all god's orphans
Chapter 18

Millie’s stake out of the general’s trailer was entering its fourth hour. Her legs and feet hurt and her spine was a column of fire. All she wanted to do was sit down, but that would have been too suspect. Already she was having to ignore questions about what she was doing there. For the first three hours, nobody paid any attention to her. Unlike the other women, everyone understood that she was different. If she was standing around doing nothing, then she was probably doing something important. After three hours, however, it looked a little weird. The rest of the camp was zipping to and fro doing various things while here she was, just hanging out.

“Millie, are you okay?” Asked a passing sergeant. Millie simply nodded and pretended that she had lost her chalk so she didn’t have to write a more detailed explanation on her board. That seemed to do the trick and the sergeant went about his day. All day, her thoughts drifted away to her brother. If she could find him, she told herself, then everything would be all right. No matter what happened, she would have someone she could count on. A family.

She had never really felt like her family belonged to her. If her parents had told her at some point that she was adopted, she would have easily believed them, and would probably have been relieved. It would have explained so much. Sometimes she even suspected this was the case, but she was just like her brother, Kevin, and he looked exactly like their father, so the odds were not good that her real parents were off somewhere being super cool.

She wondered what Kevin might be doing at this moment. The last she had heard, he’d been in California at a Marine Corps base there, but there was no way to know anymore. The only way to communicate now was via radio. Others had told her that the payphones still worked, if you could find one, but she didn’t know any numbers she might call, so that was useless. Even if she could check her email, there would be a month of messages to sift through and even if he had sent her anything, that info might be out of date. She realized that she was picturing her inbox filled with spam and thought how appropriate that would be if the spambots had just kept chugging along during the apocalypse, promising hot local women and larger penises to a population more concerned with where to find food.

Millie saw a few soldiers enter the general’s trailer carrying various files, and a short time later Penelope arrived to bring the general’s lunch, but that was about it. The general seemed to be taking it easy today. She wondered how much longer she was going to have to keep this up. Sooner or later they had to bring this guy in. She would wait until they did and when they brought him out, she would follow them to find out where he was going. If he worked for the government, he would be able to help her, or at least point her in the right direction. Maybe he even outranked the general, she mused. It would be nice to see someone else in charge. general Joe seemed a bit of a dim bulb, even when not compared to the exceptionally bright Millie bulb. He used double negatives. He was overweight. She thought general’s were supposed to be educated and professional, but what did she know? She had never met a military officer before so her opinions were informed by her parents who glorified the military and volunteering for service. That’s how Kevin had gotten them to sign the parental consent form so he could enlist early. He told them a tale of sacrifice and greater good, but the truth was that he just wanted to get away from them. Millie understood perfectly. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Another hour passed and the soldiers with files had left long ago. The guards outside had even changed already. Millie considered giving up, but she fought back the urge and refused to think about how good it would feel to move. She had stood in the same place for nearly five hours now, afraid to even take a short walk lest she not be there when they brought this guy in. Her knees complained and sharp spikes stabbed her shins. She would have sat on the ground had she known how much grief she would be given for that. If you were standing or walking, the people here would leave you alone, mostly. But, God forbid, you sit down, then you better have a good reason for it. “If you got time to lean, you got time to clean.” She got hit with that an average of forty times a day, and even she wasn’t immune from such glares.

Finally, two soldiers arrived leading a distinguished looking gentleman through the camp. She tried to memorize every detail about him, but she couldn’t get a good look at his face. He was tall and in reasonably good shape. He wore a button down white shirt and dress pants, but his grey hair was slightly unkempt, sticking out in places like he’d just rolled out of bed. They led him into the office and Millie forgot the pain in her legs. She was so close now.

As soon as they were inside, the door opened once more and Penelope emerged, her dress ruffled and her cheeks flushed. She hurriedly walked away straightening her clothing and wiping away tears. Millie had forgotten she had even gone in there. That was almost an hour before. What had happened, she wondered. Penelope was clearly upset and Millie felt she should go to her, but her feet refused to obey. They had been here this long and they were not going to give up now. Millie saw Penelope’s shoulders bounce up and down and she quickly ducked in between some tents. Was she crying that hard? Millie couldn’t leave her alone like that. She took one last look at the trailer and then went to find Penelope.

In one of the narrow allies between the rows of tents, Penelope sat on the ground hugging her knees and crying. Millie stood at the end of the alley waiting to be noticed and when Penelope finally saw her, she stood and pretended she hadn’t just been openly weeping.

“What’s wrong?” Wrote Millie. It took Penelope a minute to collect herself.

“I was looking all over for you.” She finally said. “I couldn’t find you so I had to bring the general his tray.” The trauma swept over her and tears once again flowed. “I didn’t know what to do, Millie.” Her throat was sore from the effort of trying not to burst into tears and her puffy eyes were red. “I just didn’t know what to do.” Penelope sank to the ground again and let the tears fall. It took Millie a minute to realize what she was even talking about. She scribbled on her board.

“What did he do?” Penelope saw the scribbling and shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter, Millie.” She said, her tears running in fits and starts. “You can’t do anything about it. Nobody can.” Millie wrote so fast she feared her chalk might explode into dust.

“We can tell somebody.” She offered.

“Who?” Asked Penelope. “He’s in charge. What can we do?”

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“No!” Penelope snapped. “I can never tell him. He’d do something stupid and the general would have him shot, just like those…” She didn’t want to think about it and neither did Millie. They had both been there. They had seen the firing line and heard the “charges” being levied against the condemned. They might have even agreed in some cases that execution was a necessary yet brutal tactic, but seeing the faces of those people in the final moments before the shots came was something they never needed to think about again. “Don’t ever tell him.” Penelope said sharply. Millie didn’t respond. “Millie! Promise me!” The pleading in her eyes was enough to convince Millie and she nodded after a moment. “There’s nothing we can do.” Penelope’s voice fell and she clearly had no fight in her. “Just be careful the same thing doesn’t happen to you. There’s nothing else we can do.” She repeated and walked away, leaving Millie confused and angry.

Millie watched her go, the long skirt bouncing against her heels as she walked. Millie hated those dresses. The general seemed to attract two types of people in droves, young men and older women. The young men were usually only too happy to be given a gun and a purpose, the old women, however, never lost their purpose. They had adapted to this new world the way they always had, by attempting to control it. There was no regulation anywhere explicitly stating a dress code for the younger women, but Millie had quickly understood that there was definitely an implicit one. Girl who dressed “slutty” got terrible assignments, like dishwashing, while the more sensibly attired girls got to do easy things like paperwork. The old ladies decided what constituted slutty clothing and Millie’s ripped jeans were apparently on the list, but she didn’t have to care what they thought. She could ignore them. She was special.

She thought about what Penelope had said and she disagreed. There was plenty that she could do if the general was assaulting the younger women. Plenty.

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