The Z Word

by Bella Street

  “I've been thinking,” Gareth said.

  Seffy nodded. “Me, too.”

  He dropped onto the foot of her bed and linked his hands together between his knees. “We need to establish what year we're in exactly and where to go from there.”

  “Brilliant,” Addison muttered, still in pajamas, stretching out on the bed next to where Lani sat.

  Seffy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I agree, because I'm worried whoever runs this place—”

  “McDreamy Fenn,” Addison said with a smile in her voice.

  “—might be using the old divide and conquer strategy.”

  Gareth's brows shot up. “What do you mean?”

  Seffy sat on the edge of the room's only other chair. “My nurse—”

  “Oho, you have a room and a nurse. My, aren't you the popular one.”

  Firming her lips at Addy, she continued. “When I was talking to her, it occurred to me she might be pumping me for information.”

  Gareth shrugged. “That's a given.”

  Seffy deflated. “Oh. I thought I was really onto something there.”

  “You are,” he said, “and because of that we need to get our stories straight so when they do divide us and possibly pit us against each other, we're all on the same page. I think until we know who to trust, that we trust no one.”

  “Just like in Lost when they found out about The Others,” Lani breathed.

  Seffy stared at her for minute. “You seriously watch Lost? Honestly, what goes on with you people when I'm not around?”

  “It would really help if you did,” the brunette said. “There are so many similarities with this place and the hatch where Desmond was.”

  “Oh, let there be a Desmond around here somewhere.”

  “Which is it, Addy?” Gareth asked with amusement in his voice. “Fenn or Desmond?”

  She smiled. “Both.”

  “Anyway,” Seffy said, “what's our story?”

  “Going to come up with another one?” Addison said. “Your last one worked out so well.”

  Seffy glared at the redhead. “Actually it did. Things were fine as long as we were in L.A.” And her idea to change things had been successful. But ending back at square one? Now that was a failure she couldn't have anticipated. Leave it to Addy to start the blame game. “Are you trying to say you're having second thoughts? Because you didn't have to agree back then.”

  “I'm not saying that,” Addison mumbled, looking down at her hands. “I just don't know why you're taking the lead on this.”

  “Hey, if you've got a way out of this, let's hear it,” Seffy said, struggling to keep her tone even.

  “Well,” Gareth said, mercifully taking over, “we don't have to technically lie about anything, I just think we should avoid revealing too much until we're sure of the lay of the land.”

  “And what about the others?” Lani said with a snicker.

  “Okay!” Seffy said. “Enough about a TV show. We have to deal with reality now.”

  Addison snorted. “The Queen of Denial wants to deal with reality. There's an oxymoron.”

  “Which is it?” Seffy said. “Either I'm in denial or coming up with ideas. It can't be both.”

  “Maybe it is both!” Lani said.

  “Huh?” Gareth said, apparently confused.

  Lani waved her hand. “No, not that! I was talking about TV and reality. Maybe we're on a reality show!”

  “Then we've been royally punk'd,” Addison said, glowering.

  “It's just worth thinking about. Like in The Truman Show. That guy didn't know he was on TV.”

  Seffy shook her head. “What I don't get is how you all have so much time for TV and movies.”

  Addison smirked. “We watch real actors and actresses when you're in your room primping in the mirror, pretending to be one.”

  “Or keeping your nose stuck in Variety,” Gareth said with a quirk to his lips.

  “Very funny. I do watch some TV—shows that actually will enhance my life—”

  “The Hills is truly deep and meaningful.”

  “—and not just to fill up my time because I actually have a social life.”

  Addison snorted.

  Seffy thought back to her 'social life' in view of what she'd told Gareth and blushed hot.

  “Well, one thing is for certain, we need a name for our group.”

  Gareth looked at Lani. “Huh?”

  “Trent, Jared, Cynthia and Eva are The Others, until we come up with something different.”

  “Technically, wouldn't the compound people be The Others?”

  Seffy rolled her eyes at Addison. “Don't encourage her.”

  “Whatever,” Lani said. “We need to call ourselves so we can differentiate.”

  “Losties?” Gareth said with a grin.

  “Losties in Space?” Lani said, pushing out her lips as if unsatisfied.

  Seffy crossed her arms and slumped against the back of the chair. “I got up for this? I thought we were going to get serious about our situation.”

  “Well,” Addison said, sitting up, “the details are these: we're apparently twenty-six years in the past, we're definitely in Montana—”

  “Why couldn't it be Hawaii?” Gareth lamented.

  “—there's been some sort of apocalypse judging from the skyscape and presence of zombies...”

  Lani scrunched her nose. “Apocalypse Losties?” She shook her head.

  “You guys are cracked.”

  “C'mon, Seffy,” Addison said. “Throw out some words. It wouldn't kill you to help once in a while.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Apocalyptic Survivors...” Gareth scratched his head. “Naw, what if we die?”

  “There's a cheerful thought,” Seffy said, wishing she had the nerve to shove Addison off her bed, because she'd rather sleep than try and figure out which television show best matched their circumstances.

  Addison sent her a lazy glare. “Can you at least pretend to try? Then you can work on all those actress babe skills.”

  Seffy returned the look. “It's not 'actress babe', it's actor.”

  “Why? What's wrong with actress? Is it 'non-politically correct' these days?”

  “Girls,” Gareth said on a sigh. “Maybe we should get back to our plan.”

  “Oh!”

  Seffy groaned as Lani raised her hand. “How about Babes in Apocalypseland?”

  “Too ironic,” Addy said.

  “What does that even mean?” Seffy snapped.

  “The name or the definition of irony?”

  Seffy crossed her arms over her chest.

  Lani rubbed her nose. “Or Apocalypse Babes?”

  “Uh,” Addy said, “you may have noticed we're not all girls here.”

  “But Gareth is a babe.”

  Gareth winked at Lani. “Thanks.”

  Seffy raised her hands. “Fine. Whatever.” She grimaced. “But in public can we just be the AB-ers or something like that so no one actually has to know we named our group?”

  “We could be ABers,” Lani said, grinning. “I like it! Sounds neighborly.”

  “Okay, so when the ABers and The Others,” Seffy paused to look at the ceiling, “when we are all questioned together, how are we going to get them to go along with us?”

  Gareth tilted his head. “Trent has already proved to be trouble. And Jared follows his lead. Maybe we can recruit the girls to our side.”

  “Ugh. Isn't it bad enough that Lani and I have to sleep in the same room with them?”

  “I wouldn't mind forming an alliance,” Lani said.

  Seffy smacked her forehead.

  “Bottom line,” Gareth said, “they're an unknown quantity and so I think we—the ABers—will just have to stick together.”

  Seffy blew out a breath. “Why don't you just be our spokesman? That way we can't screw anything up.”

  Gareth looked at the other girls. “Is that okay with you?”

 
; They nodded.

  A knock at the outside door made them all jump.

  “Who would be here this early?” Seffy got up and opened the door. It took a hefty amount of self-control to school her features when she saw Fiona on the other side of the threshold. The small woman glowed with energy and vigor and a delicate beauty. Tramp.

  “I'm glad you're up and about,” she said with a smile like liquid nitrogen. Her bright gaze swept the room. “We'd like to meet with all of you at nine, if you don't mind. Is an hour enough time to make yourselves presentable?”

  Seffy gritted her teeth behind her bland smile. If the woman couldn't recognize Gareth was beyond presentable—despite his tragic handicap of not having access to hair gel—she was an idiot.

  “You mean two hours,” Lani said. “It's just a bit past seven.”

  Fiona touched her hands together, her eyes wide. “Here in the Mountain time zone, it's eight.”

  Lani's jaw sagged. “We lost a whole hour?”

  Addison rubbed her face. “Think of it this way, Lani, we gained almost thirty years.”

  Gareth jumped up, clearing his throat. “Where will we meet at nine?”

  “I'll come back for you.”

  Seffy wondered how Fiona made such innocent words sound so indecent. Double tramp.

  “Is there a phone system here?” Addison said. “That way you won't have to run back and forth like a gopher.”

  Fiona's gray eyes narrowed. “It's no problem. I'll be here in about fifty minutes.”

  Seffy kicked the door shut after the pixie-witch left. She turned to the others. “Since I'm not looking forward to hearing Fiona make snide remarks about my appearance during the 'meeting', I need to hop in the shower.”

  Gareth sent her a chagrined smile. “She does have claws.”

  “I'm glad you finally noticed.”

  He stood up. “And...you look great, no matter what.”

  Seffy heard the minute hesitation in his voice. Apparently blue contacts were a must-have, even in the past.

  Addison heaved herself off the bed. “I better hurry since I have to wait in line for my shower.”

  “You can take one in here.”

  “Before you?”

  “After. My hair takes longer to dry.”

  Addison rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don't take all day.”

  “I think I'll sneak back into our room and try to get a shower before Cynthia and Eva wake up,” Lani said.

  Gareth moved toward the door. Seffy put her hand on his arm as he walked past. “Remember, you're the spokesman.”

  He nodded and left.

  Seffy went to the little dresser and rummaged through the offerings. She dug out a pair of grannie undies and found a horrid shirt and jeans. She turned to Addison. “I'm guessing Fiona picked out our clothes.”

  Addison pointed to her PJ's. “You think?”

  ***

  Fiona returned at the appointed time. Gareth still looked fine in his jeans and T-shirt. The tee was rather snug but enhanced his appearance. Seffy regarded her bell bottoms and polyestery blouse and shuddered. Lani and Addy didn't fare much better. Neither had The Others. She was pretty sure their clothes were more sixties than seventies. Gah.

  Fiona, looking at least decent in an off-the-shoulder blouse worn with peg leg jeans and flats, glided ahead of them down the hall. Still retro, but less hippy.

  “Do you still have the clothes we arrived in?”

  Fiona turned to her, showing ridiculously long eyelashes. “I believe so. Why?”

  “I'd like to get my pink tracksuit back.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “I think it's pretty torn up. You can't possibly—”

  “I just want it,” Seffy said.

  “Fine. As soon as it's been laundered, I'll have it returned to your room.”

  She mentally mocked the small tyrant. As soon as it's been laundered. Ptthhbbt. However, she was mollified knowing she wouldn't have to be stuck in retro retreads forever.

  Seffy studied her surroundings but didn't see much more than painted gray walls and windowed rooms interspersed with non-windowed rooms. Fluorescent lights hummed overheard, casting everything with an anemic pall. It was like a stage set called Generic Institution. They stopped at a white painted door and went inside. A large conference table and orange plastic school chairs filled the space. Baxter was there, along with a man in a white lab coat. He looked like he was in a science nerd costume, right down to the clunky black glasses and greasy skin.

  “Fiona,” Baxter said, with a curt nod. Was there a pained note in his voice? He smiled and waved everyone else in, and as they were seated, he motioned to the nerd.

  Baxter said, “I'd like to introduce Eugene Dexter.”

  “There's irony for you, Addy,” Lani whispered.

  “What's ironic,” she whispered back, “is that the Eugenes of the world will soon be the Steve Jobs.”

  “Or Linus Torvalds,” Gareth said in a low voice.

  “Gareth!” Seffy hissed. “No Linus or Lennox or whatever talk.”

  The nerd stood up as Baxter continued. “Eugene is in charge of our science department and would like to ask you some questions.”

  Addison raised her hand. “Will there be incentives?”

  Baxter's bushy brows rose in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, since we'll obviously be rats in a maze, will there be cheese?”

  Gareth groaned under his breath.

  “Uh, I assure you your answers will be very important to us in helping you return from where you came. And there are donuts on the table.”

  Lani opened an unmarked box to reveal an assortment of pastries. She gingerly picked up a powdered donut and took a bite.

  “Hope it's not laced with arsenic,” Addison whispered to Lani. She shot an amused looked at Gareth, who was apparently in on the joke.

  Seffy suppressed a stab of horror, wondering how they could find the notion of poisoned donuts funny.

  Eugene blinked behind his thick lenses. “Let's get started, shall we? Please state your full names.”

  They went around the room and gave their names; Gareth Rodden, Addison Wright, Lani Berry, Trent Ellison, Jared Lucas, Cynthia Moore, and Eva Glassner. When Seffy stated her name, Trent snickered. She shot him a hard look.

  “Do you want our rank and serial numbers?” Jared asked with a sneer.

  “Unless you're active military, I'm not sure how that would be germane,” Dexter the science guy said.

  Lani started to giggle and struggled to muffle it.

  “What?” Seffy asked.

  “He...he looks like Jerry Lewis in that Nutty Professor movie.”

  “Geez, Lani, I don't have a clue what you're talking about.”

  “And where are you all from?” Eugene picked up a clipboard from the table and peered at them with...scientific interest.

  Trent sprawled in his chair, his arms over his chest, wearing powder blue polyester slacks and a silky white shirt. He speared the science guy with a mocking look from bloodshot eyes. “Jared and I are from West Hollywood, California.”

  “So are we,” Cynthia said. “90069.”

  “And let's not forget Clay. He was from there, too,” Trent said with a meaningful look at Seffy.

  “Oh!” Lani said. “The same zip code as us. We're all neighbors!”

  “Good ol' Hell-lay,” Jared said, wearing stiff Levis and a plaid shirt.

  “Okay, we're all from the same area, where the year was 2006,” said Gareth. “Am I right to understand the year here is 1980?”

  “What?” Eva cried.

  Baxter and Eugene glanced at each other. “Yes,” Baxter said. “To us, this is Montana in the year 1980.”

  Seffy raised her hand. “Can we just confirm that this 'Montana' is not a code word or anagram, and exists in the United States of America on planet Earth?”

  Baxter stared at her. “Uh, confirmed.”

  “I don't want to sound suspicious, but is there
any way you could prove it to us?” Gareth said.

  Cynthia's lip trembled as she patted Eva's shoulder. Trent and Jared exchanged looks, but said nothing.

  Baxter scratched his chin. “We could turn on a TV.”

  “That would work...” Gareth said. “For the year anyway.”

  Baxter turned to Fiona. “Would you please bring us a TV?”

  She stood up. “Of course, but I'd like to remind you they're the ones who are supposed to be answering the questions, not asking.”

  Gareth gave a little shake of his head at Seffy and Addison, aware they were about to make snide remarks to their hostess.

  “Party pooper,” Seffy whispered.

  Fiona left the room. While they waited, Seffy scanned the sterile space. Would a little wall art or some pictures be so difficult? Or maybe they were going for that whole institutional look which says, 'hey, you're screwed!' Then she saw a window on the far wall and caught her breath. Fenn was on the other side of the glass, watching. He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Seffy couldn't think over the sudden pounding of her heart.

  Fiona returned with an old TV on a rolling stand. Baxter plugged it in to the wall, adjusted the rabbit ears and turned it on. After flipping through some channels, all showing people in late 70s clothing, he stopped on the clearest channel. “Sorry, the reception isn't great in the compound what with all the electrical interference.”

  “What kind of electrical interference, exactly?” Trent asked. But everyone ignored him.

  Gareth leaned forward and stared at the screen. A reporter with hair like a toupee wearing a wide striped tie was talking about President Carter and Iranian hostages. Gareth jumped up and ran his hands over the television set, looking for cables or a tape or anything to show it wasn't a live broadcast. He flipped through several channels, then backed up, breathing hard.

  “Okay, I believe you,” he said, sitting back down.

  “Oh, crap,” Addison said.

  “Ditto.” Seffy looked at Fenn, but his expression was impassive.

  Baxter went over and turned off the TV. “That's a real tragic situation about those poor hostages.”

  Gareth put his head in his hands. “They get out soon.”

  Baxter's eyes widened. “When?”

  “When Reagan is sworn in.”

  “Ronald Reagan wins the election?”