The senator had had Rebecca brought to the Presidential Suite on the ground floor of the hotel. She’d been tattooed and was ready to be shipped to one of the new comfort stations the Provisional Government planned to open for its mercenary army.
The Provisional Government’s contractors, in anticipation of this takeover, had devised a new social order based on caste system, with slaves at the bottom. Slavery would make the new state able to compete economically against the rising Asian superpowers, especially China. Slave labor would build new factories. All prisoners of the New Freedom Army were to be tattooed with their new caste designations: BS for Blue Slaves, a category for the meanest hard labor tasks; CGS for comfort girl slaves; CBS for comfort boy slaves. OCSO-class slaves would be used in offices and big box stores, government relief centers, and in hospitals, and as support staff and domestic help. G-4-Zeros would be used in factories where reading and writing were required. The lowest castes would not be citizens, but would be “Use Slaves” and would work without any political rights. These castes were the property of the state and would be treated as chattel. A simple C would be used to brand conscripts to the army and police castes. Mercenaries were to be used as Special-Ops troops, and as a Pretorian guard for the top castes.
Army Conscripts would have full citizenship in the new state, but no political rights. Praetors, Bankers, and Consuls — men and women — would not be tattooed, but would wear uniforms with their caste clearly marked on their lapels.
The top caste, R1s, owned everything, including the State. R-1 ranking was reserved for the “Hundred Families,” and all their blood members. The Hundred Families would be represented on “The Council of One Hundred” by one male member from each family. Council members—called Praetors—would rule America by decree. Each Praetor would have one vote on the Council.
“What’s it stand for?” Rebecca had been stripped of her jeans and Pendleton shirt and was standing in just her bra and panties. A cruel new tattoo on her left shoulder read CG.
“Comfort Girl,” said Senator Prince. He wore a plush white hotel bathrobe.
A messenger stuck his head into the suite. “A large group of the things has been sighted near the hotel. Looks like they’re massing.”
“Stop them at the entrance,” Prince said. “We’ll be leaving soon for new digs by U.S. army helicopter. We’ll have two M1 Abrams tanks to clear the strong house at Timberline. They’re on their way from the Army’s Reno proving ground.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Comfort Girl,” Prince said again, turning to Rebecca. “That’s your designation now.”
“Designation?” Rebecca said.
“Yes, in the new country we’re building. This is a gift. Something we’ve been waiting for,” Prince said.
Rebecca looked at him blankly. He sounded like a crazy man. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“Well, you’re a Comfort Girl now. You don’t need to understand. That’s the beauty of life in this new nation. People like you can do what you do best: serve us.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Rebecca said.
“It means you’ll give comfort to important people. Like me. It will be an honor to serve us. You’ll see. You will be happy in your work.”
“Give comfort? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Yes. With your body. Everyone has something to contribute to the new society. You have your beautiful body. You’ll contribute that,” Prince said. “Now come here.”
The two men who’d brought her to the room pushed her forward. The Senator told them to back off and guided Rebecca toward a large black-leather ottoman. He pushed her over, her wrists bound behind her. She landed face down on the ottoman. Rebecca felt her panties ripped off of her. She screamed for help, but it did no good. The senator, enjoying his audience, indulged himself.
“I wanted you to know that if you’re a good Comfort Girl, and do exactly what you’re told, you’ll be perfectly safe, despite everything that’s going on out there. We’ve already arranged for an Army helicopter to deliver us fresh foods. Imagine that! Wine, too. I can hardly wait. Do you like wine?”
Rebecca, her hands still bound behind her by plastic handcuffs that cut into her wrists painfully, turned toward the Senator. She’d been unceremoniously stood up. She noticed for the first time that Prince’s face was red as if he were sunburned. She didn’t answer. She closed her eyes for a minute and did what she used to do when she was a little girl and woke from a nightmare.
I’ll wake up and Dad will be down the hall. I’ll wake up. It’s just a nightmare.
The sound of gunfire outside the hotel forced her to open her eyes. Senator Prince, re-tying his robe, ordered her taken to her room. One of the guards marched her out of the suite and into the lobby, naked except for her bra.
As the guard led her across the hotel lobby, Rebecca could see the Senator’s gunmen in the turnaround, fighting a pitched battle with a large group of Howlers. Two of the things made it past the gauntlet of shooters and ran into the lobby. The man guarding her turned and started to fire at the two Howlers, who ran straight for him.
Feeling herself let loose, Rebecca, her arms behind her, ran straight into an elevator door that magically opened. She expected to be grabbed from behind, by either a Howler or the guard. She turned as the door closed in front of her and saw the Howlers beating the gunman, who’d panicked and missed his shot. They had torn the rifle from his hands and were clubbing him to death with his own weapon.
The door closed before one of the Howlers could follow her. The thing’s hand was caught in the closing elevator door; the dirty hand reached for her. Rebecca raised her boot and kicked its hand as hard as she could. She could feel the elevator begin to rise. She watched the thing’s fingers finally slip out between the door’s big black rubber bumpers. She went to the console of buttons and pressed 6 with her elbow.
“Oh Jesus Christ, someone help me!” she said aloud, watching the lit display’s digital counter stop at the sixth floor. She started to shake, exhausted, feeling dirty and frightened, all her reserves of courage and bravado completely gone. She sagged to the floor. The elevator door opened as she wept.
“What the fuck,” Bell said. He and Patty had decided to try and escape, unable to find Johnny Ryder, Sue Ling or Rebecca.
Patty ran into the elevator and hit the Emergency Stop button. She looked down on Rebecca, who was sobbing uncontrollably. For a moment no one did anything. They could hear the shooting outside slow down, then stop all together.
Without thinking, Bell grabbed Rebecca by the shoulders and stood her up.
“Cut these fucking handcuffs off!” Rebecca said. Her face was wet with tears; she seemed hysterical. He pulled her into the hallway, had her face the wall, and cut her free of the plastic handcuffs with his pocketknife.
“Now what?” Patty said.
“I’m going to kill Prince,” Rebecca said. “Give me that pistol. Come on. Give it here.”
“What happened?” Patty said. “What did they do to you?”
“Just give me the fucking gun.”
Bell grabbed her and pushed her back into the wall. “You can’t. Okay? The only hope we have is getting out of here, now. Do you understand? We have to work together, or we, all three of us, die tonight.”