Days Since...: Thomas: Day 758

Prologue:

Surrounded by the height of hundred-year-old oak trees, a group of women gathered by the creek, chatting quietly, cautiously beyond prying eyes. Some words could not be shared—these thoughts were better told through subtle gestures—a code only they knew. Too often, guards stood closely by. The women couldn’t afford to step out of line.

They drowned blankets and clothing—a white foam cleansing blood and unsavory stains. Flat stones covered in soaked fabric. A large woman with a paddle pressed the water from the balled up material. The others hung the damp cloth along a clothesline.

“I’m going for it. I’m done,” she said, her nervous eyes darting between the row of sheets—just a harmless peek toward the top of the ridge. Four guards posted atop its edge, pacing amongst the trees, mostly watching over the women. Only occasionally did their faces turn.

“They’ll kill you,” another woman reminded her.

“What’s the difference?” She looked her companion straight in the eyes. “If I make it out, good, if not, at least it’s over.”

“But your sister?”

“The Butcher cares for her. She won’t leave.”

“But what if he takes your escape out on her?”

“He won’t. Just give her my chits. Maybe she’ll save enough to buy her freedom.”

“I just—” Quickly, the other woman draped a dingy, white sheet to dry, blocking the approaching guard’s view from her as she nodded a hush down the line—each woman relayed to the next.

“What are we talking about here?” He moved his eyes from woman to woman, from top to bottom, moistening his lips while admiring their state of nudity. “Your twos mouths are moving quite a bit. Care to share?”

“No sir,” they said in unison. Their eyes dropped in unison. Trained. Submissive.

He reached out and cupped her breast.

She turned her head away from him. “Nothing important.”

“You mean, nothing important, sir.”

“Yes, sir.” She gulped. “It was nothing important, sir.”

“Then shu—”

“Bill! Get up here! Quit messing with the women!”

“Alright, John! Just trying to have some fun!”

The guard scoffed, took another look at the women, winked, and then turned from them. He crossed the shallow creek and climbed the steep embankment, joining his squad. Their attention was drawn toward the service road that wound its way through the valley between the ridges.

“This is my chance. When you see my sister, tell her I’m sorry.”

She casually walked behind the clotheslines, hidden, gradually making it to the end. One last look—a bob of her head and she bolted, scrambling up the hill opposite the guards. The other women continued working, muttering prayers to themselves that their friend would make it.

“Hey!” John pointed to the frantic woman. “The Butcher’s gonna have our asses if we don’t get her.”

Bill raised his rifle, but it was swatted away.

John pulled at Bill’s arm, and the two raced away. “Marcus, stay with them!”

“On it!”

The woman crested the top and continued her race through the trees. “Don’t look back. Don’t look back.” Her pale body slipped in and out of view between the trees and brush.

“I don’t see her,” Bill said, panting as they scoured the woods.

“It’s been too long. They’re gonna know.” John raised his pistol in the air and fired off several rounds. “I’ll wait here. Get them women back to the tents. Make it believable. No one gets away.”