End of the Brothel--Updated

   Another tiring night, the men were in a poor mood and took their pleasure roughly, made bruises. Then the guards did their flush fueled sadism and left the entire crib exhausted. When the red pills came around the babes all dosed eagerly, anxious to get away from the waking World.

   In dreams Salyanna always went blank, nullified reality completely until the drug wore off.

   A harsh sound intruded, pulled her to a state of grogginess and she sat up. The noise buzzed and brayed—on-off-on-off-on-off—and moving light entered the crib from the window, chased shadows around the wall above her bunk. Mabutu stood next to Kreesha, Honi got out of bed and joined them, they watched the scene outside. Salyanna wobbled to her feet and went to the crowd.

   Past the window guards ran, they carried guns and elevated them. She heard rattling and popping sounds, the gun barrels sparked. Other sparks returned from the darkness at the horizon.

   The window shattered, glass came flying inwards around their heads, a row of holes appeared in the opposite wall. Everybody screamed and ducked, Kreesha pulled the covers over her blue hair.

   Salyanna crawled for her bed and struggled to get underneath. Her girth was too wide, she couldn’t get past the bottom rail. She pulled the mattress down and wedged herself into the angle of wall and floor with the bed pad on top.

   Her cheek to the ground, she saw through a small gap under the mattress, watched Mabutu crawl to the door, his fingernails clawed at the edge and desperately caught it. He pulled it open and scrambled for the hall, away from flying glass.

   There was a sudden dull ‘Whump!’ that shook the crib. A bright orange glare shined from the ceiling out of her view, flames, smoke and sparks erupted across the room. The screams she heard became pained as well as terrified and choking coughs rose. Salyanna sucked in her breath and held it, biting on her lips. The scene clouded with black smoke and she pulled her head down to her chest, covered it in her arms, shivered and whimpered. She ex/inhaled with a gasp, took smoke, it burned and made her hack, she grew dizzy, the screams faded but the alarms continued to rattle. The mattress became intolerably hot.

   The alarms quit, the silence weighed heavily, afraid to see…

   Something bashed and bustled her shelter, it rocked and rumbled with a blast of chill water that washed over the floor and down the wall, soaked her grounded flank. New voices shouted.

   The mattress lifted from atop of her and she felt hands on her arms. She was pulled to her feet, a man on one side and a woman across from him, they walk/carried Salyanna out of the crib, dodging lumpy blackened forms on the floor.

   Smoke lingered in the corridor, water stood an inch deep, debris littered the way and poked her bare feet. Through the opposite crib to a gap where once the walls had made a corner, the people took her on past and she was outside.

   Still half drugged, in shock and terror, she didn’t register the changes, they merely happened. Rescuers escorted her to a spot where a small crowd of other babes lingered. It was cold and she had only a light wet smock, bare feet, comfort came from being in the mass of people sharing body heat.

   A small hand seized her wrist, she heard a voice: “Sal!”

   “Bubu?” Looked down into a soot streaked face, his hair had singed ends. “What is happening? Where are we?”

   “This is outside, we’re aren’t in the brothel. Look up… ” he pointed skyward.

   Her eyes followed the finger, head lifted and she reeled. The blue depth was too remote, cold and empty, the brilliance of daylight brought her tears welling. Up looked like a long long ways to fall.

   New terror, agoraphobia, filled her, and she dropped to the ground, hugged her knees and wailed behind scrunched eyelids.

   Mabutu went to her side with a hand to the shoulder, other babes towered in a circle around her, but a few displayed the same distress. Sobs and moans, confused muttering and stressed breathing, the sounds of simmering panic surrounded the area. Other refugees joined them, men from the barracks, they expressed much the same disorientation.

   A masculine voice shouted indistinctly across the hubbub, Salyanna heard the word ‘food’, Mabutu stood and urged her to rise. She caught her breath and let him bring her up. She avoided the sky, didn’t look above belly level at anybody and sheltered her face in her abundant hair.

   The crowd milled toward one side and made a cluster facing a man she didn’t know, in strange clothes. He was doling portions from a tabletop and the babes, conditioned by refectory queues, lined up.

   They worked their way forward and received trays, Mabutu led them to the edge of the mob, the only seating was cold bare blacktop.

   But the sun was up to a useful elevation, radiant warmth soothed one side of her body like a comfy blanket.

   Spongy bread with flaky crust, browned strips of grilled sweetroot, crisp and caramelized outside, pulpy and warm within, a porridge of grains and herbs with chunks of dehydrated fruit: nothing like she had ever eaten before, she chewed warily. The subtle tastes and complex textures were difficult for her palette, at least there was a mug of tea, different from Bobol’s, but good.

   No pills followed breakfast, deprived of stimulants Salyanna remained sluggish and slack. The strangers controlled the environment, led the refugees to a sheltered location. She saw a corner between buildings, a confined space with two walls, and she rushed toward it, took possession of the spot. Mabutu came quickly, he had obtained blankets and spread them over the pavement.

   Salyanna lay down, faced a wall and dozed, Mabutu kept sentry over her.

   Warm afternoon when she awoke, Mabutu showed her to a row of curtained booths and camp latrines. The bucket was a low and difficult squat, her knees were tight, bending made them ache and tingle, pulled her sinews all the way down to her toes.

   The eunuch offered lunch, Salyanna nibbled, her stomach tumbled and she spit up sourness, a greasy sensation seized her and she shivered in the sun. More food was impossible. The headache started.

   “Bubu… I’m feeling sick… ” She curled up on the ground and fell into a restless stupor, her eyes glazed and she sweat profusely.

   Mabutu understood her symptoms, felt some queasy discomfort himself, but he used the drugs so little that he avoided the worst of withdrawal pains. Addiction was the least of his problems.

   Protecting Salyanna helped him ignore aches and feverishness, the crowd included several farm workers and a few of the guards. Mabutu saw hungry demanding eyes on every quarter, decided he would die before allowing harm come to his friend. He defended the corner space and the tiny blanket with a fierce stare and a bold posture, standing above her with arms folded across his narrow chest. Around him other refugees were experiencing their own withdrawal agonies, there were no challengers.

   He spotted Roxie, then he spotted Cal with her, in full possession.

   Mabutu stood until his knees could take no more, he sat at Salyanna’s side, her condition steadily worsened. Mucus and frothy spittle stained her chin, breast and hair. Her breathing rasped and burbled, she made no response to any stimulus.

   She needed more than the eunuch could give. He rose and went for assistance from the strangers. A group had remained at the table they had served lunch from, one man wasn’t a stranger.

   “Hello, Bubu. Do you remember me?”

   Mabutu didn’t recognize the man until he spoke but the deep bass tone was unforgettable. The man remained tall and broad in the chest but wore leather and fleece instead of a brown uniform, he sported a thin goatee and a green skullcap that sprouted a rainbow forest of feathers, gold hoops dangled from his ears.

   The eunuch stared: “Hildy!”

   “You look surprised.”

   “The other guards said you were dead.”

   “Not me,” he smiled: “And how are you doing?”

   “I don’t need anything. It’s Sal—she’s really sick—no drugs.”

   The smile faded: “I’m sorry. I can’t do much—maybe Chowder can help.”

   “Who?”

   “I’ll find him. You wait here.”

   The large man hustled away, Mabutu cast hesitant eyes on the remaining strangers.

   “Hey boss, I’m Jody. Sorry—can’t shake hands.” He was a smiling mustached man with a round top of yellow hair, his right arm was in a sling and a heavy bandage wrapped the shoulder.

   “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

   “Now, boss, those are good questions. I know you guys think you’ve been alone on this planet but we got a town just a few miles away and I live up in the mountains most of the time. We’re a whole colony of folks that have been aching to know about you guys but your own boss never let us in.”

   “Why is Hildy with you?”

   Jody laughed: “That’s just my good luck! We broke up some ugly business he was involved in and he had a change of heart. I bet you know Bobol and Leon, too.”

   Mabutu nodded.

   “They helped trigger this deal. You guys are free because of them.”

   Hildy returned, a man at his side. Amber skinned, golden eyed, thin and long limbs, with a low density patch of shoulder length black hair.

   Hildy: “This is Chowder, he’s a medic.”

   Mabutu: “My friend is sick. Can you help?” 

"Is that one of the women?”   

“Yes, my friend Salyanna. She needs drugs.”“I know. There’s a lot of these women. What about you? Are you okay?”

    “Yeah. I never used it much. I’m too small.”“You look like you need food.” 
    “I ate. Take care of Sal—please.”

    “Show me.”

    Mabutu took Chowder’s hand and pulled him toward the sheltered corner. He was suspicious of the strangers but had to surrender, their control was as absolute as the brothel guards, his existence was theirs to dispose of, if they desired, and they were the only source of the things of life. Encountering Hildy, changed, relaxed and friendly, was both reassuring and menacing—the man was a guard, after all. Defensively shelled, he monitored the new people and volunteered nothing but complied with most of their demands.

    He had a three days ordeal, not sleeping more than ten minutes at a stretch and keeping vigil over Salyanna as the refugees were transferred to a new location miles away. It was a noisy, dusty, tummy tumbling, anxiety ridden open-air trek atop a platform at the front end of a tractor amid a convoy of improvised ambulances. The journey finished in a two wheeled cart towed by a short man with the heaviest muscles the youth had ever seen. Mabutu rode with Salyanna’s head on his lap, a second youth sat across from them, younger than the eunuch. The boy didn’t speak or show expression, but stared at Mabutu the entire two-hour trip. The muscled man and a tiny dark haired woman had introduced the child as their son, Luvin. The man was Marcus, the woman said her name was Synoveh, she carried a baby she called Sunrah and jogged alongside her husband.

    The trip ended in a room with a bunkbed and Mabutu took the upper level. The beds were small, Salyanna filled hers completely.

    The eunuch slept fifteen hours.

    He awoke, gray light entered the room from windows on three sides. Mabutu sat up and looked down.     

    Synoveh was in a chair by Salyanna’s head, she held Sunrah to her chest, nursing.

    The sight amazed the eunuch.

    She heard him move and looked up: “Good morning! Sleep well?”

    Mabutu nodded and stared: “What is he doing to you?”

    “Just having breakfast.”

    “Sometimes men in the brothel would suck on my chest that way. It hurt—they would bite.”

    “This guy doesn’t have teeth yet. I don’t even know why you boys have nipples—they don’t do anything.”

    He shook his head: “I don’t know.”

    “Are you hungry?”

    “I need a toilet. Then I’ll eat.”

    “Of course! I’ll show the way. Sunrah’s just about finished, can you hold a minute?”

    He nodded again.

    The commode was in a separate shed, Synoveh explained that it composted wastes. Mabutu semi-grasped what she said. It was warm and humid inside, had an earthy aroma. There was no flush mechanism, but he scooped in a handful of ashes and another of sawdust at her instructions.

    He washed up in the fountain in the center of the cabin circle.

    Food came from another structure that housed a heavy stove of black metal. Synoveh gave him cake, wild berries, hearty boiled cereal and a cloudy tea sweetened with thin yellow syrup.

    She filled a cup and sat across from Mabutu, Sunrah rode in a papoose, he had golden skin the color of the cake and sharp reddish eyes, watched intently.

    Synoveh: “You’re a deep sleeper. We helped your friend through two bad episodes last night and you never stirred.”

    He nodded, ate.

    “She’s not the only one. All of Branch House stayed up last night helping. It’s pitiful. I’ve never seen addiction before—not like this. What kind of drugs did you use?”

    “They gave us pills, different ones, wake us up, go to sleep with. Some just make us dumb and obedient.”

    “All the time?”

    Mabutu nodded and swallowed: “Mostly with the food… ” he stared down at his bowl, right hand wiped cereal from his lips.

    Synoveh smiled at him: “Well the tea is a stimulant—don’t have too much, you won’t sleep tonight.”

    He returned the grin and sipped deeply from his cup: “I had tea sometimes in the brothel. Yours is different, but I like it.”

    “You’re a very sweet and pretty boy, I like you.”

    That talk embarrassed him, he broke eye contact, looked down and muttered: “Thanks.” He turned the topic: “What is this place?”

    “This is Branch House—it’s part of the Children’s Hospice—our school and a refuge for tired parents. We brought you here because there’s a lot of extra beds and we’re prepared to help sick kids if we ever have any, but sick grown-ups need soothing, too, so you guys fit right in.”

    “What will happen to us?”

    “I really don’t know. It’s up to you, mostly. We have an open community here in the Vale, you can do whatever pleases you—you’re free.”

    “Free… I sort of know what you mean. I get to choose, right?”

    “Uh-huh.”

    “If a man wants to take me, I don’t have to go if I don’t want to?”

    “That’s right. Nobody owns you or controls you.”

    “So what do I do?”

    “Most people are expected to work, or contribute somehow. Do you have any skills?”

    “I’m good with hair and makeup. Eunuchs are famous for that.”

    “That’s a start. But you’re not much older than the kids in our Class. Can you read?”

    “No.”

    “Then I think the first thing for you is education—there’s a whole world you’ve never known.”

    A hearty “Good morning!” boomed from deep athletic lungs and a second woman entered the kitchen, she went to the stove. “Got the fire lit already?—Thanks!” She turned about and addressed the eunuch: “Greetings, I’m Karma!”

    Taller than average, toasted olive color, she kept hair out of her face with a pair of braids from a center part, they wrapped her skull and united at the back into a single queue down her spine, atop her head the remaining tresses were an unregulated tangle that spilled out behind the ears. Large brown eyes and a long hollow face, broad lips coiled an inbuilt smile above a smooth knob chin.

    “I’m Mabutu.”

    “From the brothel, huh?” Confident energy in her eyes, voice and smile.

    Contagious, he felt stronger for meeting her. “Yeah. With my friend Sal.”

    “Is that the big girl with all the hair? She’s lucky to have a true friend, she needs one.”

    “She’s real sick… ”

    “We’ll help her. And with good food, fresh air and lots of exercise she’ll be as well as can be. You kids came to a good place—you’re safe here and we can help.”

    Mabutu and Synoveh returned to the bunkroom, Marcus sat with Salyanna, Luvin was there, edging around restlessly.

    Synoveh: “Look who’s awake.”

    Marcus: “Yeah—I saw the empty bunk. Hey Bubu! How are you doing?”

    “I’m okay.”

    “Synoveh been showing you the layout?”

    “I gave him breakfast.”

    “It was good. I like the tea.”

    Marcus grinned: “That’s one thing we’ll never run out of!”

    “How is Sal?” He looked into her bed, she lay on her right flank and snored.

    “She’s in a quiet moment. Sleeping almost peacefully.”

    “I’m glad.”

    “You should learn the spread. We’ll keep watch on her. Luvin! Come here.”

    The smaller youth approached at a saunter. “Yeah?”

    “Why don’t you take Bubu around, make him at home.”

    Luvin glanced at Mabutu, caught his father’s eye and then looked at the floor. Voice weak and disinterested: “Yeah, all right.”

    “I know we just woke up but show some spirit, huh?”

    “Yeah, Dad,” he still muttered.

    “Take him down to the pond—show him the bridge.”

    “Yeah, Dad.” Luvin turned to Mabutu: “C’mon—I’ll show you… ”

    The taller boy fell in alongside.

    A door led down three split-log steps and onto a dusty patch of ground. Paths radiated, Luvin took one directly forward, onto a sloping lawn with the water at its bottom.

    Luvin was blunt: “Who are you guys? Where did you come from?”

    “We came from the brothel.”

    “The what?”

    “The place we lived—where the guards let the men have us.”

    “Guards? Why?”

    “I don’t know why—men just needed to have us. Don’t men take you?”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about—you’re weird.”

    They came to a beach and made a right turn onto a trail snaking through tall waterside weeds, planks spanned the muddy spots. Birds chirped in the brush and fluttered overhead in ragged swarms.

    Luvin: “People died—friends died and you came here.”

    “What?”

    “Tamborak, Brenda, Gardul—Mom and Dad loved them—Gardul was one of Sunrah’s Dads. They’re dead now, and you guys come here. Just like last year and NanaMel died, Hildy, Leon and Bobol came in her place—it’s not the same.”

    Uncomprehending, Mabutu shook his head.

    “Do you know that guy with the broken teeth? Cal?”

    “I hate him, he’s mean.”

    Luvin burst out a short laugh. “He’s funny! He made his friend Roxie show me her pee-pee hole—she smiles at me weird, like she’s keeping a big secret.”

    “She’s bad.”

    “I think you’re dumb. Roxie is the prettiest grown-up I know, and Cal’s my new friend.” Luvin sniggered.

    “They like to hurt Sal.”

    “Are they in a fight with her?”

    “Yes. Roxie is crazy, she likes to do mean things and get revenge. When she smiles it means hate.”

    “I know grown-ups like that. A lot of them.”

    “Who?”

    “Everybody, sometimes—even Mom and Dad.”

    “I don’t understand—I like them.”

    “Yeah… Everybody does, so what?”

    “You don’t like them?”

    “Sure, I like them—I’m their kid! But who cares who you like? They die anyway. I’m not gonna like anybody.”

    “That doesn’t sound right… ”

    “Who asked you?”

    “Well, you told me, and then… ”

    “Just shut up! I don’t need a dumb kid getting wise on me.”

    “Sorry!”

    “You’re dumb. I don’t like you—or your girlfriend.”

    “You don’t know us… ”

    “I know enough. Just dumb, that’s all. You should go back, we don’t want you.”

    “I can’t go back. It’s gone.”

    “See? You’re dumb!”

    Mabutu’s communication skills were exhausted, he saw no way through to the boy. He looked down at his companion, a third shorter but heavily built.

    Luvin decided the older youth feared him, he smiled at the eunuch with cold eyes.

    Salyanna endured a two week’s long nightmare accented by occasional moments of painful nauseous clarity. There was movement, noise and music, unfamiliar faces came into her eyes, big ones, small ones, even strange tiny ones, all different shapes and colors, voices entreated her comfort, people gave her sponge baths and strange foods, she had gut convulsions and full-body cramps, sweat poured from a shivering cold frame, vomit and diarrhea gushed forth. In every memory, Mabutu sat at her side, held her hand and gave her a reassuring presence. He even smiled once or twice.

    The lucid moments grew longer, stronger, linked up and overlapped.

    The cabin and everything in it were wooden, wood was a rare substance for her. Her eyes were fascinated by the swirls of exposed grain, she fixated on the bed frame, stared for hours tracing the patterns and untangling the knots, it was soothing and she didn’t have to move aching muscles.

    A naked feeling on her backside made Salyanna want to turn over. Her sheet was wound two ways around her body, pinned the arms. Wormishly, she twisted, stretched and wriggled loose, flopped onto her belly and rolled to her left side, looked into the center of the room.

    A short man stood, brilliant blue eyes were locked upon her. He carried fresh linen, his hair was streaked the colors of straw and dust, brown trousers work stained shiny, cheeks and jaw too rugged for a close shave, deep cleft chin and a restless smile.

    “Hello?” her voice was confused.

    “Yer awake!” his feet did a funny little double step and he nearly lost his burden, the smile stretched into a full fledged grin and stayed there.

    Salyanna was in bed, he was a man, the situation looked like a brothel. She drew the sheet aside, pulled up her gown and opened her thighs invitingly, put on the professional smile.

    He froze and his arms dropped away, let the clean sheets fall, the grin vanished into a stupid gape, then he swallowed and shut his lips.

    “Hello, I’m Salyanna. Do you want to lay down with me?”

    The man made a sputtering barking noise, his mouth opened again, went to a circle and he blinked slowly, tears fell.

    “What’s the matter?”

    Silently, he came to her bunk, he took her hands and let her drop the garment. He sat by her waist and kept his gaze on her eyes, the shaky smile returned. “Can y’ sit up?” He tugged gently on her arms.

    She allowed him to pull her up, got dizzy with the motion.

    With sniffles and more tears he hugged her, held tightly, whispered in ragged breath: “Yer such a pretty child! I been watchin’ y’ in yer sleep… y’ look all like a grown woman but yer jus’ a baby! I couldn’ touch y’, be like takin’ one o’ my own kids!”

    “I don’t understand… ”

    He broke away and stood again, held her hands. “Y’ don’ really wan’ me, yer jus’ doin’ yer job… Anyway, I’m taken care of—got a wife, girlfrien’s, boyfrien’s, kids. We don’ wanna make things complicated.”

    Salyanna shook a confused head.

    “Are y’ hungry?”

    She nodded.

    “Can y’ git up?” He pulled her hands.

    She swiveled upon her rump and put her feet on the floor, pulled on his grip, lifted herself upright.

    Too quickly—dizzy again, she let him support her weight. Twenty pounds superior to him, his knees almost buckled from the load. He guided her to a wooden armchair beside a low table beneath a tall double casement window. One side was ajar, cool fresh breeze drifted in, it carried the sound of children at play, water splashed.

    Gratefully, she accepted the chair.

    The man stood back and examined her. “I’m Peter.”

    “I’m Salyanna.”

    “Yeah, y’ said. An’ yer boyfrien’ calls y’ ‘Sal’. ‘Zat whatcha like?”

    She nodded.

    “Le’s go fer a walk an’ git food. Fresh air will boost ya.”

    More nodding.

    “Need som’pin’ on yer feet. Wait here, I’ll gitcha sandals.” He turned aside, veered to the dropped linen, straitened it and lay it on her bunk, then he moved on through an open door into a wooden space beyond, his footsteps clopped away after he vanished.

    Salyanna faced the window, something sweet was on the moving air, something happy was in the noise of laughing voices and breaking water.

    A green sward and shady trees invited, blue water sparkled, children splashed in the shallows, floating birds bobbed on the ripples, a different green of rolling hills built the horizon, white clouds capped it—dazzling, brilliant, unnatural looking. Tears welled.

    She closed her eyes and looked down, heard footsteps approaching, softer than Peter’s. Looked up,     Mabutu entered.

    “Sal!” The eunuch ran to her side and put his arms around her shoulders before she could start to rise. “I’m so happy you’re up!”

    “There was a man, he didn’t want me, he’s taking me to food.”

    Peter entered on her announcement: “Hiho!” He proffered open-toed footwear, knelt at her ankles and strapped them on.

    They had breakfast overlooking the pond at a plank table in the shade of a tree, it was Mabutu’s second meal of the morning, Peter had tea.

    Salyanna was quiet, absorbing experience without question, so much was new she didn’t know what to ask about first.

    Mabutu was already settled, spoke familiarly with everybody and introduced her. She heard a dozen names and viewed as many faces, the impressions flitted away, sometimes before the person was gone from her side.