Chapter 27 #2
The lighthearted expression in his eyes was replaced by a somber one.
“Unfortunately, there’s no way to predict that.
The CDC will keep an eye on the numbers, taking the infection and recovery rates into consideration, as well as the deaths.
I wish I could give you a more definitive answer, believe me, but we just don’t have that information at this juncture.
” The slight pause that followed the statement wasn’t long enough to allow anyone else to speak.
“I know you all have questions and concerns, and let me assure you, we will answer them all after you’ve gotten settled.
For now, though, I ask that you follow me into the hotel so we can assign you rooms. I know it’s late and you must be tired.
And hungry.” A few chuckles followed that statement as well as several grumbles, which was understandable since it was close to eight o’clock in Ohio at this point, and we hadn’t been given anything to eat during our trip.
“We’ll get those things taken care of tonight,” Collins went on, “and deal with the briefing tomorrow morning.”
He waved to the open door, indicating it was time to go, then turned his back to us.
The women around me began to stand, and I did too.
Collins paused to say something to the driver, who’d reclaimed his seat behind the wheel.
The sergeant’s expression was more serious now that he wasn’t addressing us, and something about both it and the way he interacted with the other soldier sent a shiver down my spine.
We weren’t at a prison, but we definitely weren’t free either.
When Collins stopped talking, he headed out, half the soldiers following while the other half stayed where they were. Ramirez was among the men who remained on the bus, and when he got to his feet, he once again glanced my way.
Hilary and the other fertility counselors went next, then the rest of us.
Since Bette and I were somewhere in the middle, we had a bit of a wait, and I focused on Ramirez as the women at the front of the bus filed out.
He wasn’t looking at me at the moment, but the avoidance seemed intentional somehow.
Like he knew I would be watching him and had purposefully averted his gaze.
When it was our turn, Bette stepped out of the row, but paused to let me go in front of her. As if she was scared we might get separated, she stayed close as we moved to the front of the bus then stepped out.
The hotel was even more majestic up close, although more dilapidated as well, which gave it a real horror movie feel.
It was just after six o’clock here, and the sun was already so low it was blocked by the distant mountains.
The air was cool but fresh, and the scents of nature filled my nostrils when I inhaled.
Grass and dirt and fresh air. It would have been magnificent had this been a vacation. Too bad it wasn’t.
I’d known it was late, but seeing the proof in the setting sun reminded me that hours had passed since I’d said goodbye to Trevor.
He had to be out of his mind with worry.
I wished I could let him know I was okay, but after the soldier’s stern warning about keeping our phones on airplane mode, I wouldn’t have even tried to look at mine if one of the women in front of me hadn’t asked a soldier about it.
“Can we call our families now that we’re here?”
The man, whose face was mostly covered by his mask, shrugged. “You can try, but I doubt you’ll be able to.”
Around me, the women who’d heard the statement pulled phones from their pockets, and I did as well, but their furrowed brows told me there wasn’t going to be reception even before I had a chance to switch mine off airplane mode.
Zero bars. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering our location, but it still made me swear under my breath.
“What is it?” Bette asked. “No reception?”
“No.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket. “I’m sure that was one of the reasons they picked this place.”
Before she could respond, someone called, “This way, ladies.”
The fertility counselors stood on either side of the front steps, urging us forward in a way that reminded me of a rancher herding cattle.
The way they waved, the impatience in their tones and eyes, and their eagerness to get us moving.
No surprise, since we were pretty much the livestock of society.
“Let’s go,” I said, shaking my head at the thought.
We rushed forward as a group, silent and exhausted and scared, our footsteps thudding against the steps as we climbed to the porch.
Between the cold expressions of our chaperones and the soldiers brandishing guns, it felt like a mix between being in school and being ushered to a public execution. Or a scene out of The Handmaid’s Tale.
I’d watched the popular show about a dystopian society years ago, and despite The Fertility Act looming over me and my trip to the farm, it had seemed far-fetched and crazy at the time.
Years later, though, when it was pulled from all streaming services and the book became suddenly impossible to find, I changed my tune.
Now, I couldn’t help wondering if the men who’d originally been assigned to the Department of Fertility had used it as a blueprint of sorts.
It sure as hell felt like it at the moment.
Bette clung to my hand as we passed the armed soldiers, and even though it felt slightly childish, I allowed it. If I was being honest, it was actually a comfort to know I wasn’t alone in all this.
The hotel’s interior was gorgeous despite the obvious signs of neglect, with dark, ornate wood, red and brown paisley carpet, and vintage chandeliers.
A carpeted staircase that split in two one landing up stood directly in front of us when we stepped inside, a check-in desk immediately to the left of it.
Next to that, a couple men in uniform stood with tablets, the first few women to enter the building already standing in front of them.
My focus was on one of the soldiers when Bette and I fell in line, watching as he tapped his finger against the tablet’s screen, then turned and grabbed a key from the desk at his back. “You’re in room three fourteen.”
The woman took the key when he held it out but didn’t move. “My luggage?”
“It will be delivered to you,” he replied before shifting his attention to the next person. “Your name?”
“Vic,” the androgynous person I’d noticed on the plane replied.
“Full name,” the soldier replied, his tone impatient.
The person sighed. “Victoria Rachel Miller. I go by Vic, though.”
“I don’t care,” the man snapped as he typed, not even bothering to look Vic in the eye.
They crossed their arms, tapping their foot to let the man know how irritated they were.
I was still a bit surprised to see them among all the fertile women, but supposed it made sense.
Although I’d never thought about it before.
I also liked this person already. Anyone who wasn’t afraid to show these soldiers how they really felt was an ally in my mind.
The soldier didn’t appear the least bit fazed by Vic’s irritation as he grabbed a key and held it out, saying, “Room three fifteen.”
His attention had already turned to the next person in line by the time Vic took the key.
It went on like that, the line moving forward a little at a time as the soldiers took our names, typed something in their tablets, then assigned rooms. I wasn’t sure how many rooms there were or if we’d all get our own, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share or not.
On one hand, being with someone else might be nice – especially if it was Bette since we’d grown close.
On the other hand, it also might be nice to have some privacy since we would no doubt be watched constantly while we were here.
And Bette would eventually have a baby to contend with.
When it was our turn, Bette went ahead of me, and once the soldier had assigned her to room three fifty, his focus shifted to me. “Name?”
My friend stepped aside, the hand clutching her key resting on her round stomach while I stepped forward.
“Arabella Murphy.”
The man flicked his finger across his tablet’s screen, scrolling through what I could only assume was a list of names. When he located me, he typed a couple things, then grabbed a key off the desk. “Room three fifty-one.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took the key, then immediately cringed.
There was no reason to thank this man. He hadn’t done anything, and I wasn’t on vacation. I was a prisoner, and he was one of several armed soldiers. I needed to remember to keep my gratitude in check from now on. I wasn’t going to give these people anything they weren’t owed.
The soldier looked past me without responding, and I moved to join Bette.
“We’re across from one another,” she said, waving her own key as if wanting to show proof.
“Yeah.” I looked around, noted that most of the women who’d been assigned rooms were gone, then nodded to the stairs. “I guess we can check it out?”
My uncertainty stemmed both from the fact that I was hungry and that I didn’t have my suitcase.
They’d said our bags would be right behind us, but they hadn’t been loaded onto our bus and another one hadn’t arrived, so I had no idea where our luggage was.
I did, however, have a strong suspicion as to why we’d been separated from it. They were searching our bags.
As if expecting her suitcase to magically appear, Bette glanced toward the door.
“I’m sure the luggage will be here soon,” I assured her and meant it.
Once the soldiers finished going through our things, they would happily deliver our luggage to us. Minus any contraband, of course. What they considered contraband was the question of the hour, though.
“Yeah.” Bette waved toward the stairs. “Let’s check out the rooms.”
We’d made it halfway there when Hilary called out, “Dinner starts in fifteen minutes, ladies.”
My back stiffened at her tone, which reminded me of a teacher or mother, neither of which she was. She was our prison guard, an employee of the government that had stolen all our rights. She was Aunt Lydia.
When I shot Hilary a glare, she looked away, pretending not to notice even though the way her eye twitched told me she had. Good.
Bette and I headed upstairs with a group of other stunned looking women.
It was clear the hotel used to be spectacular, but time and neglect had tarnished some of that beauty, and the carpets were worn and stained, while the wallpaper was peeling in multiple places.
Crystals were missing from chandeliers, and most of the curtains were tattered at the bottom.
Worse still was the musty scent that grew stronger as Bette and I made our way up.
Hopefully, they’d been smart and checked the place for mold.
If not, they were going to have a lot of sick fertile women on their hands.
“How long has this place been closed?” Bette asked suspiciously, eyeing a dark brown stain on the second-floor landing. I couldn’t blame her since it reminded me a little too much of dried blood.
“Good question,” I replied. “I don’t know for sure, but considering how secluded this place is, I’d guess a while.”
“It must have been, which means they probably had to do a lot of work to get it ready for us.”
I stopped walking. “That’s a really good point.”
Bette, who had stopped as well, frowned. “Why? What are you thinking?”
I shook my head slowly, my confusion making it difficult to form words.
She was right. If this place had been closed for a while, they would have had to do a lot of work to make sure it was safe for us to stay in.
Repairs, checking for mold and mildew and even rodents, and who knew what else.
When had they started? We’d been told this relocation program hadn’t been planned, that it hadn’t been certain until recently, but if that were true, they would have had nowhere to send us.
Meaning they’d been planning this from the moment the pandemic began. Maybe even earlier.
“What is it?” Bette prompted.
“They always knew they would send us here when the next pandemic started. It wasn’t in the contract, but they knew. They must have.”
Her eyes widened and she hugged her belly protectively, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. I could see in her eyes that she agreed with me. At least she wasn’t dumb.