That comment made Thomas shudder. Of course he missed the touch, the softness of a woman, but these circumstances made his skin crawl.
Get into the role. “As far as I can get?” Thomas realized it came out as a question. Real smooth, damn it! “I’m just looking for some quick action, man.”
The words pained him to say it. He couldn’t remember if his eyes closed while the words crept from his lips. Either way, the guard hadn’t heard or noticed, he was too focused on exposing any contraband.
He knelt by Thomas’s legs, his hands sliding along, grasping for anything that might be hidden. Thomas looked down upon the guard—the man that had sold a portion of his soul, bore the scar of a mad man, devoted his life to enslaving others. “What won’t these women do?” He tried again to get a reaction out of the man.
Bill’s laugh said it all. The filth attached to each pronounced “Ha!” left little doubt that these women had no choice—no say in how their bodies were used.
Thomas’s faith in humanity beyond the Second Alliance continued to plummet. It had only been two years, but for some people it hadn’t come soon enough. The decline only worked to reaffirm his desire to carry out the mission—to strengthen their influence over the region.
“What are we laughing about? It’s gotta be good if he’s in on it.” James winked to Thomas as he broke into the conversation, moving into the position where Thomas had just been cleared. “So… do we just give the women the books or how’s that work?”
“You’ll have to go to the money booth. Just take the crap over that you want to sell, and they’ll figure out what it’s worth.” Bill began searching James. “Once you get your chits, then you’ll have a better idea of what you can get. There’s food and stuff too, but most people come for the women.” He motioned for Thomas to come closer and lowered his voice for both him and James. “Use them like you want to. Depends on the one you get, but if you seek out the right ones there ain’t nothin’ they won’t let you do. Nobody’ll judge you neither. Costs a bit more, but where the hell else you gonna get this done for yourself.” Bill chuckled in his throat. “Hit ‘em, Choke ‘em. Whatever. Doesn’t matter—they’re owned property.” He patted James on the back and began with their bags.
Thomas’s heart dropped. He just stared blankly, frozen within this surreal moment. His hands pulsed, desiring to shred this man to pieces as he continued to speak. Thomas’s hearing diminished into a persistent tone that blocked the rest of what poured from Bill’s mouth. A large portion of Thomas was relieved that he couldn’t make out what was being said. These poor women.
He could feel a great pleasure rising within his body as the thought of capturing, maiming, and killing the Butcher began to overwhelm him. To butcher the Butcher was all he could imagine.
Thomas waited patiently, letting his senses normalize as Bill finished searching through their bags. “Last thing—take these.” Bill pinned two badges onto their shirts. “Let’s us know who’s been through a checkpoint. Don’t lose these. If we find someone without it, then they’re gone, no questions asked. Any blowback and we’ll just kill ’em.” Thomas looked to James. “Not to end on a sour note, so… Make sure you get your fill.”
Thomas smiled at the man. There’s a special place in hell for you.
“Sounds like we’ll get our fill on whatever we need,” James said. “Let’s roll, Tommy. We got a nice vacation ahead of us.”
“Just follow the sidewalk in,”—Bill snaked his hand toward the woods—“and it’ll curve around through a little dip with a stream rolling by. Once you start up the hill, you might have a quarter mile or so. Your first stop should be to get some chits, so you don’t have to lug those books around.”
Thomas and James stuffed the books back into their bags before stepping off. “We need to burn this place to the ground,” Thomas muttered.
All James could manage was a nod.
Thomas counted the joints in the sidewalk as he walked—anything to try and keep his mind clear. If he allowed the weight of these circumstances to crush him, he knew he might not be able to effectively complete this mission. A personal rage would not be a successful plan. It may push him through pain, but acting on raw emotion would not suffice. The knowledge of the impending freedom of those captive within the camp would have to suppress this hatred—this desire to free them immediately. They’ll have their turn. There’s not a chance in hell they escape what they’ve been doing to these girls. Just give it time.
“This place… I don’t know, man.” James said, now that they were well outside of earshot of the Butcher’s guard. “I had no idea this place was like this. I may joke around a bunch and whatever, but this is insane, right?”
“Keep the act up.” Thomas looked back toward the barricade. The old pervert and his son prepared for admission into the camp. The quiet stranger left, but others had replaced him. Even from here, Thomas could see their smiles—all lined up, bearing sickening anticipation. “Tonight, they’ll pay.”
The path cut its way between two ridges then met with the stream that Bill spoke of. The stream and path came within feet of one another, paralleling each other until finally parting ways as the walk bent to the northwest up a hill, and the stream stumbled down a few terraces. The water cascaded through, breaking on stones and sticks, bending around the ankles of two women standing just off the bank. Their backs bent—their busy hands cleaning a pile of laundry.
Thomas and James smiled as they stole the women’s attention. He couldn’t deny he enjoyed their state of nudity, but it wasn’t the point of the smile—it was knowing that soon they would have a choice—a real purpose in life.
James raised a hand to acknowledge them, and the taller of the two waved him toward her, but once he took that first step, she quickly interrupted him. “Stop! Not you, sir.” Her true intent approached from behind them.
Three children, two girls and a boy, wheeled a cart filled with laundry down toward the stream. A few pieces of clothing slipped to the ground as the cart rocked back and forth. The girl in back picked them from the street, her arms struggling to carry it all. Thomas went to help. “Stop!” The woman shook her head. “Don’t help.”
Are they always like this? Thomas eyed the ridgeline. It seemed strange they were unattended—alone out here. He expected that a guard or caretaker of some sort would be present. “Do you women do laundry for everyone?” Thomas asked. “You don’t have to be afraid of us.”
The statement seemed to startle the women as they shielded the children and backed away from the wads of clothing resting on the stones.
“They’ll do whatever you want.” A guard appeared from atop the ridge, adjusting himself then zipping up his pants. “I’d recommend something more exciting, but if you want to waste your chits on laundry, then you do what makes you happy.” He grabbed a rifle from the foot of a tree and slid carefully down the face of the ridge. “These women don’t care if you smell or not. Right, ladies?”
The women hung their heads and said nothing.
“Right, ladies?” The guard swatted one of the women on the ass with the butt of his rifle, knocking her onto her hands and knees in the shallow creek bed.
“Yes, sir.” The women responded together. Two of the children rushed to aid the one that had been struck, but she brushed them back and stood.
Thomas suppressed his sense of duty and simply nodded to the guard. It would be better to merely pass through, make very little contact with others. In this way, Thomas and James would affect less, be able to observe the natural happenings of the camp.