Dying to Live: Last Rites

by Kim Paffenroth

  Will didn’t hesitate to answer. “No. We need it.”

  “All right. You and Rachel will need to find jobs, so for now let’s just fill that in at the average starting rate.” Numbers were added and multiplied. “There. You should have your bills paid off in about a month.”

  “A month?” What was she talking about? What did it cost to have the ship tied up? And they’d just gotten a couple bottles of the medicine. How could it take a month for them to work it off?

  “Maybe less.” She smiled and blinked once. These people had that stuff ladies put on their eyelashes, too. Will had forgotten the name—masquerade or something. But her impossibly full lashes only distracted him for an instant from all the nonsensical stuff coming out of her mouth and all the seemingly unalterable, arcane symbols on her papers. “And of course, you never know—you might want to stay longer,” she said.

  “No, I don’t think we will. And what about the two people who were with us? They took them.”

  “Other people?” Julia checked her paperwork. “You mean the two dead worker units?”

  “Well, yes. How do we get them back?”

  “Did you get a receipt for them?”

  “A receipt? No. Nobody said anything about that.”

  Julia’s brow wrinkled. “Those men at the docks are so sloppy and careless with paperwork. Well, it says here the female was taken to the City Patrol camp. She might still be viable after a month, but I wouldn’t count on it. The male was taken to the Dead End entertainment center. He should be fine, unless he was a violent or disobedient one.”

  “No, not at all. He was very gentle.”

  “That’s good. But without a receipt, you’ll have to pay for them again. They’re not worth much, so it shouldn’t add too much time to how long you have to work.”

  “What? Okay. Whatever. But what do you mean that the lady might still be viable?”

  Julia gave what looked like a very well-practiced expression of sympathy or concern. “Just that the City Patrol is very dangerous,” she said. “They’re not going on nearly as many patrols as they used to, but they still lose units all the time. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  No, there wasn’t too much danger of Will getting his hopes up anymore—not after this beautiful woman had started talking about payment and filling out forms and acting like they were prisoners in this clean, efficient, orderly place. He’d much rather be around Lucy than this bitch. Definitely a lot more missing inside this one, even if she had all her parts and they were all so nicely shaped and decorated.

  “Well, I guess a few weeks will be okay. We can rest and get ready to move out. Get supplies and stuff.”

  Julia beamed, an expression somewhat less insincere than her sympathetic one. “That’s great! I’ll write up all the paperwork and you don’t need to worry about a thing!” She shook his hand again, much more vigorously this time. “I think you’ll really like New Sparta! Have a great day!”

  “Yeah, you too,” Will said quietly to her retreating back, his gaze immediately drifting down to her swaying hips. As nice as the view was, Will no longer thought he’d like it here very much, and he had no doubts there’d be quite a few things to worry about in this strange, complicated place.

  Chapter 13: Lucy

  They’d trudged along up shore for some time, with a large wall to their right. The wall was a hodgepodge of different materials—brick, concrete, cinder blocks, wooden planks. In some places it was topped with spikes or barbed wire—or, as Lucy suspected from the glinting she saw at the top, broken glass. It was irregular in height: for the most part, it was as tall as two men, but lower in some spots, higher in others. The place stank, too, of humankind, so there must have been a lot of them behind the wall.

  God, why did living people always smell so bad? How could they stand that toxic mix of shit and sweat they always had coming off them? The heady scent of rich blood and succulent meat underneath it all was intoxicating to Lucy, but hardly made up for the more piercing, stinging odors that wafted above it. Better just to smell nothing than their foul mixture, which made her feel hungry and sick at the same time, so Lucy refrained from inhaling, once she’d satisfied her curiosity.

  The sun had come out and the day had grown warm as they followed the wall away from the river, into marshy fields with some twisted, thorny bushes in them, and a huge number of flies buzzing around. Only the dragonflies were of any interest to Lucy—big and purple with their wild, zigzagging flights; the rest were just nasty, ordinary flies—mostly black, a few of the bright green kind.

  After a while the men started moving away from the wall, following a trail of cracked pavement into the fields, and eventually into a forest of scrubby pines barely taller than Lucy. She thought it was a pretty crappy-looking place overall—boring, stunted, and broken.

  They emerged from the woods and Lucy saw a high chain-link fence ahead of them. A gate in the fence was flanked by two guard towers. From these, four rifle barrels were immediately trained on them. The collar pulled back on Lucy’s neck and she stopped moving forward.

  “Hold up, you stupid bitch,” the man behind her said. Yeah—they went around pointing guns at each other, and they called her a stupid bitch. Dumb fucks. Some of them deserved to die more than others.

  Lucy lowered her head, but let her eye wander about, taking in the scene more carefully. She now saw two larger guns on the towers; these were mounted on brackets and did not pivot toward them, but remained pointed into the enclosure beyond the fence. She also noticed the towers had no stairs or ladders.

  Lucy breathed in through her nose. Ah—that wonderful, dry, dusty smell of dead people. This was a much better place, clearly.

  She saw CJ out of the corner of her eye, raising his hands. “Hey, just me, guys,” he called to the guards in the towers. “CJ. From the dock.”

  “Hey, CJ,” came the reply. “Long time no see. Whatcha got?”

  “Smart one,” CJ answered. “Quick too. Thought you guys would be interested. Should be perfect for patrols. She can use tools, weapons. Some crazy hill person had her as a pet. Hardly needs any training at all.”

  “Really? Tiny little thing. Doesn’t look like she’d be up to it.”

  “Oh, no, she’s a firecracker. Lot of fight in this one.”

  “I don’t know, CJ. She doesn’t look it.”

  CJ laughed as he came around in front of Lucy. He pulled on two big leather gloves. “You guys,” he said. “Always make me work for it. And it’s just the city’s money! You’d think you’d just hand it over and be glad to have another one for the patrols.”

  Lucy eyed him without lifting her head. “Come on, sweet thing,” he said, leering at her. “Show the man what a crazy, fucking bitch you are.”

  Lucy gave a low growl. Fuck him. She wasn’t going to put on a show so he could make some money. What the hell did he need money for, anyway? Everyone here looked pretty well-fed and spoiled, as far as she could tell. What the fuck more did they need?

  CJ backhanded her across the face. Lucy lifted her head up part of the way and glared at him, but didn’t make a move or another sound.

  He squinted at her as the men in the towers laughed. “Not looking good for you, CJ,” one called. “She’s just somebody’s pet. Leave her alone!”

  CJ took a step toward her and slammed his left fist into her stomach. Didn’t really feel like much—just a rough sort of pressing into her, not a real pain. But then he grabbed her chin and pushed her head back. She’d have a mouthful of gristly, crunchy thumb right now, if it weren’t for those damned gloves.

  “No more fucking around,” CJ whispered to Lucy, his mouth next to her ear. “If you cost me money, or embarrass me, I’ll snap your fucking neck, bitch. Fuck the money.” He pulled back a little, so he could see her eye. “Blink, you cunt, if you understand me, or I’ll do it right now.”

  A few more days of humiliation and pain? Or end it now? That is, if the little weasel had the balls and muscles
to do it. Lucy half closed her eye. She knew it’d feel good, to have it over with. Real rest. That seemed like the nicest, most desirable thing imaginable. And not having to be pushed around by all the pricks in the world? That’d be incredible, too, better than anything she could imagine. But Lucy also knew she was just like Rachel—or probably like most everyone else who’d faced this kind of decision. She couldn’t let go, even of this ugly, vicious semblance of life. It was just human nature not to. Nothing to be done about it but give in to the weakness.

  She brought her eyelid down all the way and raised it back up.

  “Good,” CJ said, smirking. “You’ll always be somebody’s bitch.” As he stepped back, he also pulled her kerchief off, just to make sure she’d put on a good show.

  All Lucy’s shame—at how she looked, at what she was, at how she couldn’t even will herself to die—erupted into a howl of rage and pain. She swung her manacled hands—once to the left, then back to the right—catching CJ in the face both times, first with her fist, then with the metal band and her other fist. She would’ve lunged straight forward next, would have tackled him with the metal pressing into his throat, but the man holding her collar finally brought her around, pulling her off balance and keeping her from moving forward.

  CJ stepped back, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He wasn’t smirking anymore, at least, but he smiled crookedly, showing his teeth all covered with blood. “Told you, guys,” he said. “Bitch is twice as mean as a rattlesnake and almost as fast.”

  There was laughter again from the towers, but this time it sounded more appreciative than mocking. The one guard spoke again. “All right, all right,” he said. “Maybe we were too quick to judge. You sure she can see, though, with her face all messed up like that? I’ve seen lots of ‘em, but none with a face as jacked-up as that.”

  “She can see fine. Stop kidding around. She could see to clock me while you numb nuts sat up there and laughed. Now admit it. I was right.”

  “Okay, you were right, CJ. Girl’s got potential. You fill out the form and turn it in at city hall and you’ll get your money. Half now, half if she’s still up and around after a month.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know how it works. Always with the forms. Some shit never changes.”

  CJ approached Lucy, though he stayed out of her reach. The man behind her pulled back on the collar to keep her in place. “On your knees, honey,” CJ said. “You did good and I appreciate it, but I’m not gonna take any chances, with you all riled up again.”

  The collar pressed on her shoulders and Lucy got down on her knees.

  “Hands out in front,” CJ said.

  Lucy complied. He unlocked the manacles and stepped away as she got back up.

  They walked her forward as the gate opened, then unlocked the collar. Lucy reached up to rub her raw neck. She turned to see CJ and the other guy backing away from her. She snarled at them, just to feel something good in her wretched state, but there wasn’t much point in posturing now: they were safe and in charge and they knew it.

  CJ gave a little wave—the mocking kind, with the hand held up, folding the four fingers down as one, then snapping them back up several times. “Bye, bye, darling,” he said.

  Prick.

  “She know words?” the guard called from the tower. “Take commands?” They must not have heard when CJ whispered to her. Good. The less they knew, the better.

  “Yeah. She won’t always do what you say, but she knows.”

  “Get inside, bitch.”

  Lucy walked through the gate, which slid closed behind her. She sniffed the air again. Dead were around. Some were closer than when she smelled the air before. In the compound behind the fence sat various structures in advanced stages of decay—huts or sheds more than houses, though they might’ve started out as real dwellings once, a long time ago. No more commands came from the tower, which was fine with her, but after a few moments the silence made her anxious. Then Lucy heard some shuffling and scraping from one of the buildings.

  A young dead woman emerged from one of the sheds—a girl, really, though she was nearly as tall as Lucy, and had a fuller, thicker body. Her brown hair was done up in two pigtails. Lucy didn’t remember too much of fashion, but she was pretty sure only young girls wore their hair that way—or an older girl trying to look younger.

  She had on a very short skirt, ruffled, with stripes, though the colors were so faded, you couldn’t tell what shades they’d been originally; it was also spattered with mud and blood and God knows what other filth. Lucy remembered something about girls in really short skirts like that—they’d dance and jump around in front of crowds, though she couldn’t remember what you called it or what the reason was.

  The girl’s top didn’t match, but was made from some thick fabric, like denim or canvas; it had vertical black and white stripes on it and looked ridiculous on the poor girl, like something a person would wear to make people laugh, though this hardly seemed the place where people laughed very much. Well, except for those idiots in the tower, but they’d laugh at anything degrading or ugly. The girl held a bundle of the same fabric in her hands. Lucy noticed she walked with a limp as she approached.

  “They’re so funny, how they always send out a girl if it’s a girl, and a guy if it’s a guy,” Lucy heard from the tower. “Like it fucking matters. They eat people, and they care who comes out to greet them? I can never get over how messed up they are.”

  The girl was now in front of Lucy, holding out the bundle. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were only a little cloudy, and set far apart on her round face. She must’ve been very pretty, with a voluptuous, young body, and a bright, innocent face. But now she just looked forlorn and stupid, gazing over Lucy’s shoulder with her mouth slightly open, swaying there among the broken-down buildings. Lucy took the clothes from her and nodded slightly. She got no response before the girl turned to shuffle back the way she had come.

  “The hot cheerleader’s limping worse,” Lucy heard one guard say. “We’re gonna have to put her down.”

  “But she’s so fucking hot,” another one said. “I love watching her walk around. And it’s not like with real girls: you can stare all day and no one cares, no one tells you to stop. You can just sit back and enjoy the show all day long.”

  Some chuckles and catcalls. “You’re sick. How can you say shit like that?”

  “Hey—what’s wrong with looking? They’re perfect for that. It’s not like they mind. I don’t see any problem.”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t. It’s just gross. And besides, she hasn’t been on patrol in weeks. We’re gonna get written up if the inspectors come by. You know the rules.”

  “All right. Don’t get all scared of the city council like a bunch of girls. I’ll take care of it.” Lucy heard a metallic click, and then someone shouted, “Hey!”

  The girl stopped walking and turned back around. Her big brown eyes were looking right at Lucy, who shut her eye against the inevitable. She only flinched a little when the shot came a second later.

  That was another thing about living people, besides their sickening smell: they were always so damned loud, with all their crashes and explosions, gunshots and screaming. Why couldn’t they ever just shut up and be still?

  Lucy opened her eye, and took a step forward. The body looked peaceful in the grass there, the eyes looking up at the sky; it had been as quick an end as one could hope for, so there was no logical reason for how much rage Lucy felt at that moment. But if anything, that only increased its intensity. She dug her fingers into the bundle she held and clenched her jaw till it hurt and her ears rang.

  “Hey, new meat!” Lucy heard from the tower. She relaxed slightly as she turned toward them, readying herself for whatever new indignity or violence they intended.

  “Put the uniform on,” the guard said. “Rules.”

  Yeah, they always liked that word—”rules.” Covered all sorts of ugliness that they loved so much. Lucy unfolded the stiff shirt and frowned at it. It smel
led good, like dead people, but she still felt funny putting on such a weird piece of clothing. After a moment, she began to pull it on anyway.

  “No,” she heard when the shirt was over her head. “Take off what you got on first.”

  There were groans and laughter from the other men: “Not that again, you sick fuck! Oh, you can’t be serious! You’re one sick bastard!”

  “Hey—you made me shoot my other piece of eye candy! This one’s fine as hell too!” The one man pointed at Lucy. “Hey, honey! When you’re done with that, put something over that mess on your face. I don’t want to see that when you’re sashaying around here. Ruins everything.”

  It was extremely difficult and slow, trying to get her dress off without Truman’s help, but Lucy eventually got the buttons undone in the back. She stared at the girl’s body as she worked, at the way the breeze now moved the grass around the corpse; it gave her something to focus on, something to distract from the shame.

  Lucy let the dress drop to the ground. Though it had been warm earlier, the air now felt icy against her body.

  Chapter 14: Rachel

  Rachel kept her eye on Will as the tall blonde led them up the steps of the row house. This Julia character was definitely the kind you’d catch your man looking at the wrong way. Rachel was pretty self-confident in the looks department, and Will had always been more loyal than she, to be frank, but this gal had all those adornments she barely remembered from childhood—the clothes, the makeup, the girly-girl mannerisms. God, that thing she did with her hair, tucking it behind her ear—could she have practiced a gesture more affected and annoying if she tried? Rachel had even caught a whiff of Blondie as they walked around the city—somewhere between syrupy and flowery, but with something animal underneath it. What was that expression? She’d heard her older brother say it years ago, and they’d laughed hysterically at the naughty words. Oh yeah—she smelled like a French whore. That about summed up this skank.