The Führer smiled, and Alexander seemed to relax a little. Marty felt Alexander had done an admirable job. Marty risked a peek at the clock on the wall behind the Führer. It read 5:45. If it was accurate, the sun would set in around an hour and a half.
Now the Führer addressed Marty. “And what is it you do as his assistant?”
“I’ve worked with Alexander for long enough that I’ve picked up a lot. My main useful responsibility is inventory, but as I said, I’ve picked up a lot. And if you were to put him in charge of a pharmacy, he could teach me more of what he knows, and then you’d have some . . . redundancy . . . in case something were to happen to him.”
Marty hoped to sell himself to the Führer as a check against Alexander becoming too powerful. It seemed to have worked as the Führer nodded and addressed Janice.
“Ms. Fernley, how would you treat a GSW?”
C’mon Janice, you can do this.
“Contrary to popular belief, on the battlefield the bullet should be left in.”
Great. She probably knows this enough that she doesn’t have to over think it and get all nervous.
“The heat from the bullet is self-sterilizing. The important thing is to stop or lessen the bleeding with direct pressure, applying stitches if necessary. You should treat the wound with some kind of sterilizer, like iodine, or antibiotics, though you may wish to save those for when you actually see some infection. Put a gauze dressing on, requiring some cotton and tape, and change it when it gets soaked, as often as needed.”
It amazed Marty how calm and collected Janice was.
“And when should we take the bullet out?” he asked.
Marty felt a blast of warm air come from the duct above him. So they even have heat.
“Probably never. If the infection or inflammation is serious and persists and gets worse, and the person is valuable enough to you, perhaps we should risk it since the patient might die otherwise.”
“Okay.” He gave a thin smile. “I’ve heard enough. You are now slaves. You must do as you’re told by non-slaves, unless that interferes with direct orders or your duties. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the three of them answered. Marty was looking downward when he said it.
“You will be addressed and address each other with the title Slave when in the presence of non-slaves. When alone together, you can call each other whatever you want. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Marty continued to look downward at the tile floor with dried blood on it.
“Good. Slave Scoggins and Slave Williams, I will assign you to the pharmacy, where you will assist Colonel Lockett with dispensing medication. You will report there first thing in the morning. Slave Fernley, I will assign you on a roving basis, but your base of operations will be Bullhead City Hospital. That will be your day job, and you will also report there first thing in the morning. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Marty and Alexander said in unison.
But Janice said, “Day job? You mean I have another job?”
The Führer smiled. “I will assign you to the women’s motel across the road. The sign reads ‘National Inn.’ There you will perform your evening’s duties . . . but not tonight. You are filthy. You will need the time to clean yourself up.”
To Marty it was obvious what those duties were. He tried not to act revolted. Instead he fixed his gaze at the fluorescent lighting above. Although the building had been dark, the Führer, it seemed, had the luxury of light.
“What about Emily?” Janice asked defiantly. She got it. She was brave in the face of possible rape.
“The child? She can be your responsibility if you want. She can live with you.”
“But what about when I perform my . . . duties?” Janice asked.
“What about that?”
“Where would Emily go during . . . ?”
“I suspect she’ll be with you. I don’t think you want to trust her to someone else.”
Janice opened her mouth, hesitated, and said, “Yes, mein Führer.”
The Führer addressed Brien. “Captain, assign them to rooms and escort them there. Slave Scoggins and Slave Williams will reside in the Vacation Inn with my Elite Guard. I wish to keep an eye on them. In the morning, you will escort them to branding, and then the men to the pharmacy, and the woman and child to the hospital. You will be branded your new rank as well. Then you may leave to scout and patrol.”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
“And make sure that they be given proper Slave attire.”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
“Good . . . and one more thing. Slave Scoggins, do you know why everyone disappeared?”
Marty, Alexander, and Janice all looked at each other with expressions of alarm. Marty knew if this guy didn’t already know, he may not believe it, and thought of a good, truthful answer. “Everyone got infected with the Crazies’ disease, mein Führer. We believe they all fled to a population source, like Colorado Springs or Denver.”
The Führer nodded and seemed to contemplate this while tapping his hand a few times on his desk.
“Slave Williams,” the Führer said, “how do you think the disease spreads?”
“They kill their victims, then they eat their brains. The victim comes back to life in several seconds and turns into a Crazy, as you call them. Those Crazies create Crazies of their own, who create more Crazies, and so
