Islands of Rage and Hope

CHAPTER 22

“I’m not sure about this,” Anna said. “Why should we get special treatment?”

Anna Holmes, child star of the Wizard Wars movies, had been in St. Barts as a contestant in Celebrity Survivor: St. Barts. Decried as the most blatantly racist TV show since, well, ever, the show mixed a group of skinny white female celebrities with a group of hulking male celebrities, mostly drawn from MMA and WWE, and all “of color.”

If Anna had paid more attention to the line-up, she would have passed on the opportunity. She probably should have, anyway. It wasn’t like she was one of the “reality TV” stars that made up most of the female side. She was just filling time between two A movies. And many of the “challenges” came down to an opportunity for the women to flirt to get the guys to do the work. “Build a rock wall for defense against zombies” was, ironically, one of the challenges. Anna had managed to lift about six of the massive rocks provided for the wall before she gave out entirely. But she at least tried!

All that being said, she’d actually been enjoying it. She hated the majority of the other women. But most of the guys were very down to earth and grounded. She’d teamed with most of them at one point or another, throwing in with a will that was virtually unheard of among the rest of the “celebutantes.”

Then the Plague had been announced. Their challenge coach, famous survivalist Tiger Dour, had just returned from New York and, as it turned out, brought along a hitchhiker called H7D3. So, naturally, the first person to go down from the disease was the one person you’d want in a survival situation.

Air traffic was cut off as soon as Tiger was confirmed as a positive case but by then it was too late. Yachts started punching out in every direction but Anna and most of the cast and crew stayed. For one thing, it was hurricane season. Being in a yacht, even one of the megayachts, in a hurricane didn’t sound like a very good idea. And she, frankly, didn’t know most of the people well enough to trust them.

Then events began to turn for the worst. Tiger was only the first to “turn.” He was quarantined but he wasn’t the only carrier. Others turned. The on-site producer. Crew. Her favorite cameraman. People throughout the island were turning to the point that the police couldn’t control it. Nobody could, judging from the news reports which became more and more sporadic as satellite up-and downlink began to fail. When one of the MMA fighters turned and the police wouldn’t even respond, everyone knew it was out of control.

When the local police finally did respond it was in force and with an edict. The shoot was already shut down and they had their own ideas of how to handle things. The celebrities had been rounded up and marched to the police station for “protective custody.” Apparently that was going on with all the “names” on the island, as in Gustavia they had been herded in with another group.

They were climbing the steep hill to the gray concrete building that housed the local gendarmerie and where they would, presumably, be safe until rescue could be arranged. But she had to wonder what was going to happen to the crew, not to mention most of the rest of the people on the island.

“Because the worst possible thing that could happen to them is to have a bunch of celebrities bitching about how they were treated when this blows over,” Athena Perez said, shrugging. “Rich people will continue to have a lot of power but it’s not the same thing as having, well, you on Letterman or Leno, if they survive, talking about how poorly the St. Barts police handled the crisis. People will want to know about Celebrity Survivor: Zombie Apocalypse. They’re covering their asses.”

Athena was, surprisingly, one of the women Anna did get along with. The heir to the Vinyards Inn fortune was a well known diva and had been among the most manipulative at getting the “guys” to do all the work. But she was also grounded and professional as long as a camera wasn’t on her. It was only when she knew she was being publicly observed that the “little princess” came to the fore.

“Do you know what this place is?” Anna asked. Anna had quickly realized that the “photog whore” was the smartest and most knowledgeable woman in the group by far. “It looks like a fortress.”

“Former DGSE electronic listening post,” Athena said. “This isn’t my first visit to St. Barts. I managed to wheedle my way in when it was still in use. I felt like a Russian spy or something. But the commander was a fan and I totally banged him for the tour.”

Although, she was an unabashed slut. She hadn’t just been batting her eyes at the guys to get them to bow to her every command.

“They turned it over to the local gendarmerie when it was deactivated,” Athena continued. “So it is, yeah, a fortress.”

“How much farther do we have to walk?” Christy Southard whined.

“Probably to the great big building, Christy,” Athena said, slowly and carefully. “Maybe if you had worn real shoes it wouldn’t seem so far.”

The “singer” and reality TV star, mostly known for enormous boobs and being one of several live-in girlfriends of an eighty-year-old producer, had worn her de rigueur stiletto stripper heels for the walk across the island from Anse Grand Saline to the police headquarters. She’d worn them the whole shoot except for her occasional ventures into the water. Give her credit, she was actually good at underwater foraging. Athena had pointed out, on camera no less, that Christy had the benefit of a built in flotation system.

“I’ll be happy to help you up the hill, miss,” an older English gentleman said, holding out his arm.

“Do I know you?” Christy asked, warily.

“Let me handle the introductions,” Athena said airily. “Jerome Arthurson, Top Speed announcer, Christy Southard, professional slut. Christy, Jerry, Jerry, Christy.”

“Hello, Athena,” Jerome said, smiling broadly. “I see you’ve been enjoying the sunshine.”

“Better than your show,” Athena said. “Does it ever not rain in Sheffield? And I swear I could still smell Michael Moore on the seats. It’s a distinct smell. Don’t you fumigate it? Ever?”

“Positive and encouraging as always,” Jerome said. “Miss Southard, please let me take this opportunity to invite you on my show as soon as this unpleasantness is passed.”

“What show?” Christy asked.

“Top Speed?” Jerome said, sounding somewhat miffed. “Number one show on the Beeb?”

“What’s the Beeb?” Christy asked, confused. “Is that like Bravo? I’ve got my own show on Bravo! It’s called Christy Says!”

“Jerry,” Athena said. “You learn to dial it back a bit with Christy. Speak slowly and use words of no more than two syllables.”

“It is a car show on the BBC,” Jerome said slowly.

“They put a star in a cheap ass car,” Athena said. “And then you race around a track like a crazed squirrel.”

“Oh, like NASCAR?” Christy said. “I just love NASCAR!”

“How…unsurprising,” Jerome said. “Yes, somewhat like… NASCAR,” he finished with a wince.

“What are you doing on Sunny St. Barts?” Athena asked.

“Vacation, oddly enough,” Jerome said. “Quite ruined at this point.”

“Unaccompanied?” Athena said.

“My wife and I are having some complications,” Jerome said. “Nothing serious. Just time for a short change of scenery.”

“Wasn’t what I asked,” Athena said archly. “That would be wife four, right? Interviewing for five were we?”

“If I were I assure you I’d have a beautiful lady on both arms,” Jerome said. “And, no, just some time off. As it is…”

“Worried about your family?” Anna asked.

“Very,” Jerome said. “Friends, family. Family.”

“We all are,” Athena said seriously. She patted him on the shoulder. “They’re not going to let anything happen to Jerome Arthurson’s family, Jerry.”

“I think my educational background might have prepared me more for the eventuality that nothing ‘they’ can do may matter,” Jerome said. “I understand the Black Death is rather scarcely covered in American schools.”

“I didn’t go to most schools,” Athena said. “Although I think Poe covered it best. It won’t get that bad, Jerry. She’ll be there when you get home.”

“I’m worried about Steve,” Christy said. “The last time I got through to his cell all I got was voicemail. And that was two weeks ago.”

“We’re all worried, Christy,” Anna said. “We all have people we’re worried about—”

“Attencion!” a man with a bullhorn said. “We will use English, then I will translate to French and German. There are two storehouses for disaster materials in the building. You will be segregated by sex so as to avoid any…problems during the period of your, hopefully short, stay. It is hoped it shall be very short as there are minimal facilities of all types in this building. But it is the most secure building on the island and here we, the gendarmerie, can deal with any problems that arise much more swiftly and surely. Now, English speakers please wait while I translate…”

“Well, it appears I must bid you adieu, fair lady,” Jerome said, kissing Christy’s hand. “I hope that you enjoy your ‘hopefully short’ stay in the castle.”

“I’m already hoping for Prince Charming,” Athena said, looking up at the gray, three-story, precast concrete building. “Or Princess. I’m easy.”

“That you are, dear lady,” Jerome said. “That you are.” He winked at the group and headed over to the “male” side.

The room was, as promised, a storehouse. More like a warehouse. There were industrial shelves holding boxes, as well as pallets with more boxes and stacked five gallon cans. There were three windows but they were covered by roll-down hurricane shutters. If the lights went out, the room was going to be quite dim.

What was entirely missing were cots, mattresses, blankets, sheets or, perhaps most importantly, a loo. Nor were there any apparent bottles of water. All of which was causing the various women who had been led to the room to have conniption fits.

“I can only drink Holister Springs…”

“Are there vegan meals…?”

“Where are we supposed to sleep…?”

“Where’s the bathroom…?”

“HEY!” Athena suddenly bellowed like a drill sergeant. “Shut up all you bitches or I swear to God I will cunt punt you. Next bitch says a word I will slap you silly. Monsieur,” she said, changing to a purr. “De la plus grande importance est la question d’une toilette? Et de l’eau?”

“Mademoiselle,” the harried gendarme said, nodding in thanks. “We will take individuals to the toilet in the main police area. As to water, those boxes have emergency water bottles in them,” he added, pointing. “For the rest…there are currently no good answers and with that I must leave.”

He quickly shut the door and was gone.

“There is no way I’m—” Brenda McCartney started to say.

Athena took two steps and hit the larger girl with a roundhouse slap so hard it knocked her off her feet.

“We are in a fucking disaster!” Athena shouted, striding to each woman and looking them in the eye. “Not a fucking movie. Not a fucking reality show. Real reality. A fucking disaster! Who knows how much worse it’s going to get? Which of you are going to turn, huh? Am I? You feel sick? How’s that head? Huh? Spinny? Got a fever? Huh? We’ve all SEEN IT.

“So forget the bullshit! We are fucked. Screwed. Blued and tattooed. There is no Evian! There are no special meals! There are no PAs with fruit baskets. There is no kosher if that’s your bitch. There is pure and simple really real survival. Not the fucking show. So start acting like it! All a human needs is a little nutrition and some water that’s hopefully not too fucked up. Or you can sit in the corner and starve, which in your case, Brenda, wouldn’t be a bad idea. But you will die in three days without water and I guarantee you you would drink piss long before that.

“The real question is not whether there’s what you’d like. There are three big questions: How long are we going to be here? How long will the supplies hold out for all of us? How are we going to keep from killing each other when we turn? Anybody got any helpful suggestions?”

“We’ve got one thing going for us,” Anna said.

“What?” Athena said, spinning on her.

“We’re all used to dieting.”

There was a moment of silence, then a giggle. In a few seconds the whole group was laughing hysterically. Christy looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry and had settled on both.

“So short rations won’t be a problem,” Athena said, nodding. “Good point.”

“I’ve got a question besides those,” Brenda McCartney said, still holding her cheek. “Who put you in charge?”

“I did,” Athena said. “Because I know all of you and you’re mostly airheaded idiots. And you fucking well know it. Any other stupid questions?”

“Not a question,” Anna said, raising her hand. “But I second her self-nomination. Athena’s capable and you know it.”

“There aren’t any guys in here to get to do all the work,” Brenda said, crossing her arms. “I’m not going to do it, that’s for sure.”

“You know she’s come up with half the good ideas on the challenges,” Anna said. “And she is organized. You most certainly are not.”

“You’re a leader,” Christy said quietly. “Why not you?”

“Age,” Anna said, ticking off the reasons on her finger. “With it experience. Athena runs her businesses, she doesn’t just let others manage things. And force of personality. While I could and would…ahem…’cunt punt’ any of you if it were necessary, you’re rather less in fear of it than Athena’s threat. She has more force of personality. I do, however, back her one hundred percent. And as to that specific threat, I have played football since I was four. It would be a quite righteous cunt punting, I assure you.”

“Any other takers?” Athena said. “And, Brenda, if you raise your hand I swear I will break it off at the wrist.”

There weren’t.

“Fine,” Athena said. “And, yes, I get the guys to do all the work. It’s called ‘delegation,’ Brenda. And if I delegate something to you, you’re going to do it. In fact… You wanted to know what kind of water. Fine. He said those boxes had water,” she said, pointing. “Find out what kind and how much. Take Sarah…”

“Wait,” Sarah Cassill said, raising her hand. “I’ve got a question.”

“What now?” Athena said, tiredly.

“Um…What’s Brandon doing in here?”

The crowd parted to reveal Brandon Jeeter, vocalist and every teen girl’s heartthrob.

“Good question,” Athena said, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing in here?”

“I wanted to go with the guys,” Brandon said, holding up his hands helplessly. “This cop just kept pushing me into the girl group.”

“Figures,” Sarah said, laughing. “Nobody believes you’re a guy. Even French cops can figure out the truth.”

“I am totally a dude,” Brandon said shrilly. “And, by the way, got nothing for any of you. That’s why I wanted to be with the guys. I told him, ‘Do you know who I am?’ and he, like, said ‘Nun’ or something. I am not a nun! I’m not even a chick!”

Athena, Anna and at least three of the other women dropped their heads into their hands. Athena got enough of a look to know which had at least some clue.

“The word is ‘non,’” Athena said. “French for ‘no.’ Meaning that he didn’t know who you were and could care less. Sarah and Janet help Brenda get an inventory of the water. Anna and… Oh, hello, Your Highness.”

“Hello again, Athena,” Princess Julianna Gustavason said. “Nice of you to finally notice.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t raise your hand is all,” Athena said sweetly.

“Like I wish to be in charge of this?” Princess Julianna said. “Why don’t Anna and I take the food stores?”

“Thank you,” Athena said. “But hold off for a second. Any thoughts on how we’re going to keep from biting each other when one of us turns? Seeing Hector go all Hulk was really fucking unpleasant. It took half the crew to subdue him and he bit Terry and Phillip in the process. And it could happen any second.”

There were a series of prettily furrowed brows, then Christy tentatively raised her hand.

“Yes,” Athena said, pointing. “Christy.”

“We could tie each other up?” Christy said tentatively.

“This isn’t a porn flick, Christy,” Athena said with a sigh.

“No…” Anna said. “She has a point. If we’re secured, the…afflicted is easier to subdue. Or she should be.”

“I’m not going to be tied up when one of you goes nuts,” Sarah Cassill said. “Not going to happen. And besides who is the last to get tied? Leaves one untied, right?”

“Possibly light restraints?” Princess Julianna said. “Easily removed on the wrists. When we’re not moving around, tight on the feet. Possibly comes sort of hobble when we are forced to move. That way, at least, the afflicted isn’t free to move around. When one of us turns, we can pile on?”

“What’s this we shit?” Sarah said. “I’m not getting bit.”

“It’s a thought,” Athena said. “I’m just having a hard time with it being Christy’s good idea. No offense, Christy.”

“It’s okay,” Christy said.

“Is there any rope? Yes…Christy,” she said, pointing as the girl raised her hand again.

“I gotta pee,” Christy said.

“Why didn’t you go before we left?” Athena said angrily.

“It was a long walk,” Christy said, hanging her head.

“Fine,” Athena said. “Somebody bang on the door for our friendly—”

She paused as there was a clearly heard shot in the corridor beyond the door. Then screaming.

“Or…perhaps not,” Athena said, running over to one of the partially empty shelves. “Julianna, Anna, Sarah, Christy! Help me push!”

There was a loud bang against the door followed by a series of irregular thumps and a keening howl.

“PUSH DAMNIT!” Athena yelled.

The shelving section tipped over and effectively barricaded the door. Whatever was on the other side just kept banging, though. And now there were ration boxes all over the floor.

“Now I really gotta pee,” Christy whimpered. She had her hands over her crotch.

“I think we all do,” Athena said. She walked over to a pallet of five gallon buckets and read the labels. “Sarah, Brenda, new job. Get into this pallet and get out a bucket. It’s semolina, basically cream of wheat. Dump it on the floor. Keep some in the bottom for absorption. Christy, use that. Everybody else, start looking for anything that resembles rope before one of us turns…”

“Fuck you, you pampered bitch!” Snoopi Lucessa suddenly screamed.

“What did you say?” Athena said, raising one eyebrow.

“I said fuck you!” Snoop screamed. “I don’t take orders from some…what the fuck is on me? WHAT THE FUCK IS ON ME…?”

“TURNING!” Princess Julianna yelled.

Most of the women scattered, screaming, but Julianna, who was slightly behind the smaller woman, height-wise anyway, hit her with an expert rugby tackle and drove the New Jersey native facedown to the floor.

“Rope! String! Anything!” Athena yelled, grabbing Snoopi by the hair and holding her gnashing teeth away from the princess.

Christy, who hadn’t run but only because she was standing dumbstruck, reached under her blouse and whipped out a Texas-small bikini top at the speed of light. There was a tidal-wave of objects. Cash, change, lipstick and make-up, a tiny Bible, a micro bottle of Hennessy brandy, four packages of peanut M&Ms, a bottle of mouthwash, a package of nylons and three Trojan “SuperMax” unlubricated condoms all tumbled out. After a moment a small gold bar clinked to the floor.

“Yeah,” Athena said, taking a moment to boggle. “That works.”

It eventually took six women to subdue the “afflicted” but with various bits of underwear, bathing suits and strips of cloth ripped from blouses and sundresses, they finally had her hogtied. Christy also turned out to be surprisingly good at knots.

“That caught me off guard,” Athena admitted. She was sitting on the struggling Jersey City star since it was the only pillow around. “I’m still not sure she’s actually turned. Is there a difference between this and her regular personality…?”

“God, Athena, you are such a bitch,” Brenda McCartney said.

“Takes one to know one,” Athena said. “And, yeah, I am. I’m such a bitch I’ve already thought about what happens next. Like, what the fuck do we do with her, now?”

“Wait till the guy outside seems to be gone and throw her out the door?” Sarah Cassill said after a long moment of contemplative silence.

“Do we untie her first?” Athens said. “No? Think that’s a bad idea? Me too. So we turn her into zombie chow? That’s the same as killing her. Worse, really. Not saying no, but be clear about it. That’s killing her. And letting her be eaten. Votes on throwing Snoopi off the island?”

“We have to take care of her,” Brenda McCartney said definitely. “She’s sick. We have to take care of her.”

“That’s so…paladin of you, Brenda,” Athena said. “Fine. You do it. How are you going to keep her from getting free and biting the rest of us? In here. We don’t even have a fucking mattress. You going to feed her? Clean up when she craps and pisses? You want the Snoopi puppy, you have to take care of it. Speaking of which: What do I smell?”

“I don’t have to pee anymore,” Christy said, wiping her eyes. Her makeup was smeared all over her face.

“Do we have anything to clean it up?” Julianna said. “Don’t worry about it, Christy. I think I peed myself, too.”

“Snoopi’s clothes?” Anna said. “And you obviously know what to do, Athena. You’re using Socratic Dialectic to lead us to your conclusion.”

“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!’”

“Honestly,” Athena said, “I’d rather be here than L.A. And if there is a God, all agents are going to be eaten. Not getting the problem solved…”

Best ways to secure themselves were eventually determined and Sarah and Christy got some, more or less, alone time at the back of the compartment. Although it was pointed out that either one could turn at any moment.

“I just wish they would keep it down,” Anna said, hopping over to sit next to Athena. She leaned up against the shelving and sighed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Athena said, shrugging. “If I didn’t have a strong sense of self-preservation, I’d think about joining in.”

“Don’t look at me,” Anna said. “Go see Rebekah if you want someone’s neck to bite.”

“But it’s a very nibblable neck, Anna,” Athena said, smiling.

“Not funny in the circumstances, Athena,” Anna said. She gestured with her chin to Snoopi. “And that problem still remains. The answer to your earlier dilemma is the tarps and tape in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I did,” Athena said. “But…I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“Fine,” Anna said, standing up and hobbling over to Snoopi. She dropped her light wrist restraints, turned the struggling girl over facedown and sat on her back, pinning her to the ground. Then she reached around and pinched the former reality star’s nose closed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Brenda said angrily.

“What does it look like I am doing?” Anna said. She had her head turned away and her eyes closed. But she was still holding the girl down with almost no expression on her face.

“You can’t do that,” Brenda protested weakly.

“Just bloody well shut up, Brenda,” Anna said. “If I face the High Court I’ll simply plead guilty.”

Finally, Snoopi stopped struggling. Anna checked for a carotid pulse, then stood up with the back of her hand over her mouth.

“Brenda, go get a tarp and a roll of gaffer tape,” she said, her voice muffled. “Julianna, Athena, strip her. We need the rags and ties. Now, I’m going to go throw up. And don’t anyone make a joke about the world ‘becoming a better place.’”

“How are you doing?” Athena said, sitting down next to Anna.

Brandon Jeeter, a “male” teen heart throb of such questionable sexuality French police categorized him as a woman, had just been added to the growing pile at the back of the storehouse. One by one over the last week members of the group had turned. First Snoopi, then Brenda McCartney, who before her death confessed she would have “cracked her own mother’s skull” for access to a vaccine despite her long-running opposition to the entire concept of vaccination. Rebekah Villon, famous mostly for her role as insipid character Berra from the Midnight movies and amazingly useless douchebag. Ines Moretti, has been a Beverly Hills Teen Force star, PETA activist, aggressive sponsor of all things vegan, peace activist and flaming bitch, frankly. Heather Marks, overendowed blonde-bombshell super-model, virtually an Untouchable in Hollywood since coming out of the closet in opposition to abortion and as a concealed carry proponent. Also one of the small group Athena had come to depend upon to get things done. Last, prior to Brandon, was Michelle Bazuin, just about the most cold-hearted bitch in a land of cold-hearted bitches, whose transformation was particularly ironic, in Athena’s opinion, given her one big movie was Zombiehood.

And Anna, quiet, composed, caring Anna, had strangled every single one to death with that same quiet, composed, cold expression.

“Strange,” Anna said, rubbing her hands. “Feeling very much like Macbeth. The king, not the lady. Out, out, damned rope burns. And conflicted. I feel immense loss when someone as wonderful as Heather turns. We needed her.”

“Agreed,” Athena said. “I miss her.”

“And I feel even more guilt with those who…” Anna said, her face working. “I hate that… It was Brandon. The only guy, sort of, in the compartment and he could barely be forced to lift a box of rations much less be any real help. The world truly is a better place. God help me for thinking it much less saying it no matter how true. Conflicted.”

“New rule,” Athena said, slipping out of her restraints and putting her arm around the girl. “Only you get to. And I think you switched a u for an a in that sentence. But you’re right. This is certainly a better place with him gone. Now if I could suggest Sarah?”

“Don’t, please, Athena,” Anna said.

“I’m scared,” Athena said. “I’m also…I’ve had a fever the whole time we’ve been in here. It won’t go away. I know what that means and it scares me. I get…bitchy, sarcastic and have a bad sense of humor when I’m scared. We all are. Christy just wants to fool around as much as possible before she goes. I don’t know why that girl never did porn.”

“She told me nobody would take her seriously as an actress,” Anna said, holding up her hand as if swearing. “Honestly. That’s what she said when I asked.”

“Well, she had good advice in that,” Athena said, boggling slightly.

“If I turn…” Anna said, frowning. “If you’re going to keep any credence as our leader, you will have to do it. And simply do it, Athena. Do not hesitate.”

“I know,” Athena said, her face working. “And I don’t know…I don’t…” She twitched and grabbed her left arm with her right hand, trying to quell a sudden muscle spasm. “I don’t… NO! No…Please…”

“Sweet merciful…” Anna said, backing away fast. “ATHENA’S TURNING!”

When they had the group’s leader pinned down, Anna slipped a rope around her friend’s neck and gave herself more rope burns.

“Julianna, you’re in charge, now,” Anna said when Athena’s body had been added to the pile. Even through double tarps the pile stunk and was covered in flies.

“I think you’re in charge, kid,” Sarah said sarcastically.

“I have one job in this room, Sarah,” Anna said, turning to the starlet and staring at her with blank, dead, eyes. “Do not require my services.”