"You gotta fuck me!" she begged. "You gotta!"
"I don't gotta do anything!"
Again, and with wild eyes, she wrestled against my weight, all the time pleading for a baby. "Anything mister! Anything you want!"
My strength won out in the end, and when the girl finally surrendered, her tears resumed, pitiful, hopeless sobbing. "You don't understand, mister! You can't!"
"Make me." I said, stepping back. "Talk to me, please?"
At that instant, the shack door was thumped open, giving me the fright of a lifetime. Kat filled the doorway, body glowing against the evening orange. His face tensed with repulsion as he examined the sight of this older man and half-naked woman distressed on the bed. Before I could explain or hear L's story, the girl scurried over the bed and raced past Kat, who pompously tried not to notice her bouncing breasts.
"It's not what you think…" I said, feeling his glare.
***
Dusk was replaced by the rapid tide of darkness. Atmospheric lanterns lit various locations around the village, and the escalating sound of goings on lured me out of the shack. I was pleased to be away from the shit, but still very aware of it drying over my boots now.
The community was tightly knit, the sort of place were privacy is non-existent, where your business is everybody else's. The homes only were moderately better than the shack, built from disjointed stones using mud for insulation. There were around twenty of these depressing hovels built over sludge. This was a tough existence, hard work and heartache, and no matter how safe they might be, I did not envy any soul residing here.
Only one of these homes appeared fit to live in, fit for a king, in fact. Georgian in style, it was an immaculate white, had a welcoming wooden porch, two floors, clean windows, and a pleasing glow coming from red curtains inside. I wanted to point out the peculiarity of that spotless home in this dilapidated village. I needed to share this nonsense with someone, anyone, but it appeared that the only peculiarity here was my presence. Faces watched, fingers pointed, and doors closed at my back.
Arriving at a long dining table, three women assembled plates and cutlery for the evening meal. I watched their work and they sensed me watching. None smiled or gave me the pleasure of their face. Kat would be at home here. "Excuse me," I said, moving closer. "Can I have a minute?"
One of them, a redhead with face full of freckles suddenly accosted me. "What is it?" she cried, somehow insulted. "What have I done? What do you want?"
“Sorry. It's nothing…” My mind was suddenly scrambled, not by her attitude, but by the swollen belly under her cardigan, and the baby growing inside it.
"You're…pregnant?"
She placed a motherly hand over her stomach and smiled, as Madam B had done. "Due any day."
The other two women placed the last of the knives and forks, and I noticed that they too were pregnant. I had to rub my face, needed to get off my feet. "How can we help you?" one asked, but I was too mystified to respond. The young woman repeated her question, and words eventually found me.
"Where…are the men? I have seen none. Are they hiding or something? Lost?"
The redhead laughed, directing her hand behind me. "Why, there is one man!"
I turned, hopes dashed to see Kat strolling toward me. "Kat!" I said, hurrying to him. "Man, we have to talk!"
Looking more irritable than ever, Kat was not interested in anything I had to say.
"You were told to remain in the shack!" he bawled, both cheeks fat with air. "You were told!"
"Oh," I protested, "so it's fine for you to go on walkabouts, huh? I couldn't stay in that fucking pit a second longer! There is something wrong here, okay? We're not safe!" I clutched his arm but he slapped it down.
"You do as I say!" he said, suddenly pinching my chin with his thumb and finger. "I will not tell you again!"
With a push of his palm, he jerked back my stunned face. My heels came away and I slipped foolishly to the mud, the samurai already returning in the direction he had come.
***
The table was surrounded by people and food that evening; it was a feast of chicken, pork, fish, bread, water, and wine. All the stops were pulled out. The colorful sights and tantalizing smells made bellies growl and dry mouths water.
Kat and I were not on speaking terms since our earlier episode; hence, we dined at opposite ends of the fire-lit dinner table. Twenty-five villagers, all of them female, sat to eat, waiting for Madam B to speak from her privileged position at the head of the table. When that rough woman eventually rose, she cast her eyes and smiles over all present. "As you know, ladies, we have two guests with us tonight. Daniel Fox, and his samurai, who needs no introduction. We have all been enthralled by your story at one time or another, Kat."
The women graciously glanced, and I returned a smile. Kat did not.
"We hope you enjoy the meal," B concluded, "and our company, gentlemen." The beaten up old woman then gave a consenting wave, permission to tuck in.
I was pleasantly surprised that we were not left waiting for prayer or some other ritual beforehand. I snapped a leg of chicken from that tray, scooped a generous helping of potatoes from another one, and ate.
After moments of ravenous chewing, I became aware of something very unusual. A delicious feast for the eyes this food was, but not for the palate. The same taste filled my mouth with every bite — it was a mash of sandy wood, poisoning everything from the bread to the soup. I coughed out that gunk coating the back of my mouth and heard further giggles from women around me.
"I'm not getting used to it Kat," I said, from across the table. "I'm really not!"
Kat didn't pay me any mind, and eventually the hunger pains in my stomach cancelled out the bitter taste on my tongue. I ate all I could, and although it was foul, it at least gave me energy and that satisfying feeling of having a full stomach. The pretty blonde-haired woman, Madam L, did not look at me once during the meal, and whenever I caught her eye, she would shy it to a table or plate, anywhere but me.
Kat's manners or lack of kept me amused throughout dinner. With no class or etiquette whatsoever, the man snatched large handfuls of food and scarfed; grunting snorts and lingering burps, he chewed with his mouth open and then swilled back goblets of wine to see it all down, and the unfortunate woman seated next to him clearly wished she wasn't.
When most were through eating, I drank wine whilst women chatted amongst themselves about the weather, the harvest, and other things that didn't interest me. What I cared about was my curiosity, and now that my hunger was satisfied, I might as well see to the other. "I saw the white house earlier," I began, scratching at my chin. "I was wondering who lived there? Anyone?"
"A newly built home, Mr. Fox," answered Madam B. "In time, we hope to have one for each of the women here. They deserve it."
I returned a nod, aware that she did not answer my question: Who lived there?
"Tell me," I added, without care; "are you all named with letters? A little strange, don't you think? I mean there's only so many letters in the alphabet." I saw agreeing expressions from some, but anxiety from most. "Is there a Madam A?" I continued, the question causing one girl to go into a sudden fit of choking. The woman seated next to her promptly patted several times on this girl's back. Not a moment later, she spat out a piece of doe from her throat, and we all breathed again.
"The bread is a little tough tonight," said Madam B, wearing a cool demeanor toward my inquisitiveness. "Madam A is gone, Mr. Fox. The second death, I'm sure you're aware of that.”
“What happened?”
“Poor thing,” B replied. “She became too old to protect the women, and too weak to protect herself."