“I don’t have a good answer,” Athena said, frowning prettily. “I have an answer but it’s not a good answer. I don’t think there is a good answer. The best is probably Sarah’s in some ways. If we could safely open the door. I don’t think we can. Can we get those shutters off the window?”
Ten minutes of fruitless searching for a control or release yielded the answer: No. The shutters were immovable. And when they tried the door, even moved the shelf blocking it, there was an immediate response from the other side.
“So what is the bad answer?” Julianna said.
“She’s already gagged,” Athena said. “Hold her nose till she stops struggling.”
“Mercy, Athena,” Julianna said. “Even for you that is cold.”
“That’s murder,” Brenda McCartney said. “You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life. At least you’ll deserve it!”
“That is what well-paid lawyers are for,” Athena said. “‘Oh, it was so terrible in the storeroom!’” she said in a little girl voice, looking pitiful. “‘The claustrophobia! Boo hoo! I don’t know what came over me! It was just like Patty Hearst. And it was Brenda’s idea!’ But there are still more physical, nonsocial, problems. The body will…decompose. It will get much nastier than a puppy puddle on the floor in here. It’s going to, anyway. But a decomposing body is a whole other order of nasty. And I’m not sure I can do it. I mean, I’ve thought about holding her head under water until she stops struggling since her show started, not to mention the whole damned shoot. But actually doing it is another thing. So I’m open to suggestions.”
“Table it,” Anna said. “She is not going anywhere. We still need to find something besides Christy’s reducing remnants of clothing to secure ourselves. And in the meantime, we can build…facilities and possibly find some answer to the dilemma.”
“I don’t think there is an answer to the Plague in here, Anna,” Athena said, standing up. “But I take your point. Let’s go shopping!”
There was more than food and water in the room: The storehouse had been set up to respond to a variety of disasters. St. Barts was subject to both hurricanes and earthquakes, as were surrounding islands. Besides food and water there was a supply of blue tarps, three boxes of “thermal” blankets, rope, rigger tape and other materials of the disaster response trade. There were even boxes of baby wipes. What there was not came down to medical supplies, a knife to cut the rope—couldn’t they have included some box cutters?—toilet paper, so much as one chemical toilet, damnit, or a cure for H7D3. Or some toilet paper for God’s sake? And, oh, yeah, some tampons maybe?
“What are these?” Anna said, holding up what looked like an American MRE package except for being an odd pink.
“Emergency meals,” Athena said. “Hey, Sarah, good news! There’s vegetarian! It’s even halal.”
“What’s halal?” Sarah said warily.
“Kosher for Islamics,” Athena said. “Just one case of toilet paper is too much to ask?”
“Baby wipes,” Anna said.
“We only have two cases of those,” Athena said. “These bitches will go through them in a day. Baby wipes are only for personal body cleaning. You can use one to clean your ass when you’re done with the rest of your body. Open up one of the halal meals and see if it’s got toilet paper in it.”
“How do I get it open?” Anna said. The package was strong plastic and had no convenient opening tabs.
“A knife,” Athena said. “Your teeth?”
“I’ll get it,” Christy said. She tore into the package with her teeth.
“God, I hope you don’t turn,” Athena said, wincing as the girl chewed through the heavy plastic. “If this was being recorded, no guy would ever again accept a blowjob from you.”
“She’s not going to be able to bite through this rope,” Julianna said, holding up a coil of line.
“Speaking of Brenda…” Athena said. “Sorry, I meant Snoopi…”
“Very funny, Athena,” Brenda snarled.
“How you feeling, Bren?” Athena said with mock sympathy. “Wishing you had some vaccine?”
“Just shut the fuck up, Athena,” Brenda said.
“Prisoners figure out how to create knives out of nothing,” Athena said. “Now if we only had Linsey in here with us…”
“You take a piece of metal and grind it on the concrete till it’s sharp,” Sarah said.
“Sounds about right,” Athena said. “Where’d you pick that up?”
“Hello?” Sarah said. “Jailhouse Island?”
“Ah, yes,” Athena said. “Academy material at its finest. Right up there with Casablanca in the annals of American cinematography. I was surprised you didn’t win the Oscar for that one. Especially given your nickname in the Academy.”
“And what do you call this?” Julianna said, amused. “A group of female celebrities trapped in a storehouse during a plague. What madman would try to submit that script?”
“A total pervert,” Athena said. “That’s for sure. And the answer is: ‘Celebrity Survivor, Zombie Apocalypse: The shit just got real.’ Still not getting the rope cut. We need sections of rope to play bondage-girl-party. We can’t just keep tearing up Christy’s clothes. I mean, well, we c— Just try to find something with an edge! I can’t believe none of you have so much as a nail file.”
“Like this?” Christy said, pulling one out of her hair.
“In your hair?” Athena said, clearly trying not to scream. “Your hair, for God’s sake? Do I even want to ask what a full body cavity search would turn up? Do you happen to be carrying a helicopter somewhere?” She looked at the girl’s face and sighed. “I’m sorry, Christy,” she said, hugging her. “I’m scared, too. And it’s great you were carrying so much useful stuff. I wish I had your…” She looked down, then back up. “Foresight.”
As she spoke the lights went out.
“Joy,” Athena said, with a sigh. “In seriousness, I don’t suppose you have a flashlight…somewhere…?”
“No,” Christy said. “Sorry.”
“I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved,” Princess Julianna said, chuckling.
Fortunately, there were enough gaps around the edges of the hurricane shutters that after their eyes adjusted they could see. Sawing through the ropes with one small nail file took time However, they had nothing but. And, even more fortunately, the gagged Snoopi was so far the only one to turn. And gagged.
There was, surprising Athena not at all, a massive collective knowledge of various ways to tie someone up.
“Or we could tie our wrists to our knees, like this…” Sarah said, using Christy as a model.
“We need to be able to get out of them,” Julianna said.
“Tighter,” Christy said huskily.
“Not the point, Christy,” Anna said, hands on her hips.
“Wanna make out?” Christy asked, her eyes lighting.
“LATER!” Athena bellowed. “Just concentrate to the extent you can.”
“Getting harder,” Sarah said.
“I always wondered if you had those parts, Sarah,” Athena said.
“Why is everyone in my industry insane?” Anna said, holding up her hands. “Can we get serious for a moment? I am going to kill my agent for talking me into this. ‘It’s in St. Barts, for God’s sake. You’ll have fun!’”