!” didn’t seem like the answer. Especially when I wasn’t—not at my core. Nancy merely smiled and waved at the inquiries from the bolder ones. Marta remained stolidly silent. East was looking around her with cautious interest much as I was.

  Marta said “Está allí” and pointed. Nancy nodded. She told East and me to dismount, which was music to my rear. She also got off her horse. Marta took the reins from her and presumably headed off to the stables.

  At the far end of the dining area, three women sat at a table in the shade of a magnificent redwood tree. Nancy led us to them. One white, one Hispanic, one Asian. Behind them was an old trailer. There were a few of those at the Settlement, leftovers from Before. Like those, this one had probably once been fancy and state of the art, all gleaming chrome and shiny paint. Now it was a dull leaden color, with patches of rust in places. A wooden sign above the door had “office” burned into it in Western-style script.

  “What’s this?” the white woman said to Nancy. A mug and a notebook lay before her. She did not arise as we approached, though her two companions did, taking up protective flanking positions. Which seemed odd, since it was just me and East. The seated woman was old, in her fifties if not sixties, with wild-looking flyaway white hair. Short on the sides and back, longer on top. It didn’t look unclean, it just looked like she had made no attempt to comb it. Ever.

  “We have some visitors, Simone,” Nancy replied. Her tone was courteous, but somehow I could tell there was no love lost between the two of them.

  “Kids, this is Simone, our leader and the founder of Tres Hermanas,” Nancy told us. “That’s Violet and Rain Cloud behind her. And this is Elinor and Kell,” she finished, presenting us to the trio. There was a moment of silence as they collectively scowled at me. I waited for it.

  “The man-child is not welcome here, Nancy. You know our laws.”

  “They’re just kids, Simone,” Nancy said mildly. “And they’re both girls.”

  Another long pause as they took a second look. What was I supposed to do, drop my pants and show ’em my lady parts? Fuck that. I crossed my arms and stared back at them, pretending I was tough. And not at all humiliated. Not me.

  “You are vouching for this…person, Nancy?”

  Simone’s voice was as cold as her gaze. There was something going on between them that had nothing to do with me.

  Nancy met her gaze calmly and unflinchingly, but firmly said, “I vouch for both of them. I’d like to bring them to the meeting tonight if that’s all right with you.”

  “Fine,” Simone said briskly, as if dismissing this petty matter from her busy schedule. It looked to me like she’d been drinking coffee and shooting the shit with her buddies when we walked up, but maybe she had plans for world domination in her notebook. “We’ll take care of it tonight. Secure their belongings, get some dinner and then bring them to the meeting.”

  She stood up and turned to go into the office trailer. One of her minions—I hadn’t caught who was whom—jumped to open the door for her. The other jumped to get the coffee cup and notebook.

  “Thank you, Simone,” Nancy said politely, but the leader of Tres Hermanas did not reply. The trailer door banged shut. Marta had silently rejoined us at some point in the conversation and put a hand on East’s bag. East flinched and took a step back, looking at me with alarm.

  “Hey, wait a minute—” I said.

  Nancy made a “let’s all calm down” gesture with her big hands.

  “We need to store your bags. You heard her—‘secure your belongings’ is what she calls it.”

  “And what do you call it?” I said, tightening my grip on the straps of my own backpack and also taking a step back. I did not like the way this was going at all. I absolutely hated losing control of the situation. Not to mention that backpack was everything I had in the world.

  “It’s standard for new arrivals. We’re not thieves, Kell. You’ll get your gear back.”

  “When?”

  Nancy and Marta exchanged a brief look, loaded with meaning I could not divine.

  “First things first,” was her reply. “Marta will take care of your packs and then we’ll eat. After dinner is our weekly meeting. Simone will introduce you to the sisterhood then.”

  That damn cow had a lot to answer for.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Captured By Amazons

  The dinner bell rang as Nancy led us to the back of the chow line. I was, of course, seriously concerned about our situation and the loss of our liberty. On the other hand, the thought that we would eat that night, that we would have water to drink, and not have to worry about where to set up camp…It was an incredible relief, at least for a moment, to not have to work so freaking hard at just staying alive.

  There were lights strung amongst the trees that formed the perimeter of the dining area. A few of them started to flicker on as the daylight waned. I hadn’t heard any generator sounds. I assumed they had solar power. The delectable aroma from the cooking tent was making me light-headed. East’s arm bumped lightly against mine as the line moved forward. She took my hand and I squeezed hers back as she anxiously smiled down at me. I wanted to warn her, to tell her what not to say, but there was no opportunity for a private chat. It hadn’t occurred to me previously to have the What-If-We’re-Captured-By-Amazons? conversation.

  I was afraid they would separate us soon. That’s what I would have done.
Nancy was right behind us in the line, but at the moment was talking with the women behind her. Marta had not yet returned from wherever she had gone with our gear. I stood on my tiptoes to whisper in East’s ear one urgent sentence.

  “Don’t tell them anything about Segundo.”

  She looked surprised but nodded.

  After loading up our trays with food, we sat down with Nancy at a long communal table crowded with other women. I caught sight of Marta at another table, seated next to a young woman who resembled her. The meal was simple, but mind-blowing to me and East. A delicious beef and vegetable stew. Warm rolls with butter and honey which caused East to cry “Bread! They have bread, Kell!” much to the amusement of the others. I kept my eyes and ears open and tried to learn as much as I could from the chatter around us while stuffing my face. There was cheese and fresh fruit and even cobbler for dessert. I tried not to overeat, knowing it would only make me sick later, but it was hard to resist. My hands were shaking as I lifted a mug of cold spring water to my lips, more from emotion than any physical reaction. After weeks of scant rations and constant worrying about food, to sit down to such a dinner was almost overwhelming. I tried not to let anyone see.

  Nancy was sitting across from me and I met her gaze more than once during the meal. She ate slowly and sparingly and seemed to be studying both me and East with great curiosity. There was compassion in her gaze as well, or at least I thought so. I hoped I wasn’t misreading her.

  Each table seated about twenty. There were more than a dozen tables, all of which were full or nearly so. I could see several more women working in the kitchen, bringing out fresh dishes and clearing the tables as diners finished. Nancy had mentioned sentries, so there had to be more security personnel out there working. There were two hundred plus women eating dinner, plus the kitchen staff, plus security…plus who knew how many more. I was impressed with the size of the community. I was even more impressed with their infrastructure. We had washed our hands and faces before dinner at a spigot set in a gravel-paved area just across from the kitchen. These women had plumbing! And solar power. And roads and vineyards and cattle. I was curious about their organizational structure. Was Simone the supreme and only leader? Had she been elected? Perhaps the town meeting would provide some insight into that.

  East was seated to my left. She was attracting a lot of attention. As usual.

  “Where are you two from?” The question came from a beefy woman with a bowl cut who had plunked down next to Nancy. It sounded as if she were asking both of us, but she was completely focused on East. Both of us had gotten a lot of stares throughout the meal. East’s were of the admiring variety. Even as grubby and disheveled as we were, her beauty stood out in that crowd. I noticed almost all the women were at least in their thirties. The majority were in their forties or fifties. A few were even older.

  “Oh, uh, you know, south,” East replied with her easygoing smile. She shot me a glance then to check on my reaction. To make sure I approved. I knew she had felt my leg stiffen under the table next to hers when the woman asked the question. If I hadn’t been there, I felt certain East would have spilled all our beans. She was way too trusting, in my opinion. It was probably only a matter of time before the truth came out, but I thought it best to be wary at this point. These women were strangers to us. Dangerous, unknown strangers with their own agenda. Just because they were female didn’t mean they were our friends.

  Across the table, Beefy McGee was still making conversation with East. Hitting on her, I realized with a jolt. I had never been around another queer person before—or if I had, I’d been entirely unaware of it. My very limited knowledge of such matters came from a few books, things I’d overheard other people say and the thoughts in my head. I still wasn’t sure if I believed East’s declaration of going both ways. I looked around again at the tables full of women eating, drinking, laughing and talking. A few had their arms around their companions’ shoulders. As I scanned the crowd, I saw one couple kissing. Good heavens, were they all gay? My eyes must have been as big as the dinner plates. Across the table from me, Nancy watched me watching the crowd with a wry twist to her lips. Was she gay?

  “So are you a couple?” the beefy woman asked East.

  East laughed nervously, flicked me another glance and said, “Uh, yeah…I mean, no. Not really.”

  She looked again to see if I approved of her answer. Was her off-hand “not really” her honest answer, or was she bluffing them? We hadn’t kissed or really done anything…There’d been a lot of up-close-and-personal in the sleeping bag, but that was out of necessity, not romance. But still…I was surprised how much it hurt me to hear her say we weren’t a couple. As if Elinor Eastman and Kell Dupont could ever be a couple. I stared at the empty plate on the table in front of me and tried to block out everything for a moment, to make that sharp pang in my heart go away.

  What would that even be like? To be part of a couple? Maybe I’d have my arm around her waist. Her hand would rest lightly on the back on my neck as she leaned in to brush my lips with hers.

  The dinner bell loudly rang again to announce the end of the meal, jarring me out of my foolish distraction. Three distinct clangs then sounded, which I correctly guessed meant the meeting was about to start. People around us were getting up and ambling over to the amphitheater, but Nancy held us back for a moment.

  “Don’t be scared of the meeting, kids. It’s just a good way to introduce you to everyone.”

  “What’s going to happen?” East asked. Despite Nancy’s words, she looked frightened, which was exactly how I felt. East put her hand on mine under the table. Wait—was that something a non-couple would do? I was totally confused. I slid my hand out from under hers and stuck both of mine in my pockets.

  “Well, it’s our regular weekly meeting,” Nancy explained. “It’s a chance for the group to get together, talk about how we’re doing and discuss any problems. Simone will lead it. She’ll introduce you, I’ll vouch for you and then you’ll probably be assigned jobs. We all work here and you’ll be expected to pitch in.”

  East and I looked at each other but said nothing.

  “Don’t worry,” Nancy said with a smile. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

  Great, a promise from a strange woman I’d met at gunpoint just a few hours earlier who had taken away everything we owned. I felt better already.

  She led us down to the bottom of the amphitheater and showed us where to sit. Front row and center. She then climbed onstage and took a seat with several other women on two low benches behind Simone, who had her own large and ornately carved chair. Marta appeared out of nowhere—I had a sense she was good at that—and slid into the seat next to me.

  Wild-haired Simone strode to the front of the stage, slowly raised her outstretched hands and loudly said, “Sisters.”

  The place was instantly quiet. The natural acoustics of the bowl-shaped amphitheater easily carried Simone’s words to the audience. She sounded kind of phony to me, like she was putting on an act, but the women were all listening respectfully, just like she wasn’t a jackass.

  There was still a little light in the sky to the west—a faint gleam of pink, all that was left of the sunset. The first stars were shyly glimmering overhead. Several large and intense lights hung over the stage from a metal framework, powerfully illuminating Simone and the women seated behind her. In the audience, a few subdued lights shone just brightly enough so you could find your seat, or climb one of the four sets of stairs running from top to bottom of the bowl.

  “Good evening,” Simone said to the attentive crowd. “Our agenda tonight will be old business, status reports from the crew leaders and new business. Violet, is there any old business still pending from the last meeting?”

  “No, Simone,” answered the Asian minion from stage right, referring to a paper in her hand. She seemed to be taking notes although nothing much had happened so far.

  “All right, we’ll move on to status updates.”

 
; It turned out the women sitting on the benches were all in charge of some vital function. Each stood and addressed the crowd when called upon by Simone to report the latest news or problems with their work areas, which included Admin, Farm, Health, Kitchen, Laundry, Security and more. Some had nothing to share. Most of it was surprisingly tedious to me—heck, it was worse than school. Here I was, trying to learn all their deep dark secrets, and they were yapping about showing up on time for your shift, being quiet around the tents of the women who worked at night and slept during the day, and other earthshaking matters. The Farm crew leader, who covered both crops and animals, had a lot to say about irrigation schedules, which was as exciting as it sounds. I wanted to turn in my seat and study the crowd behind me but felt constrained by Marta’s dour presence at my elbow.

  Simone called out “Security” in her booming fake voice and a lean blond woman with a crewcut took the stage. She looked like she spent a lot of time outdoors. Green eyes blazed in her tanned face. I thought she was about thirty, maybe five foot seven, one hundred twenty very fit pounds. The stage lights added drama to elegant cheekbones and her sculpted frame. She wore tan carpenter’s pants, a form-fitting navy T-shirt and suede boots with some serious lug soles. I was trying not to stare, but the woman was mesmerizing. I wasn’t the only one who thought so—I heard a murmur of appreciation from the row behind me. She launched into her update with no preamble.

  “One of our patrols riding the vineyard perimeter encountered an intruder this afternoon—a man.”

  Angry muttering from the crowd was the immediate response. Crap, was she talking about me? I hoped not. The back of my neck grew hot. I eased myself a little lower in my front row seat.

  “No shots were fired, but he is believed to be armed. The patrol attempted to detain him for questioning, but unfortunately, he eluded capture.”

  The angry muttering swelled and broke into a buzz of irate voices—some frightened, some questioning, some demanding more information from the security chief, whose name was Pinto according to the people yelling at her. Well, at least she wasn’t talking about me. I sat back up.