Remedy Z: Solo (21 page)

The 15 women were down-trodden and dominated as their hollow, fearful eyes looked up at Maeve, their oppressor and matron. They waited, confused, and just hoping what would come next would not be too bad. It was all a scale of bad as opposed to anything good. “OK bitches, the Doc has given you extra food today because this slut will be back to do ‘im ovah t’night. Say thanks to Sam the Slut“. Maeve announced this humiliation and snorted with as much class as her army camouflage pants, metal music t-shirt, army boots, flannelette shirt and straw-like red hair. No-one else found the concepts of rape or coercion amusing, but no-one said a word. They looked down with shame for themselves and shame for what their captors, purported saviours, were doing to them. Maeve looked darkly at them. “No sense of humour eh?“ She sneered “I’ll be laughin’ laydah cuz I’m gunna have Xavier come and deliver the food for you’s. Enjoy bitches.” Maeve turned and walked off, headed back to the Doctor. She knew Xavier was never allowed near them since the last incident but she enjoyed making them cower in fear and worry unnecessarily. The door closed behind her with a characteristic “click”; prisoners again but free to be amongst themselves until the depraved Xavier or someone else would bring them food and, possibly, a whole lot of trouble. Sam would have a short break before another shift “working” in the Doc’s chambers.

Chapter 11: The Bear Pit, the armpit

At the other end of the building, Sirocco was too angry to talk and nodded at Price to continue the story they were relating to Dr Penfould. Price pushed himself forward in the chair, which creaked under his weight. He was leaning in on his haunches like he was telling a secret and spoke in a hushed tone. “We flew to Mount Kosciuszko at first light, as directed, and we surveyed the area. We saw some distant smoke into the high-country as we passed Tantangara and headed near Crackenback to the mountain. ” Price said in hushed tones. The smoke was coming from bush that was too thick and didn’t offer us a place to land. ” Price looked at Sirocco who chewed gum and nodded in support.  “Go on, go on.” Penfould said, now thinking he should pay attention. “So we decided to land nearby, about 06:45, with the intent to walk to the scene of the smoke. Our envisaged landing site was just a few clicks from the smoke“.

Penfould changed his position in the chair uncomfortably. “Smoke can occur with a small conflagration from glass or other means. Well, I am not Cherokee, Apache, nor am I Navajo, am I Mr Price?” Penfould smirked expectantly at them and the looking into his tea; he loved his own wit. The quip was completely lost on Price and Sirocco. Penfould looked up to see their blank faces and said “What I mean to say is that I don’t understand the meaning of the smoke signals you dullards, Indian Smoke Signals? Philistines…OK -tell me, go on,” he rolled his eyes behind the thick glasses and sipped his tea some more. “Just as we were about to land at the designated site, we noticed some more smoke about ten clicks-“, Price was beginning to smile as he spoke but that faded as Penfould abruptly interrupted him. “You mean to tell me you saw smoke in two random spots in the bush and you think that constitutes success?” He was getting snotty with them now and would lay it on thick. “If I could fly that helicopter myself I’d do away with you two morons-“, he was cut-off abruptly.  The self-righteous doctor was made to feel small like he had most of his life. “Tha first smoke wah in thick bush, sure dog, but second was at a farmhouse in da meadow, bitch.” Sirocco bit him hard. The Doc was stunned and speechless a moment. 

The effect had soothed the savage beast and Siro had calmed down. The Doc took a long sip of the strong tea that made him grimace a little. There was a brief pause and Siro and Price looked at each other, not sure of whether the Doc was still with them or if he had lost his marbles. They shrugged; no acknowledgement of that either.

There was another sip of tea and the Doc scanned the room, clearly thinking and preoccupied. With some stealth and guile, Siro managed to get Penfould’s pipe and was now smoking it while Penfould was on the tea. He had even stolen the small leather pouch Penfould kept his sweet-smelling tobacco in too. This made him a little happier and he grinned. The Doc was seemingly oblivious and off in some lucid moment of thought.  

Penfould, to everyone’s surprise, ignored the insults, the oblique interruption and theft of his pipe to become intently focused. He thought deeply; he didn’t want a cure, but he had to pretend he did. If people were cured and free, he would lose control of those he would breed as his subjects. He could not ignore a cure though; he would make plans to play along and eliminate any threat to his throne. In true form, Penfould moved the focus off of him and onto a response. 

“A lost squad, two smoke locations, and one dwelling is no coincidence. You should have said it just like that“. He sipped the tea and continued. “That does mean life, gentlemen”. He didn’t smile but there was a new focus and positivity rather than the usual one-upmanship and negativity. “Well that changes things; that changes everything. Here’s what I want you to do,” he went on, as he leaned over to his drawer and removed three things obscured by his notepad. His hands were shaky, weak, delicate but fat. His clumsy hands had some craft in them after all; he skilfully took these items, juggling them in a way without dropping them. With his notepad and pen, he wrote out an order and stamped it “Go to Barlow and get a shotgun, a pistol, two machetes and two knives.” He handed the chit of paper to Price and kept writing. 

“You will get additional credits of three food stamps, three pharmaceuticals of your choice, one evening with one of the girls of your choice, not Samantha or Angela, AND- Maeve are you back yet? MAEVE?!” His last word was a shout. He looked at the door as though Maeve was at his beck and call and that she should have heard him. She was well-trained and this was proved as, not a moment later, the heavy door swung inwards. In that moment all eyes went to the door, he made a quick movement and placed something on a shelf underneath his coffee table.  Maeve had obviously just come back from dealing with Samantha and entered quickly “You was callin’ me?” she said, breathing a little heavily. “Yes,” he smiled at her awful appearance. “Maeve, have you asked Raj how much milk we have left?” He looked at her with the clearly loaded question. She knew she should know and she did. “Doctor sir, Raj said that we had about 84 units left and we done 28 today and won’t be getting any more today.” She was “at ease” again, standing in front of him like she was back in front of her step-father, the army reserves or volunteer fire brigade again. Back under the command of others; home. “Yes, well, it is or it isn’t 84 units. Nothing is about if you know-“ he rambled gesturing with his pen. “It is 84 units, sir.” Maeve replied coolly and without any ego or arrogance. “This guy’s got nothin’ on my step dad.” She thought to herself as she recalled the abuses, addiction and domestic violence she had come from and was accustomed to prior to the Great Change. His mind was racing, calculating. Penfould parked the concept of the milk reserves for a moment. “So Sirocco and Price- Ha! sounds like a detective show, how appropriate,” he mused almost not caring that no-one in the room cared. “Get that helicopter refuelled as a priority,” 

“But man, we are tired.” Sirocco blew queasy smoke from Penfould’s pipe at its queasy owner. The distance was too great and the attempt at disrespect was either unnoticed or kept in reserve by Penfould whose mind was elsewhere. “Well, you must-“ he was interrupted by Maeve. “Excuse me sir,” Maeve said loudly but without a tone to get him riled up. “I wanna go out with Siro and Price. Can I refuel the chopper and go out wiv ‘em?” Maeve loved the idea of being with the two biggest alpha males at “the Rock”. She had hoped one of them would have knocked her off by now but it hadn’t happened. She could still fantasise. The doctor was bemused by the request. “And why would you want to do that?” He smirked. “I am a country girl, sir. I like to get out and-“ she blushed and said what she wanted to, “get down and dirty.” The men were all taken a little off guard by the request and Penfould used it as another opportunity to attempt another joke that wouldn’t work. “Down and dirty?! I never picked you as a pig on a spit type!” He slapped his thigh and spilt his tea but he was so busy laughing at his own joke that he barely noticed. Sirocco and Price smirked and nodded, giving each other knuckles. Maeve wasn’t the shy retiring type, despite her demeanour as the faithful and respectful henchman. Even still, she smirked in response and blushed. “No, I mean if there is someone to kill, I would like to ‘ave a go.” She lied and said somewhat naively. Penfould loved the idea; “eliminate the potential cure?!” He hoped Maeve would do as she said. But he responded darkly to keep up appearances.

“Kill, you say woman?! You mustn’t! No,” He fixed his eyes on hers and pointed his pen at her. “You mustn’t kill whomever we find! They are our holy grail, they could mean a cure. Keep them alive at all costs you silly girl. But yes refuel that helicopter for another day.” He scolded her for a moment and then moved on. “In fact, I have a better idea,” Penfould looked thoughtful; “Take Squad 2 and 3 to Tantangara and do some reconnaissance,” he said the last word with a poor but genuine attempt at a French accent. “We can assess what is going on there at ground level. You need to be armed. The place is plagued with the gruesome forms of the undead.” He said with an attempt at theatrical flair. With no acknowledgement at his wit and charm, he continued. “Take the squads to Barlow and get him to issue knives and cricket bats. You can have a rifle too. A twenty-three?” Penfould said benevolently and innocently; childlike generosity for a moment. The three experienced shooters smirked at each other and Maeve, least likely to upset the doctor said, “Yeah, I’ll take a twenny-two wiv me.” For all of her lack of class or etiquette, one had to hand it to Maeve for her way with Dr Penfould. She had impressed and taken care with his ego, enough to rise up out of the squads and now live inside the Rock, instead of outside in the tents and the excesses of the junkies.

The Doc took the opportunity to save face and said “Yes, send the squads in those old vans, eyesores that they are, and you use your trail-bike. Fuel them up too.” He passed her the chits she needed for these requisitions. Price, knowing he would irritate Penfould, but wanting to mitigate risk to the mission, added “Best tactic would be let the squads go in first and you stay close behind them. Keep them on the walkie-talkies and give them clear instructions. You’ll be alright.”

Penfould had to have the last word: ”Remember Maeve: capture, but don’t kill unless you absolutely must”. He looked her in the eye and gave a wink. No-one else noticed and Maeve would be on her first mission as a squad leader, possibly issuing a hit, if she read the Doc right. She smiled broadly, revealing her crooked, yellow, shovel-like teeth. She felt very lucky; wet work was normally for the squads, Siro, Price and sometimes Xavier if the doctor wanted murder and mayhem.

The doctor continued, lecturing Maeve as she nodded respectfully “I’ll get Xavier to watch the women while I’m away. He will love that.” Maeve smirked at the Doc, trying to push her luck even further. She hoped she could organise that to harass the women in the Pen. Price and Sirocco looked at each other, knowing the sicko they were referring to. “Man, yo can’t let Xavier onto ‘em,” Sirocco said, thinking of his “girl” who he liked the most. Dimitra or “Dimi” was just a hot little number Siro liked and she kind of liked her time with him, when he wanted it. The thought of the depraved Xavier getting to Dimi pulled at the cage fighter’s heart-strings. “Nah man, let Rob Chisolm do it. He’s a good kid. Not like them bitches will fight or escape.” Sirocco puffed away on the pipe, trying to appeal to the Doc’s sense of hubris.

The Doc nodded, ignoring Sirocco’s lips on his pipe. “No, indeed, I don’t want Xavier. He is an effective terror tool and interrogator but he has no limits and I don’t want him loose on them, no.”

He really meant Samantha or Angela who were exclusively his. The thought of Xavier with either of them made his blood boil. “Make it Rob then. Besides, if we let Xavier in there, he would milk them all dry!” another cliché Penfould moment where you could hear the sound of one hand clapping. The sexual predator that was Xavier Karnovic, direct from Cooleman jail’s worst pool of extreme sex offenders, was nothing a normal person would find funny.

Once he was finished with his self-congratulatory laugh and thigh-slap, his silly moon-face and fat-lipped grin turned dark and the penny dropped about the supplies of milk. Maeve’s comments from earlier had sunk in and, despite how razor sharp he thought he was, Dr Penfould was not the sharpest tool in the shed.  

“Good- ehrm-I mean, no! That is bad indeed! Our milk supplies are terrible! How did this happen?” His contrived attempt at an Oxford accent was lost for a moment and he sounded like a normal Aussie with an Asian background. He shook his head, making sense of it and asking the question more of himself rather than his team. Nonetheless, no-one wanted to answer that question. No-one said a word as his head looked this way and that, left and right, accompanied by a quick burst of mumbling. “Get those cows on the breast pumps tonight, all of them. Give the infants some formula instead of the breast milk. We must boost supplies. We are too low and I can’t risk an outbreak.” 

Penfould looked troubled and nervously ran his hand through his hair. His comb-over got a bit ruffled in this movement and he resembled a worked-up cockatoo. Siro smirked at him. The doctor looked at him oddly but ignored it as Siro’s usual insubordination. “Maeve, get the milk from them. I want them eating well to produce. Keep them up all night expressing. You must maximise output. I want an additional 30 units by tomorrow morning.” Penfould was troubled by their dire milk situation and made no attempts to hide this issue or bare this burden alone. “Go now.” He ordered Maeve simply. “But doctor, sir,” Maeve asked. “Do ya want Sam to express as well?” she was hopeful she would deny Sam the attention of the doctor and keep her down as a milk animal instead of being in the proverbial presidential suite. “Don’t be silly,” he looked sinister and smirked, “I will be getting MY dose, direct!” he slapped his thigh and laughed like the once bullied and now the bully prefect of his sick little boarding school.