“All right,” she spoke aloud. “Time to pack.” She clapped her hands together and grabbed a duffle bag from one of the low cabinets. After three weeks here, Bee knew his kitchen like the back of her hand and she went about the business of packing. It wasn’t all that different than bagging groceries and Bee fell to the task with half of her mind. The other half thought of their future.
Bee glanced at Louise and sighed. Her friend hadn’t moved. She just sat statuesque at the table, hands held limply at her side.
“Oh, Louise,” Bee sighed, pulling her friend’s hair back from her face and securing it with a bobby pin. “What are we going to do with you?”
Bee turned and continued packing. Everything she thought they could use went into the bag, dry goods, cutlery, spices and random kitchen hardware. Bee stuffed items into the pack in an organized manner, sorting them by size and weight. The habits learned from bagging groceries for decades were well instilled and Bee completed the task without much thought. Her mind turned again to the weeks ahead and she saw much uncertainty. Bee tried not to dwell on their circumstances, but it was a difficult thing. The precariousness of their future loomed ahead of her like a monolithic rock and she quailed in its shadow.
Chapter Nine
Merging of the Groups
Liz
Liz woke with a start, once again surprised to find herself in a small and orderly room. Every night she dreamed about living in the cabin with Raven and Henry, sometimes she dreamt of home but not nearly as often anymore. Home with her father had turned into a distant memory. She could no longer recall it in detail. It was like an insubstantial shadow sliding through her fingers.
The room that had become her bedroom was painted sky blue and had plain white sheets on the bed. It had a single window with nails in the frame, only opening a couple of inches. There was no mirror and the only furniture beside the bed was a small wooden table placed by the door. Each week someone put three books on the table, different stories about various things. This last week she’d read about a girl detective, a boy who went back in time, and a cat who talked. Liz never saw who put the books there but she always read them. There wasn’t much to do in such an austere room.
The first day they’d put her here, Liz had tried to escape. The door was locked tightly at night and there was nothing with which to pull the nails out of the window frame.
They hadn’t mistreated her but Liz couldn’t shake the bad feeling she had. When they’d arrived the man in the truck had escorted her to a large and open room. It was full of women in various stages of undress. They all looked frightened and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Liz was taken in front of another man who everyone called the President. Tall and thin with a sallow looking face and stubby chin President Angler asked Liz all sorts of strange questions. His hungry eyes watched her closely as she answered. How old was she? Had she started her menstrual period? What kind of clothes she liked to wear? What her shoe size was? Liz was embarrassed but answered all the questions posed, afraid to do otherwise.
They’d left her alone after that. One of the women had shown her to this room. She was short and thin with long dark hair and bronze skin. Her eyes were a strikingly bright blue and her body was like the women on television that her father used to whistle at when he thought Liz couldn’t hear. The woman said her name was Sadie but refused to answer any of Liz’s questions. Sadie led her to this room and here Liz had stayed for weeks. They only let her out in the mornings to help with breakfast then jog around a long track with other young girls. Liz had never been forced to run before and she tired quickly. When she tried to slow and walk a man had yelled at her and, frightened, Liz ran on, keeping up with the pack. She’d had no breath for talking with the other women and wouldn’t have known what to say if she had.
Her door opened and Liz hopped out of bed, quickly pulling the comforter and sheets straight. She’d learned right away that whoever was in charge here expected a clean room. The first morning she had neglected to make the bed and straighten up the books that they gave her to read. The grey-haired woman who led her to the kitchen hadn’t said anything about it, but later that afternoon no lunch arrived and no dinner followed. Liz had gone to bed hungry and scared. The following morning the man who’d ridden with her in the truck had come to see her, telling her she must keep the room neat and tidy or the President would be displeased. Liz had nodded rapidly and devoured the tray of cheese and crackers he’d brought with him.
“Liz?” a middle-aged man asked. He was tall and lean with sandy blond hair and grey eyes. He smiled and his expression was kind. “How are you feeling?” He wore a long white coat, like a doctor’s coat. There was even a stethoscope around his neck.
“O-okay, I guess,” Liz answered, unsure what she should say. “Are you a doctor?” Her voice shook and she hated how weak it sounded, but couldn’t seem to stop
