Dark Parties (24 page)

We dug a pit around the shack, the only home he and I will ever share. The wood was dry and the brush hiding it brittle. Braydon
had one of Sanna’s discarded lighters in the satchel of his motorbike. We hoped it had a spark or two left. It was an ancient
white plastic lighter, which still had the shadow of a smiley face.

I am hot and sweaty, but it’s not from the fire Braydon
has set. I have never been so scared and exhilarated. All the possible outcomes spiral before me.

A girl screams. I check left then right. The coast is clear. I dart behind the brick building and peer around the corner.
Four girls my age climb out of the back of the white van. I am thankful they are dressed in everyday clothes. I couldn’t tell
what they were wearing from the hilltop. It’s possible that I could be one of them.

One girl is crying uncontrollably. Her mouth is open wide in an unnatural shape. She’s batting at the other girls. One girl
slaps the hysterical girl across the face. I cringe at the sound of skin on skin.

The girls stare at one another in shock. They seem to notice for the first time that they are unguarded. One points in the
direction of the fire. The guards have disappeared into the forest. The girl who was hysterical seems to collect herself,
sniffling and wiping her eyes. She bolts away from the fire and the van, deeper into the forest.

The girls call to her and then look at each other like puppies waiting for their master to issue a command. Another guard
appears from inside the building and races into the forest after the escapee.

Now’s my chance.

I step around the corner and into the open. Even though my legs are shaking, I stroll over and join the other girls. Their
eyes shift from me to the building to one another, but no one says a word. I can see their fear and confusion. “Please,” I
whisper. They seem to understand. My lips twitch nervously.

A man in a blue-and-tan-striped shirt appears in the doorway to the main building. “Hey, what the…” he exclaims when he notices
us huddled together. His face softens. “Welcome, ladies,” he says, directing us inside. He reaches a hand to help me, but
I slip past him. He mouths the numbers as he counts us. Satisfied, he shuts the door behind the fourth girl. The light in
the room is dull, and my eyes have to adjust. We are in a windowless room with hallways ahead of us and to our right. We cluster
in a tight ball.

“Welcome to the Women’s Empowerment Center,” the man says, and smiles warmly at us. “My name is Mr. Jefferson. I am the director
here. It’s my job to get you settled into your new surroundings.” Why is a man the head of a place for women? He has an easy
manner from his bushy, unkempt curls to his untucked shirt. He gestures to a cluster of couches. “Have a seat and relax. I
know your journey was long and uncomfortable. My apologies.”

I look from each girl to the next; they all have the same confused expression. We move in a pack and sit too close together.
Mr. Jefferson takes a few steps down the hall ahead of us and calls, “Can we get some hot tea for the ladies?” but doesn’t
take his eyes off of us.

Two women dressed in faded blue doctor scrubs appear in the entryway. One holds a tray with mismatched ceramic mugs. The other
hands a steaming mug to each of us. I cup it in my hands and inhale the peppermint steam. “Go ahead,” the woman encourages.
“Drink up. You’ll feel better.”

I take a sip and then another. The peppermint warms as it
flows through me. The other girls are also enjoying the treat of hot tea. I scoot back into the couch and wiggle some room
free from the girls on either side of me. I take another sip and another, but this time I taste something sour through the
peppermint. I notice a white grainy substance at the bottom of my cup. I give the mug to one of the women in blue. She glances
in my mug and nudges it back toward my lips. “You’ll want to finish it.”

She pulls her lips into a tired smile and waits and watches until I put the mug to my lips and pretend to sip. She steps closer
to me. She doesn’t say anything, but I know the tea isn’t an option and this is no party. I drink slowly, trying to keep the
settled matter at the bottom of my mug. The woman casually inspects each mug as we place them on the tray. I swirl the remaining
liquid in my mug so the grainy flakes dissolve before setting it on the tray. My brain’s getting fuzzy. I could be imagining
it, but I don’t think so. The girl to my left is swaying slightly.

The women in blue remove the mugs and bookend Mr. Jefferson. He smiles again. “Okay, I hope you are feeling better. Let me
introduce Dr. Ann and Dr. Beth.” Both the women in scrubs wave at the same time, so I can’t tell which is which. “We have
a few induction duties, and then you can go relax in the garden. I need you to line up, please.” We shuffle until we are one
behind the other. I’m second in line. “That’s right. Good girls.” He snatches a pen and a clipboard from a hook next to the
door. “I’m really sorry about this next part, but we need to track all of you lovely ladies. It’s the best way we could think
of. Roll up the sleeve
on your left arm.” He’s writing on the first girl’s arm with a big black marker. He reaches for my wrist next and I flinch.
“It’s not going to hurt, I promise.” His fingers circle my wrist. His grip is firm. “Hold still.” The marker is a cool dot
on my skin until he roughly drags it in big bold strokes. He writes the numbers 1133 on my arm and 1134 on the next girl.

“Don’t you want our names?” the youngest girl asks. “I’m Crystal.”

“Hi, Crystal,” Mr. Jefferson says, but writes 1135 on her arm. He marches to the front of the line. “One simple rule and we’ll
all get along just fine. Please do as you are instructed by myself, Dr. Ann, or Dr. Beth. Remember this is for your own good
and for the future of Homeland. Follow Dr. Ann and Dr. Beth and I’ll see you later.” He winks at us and disappears down the
hall.

The doctors stride ahead of us, and we follow somewhat sluggishly. My feet feel heavy, as if encased in cement. They lead
us to a big bathroom like we used to have at our school. “We need each of you to shower please,” one doctor says, and points
to a bank of showers on the far back wall, but none of us move.

I look at 1132, 1134, and 1135. Their eyes are half closed. I suddenly feel tired too. My skin tingles. I scratch my forearm
and notice that 1134 is doing the same thing. They must have drugged us. My brain registers panic, but somehow my body doesn’t
feel it. “Let’s go, girls,” one of the doctors says. “This is not very pleasant, we know, but it’s necessary.”

The girl next to me obediently starts to undress. She slips off her T-shirt. Her large breasts sag in her ill-fitting bra.
“Guess this is better than a Work Camp,” she mutters.

I turn away from the doctors and struggle with the buttons on my shirt. My fingers feel thick. “Work Camp?” I murmur. I’ve
heard of Community Farms but not Work Camps.

“You don’t want to go there,” she says, tugging her pants past her hips. Her gray underwear is dotted with holes. The other
girls are starting to undress too. All the numbers are diverting their eyes. I kick off my shoes and hop on each foot to pull
off my socks. The new recruits are still wearing their underwear.

“Everything, ladies,” one of the doctors says in an almost apologetic tone. “Let’s get this part over with.”

I am unable to move. The bigger of the doctors walks over to us. She slips a bracelet off the young girl’s wrist. I’m thankful
Braydon made me give him my snowflake necklace. Now she’s standing in front of me. She nods at my underwear. I can’t bear
the thought of being completely naked in this place. My panties and bra have been recycled so many times they are merely shadows
shading my caramel skin. She reaches behind me and unfastens my bra. I force myself to remove the last shreds of clothing
along with my dignity. I instinctively cover myself but not before the doctor glances at the valley between my stomach and
pelvic bone. My snowflake tattoo. I cross my legs and spread my fingers to obscure her view. Tears sting my eyes.

I hear the hiss of water as the other girls turn on the
showers full blast. One doctor shoos us over to the showers while the other doctor hands us gritty lumps of soap. The water
is freezing, but I almost don’t feel it. I want to wash away the dirty feeling that’s come over me. It’s not just the Empowerment
Center; it’s what I did with Braydon last night. This is starting to feel like my punishment. I deserve worse than a cold
shower. I’m here to save Sanna and redeem myself.

I lather and lather and lather my body, trying to generate warmth. I am shivering. I scrub at the number on my arm until one
of the doctors wags her finger at me. “Rinse,” she says.

I wrap myself in a stiff towel that doesn’t want to bend around me. My teeth are chattering. We are led to a bench with combs
and brushes scattered on top. We dutifully yank the tangles from our hair. I slick mine away from my face. We are given hospital
gowns with sleeves that don’t reach my elbows and a hem that doesn’t cover my knees. I wrap it around me, clutching closed
the gaps between the series of ties on the front.

“We’ll give you each a quick exam and then we’ll show you to your room.” The bigger doctor takes 1132 and the other doctor
takes my arm and leads me to a door at the far end of the hall. As we get closer, I drag my feet. This isn’t right. The doctor
pulls me forward.

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s not going to hurt,” she tells me. “It will be easier if you relax.”

“W-what are you g-going to do?” I ask as we reach the door.

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob. “It’s a simple female exam. You’ve had one of those before, haven’t you?”

I vigorously shake my head. Some mothers take their daughters to doctors for female exams, but I’ve always been healthy. Mom
got a letter in the mail from the Minister of Health when I turned sixteen. She read it and threw it in the trash. I’d rarely
seen her that angry, so I dug the letter out when she wasn’t looking. It was a doctor’s appointment for me at the main medical
facility. I didn’t go, and Mom never mentioned it again.

“Please, no,” I say when I see the examination table with two big metal arms at one end. I don’t understand why they are doing
this. I’ve got to get out of here. I think of Sanna but only for a fleeting second. I don’t have the strength to struggle,
and the doctor’s grip is firm. She pulls me inside the room.

“This is a simple exam. I promise you. A few tests. That’s it. Hop up here and it will all be over soon.” She pats the exam
table.

Braydon was right. This is stupid. What choice do I have now but to see my plan through? I summon all my strength and climb
up on the table. She pushes me into a lying position. She stands at the end near my feet and pulls my hips forward. She places
my feet in the metal arms. My legs are spread wide around her. I try to close my legs, but she eases my knees apart. “Relax.
Take a deep breath. Close your eyes.”

I do as she says. I try to conjure up Braydon’s face, the
way he touched me so tenderly, but I can’t. My body was so alive with sensations last night. Now my body is limp and lifeless.
She pokes and prods between my legs. She’s telling me what’s she’s doing. Some kind of test. Checking for something. I can’t
bear it. I wonder if I will ever be able to feel like I did last night. At this moment, I can’t imagine it. I disappear into
the darkness behind my eyes.

After the exam, they take a tube of my blood. The lady who told me to call her Dr. Ann leads me to a huge room with wall-to-wall
cots. She tells me to lie here and rest until I feel strong enough to come outside. I pull the scratchy, thin blanket around
my shoulders, fold my knees into my chest, and dig my heels into my buttocks.

My mind goes black. Maybe it’s sleep. I don’t care. I don’t want to think.

I hear voices; people are talking loudly. I imagine it’s Braydon. My eyes pop open. A face looms large in my field
of vision. I think it’s one of the girls from earlier because her hair still looks damp. I glance at her left forearm: 1132.

“Get up. Come on. There’s a fire.” She’s dragging me to my feet. I sway for a second, trying to find my balance. Sitting by
a fire would be nice. Maybe it can take off the chill that has seeped into my bones. I don’t see a fireplace, just row after
row of empty cots.

“Fire.” I say the word and think of Braydon and the smiley face lighter. Fire. Fire. “Fire?” I say again, but this time I’m
beginning to understand. Number 1132 is plowing a straight line to the door. Cots bang against my legs and I trip, but 1132
won’t let me fall. Guards are shouting as they race past us. I think I hear a baby crying. I can smell smoke, but it can’t
be. They would have put our small fire out by now. Braydon should be waiting for my signal. Number 1132 is dragging me down
the hall and toward the same door we came in. At least I think it’s the same. My head is fuzzy. I’m forgetting something.
Something important. I almost remember, but it slips away. Then it comes flooding back.