Woman Scorned Page 19

  “Not your problem anymore,” Emma was saying.

  “What’s that?” Lucy asked. Is she reading my mind?

  “I said Sherry’s gonna be doing nothing but looking forward to her next raid. She’s just sitting there looking at the hills like she doesn’t even like hunting anymore.”

  “Oh,” Lucy said, and relaxed. “Yeah, it can be like that.” But the look in Sherry’s eyes was evidence of something else. It was telling her that she, too, had been more traumatized than charmed by last night’s experience. She wondered if perhaps Sherry was the one who had been using her favorite green chair in the third floor foyer.

  Nope, she stopped herself. That really isn’t my problem anymore. From here on out, it’s just me and my freedom. And nothing Gertrude can do is going to change that.

  3

  Josie waited in her new office and looked out the window in search of some kind of strength. Below and far away, her heart was slamming like a thousand jackrabbits.

  Jesus Christ, she wondered. Did I really just do that? I must be insane. What the hell am I even going to-

  Her thoughts died at the sound of someone coming. It was most certainly Erin returning from the errand on which Josie had sent her. Maybe she wasn’t there, Josie had time to think.

  Then Gertrude’s voice echoed through the barren halls. “What does she want?”

  Erin’s voice, closer now, answered. “I’m not sure, Gertrude. She didn’t say.”

  “Next time don’t come to me without basic intel. I’m very busy. I don’t have time for simple prattle.”

  “Yes, Gertrude,” Erin said, and a moment later they came through the door. By then Josie had turned from the window and was pulling books from shelves. She had adopted a look of mild exasperation which she hoped would be the right touch to goad Dirty Gertie’s interest. This was a delicate situation, and she knew it.

  When Gertrude’s gigantic mass filled the door frame, Josie knew what else she was seeing. Lorraine’s office had been the exact opposite of Gertrude's. It was foremost a cluttered mess. Her bookcases dominated the space, lining every wall and even overlapping one of the windows in its effort to provide more storage space. Many of the books were of a variety that Rhonda no doubt would appreciate: psychology, psychiatry, hypnotism, coercive persuasion, medieval and modern torture techniques, combat tactics, and even gaming strategies were among the most popular topics. Various alternative medicine texts could be seen as well, if one took the time to scour the shelves. The only common denominator among them was a lack of fiction. This was the one factor which had shouted out more and more to Josie as she had tried to make sense of it all. Everything was about self-improvement, and nothing was there to entertain.

  Additionally, other, less valuable junk and knickknacks were stuffing the spaces in between. Snow globes, porcelain dolls, tavern puzzles, jade animal sculptures, a blue china teacup, a cupcake-shaped Christmas tree ornament, candles of various sizes, colors, and states of use, a small collection of purple geodes, and even a giant block of Himalayan salt occupied every available space before or even on top of the hundreds of books. A scrambled and forgotten Rubik’s Cube had somehow wedged itself between The Art of War and Homeopathic Remedies: A Study in Weight Loss. Josie had laughed when she’d seen that and left it there. For some reason, it felt like an unwritten joke was waiting for the right comedian to come and find it.

  In addition, newspapers and magazines stood in five leaning stacks along the eastern wall of books and a thousand jumbled papers were scattered on the desk. Even the ceiling appeared old and dirty. And today the mess was worse than usual. Josie had been trying to organize it, which had meant pulling dozens of books and items off shelves and making ordered piles on the floor. She’d been working at it for two days now, waiting until it had become a proper explosion of chaos and volume before calling Erin to get Gertrude to walk in.

  The entire activity was a ruse she had conceived for this very moment. She needed to have an important parlay with the island’s primary headwoman, and she needed to be convincing.

  “The best way to organize this mess,” Gertrude said, “is to take all of it straight to the incinerator.”

  Josie turned, still sporting her exasperated look, but refusing to look startled or even annoyed.

  “I was beginning to think about doing just that,” she said.

  “Then why I am here? I have a very important task to attend to.”

  Josie looked to Erin, who looked like she wanted to run away. “Would you excuse us, please?” she asked. Erin nodded quickly and turned to go. “You can close the door on your way out,” Josie added. Erin did so, and Josie was pleased to see that Gertrude had swiveled her head the tiniest bit as if to watch the girl accomplish this simplest of tasks out of the corner of her eye.

  She’s trying to figure out what I’m up to, Josie thought. Good. Keep guessing, you psychotic bitch. You have no idea what’s coming to you.

  When Erin’s footsteps were gone from their hearing, Gertrude said, “I hope there is a good reason why our words cannot be shared with the whole island. The Cause doesn’t keep any secrets, you know.”

  Oh, you are so full of shit, Josie thought. Out loud, she said, “Well, if you must know, I’m a bit embarrassed at what I’m about to say and I’m not yet ready to share it with anyone but you.”

  Gertrude held firm in her stoic face, though Josie was certain inside she was smiling and puffing infinitesimally larger with her infinite pride.

  “Fine,” she said.

  There was no more from her, as was Gertrude’s way.

  “Well, to be honest, Gertrude, I’m overwhelmed. And I don’t just mean this room.” She stopped and watched Dirty Gertie’s reaction. There was nothing in her face, but was that a stiffening of the shoulders she had detected? Yes, she thought there had been.

  “I knew right away,” she went on, “that this would be a difficult change, but this...” she lifted a manila folder with the words “BLUE MEN ROSTER” on it in Lorraine’s messy handwriting. “I can't make heads or tails out of any of this. Lorraine’s filing system is incomprehensible. Most of her books are technical information about psychological warfare, which is fascinating, but the truth is that I can't see how any of it relates to...” But Josie cut herself short, allowing Gertrude to finish the rest in her mind.

  “Keep in mind that Lorraine failed The Cause,” Gertrude said. “Ignore this junk.”

  “But the list of men? It changes all the time, especially on weeks like this when the hunters are on the prowl. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it all. In all this stuff there's not a word about Lorraine's schedule, or her squad’s duties, or… anything. I want to make the other women proud, Gertrude. I want to help The Cause, but how can I when I don't even know my own responsibilities?” She added a single flutter of her eyelashes just then. It was a trick she had mastered as a recruiter, and one with which Gertrude would not be familiar. Done right, it conveyed a subtle innocence and gullibility on the viewer’s perceptions.

  “Your trouble,” Gertrude said slowly, “isn't entirely your fault. You won't find any schedules. There are none. Headwomen make their own. Your responsibilities are few, but they are crucial. Simply put, your job is no longer to do labor but to manage the labor of others. You are no longer a regular worker bee, Josie, but a queen.”

  Nailed it, Josie thought. She bought it hook, line, and sinker.

  “Okay,” Josie said. “I think I get that. Really, I do. But there’s something else, isn’t there? I mean, the way I see it, there are two sides to all this, the half out in the field and the half here in this office behind the scenes.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Gertrude said. Josie continued as if the much larger headwoman hadn’t spoken.

  “The field half is simple enough. I can… figure out my own way to monitor the kills in blue sector and the feeding times and the transferals. But the other side of it... I'm still missing something. I'm not stupid, Gertrude. I kno
w what you and Monica and the other headwomen have said and done to me over the years. I can copy that. I can make up schedules for the girls and keep on top of their efforts and their bodies and make sure they keep The Cause foremost in their minds. I can sculpt them into better women.

  Here Gertrude visibly shifted for the first time. Josie had shocked her, and that was good.

  “But there's still something else, isn’t there? Almost like a third side entirely. That’s what I feel I'm missing. I want to know what really goes on around here. Forgive me for being bold, but why did you sabotage Lorraine, for instance, and can I count on the same thing happening to me in a few years if you don't like the way I do things? And Lucy… you honestly thought Lucy would take this job which means you’re angry seeing me take it instead. It wasn’t your idea at that meeting, and I don’t recall you voting on my behalf when the time came.”

  A long moment of dead silence filled the room. In the distance, a long screech followed by a soft crunch came through the window. Neither woman turned to look. They had locked eyes and Josie didn’t dare flutter her lashes this time.

  Just as Gertrude opened her mouth to speak, the office door flung open and Monica’s chattering voice assaulted them.

  “And this is Josie’s office. She’s the blue headwoman. You’ll get transferred to her squad in about three years or so, depending on your performance, of course. And look! You get two for the price of one. This here is Gertrude! She’s the black headwoman and the personal hero of… just dozens of girls. She owns the whole island, so technically she’s boss to us all, but Gertie doesn’t treat anyone like that. No, we’re all a family here on Monroe’s Island. Josie, Gertie, say hello to our newest island girl. This is Heather. She’s a bit overwhelmed right now because, well, you know I had to push her a little faster than I would have liked, but I see that look in her eye! She’s a winner, I can tell you that. Well, aren’t you going to say hello at least? Gertie? Josie? What’s wrong here? Did I interrupt something?”

  At long last Monica’s monologue came to an end. Standing in the doorway was what looked to be a complete child with auburn hair and a look of sheer terror on her face. Josie hadn’t realized just how young these girls were when they came to the island. My God, she marveled. That was me just six years ago. Was she raped, too? How long ago? Has she even told anyone at home, or just Monica? My God, she looks so lost. She’s not ready for this place. She doesn’t belong here. Why in the world did Monica choose her? She must think this place is Hell itself.

  “It’s ‘Gertrude’,” Gertrude said stiffly. “Hello.” She had not even turned her head to look at the girl.

  “Hi,” the girl stumbled. “Um, Gertrude. Hi.”

  Without emotion, Josie managed to say, “Welcome aboard,” and nod decisively. She wanted to say so much more. Hell, she wanted to run over and give this girl a damned hug, but such a move would ruin what she was on the verge of accomplishing with Gertrude, and she held firm at her stance behind her desk. She kept all emotions out of her eyes, realizing now that Gertrude was staring her down like she was some kind of wild prey.

  “Thanks,” Heather said hesitantly. Fuck me, Josie thought. She thinks I’m a total bitch. And, God help her, she’s right.

  “Is everything alright?” Monica asked. The awkward silence that followed was brief but nearly tangible.

  “We’re fine,” Gertrude said, still not turning around.

  Monica looked to Josie, who only shook her head briefly and said nothing.

  “Well, we’ll just leave you two headwomen to your business.” She turned back to Heather and began to shush her out the door, her voice fading to mumbled nothings when the latch on the door was finally engaged. “One can never fully appreciate the stress a full headwoman is under at any given day. Did I mention that headwomen live here permanently? Yes, they dedicate their lives to The Cause, and one day…”

  The two headwomen waited, listening. When Monica’s voice was fully swallowed by the empty halls, Josie spoke first.

  “I’ve stuck my neck out this far, so I might as well go the whole distance. What about these men we’re supposedly ‘educating’? I’ve never seen a send-off ceremony, Gertrude. Has any man ever been sent home? Or is that all a lie because you can’t risk them telling the world about this place? If there’s no honor in what we’re doing here, then I don’t-”

  “Sit down,” Gertrude interrupted.

  Josie stopped but didn’t move. Jackpot, she thought. Spill it, you bitch. Spill it all. She stood strong and solid, hands planted firmly on the darkened wood. “I'll stand, thank you,” she said.

  And then, Gertrude surprised Josie by allowing a smirk to wrinkle the corner of her mouth. It was very nearly a laugh, something Josie suddenly realized she had never seen from Gertrude.

  “You learned that move, I see.” Josie reflected Gertrude’s own smirk back at her and added an eyebrow raise as well. “Very well,” Gertrude said. “It’s true you are headwoman now, and by my vote or not you have earned my guidance. But understand this isn't a light issue I'm about to speak of.”

  “I know,” Josie said. “That’s why the door is closed.”

  They held their stare even longer, Josie reveling in her position of power but scared more than she’d ever been in her life. Her heart, however, was calm. It was another trick she had learned out in her particular field of expertise.

  Then, finally, Gertrude checked her watch, sighed so deeply it became a mild grunt, and told Josie exactly what she wanted to hear.

  On a shelf just a foot and a half from Gertrude’s massive shoulders was a black, hardcover book entitled A History of Surveillance: the Art of Stealing Secrets.

  Resting atop it in a sleek, black, rectangular box, a small digital voice recorder captured every word.

  4

  Heather watched as Monica easily carried the inert man through the door and down to the hotel below.

  “Wait here until I get back,” Monica had said, and Heather was grateful for the solitude. She stood on the roof looking out at the majestic island below. It was gorgeous. Everywhere she looked was pure beauty. The dark hills draped in midnight shadows, the faraway ocean crashing waves upon unseen cliffs, even the few gray-black clouds seemed to shape themselves into patterns of artwork.

  Behind her, the rotors of the helicopter were still spinning slowly, their energy winding down after the long flight. Above her, a billion stars and the huge, full moon glowed brighter than she’d ever seen in her life.

  This is crazy, the girl thought. What am I doing here? Jesus, I feel like a fucking hostage. I just need to tell Monica this isn’t for me. I don’t even want the tour tomorrow. She should just take me back home right now.

  But another part of her told her to wait, to at least give it a chance. That voice was already remembering Monica telling her to think about what her uncle had done, and didn’t she want to do something about that? Didn’t she want to change the world instead of continuing to be its victim?

  And the things Monica had been telling her about this “Monroe’s Island” had seemed so incredible. But now, actually being here, and seeing the fence that surrounded the hotel-

  It’s a fortress. That’s the word she used. A fortress, not a hotel.

  -made her think it might actually be true. But it was all so hard to believe. Everything in the past three days had seemed impossible, and everything was happening so quickly.

  Her first of many shocks had been Monica herself. The woman was huge! She didn’t know women’s muscles could even get that big. Then she’d stuck the man she’d seduced with a needle right there in the parking lot and he’d dropped like a fly. It was like something out of a movie. Part of her was exhilarated at the fact- the guy had been an incredibly creepy pervert, leering at her and every other woman in the place like he was restraining the need to rape them all right there in the bar- but her conscience had started to whisper to her even then.

  In the hours since, that whisper had grown to a
full shout.

  They’d taken four trips together. The first had been a car ride to the shitty motel where Monica had told her- at length- about the drug she’d used on the man. The next morning they’d gotten up at the break of dawn and gone to the airport. A fascinating exchange had happened, then, between Monica and the airport personnel. She’d produced some weird paperwork claiming the drooling asshole they’d wheeled right up to the boarding gate was her ‘patient’ and needed special assistance getting him onto and off of the plane. The airport had been more than happy to oblige, and Heather had just watched in awe at the whole procession.

  Then they’d had two flights by plane, and finally this last one by helicopter, and Monica hadn’t stopped talking the whole time! She was entirely unlike the concerned, listening woman Heather had bonded with over the phone. This woman was like some kind of crazy person. It seemed impossible that just three days ago she’d been in her dorm room crying over a broken picture frame.

  A procession of cars pulled out of the fortress’ garage, drove up to the fence, and stopped. Heather watched as a woman got out, unlocked and opened the gate, and the cars drove slowly through. Then the woman latched and locked the gate and was soon gone. The cars rolled silently through the streets, so quiet they reminded Heather of panthers on the prowl.

  She sighed deeply, wondering what kind of crazy schemes the women of this strange, fantastic place would have in the middle of the night. She was still looking at that gate when, a minute later, a figure ran from the shadows and leaped at the fence. In seconds it had scaled the fence and was running toward the fortress. A sudden feeling of disquiet fluttered inside her. The figure had clearly been a man, but he was so scrawny compared to both Monica and the woman she’d just seen working the gate that it was almost laughable that he could pose any real danger.

  Not my problem, she thought. Another few minutes passed before Monica finally returned.

  “Ready to meet your roommate and get some rest?” she asked.