The Tribes, Chapter 32

Gull made it almost all the way back to the Brotherhood headquarters before being discovered by a Brotherhood patrol. His entry into the town was a triumphant entrance worthy of a conquering hero from olden times. He could almost imagine being carried through the city streets by a gang of obedient and properly cowed slaves, a laurel wreath around his head. The Leader personally came down to the front lobby of the hotel and ordered the Brotherhood slaves to prepare a suite for Gull just down the hall from his own chambers.

It had taken Gull nearly five days to stagger back to where the patrol had found him and during that time his mind filled in the missing pieces of what had happened. Gull had no idea, and wouldn’t have believed it anyone had dared to suggest it, that those memories were the very ones that Jack had worked so hard to implant into the Enforcer’s mind.

“So, you don’t think that Prometheus betrayed us?” The Leader asked as a slave worked to stitch up and bind Gull’s wounds.

“I don’t think that is a possibility, my Lord,” Gull replied. “After all, you yourself chose him and he did appear to be fanatically loyal to you.”

“Yes … yes, he was almost as loyal as you are,” The Leader mused. “So what could have happened?”

“I suspect some of the other Werewolves were captured and either betrayed Prometheus and Brotherhood while under torture, or else they voluntarily surrendered and betrayed us all,” Gull answered, hissing painfully as the slave pierced his skin with a needle attempting to sew the edges of the wound in Gull’s forehead together. “Watch what you’re doing or else you’ll find yourself in my dungeons!”

The slave began bowing and scraping. “Forgive me, m’lord,” he stammered in fear. The slave looked from the needle which he held in his hand and back to the still partially open wound on Gull’s forehead. He was clearly unsure whether he should continue or not.

“Well?” Gull demanded. “I don’t have all fucking day … get on with it, get on with it!”

“Y-ye-yes, yes, sir,” the slave stammered, turning back to his work.

“Yessss, that theory makes more sense,” The Leader mused tapping his fingertips together slowly. “As you so correctly pointed out, Prometheus was hand-chosen by Us – his loyalty to Us and Our cause cannot be questioned. Therefore, he must have been betrayed by some or all of the others. We would imagine that they were jealous that Prometheus had Our favor above almost all others in the Brotherhood – excepting you, of course,” The Leader added hastily.

“As soon as I’ve recovered a bit, I’ll personally lead a raiding party into The City and make them pay for their mistakes,” Gull said. He felt the white hot anger building inside of his belly and welcomed it along with the thoughts of the castrations and tortures he’d inflict on the prisoners. He was barely conscious of the emotion when he suddenly and inexplicably felt nauseous. He jerked upright, sending the slave backwards onto his ass. Gull grabbed the slave’s discarded robe and holding it to his face, vomited violently and copiously into it.

*****

Lawrence and the other Desert Rats had been on the ship for nearly a week and all of them had trouble believing that it was real. Lawrence had been sure that the things the Shiprats took for granted – lights, hot and cold water, electricity at the touch of a switch – had disappeared for at least the rest of his lifetime. He still marveled at being able to step into the shower every day and actually turn the taps and take a hot shower. He lingered in the shower for as long as he could, filling the bathroom with swirling steam. And having clean clothes everyday to wear – especially clean socks and underwear – was a luxury that he and the other Desert Rats had been convinced would never happen again in their lifetimes.

Stepping carefully from the shower, Lawrence patted himself dry and padded into the bedroom to relax on the bed while the steam cleared from the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, naked, and took his time pulling on a pair of fresh – and most importantly – clean boxer shorts. The knit material felt so smooth and good as he pulled the shorts up over his bare legs. Next came the cotton over-the-calf boot socks -- Lawrence actually held the clean socks up to his nose and inhaled the aroma of the clean fabric. Washing dirty socks in a puddle or stream could get a lot of the dirt out, but it didn’t ever get the socks really clean.

Once he had his socks on, Lawrence slid his legs into the baggy trousers that had been returned to him from the laundry. They were nearly as white as they had originally been and so soft. Once he had his high riding boots on, Lawrence made his way back into the bathroom and took his time finishing his morning toilet – brushing his hair and teeth, and finally, shaving the light stubble that seemed to be getting heavier each month. Back in the bedroom, he pulled on his loose shirt and finally felt ready to meet the new day.

After several wrong turns – he wondered how anyone ever learned to find their way around the massive ship – he finally arrived in the dining room. He found the room almost empty -- the only people still sitting around were Dal, Jack, and the dark-haired guy who had been introduced on the first hectic day as Bray. Looking at the way that Jack watched Bray intently, Lawrence got the idea that there was more than just a casual relationship between the two, which was from his point of view kind of a shame. Lawrence had to be honest with himself – he was more than a little attracted to the two of them.

Lawrence selected a chair at a nearby table where he could clearly see the three Shiprats. While helping himself to a huge helping of scrambled eggs from the buffet serving line, Lawrence furtively examined the trio across from him. Bray had long, thick chestnut hair and deep brown eyes. He had the clean-cut look of the natural athlete and an innate wholesomeness that Lawrence very much wanted to explore.

Dal was darkly handsome. Short and compactly built, he had wavy jet black hair and eyes to match. His skin was the deep tan characteristic of someone whose ancestors lived originally in India. He was exotically handsome and very alluring, but since he knew that Dal and Amber were an item and expecting a child, very much out of bounds to him.

Jack, on the other hand, was short and slightly built without being effeminate. His vivid blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and even a kind of innocence that Lawrence doubted could ever be extinguished. He found himself wondering what Jack’s natural hair color had been, although he had to admit that the bright orange/red suited him perfectly.

Without meaning to eavesdrop, Lawrence found himself automatically tuning into their conversation. It was a habit he’d picked up since the beginning of the End Days. If you weren’t tuned into everything going on around you, you might just find yourself in chains or dead. He almost moved to another table, but curiosity compelled him to stay and continue listening. What he picked up was intriguing – it seemed that Jack had attempted to brainwash one of their enemies. Dal and Bray were trying to convince Jack that he had done the right thing. Jack seemed to think that he hadn’t given the experiment enough time and therefore the chances for success were greatly diminished.

“Excuse me,” Lawrence spoke up. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about – eavesdropping is a bad habit I’ve picked up since … since the Virus changed everything.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Bray assured him, finally turning those deep brown eyes fully on Lawrence. “Eventually we discuss everything that might effect the Tribe out in the open.”

“Yeah, everybody’s opinion counts,” Dal added.

“Join us over here,” Jack said, indicating an empty chair. “Do you know anything about mental conditioning?”

“Not a whole lot,” Lawrence admitted, moving to the other table. “Most of what I do know is secondhand information picked up around digs.”

“Digs?” Dal asked, looking confused.

“My folks were archaeologists,” Lawrence explained. “I grew up around the digs all over the world. Anyway, archaeological digs attract all sorts of people – mostly amateurs and I found that I could learn a lot more than in school if I kept my mouth shut, listened, and asked the right questions.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack muttered remembering growing up around his parents and their scientific friends.

“Anyway.” Lawrence continued as if Jack hadn’t said a word. “A coupla years ago we were on this dig in Egypt and there was this Don from Oxford. His hobby was archaeology but his degree was in psychiatry – and one of his interests was mind control.”

“Who was he? Do you remember?” Jack asked leaning over the table in excitement.

“I’ll never forget him,” Lawrence smiled. “He was the only person on the dig who didn’t treat me like I was a little no-nothing kid. His name was Hiram Biggers…”

“I read some journal articles he wrote!” Jack exclaimed.

“He was one of the best … at least from the little bit I could understand of what he said,” Lawrence told Jack. “Biggers claimed that with the right time, conditioning, and drugs it was possible to rewire anyone to behave differently.”

“That’s what I got from his writings,” Jack muttered. “But, I don’t think I gave the experiment enough time to really make a difference. I figured that I wouldn’t have much more than five days.”

“Five days of ‘round the clock reconditioning?”

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded. “And I made sure to pump Gull full of all the drugs Professor Biggers mentioned to make him more receptive to the reconditioning.”

“What kind of a person is this Gull?”

“What kind of person is Gull?” Dal exclaimed. He couldn’t believe that there was a single person who wasn’t aware of Gull’s crimes. “He’s only about the sickest, most depraved, cruel piece of slime that ever oozed.”

Bray explained about The Leader, Gull, and The Brotherhood. He went into graphic detail describing their depravities. Although he didn’t give specific names, he told Lawrence that several Shiprats had been victimized by the Brotherhood before they became Shiprats. He told about the Werewolves and the attacks on The City culminating in the attack on the mall and the murders of the kids Bubba looked after.

“The Leader seems to have this incredible power over his followers,” Jack added. “So, I began researching mind control techniques … I figured that maybe I could understand how he controlled his people. I’m just concerned that I didn’t have enough time to make sure the changes I wanted to make to Gull’s mindset really took hold.”

Lawrence shook his head. “Well, from what I can remember … mind control isn’t really an exact science. Sure … it’s based on solid science … but, there are so many variables in creating new behavior patterns.” Jack looked miserable. “But, the news isn’t all bad … at the worst your friend Gull is going to have one helluva time with mental conflicts.”

“Oh great,” Jack said bitterly. “Just what we need … a mentally unbalanced psycho … and I created him!” He sank his head into his hands. “I can hardly wait to see what new depravities he comes up with.”

Lawrence reached across the table and gently patted Jack’s head. “That’s not what I meant … if he comes up with new depravities – and from what you guys have said about him and this Leader, they’ll have a hard time topping their past exploits. I meant that from what I can remember about Biggers telling me, anytime this guy – Gull – tries to go against your reprogramming he stands a chance of really becoming physically ill.” He searched his mind for a good analogy. “It’s like in the days before the Virus … some people thought that they wanted to quit smoking and they really didn’t. They’d try hypnosis to help them out. The trouble was, if they weren’t really serious about quitting, they’d fight against the hypnotic suggestions and smoke anyway. They usually suffered bad side-effects for a while, but continued smoking.”

Jack brightened up. “I remember this one biologist who worked with my folks -- he tried hypnosis to quit smoking and it didn’t work. He continued smoking. For a couple of months after he had the treatments every time he lit up he’d gag and complain about this really bad taste in his mouth. He said that it was like mixing dried cat turds with tobacco and smoking them.”

“There you go, Jack,” Dal said brightly. “Your idea wasn’t so bad after all. If Gull suffers just a little bit then the attempt was worth it.”

“And before you ask how many more people will suffer because your idea didn’t work,” Bray said sternly. “Just remember, with The Leader and the people he’s got around him that it wouldn’t matter. They’d still find ways of torturing and abusing people – it’s what they do.”

“And besides -- you were right about killing Gull being wrong. It would make us just as bad as him – worse maybe,” Dal said.

“Why worse?”

Think about it, Jack,” Dal rolled his eyes at how dim Jack could be despite his intelligence. “Killing and torturing is what he and his kind do – it’s a fact of life with them. It’s like they can’t understand that it’s just wrong … all of the moral and religious arguments aside … it is just wrong,” Dal slammed his hand on the table with each word for emphasis. “Killing people isn’t what we do – especially not killing in cold blood. In the heat of the moment I suppose most of us could have rationalized that Gull deserved to be executed. But after it was over – I suspect that most of us would have felt guilty that there wasn’t another way.”

“So your idea was a success after all,” Lawrence pointed out. “Not necessarily in the way that you wanted, but it did work.”

“I suppose,” Jack grudgingly admitted. “At least you’ve all managed to convince me that I didn’t do any serious harm.”

*****

Gull made a point of rising early the morning after his return. He hadn’t found it too difficult to get up early – his sleep had been fitful and troubling. He had slept badly, his dreams disturbing and troubling. Usually when he dreamed it was of new and painful ways to torture other people – and, those dreams served to refresh him. The previous night’s dreams left him troubled and restless. He had dreamed that he had been filled with remorse as he was about to de-ball a slave. Incredibly, in Gull’s dream he had released the slave.

Gull summoned a slave to bring him hot water for his morning washup. He kept staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had lost weight and it showed on his face. He scowled, the weight-loss made him look weak and pathetic. Weak and pathetic translated to helpless. He didn’t intend to be seen as helpless by anybody. He fought off another wave of nausea as images popped into his mind of the things he could do to show everybody that he was back and in full fighting form.

After a hearty breakfast, Gull strode the several blocks to the YMCA where his headquarters and the dungeons were located. Despite the pain in his shoulder and side, Gull forced himself to keep a brisk pace and swing his arms in what looked to be a natural manner. Upon entering the Y, Gull strode purposefully down to the holding cells located in what used to be the equipment storage rooms in the basement.

The two guards on duty scrambled to their feet in shock when they saw Gull round the corner. Gull ignored them and strode from cell to cell. Most of them were empty – the only inmates of the dungeon were sorry-looking specimens who each had the haunted look of someone who would welcome death. They wouldn’t provide him with much entertainment, he decided. Victims with that look usually expired quickly – almost as if while under physical duress they had the ability of willing their bodies to cease functioning.

“Where are all the prisoners?” He growled turning abruptly on the two guards.

The larger of the two made the mistake of answering Gull. “We didn’t think that you were going to return,” he said with a weak half-smile.

Gull was all over him in an instant. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked, his hand around the hapless guard’s throat. “Just because you get the stupid, idiotic notion in your head that something might have happened to me is no reason to start shirking your duty.”

“No! I mean … I didn’t mean it that way,” the guard squealed in mounting terror.

“How did you mean it then?”

“I … uh … I meant that when you didn’t come back everyone thought something bad had happened … oh shit … nothing’s coming out the way I want it to,” the guard started blubbering. And, then he made his big mistake of the day. “Puh…puh…lease don’t kill me!”

Gull stepped back and regarded the Enforcer curiously. Up to that point he hadn’t really considered killing the guard. But, the Enforcer’s fear of death at the hands of Gull was too much temptation to resist.

Gull stepped back even further and ordered the other guard to take the bigger guard into custody and deliver him to the main torture chamber. The other guard promptly fished a whistle from the folds of his robe and blew three sharp blasts. Within seconds, three other Enforcers had appeared.

“Lord Gull has ordered that this piece of trash be taken into custody,” the guard informed the others. It did the other Enforcers credit that they didn’t ask questions or reasons for the order.

“Make sure that he’s properly prepared when I arrive … I want him prepped and secured naked to the Saint Andrew’s cross.” He watched as the unlucky guard was dragged away kicking and screaming hysterically. The Enforcer leader grinned at the sight of the former guard struggling frantically in the arms of his captors. Gull’s grin widened as he thought of the things he could do to the new prisoner. Suddenly, the grin faded from his face as a new round of nausea overcame him.

Gull retired to his private chambers and took some deep calming breaths in an attempt to fight back the bile rising in his throat. The effort left him trembling in a cold sweat and feeling physically weak all over.

“No, no, no!” Gull roared at his reflection in the mirror. “I will not be weak! Mercy and compassion are for the weak and pathetic … and, I am strong!” He staggered over to his desk and dropped heavily into his chair. He felt strangely disconnected with himself – like there was somebody else in his head trying to make him behave in ways different from what he wanted to do. Gull pounded the heels of his hands against his forehead. “Get the fuck outta there!” He growled. “I will not submit to weakness … I will not submit … I won’t … I won’t!”

*****

Ryan carefully navigated the Land Rover through the Zoo gates and waited as Jack clambered out of the vehicle to close the gates behind them. He remembered all too well the paw prints he had seen in the mud on their last visit, he reached over and patted the tranquilizer pistol on the seat beside him.

“I don’t know why we had to come back here,” he complained as Jack climbed back into the vehicle.

“I told you,” Jack said patiently. “We’re here for the additional medical supplies in the veterinary hospital.”

“There’s other places you can go to get them,” Ryan pointed out.

“But you always say that those places give you the creeps.”

“Yeah … well, this place creeps me out even more,” Ryan admitted. “In those other places all I have to be afraid of are the ghosts – and I know that they’re not real. They’re just in my head.”

“But, the ghosts here aren’t any more real,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. But, it’s the things that are still here and are real that I don’t like,” Ryan said as his eyes darted nervously from side to side to catch any sign of movement. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he had seen something in the rearview mirror as Jack had come back from closing the gates.

Jack snorted. “It’s just animals – you grew up on a farm!”

“True, but on the farm you don’t have to worry about the cows sneaking up on you and eating you for lunch.”

“You have a point there,” Jack admitted soberly. “Tell you what you can do … you can lay on the horn and that should scare anything away.”

“No thank you,” Ryan said sincerely. “They might think it’s the dinner gong and come running with their mouth watering.” He looked over at Jack who was struggling to keep from laughing. “Go ahead and laugh … that’s the way we used to call the cows in from the pasture. We’d drive out there with truckload of baled hay and blow the horn. Pretty soon they all came trotting up from the farthest corners of the field ready to eat.”

“Well you weren’t armed with a crossbow and tranquilizer gun then,” Jack pointed out. “Those should take care of anything that thinks we might be on today’s menu.”

“You hope,” muttered Ryan under his breath. He was forced to take his eyes off of the rearview mirror for a second to negotiate a sharp bend in the zoo road. When he glanced back up, he could have sworn that he say something dash across the road. It happened so fast that he couldn’t be sure whether it was real or just a product of his overworked imagination. He frowned and shook his head briefly to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

“Get down, asswipe!” Brom Fletcher hissed. “I tol’ja t’wait until he went around the bend.”

“I didn’ want him t’ git too far ahead of us,” complained his companion, a weasly-faced teen named Oliver. Because of his thick glasses and constantly befuddled expression, Oliver had earned the nickname Owl.

“How hard d’ya think it’ll be t’ find ‘em in here?” Brom snapped. “They got the only runnin’ car in here.”

“I didn’ think of that,” Owl said meekly. “Why do we gotta follow ‘em anyways?”

“’Cuz, I wanna find out where that Shiprat, Jack, gets all his stuff from,” Brom answered. “D’ya really think a kid can come up wit all that stuff? Course not – he’s findin’ it somewheres else and getting’ it t’ work somehow.”

“Oh right!” Owl brightened. “An’ if we find out where he’s getting’ that stuff from, we can take it, too. And, that’ll make us as powerful as the Locos an’ …”

“An’ we can take down that pumped up asswipe, Zoot, an’ be the strongest Tribe in The City,” Brom finished, his brown eyes burning with desire. He was the latest leader of the unlucky Demon Dogs Tribe and determined not to share the fate of his predecessors. Brom had secured the top position mainly by virtue of his incredible size and unquestioned strength, rather than on any intellectual abilities that he might have possessed. Compared to his predecessors, however, Brom was almost a genius.

Big and physically powerful, Brom shared the delusion of grandeur that had marked his predecessors – he dreamed of heading the most powerful and feared Tribe in The City. In his mind, power and fear went hand-in-hand and were synonymous. Back before The Virus, Brom had been a lumbering linebacker on his high school football team – not that he really liked organized sports all that much. There were too many rules to follow and studying the playbooks was too much like doing homework. What he liked about football was the opportunity it gave him to ‘put a hurt’ on another person and not suffer repercussions. In fact, the more severely he hurt an opponent, the more adulation he received from his fellow students.

After The Virus struck, Brom found himself in one of the many resettlement camps. Once there, he quickly discovered that his size, strength, and willingness to use both against his the other refugees made him a force to be treated with respect. He also discovered that the few adults who were supposed to be in charge feared him as much as the other students did. Before the end finally came, Brom had decided that he wasn’t going to wait for The Virus to take the athletics instructor, Mr. Bennett. Bennett had been riding Brom from the beginning. He was the only person in the camp who had no fear of Brom.

One cold, crisp morning Bennett had strode confidently to the front of the dining hall and made the announcement that of the four other adults who had been in charge, three had died in the night of The Virus, and one had simply left after announcing that he was going to search for somewhere Virus-safe. Bennett then announced that he was taking charge of the camp.

“That’s what you think, you fucker,” Brom shouted, surprising himself as much as anyone else.

“Fletcher, sit down and shut up,” Bennett ordered calmly.

The calmness of the man had set off Brom as much as anything else that morning. He couldn’t believe that Bennett was actually going to blow him off as if the world wasn’t standing on its ear. Brom didn’t sit down. He kicked his chair over and marched to the front of the room to stand toe-to-toe with Bennett and to his surprise found that he was actually slightly taller than the athletics instructor.

“I told you to sit down, young man,” Bennett said in that infuriatingly calm tone and made the mistake of looking away from Brom.

Bennett ignoring him infuriated Brom and he pulled back his fist and sent it crashing into the athletic instructor’s jaw. Bennett staggered sideways, blood pouring from his lips, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he actually smiled at Brom and pulled back his own fist. Brom knew instinctively that he couldn’t allow the adult’s fist to connect with his face. He threw another punch, catching Bennett square on the nose, smashing it and making another fountain of blood gush from the instructor’s face.

The end came quickly after that. With his nose smashed and his eyes nearly swollen closed, Bennett was no match for the angry teen. Brom rained blows down on Mr. Bennett, not caring where they landed – the only thing he was interested in was causing as much damage and pain as possible to the adult. When he finally stopped swinging his fists, Bennett wasn’t moving and his face was unrecognizable as having been human.

Straightening and facing the stunned kids, Brom calmly announced that he was hungry and somebody had better get their asses into the kitchen and make him some eggs. He calmly sat at the head table and was amazed to find that his hands and face were covered in Bennett’s blood. While he waited for the eggs to arrive, Brom delicately wiped the blood away with the end of the starched white table cloth.

He had left the camp that afternoon and met up with Owl for the first time on the road. They had been together ever since. They had drifted to The City like so many others and found that the Tribes had already begun forming. He liked the Demon Dogs from the start – they appreciated his willingness to use violence. Now, he was in charge of the Demon Dogs and he was determined to make Zoot pay for all the past humiliations the Dogs had faced because of Zoot and the Locos. Once he had discovered Jack’s secret, he’d have all of that power at his disposal and then he’d make his move against Zoot.

Ryan pulled up as close as he could to the Veterinary Hospital and looked around for any signs of large animals before killing the engine. Jack seemed unfazed by the possibility of danger and was climbing out of the Land Rover even before Ryan had the engine switched off. Sighing heavily, Ryan grabbed the crossbow to have it ready in his hands while he patted the tranquilizer pistol to make sure that it was within easy reach in case he needed to pull it out quickly. He followed Jack into the building and wondered what peculiar quirk of Nature could make someone as brilliant as Jack so dense at times. There were times when Ryan wondered how Jack ever survived long enough to hook up with Bray.

He caught up with Jack at the medical supply room where the diminutive genius was busy rummaging through the shelves. Jack hardly glanced up as Ryan entered the room. Ryan stood back to one side and waited for Jack to decide which items he wanted to take on this trip.

“This place is a treasure trove!” Jack exclaimed. “Most of these drugs can be safely used on humans and I can’t believe all the sterile bandages they have.”

“Maybe the lions and tigers and things worked overtime biting the zookeepers,” Ryan suggested dryly.

Brom peered at the Land Rover from behind the safety of an old snack stand. “I tol ja we’d find them easy enough,” he said.

“What do we do now?” Owl asked as he rubbed his multicolored Mohawk.

“We wait for them to come back out,” Brom replied. “And then, we take the stuff that they’ve collected.”

“They might put up a fight,” Owl pointed out.

Brom smiled savagely. “I hope they do – I wouldn’ feel right about killing ‘em if they didn’ fight.”

Owl rubbed his Mohawk even more furiously, a sure sign that he was excited about the prospect of joining Brom in some violence. Brom kept Owl around as his Number Two partly because the nervous Demon Dog had no ambitions to take charge. The main reason that he tolerated Owl was because the young man was almost as sadistic as Brom himself. Owl actually got a woody at the very thought of causing pain to someone else. Brom appreciated that trait and doubly appreciated Owl’s inventiveness at devising ways to make others suffer.

“D’ya think I could have Jack for myself?” Owl asked eagerly.

Brom smiled paternalistically at his companion. “I don’ see why not – there’s two of ‘em, an’ two of us.”

In the medical supply room Ryan looked with dismay at the huge stack of boxes that Jack had pulled from the shelves. “Jack, you do remember that the power isn’t on in here, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Jack looked up and blinked owlishly. “What’s that about power?”

“There’s no power to work the elevators,” Ryan explained. “We’ll kill ourselves trying to carry this lot up the stairs.”

Jack smiled. “Not a problem … just bring the Land Rover to the loading dock and we can wheel the carts directly to the car.”

“Why didn’t we use the loading dock the last time?”

“Well … actually, I didn’t think of it at the time,” Jack replied sheepishly. “I just thought about it today and checked the signs in the hall when I came down. All we have to do is follow the arrows and voila, we’re there.”

Ryan grinned back. “I’d have never thought of that … that’s why you’re the resident genius. I’ll go get the Land Rover.” He started off and stopped. “What if it’s locked?”

Jack tapped the side of his head with a big grin as he rummaged through his ever-present knapsack and produced a large set of bolt cutters. “Jack’s universal key is the answer,” he replied. “It’s guaranteed to open the most reluctant padlocks. I’ll get the loading door open while you bring the car around.”

*****

After breakfast Lawrence had gone exploring the old ocean liner and found himself constantly amazed by what he saw. He still couldn’t believe the quality of the luxury the Shiprats had managed to build for themselves. Electricity was available at the flip of a switch. A seemingly endless supply of hot water flowed just the twist of a knob. Every room, or so he was told, had a television, DVD player, and video cassette player and the ship had an incredible library of movies in both DVD and VHS formats. Food was in plentiful supply – they even had fresh vegetables. Most of the vegetables came from the Farm Tribe, but the Shiprats managed to grow a goodly supply of their own vegetables under hothouse conditions. Everyday when he woke – a queen-sized bed with clean sheets – he had to tell himself that it wasn’t all a dream.

Making his way to the Promenade Deck, Lawrence found Bray and Dal sitting in the sun – Bray in a wheelchair and Dal sprawled out in a deck chair. They invited Lawrence over to join them.

“Man, if someone had told me a week ago that I’d be taking hot showers, sleeping in a bed between fresh sheets, and eating as much as my belly will hold,” Lawrence shook his head in wonder. “Well, I just wouldn’t have believed them – I’da been positive that they’d been sampling some peyote or suffering heat stroke – maybe both.”

“Yeah, I guess we do have it pretty good,” Dal agreed. “The ship is an oasis in a sea of madness, though.”

“All you have to do is go a couple of blocks in any direction and you’ll find that despotic rule or mob rule are still the order of the day. And, out there somewhere,” he waved his hand in the vague direction of the shore on the other side of the ship, “are the Brotherhood – and, they’re maybe the worst of the lot.”

“This Brotherhood – that’s the one with The Leader and Gull, the ones we talked about this morning, right?”

“Yeah – that’s one group of sick, perverted, twisted motherfuckers,” Dal said bitterly.

“Dal, don’t sugarcoat how you feel about them,” Bray said wryly. “Let your real emotions out and tell us what you really think.” Dal hung his head, embarrassed by his uncharacteristic outburst. “A couple of weeks ago, the Brotherhood sent these assassin teams to The City to spread terror. We lost a couple of good people.”

“And, that’s what happened to your leg?” Lawrence asked.

“I got stabbed in the leg, but Jack and Dal insist that I stay in this thing,” Bray indicated the wheelchair sourly.

“What he’s not telling you is that in the Werewolf attack, one of the Werewolves managed to put a hole in his femoral artery,” Dal said. “He nearly died from blood loss. The operation to save his life required that his leg be opened up even further than it already was. Unless he wants post-operative complications he’s gonna stay in that chair until Jack or I say otherwise.”

Lawrence nodded his head. “Seems like a sound idea to me.”

Bray sighed, “That’s the trouble – they’re right and what’s worse, they know it.” He spread his hands out in a helpless gesture. “So, here I sit – a prisoner to their worries.”

“Getting back to the Brotherhood,” Lawrence said, changing the subject. “How come the Tribes here in The City haven’t done anything about them? It seems as if the logical thing to do would be to band together for mutual security.”

“That’s a whole other can of worms,” Bray said. “Most of the Tribes in The City are run by despots not much different from The Leader. Individually we’re all to small to take the Brotherhood on head-on.” Bray motioned towards the Dining Room behind him. “It looks crowded in there at mealtimes, I know. But, the truth is that the Shiprats hardly number a hundred people – and, many of them are little kids.”

“The Brotherhood is like a swarm of locusts,” Dal pointed out. “They swarm into a new area and take everything that’s not nailed down. They gather all the people together in one central location – those who don’t actually volunteer to join The Leader’s army are enslaved.”

“And, those too sick, or weak, or just too young to be of use to The Leader are tortured to death,” Bray added. “The Leader tries not to leave anything behind once he and his gang of thugs move through an area.”

“How big is the Brotherhood?” Lawrence asked.

“We don’t actually know that for sure,” Bray admitted. “But, conservative estimates put the Brotherhood at close to a thousand strong – give or take the odd couple of dozen that Gull or The Leader decide to put to death.”

“But why?”

“Who knows?” Dal asked bitterly. “Maybe they were constipated that day or just bored. Every so often a Brother manages to escape and that’s the way we’ve been getting our information about them.”

“I know that the smart thing to do would be to send out some scouts and get accurate information,” Bray said.

“That would be a suicide mission,: Dal pointed out.

“Right, right,” Bray said sounding tired all of a sudden.

“And the Shiprats don’t frivolously waste human lives,” Lawrence observed.

“Not when good people are so rare a commodity these days,” Dal said flatly.

*****

From their hiding place, Brom and Owl watched as Ryan appeared framed in the main doorway of the veterinary hospital and then hurried to the Land Rover. “He’s getting away!” Owl hissed.

“Don’ be stupid,” Brom snarled. “Unless he killed the other one, he ain’t goin’ nowheres. He’s prolly just gonna move that jeep.” He pointed around the snack stand. “See? He ain’t hardly movin’, so he must be gonna go ‘round the corner. I bet they got a big haul this time.”

Jack examined the rollup loading bay door and grinned. It was secured with a sturdy padlock just as he had thought it would be. He reached into his bag for the bolt cutters and then stopped. To one side of the big door was a watchman’s desk. On a whim, Jack searched the desk and in the third drawer found a ring of keys. One of the keys fit the padlock and Jack had it open and off its hasp in a matter of seconds. He was just raising the door when Ryan backed up to the loading dock.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Brom asked smugly as he peered around the side of a dumpster at the back of the building. “All we gotta do now is wait for them t’ bring their haul out and load it up. Then, we ain’t gotta do no work. We just sit back an’ let ‘em do all the heavy work and walk away with th’ loot.”

“Smart thinking, Brom,” Owl said. He slid a long, thin-bladed filleting knife from a sheath strapped to his calf. “How much time d’ya think we got? I wanna take my time with the little one.”

“Take all th’ time ya need,” Brom said with confidence. “We got all th’ time in th’ world, we got all th’ time in th’ world.”

Brom crouched lower behind the dumpster and watched as Jack and Ryan disappeared into the building. They returned a few minutes later pushing a heavily laden cart and began packing the boxes into the back of the Land Rover. He slapped Owl in the arm. “What’d I tell ya, what’d I tell ya? They came here t’ get some more o’ th’ things that they’re usin’ to fool people into thinkin’ they’re doin’ miracles.”

When Jack and Ryan disappeared into the building for their third haul of supplies, Brom decided that it was time to move into position. As soon as the two Shiprats reappeared, he and Owl made their moves.

Owl leapt forward with a savage cry, his filleting knife slashing in a wide arc that caught Jack’s forearm. Shouting a warning to Ryan, Jack jumped from the loading dock as he tried to put pressure on his bleeding forearm with his free hand. Instead of trying to straighten, Jack flattened himself on the ground and rolled under the Land Rover hoping to buy himself a few extra precious seconds.

Hearing Jack’s warning cry, Ryan instinctively dropped into a crouch and spun around catching Brom by surprise. Recognizing the facial painting and Mohawks, Ryan snorted derisively. “Christ Jack, it’s the Demon Dogs – the original gang who couldn’t shoot straight,” he called out. He turned and faced Brom, “Haven’t you guys got enough troubles? Slink on outta here and I promise I won’t twist your ugly head off and shit down your neck.”

“Very funny big boy,” Brom snarled. “We’re the ones who’re gonna twist your heads off and shit all over you two.” He produced a heavy gutting knife and waved it around in a flashy manner, lightly tossing it from one hand to the other in what he thought made him look dangerous.

Jack had completed his roll under the Land Rover and was about to straighten up when he froze. Crouched in the weeds just a couple of dozen yards away was the biggest, hungriest lion he had ever seen. Seeing the big cat’s nose twitch, Jack became acutely aware of the blood pouring freely from his right forearm. At the same time, Jack became aware of the sound of boots coming around the front of the Land Rover. Without thinking it over, Jack dropped back down to the ground, gasping as a fresh jolt of pain shot through his injured arm. He rolled back to the other side of the vehicle.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Owl screamed in exasperation as Jack once again disappeared under the Land Rover. He was so caught up in the prospect of inflicting pain on his victim that he failed to notice what it was that caused Jack’s sudden retreat. “I’ll get you, you bastard,” Owl threatened, pounding on the hood of the Land Rover in frustration.

Jack’s orange/red hair bobbed into view on the other side of the vehicle as he carefully eased his head up so that he could see what was happening. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Look behind you.” He shifted his gaze to the lion who was eagerly shifting its hips before charging.

Owl sneered. “D’ya really think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?”

“Suit yourself,” Jack shrugged.

The lion made a coughing sound as it sprang to its feet and charged. Owl turned around and screamed. “Oh shit!” He slammed his body back against the driver’s door and waved his filleting knife in a futile gesture designed to scare the beast away. It didn’t work. The lion, accustomed to years of humans and goaded by hunger, had no fear of humans. It continued its charge and succeeded in pinning Owl to the side of the Land Rover. A couple of swipes of its massive paws practically disemboweled the Demon Dog. Owl dropped the filleting knife without ever getting a chance to draw blood from the beast. Oliver slid down the side of the vehicle, a stunned look on his face, his legs spread wide. Owl looked down in stunned disbelief as the lion nuzzled his groin before taking a tentative bite.

“Oh shit!” Owl screamed again, his voice piercing and high-pitched. “Oh shit,” he repeated as he did just that, fouling himself. His girlish screams were enough to make the attacking beast retreat a couple of paces. Owl protectively covered his bleeding crotch, with his hands and tried to get his knees under him. Sensing that its prey had little fight left, the lion returned to the attack going straight for Owl’s crotch again. This time, the lion took a massive bite totally emasculating Owl who whimpered pathetically.

Oh fuck!” Brom screamed, watching the lion’s attack. “Oh fuck, ya can’t jus’ stand there an’ let ‘at thing eat ‘im. Do something!”

“You want to do something? Be my guest,” Ryan snarled and shoved the Demon Dog leader off of the loading dock.

Brom landed in a sprawl on the asphalt, startling the lion who was concentrating on continuing to maul its prey. Momentarily frightened, the lion whirled around and retreated a few yards to face Brom as the Demon Dog leader got unsteadily to his feet. The Demon Dog stared at the beast for a few of the longest seconds in his life and for the first time in his life felt the icy grip of fear. Staring into the eyes of the lion, Brom realized that his lifespan was measured in seconds. With that realization, Brom felt his sphincter release and his underpants fill as he voided himself. He stood frozen to the spot and began to cry like a little boy, great racking sobs making his chest heave as the tears running from his eyes met and mixed with the snot running freely from his nose. Adding to the shame he felt, Brom realized that his bladder had let go and he was standing there facing impending death while pissing all over himself.

Sensing that its new prey was paralyzed with fear, the lion moved slowly over to Brom and buried its great maw in Brom’s crotch as if nuzzling it. The beast leisurely opened its mouth and sank its teeth into the soft flesh of Brom’s crotch, the teeth sinking deeply through the cloth of his clothing, the skin underneath, and the muscle under that. Incredibly, Brom remained standing as the lion slowly bit his genitals cleanly off. It wasn’t until the lion slowly sank down to the ground to eat its latest snack that Brom moved – and it wasn’t much movement at that. He dropped heavily to the ground in a sitting position with his legs spread wide open invitingly. His screams changed – they rose even higher in pitch until they sounded like a grotesque falsetto.

After Ryan had shoved Brom off the loading dock, he turned and calmly closed the loading dock door so he missed seeing the initial part of the lion’s attack. He turned back just in time to witness the beast bite the Demon Dog’s cock and balls off. Ryan noticed that the backside of Brom’s jeans were wet and lumpy. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that Brom had shit himself. Watching the lion carefully, Ryan moved cautiously to the edge of the loading dock and gingerly eased himself down to the asphalt.

“Jack, get in the Land Rover,” Ryan whispered his voice so low and quiet that he was afraid it wouldn’t carry. Jack looked in his direction as if waking from a dream. Ryan frantically repeated his whispered request as he slowly eased his way forward.

Jack still didn’t move.

Ryan swore silently to himself, fearing that Jack was in shock from blood loss. He knew that he couldn’t possibly leave Jack behind and that it would be almost impossible to take Jack in his arms, get him into the Land Rover, and keep the lion at bay all at the same time. But he would do it, he promised himself – somehow he’d do it.

CLICK

Ryan froze at the sound and then realized that Jack wasn’t in shock at all, he had just been waiting until the last moment to open the door. It was good that he had because when the lion heard the door open it raised its head with an irritable snort and looked around. Ryan moved faster than he ever had for the open door and practically dove headfirst into the Land Rover, with Jack coming in so quickly behind him that the two of the got tangled in each other’s limbs and almost forgot to pull the door closed behind them.

“Now will you believe me that there’re dangerous beasts on the loose here?” Ryan asked heatedly as he started the vehicle and gunned the engine to put as much distance between the lion and themselves. The roar of the engine and squeal of the tires was enough to once again startle the lion, who jumped and retreated a few yards with Brom’s genitals dangling from its mouth.

“Do you mean the lions or the Dogs?” Jack asked in mock innocence.

“Funny … very funny,” Ryan replied dryly. He fell silent for a while as Jack busied himself wrapping a pressure bandage around his forearm. As they passed the former Monkey Island, Ryan began to chuckle in spite of himself. “Actually, that was pretty good,” he admitted.

After passing through the gates to the zoo, Jack turned serious. “Ryan … do you … do you feel bad about what happened? To the Demon Dogs, I mean.”

“Not at all,” Ryan said evenly. “In fact, I kinda hoped that the lion would make a meal outta that bastard. It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving coupla people. Why? Do you feel bad?”

“Well … actually, no. I mean, I feel like I should … two people died back there,” Jack said slowly.

“It’s obvious that they intended to leave us for dead,” Ryan said. He turned to look at Jack and for the first time took in his blood-soaked hand and sleeve. Already the blood was seeping through the bandage Jack was fumbling to get on his arm. “Jeezus! Jack, you’re bleeding …”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed absently. “It’s not too bad, though … I think it looks a lot worse than it really is. Just get back to the ship and I can take care of it properly there.”

*****

Gull finally managed to get control of himself and overcome the bout of nausea that had overtaken him. He was still feeling a little queasy as he left his chambers and made his way to the torture chamber. As he reached for the doorknob, he felt another round of nausea threaten him. It was far weaker than it had been earlier and much easier to dismiss. Composing himself, he pushed the door open and actually managed a genuine smile at the sight of his victim trussed securely to the St. Andrew’s cross.

Gull methodically paced around the X-shaped cross. The prisoner had been expertly shaved from head-to-toe by his former companions – they had even removed his eyebrows and eyelashes. A light coating of nervous sweat made the prisoner’s skin glisten.

“So, you didn’t expect my return? Did my sudden appearance shock you, Bruce?” Gull asked, calling the former guard by his proper name for the first time. Bruce whimpered and made unintelligible noises from behind the ball gag that had been forced between his teeth. Gull tapped the ball gag playfully. “Cat got your tongue, Brucie, or are you finding it hard to talk with that ball in your mouth? Well, no matter – the cat may very well get your tongue by the time I finish with you. The cat may even get other parts of you.” He grabbed Bruce’s genitals and squeezed them hard for emphasis.

Beneath his robes, Gull felt the first stirrings of an erection. The feeling competed with another round of nausea, but the sick feeling just couldn’t compete with the pleasurable feel of his growing hard-on and it was even easier to banish the feeling this time.

“I’ll bet you think that I’m a real bastard right about now, don’t you?” Gull asked, twisting Bruce’s nipples. The frightened prisoner frantically shook his head, clearly not wanting to offend Gull any more than he had already. “Well, I want to show you I’m not such a bastard – I’ve decided to give you a chance to win your freedom. We’ll play a little game and if you win, you’ll go free. Free as a bird. In fact, I’m going to show you what you’ll get to take with you if you win.” Gull turned and whistled for the other guards. “Show Brucie here what he’ll get if he wins.”

Grinning, one of the guards retreated into the corridor and returned a moment later dragging a heavy knapsack. He began unpacking the backpack, laying out three sets of clothes, a thin survival blanket, and a dozen cans of SPAM. “We also got a web belt with four canteens of water to go along with the rest of this stuff,” he announced.

When they arrived back at the Queen Mary, Ryan tried to carry Jack from the Land Rover to the ship’s hospital with Jack arguing all the way that he was capable of making his own way to the hospital. Word of their return and Jack’s injury spread quickly through the ship. In no time at all a crowd had gathered outside the ship’s hospital, jamming the corridor. Lawrence followed Dal and Bray as they pushed their way through the crowd.

“Relax – it’s nothing serious,” Jack said, when he saw the look of near panic on Bray’s face. “It looks much worse than it really is.”

“What happened?” Bray demanded.

“We got jumped by a coupla Demon Dogs,” Ryan explained.

“And?”

“And, then they got jumped by a local resident of the zoo,” Ryan said simply. “It was the biggest fucking lion I’ve ever seen.” Ryan shook his head. “You shoulda seen that lion go to work on those two – just walked right up to each one an took a big bite outta their crotches. Took their family jewels right off in one bite.”

Dal went right to work on Jack’s arm, slicing away the rest of his shirt and ignoring Jack’s objections. Once he had the injury fully exposed, he took his time examining it. “Jack’s right,” he announced. “It’s not really all that bad … it looks much worse than it actually is.”

Bray struggled to his feet, ignoring both Jack and Dal and limped to the other side of the gurney where Jack was seated. He wrapped his arms lovingly around Jack’s neck and gently kissed the back of Jack’s neck.

“How many times do I have to tell you to be careful out there?” Bray asked.

“And, how many times do I have to tell you to stay off of that leg?” Jack countered. “Dal went to all that hard work and you’re about to undo it all.”

“He’s right,” Dal said absently as he delicately cleaned Jack’s injured arm. “Do us all a favor and get your ass up on that gurney – it’s the least you can do if you insist on being out of the chair.”

Bray grumbled about being surrounded by old ladies, but he went around to the other side of the gurney and took his place next to his lover where he could hold Jack in his arms and watch as Dal sutured the wound closed.

*****

Bruce watched nervously as Gull directed the other guards to lay pieces of duct tape across the floor at graduated intervals in front of him. The closest piece of tape was about two feet in front of the base of the St. Andrew’s cross, the one farthest away was about eight feet away. Gull himself taped cards at each of the graduations.

“The rules of the game are very simple,” Gull said smoothly. “We’re gonna see how far you can shoot your wad. If you make it this far,” he indicated the card farthest away from Bruce, “you go free. It’s really that simple.” Gull examined the cards on the floor. “Now I’d think that a healthy fellow like yourself should be able to manage to shoot a load of spunk at least this far. But, if you can’t – well, there’s always this next card.” Gull moved to the next card. “If you male it only this far, you still get to go free – you just don’t get the big prize package. Oh, I almost forgot – there is a slight penalty associated with this card. If you only manage to shoot your load this far, you have to leave your balls behind. Still, I think you’d agree that your balls in exchange for your worthless life is a fair trade.”

Gull moved up to the next tape line. “Now, if you only make it this far – clearly, I can’t let you go free. You wouldn’t have earned that. You still get to live – as a slave to the Brotherhood. Minus you cock and balls of course – you wouldn’t need them distracting you from you new duties of providing pleasure to the other Brothers.”

The other guards smiled sadistically and openly rubbed their groins. Bruce stared at them in horror – he had always assumed the other guards were his friends and here they were clearly hoping he’d fail Gull’s stupid test. They couldn’t wait to see him nullified. He wondered whether they’d fight to be the first to shove their cocks into his mouth or ass. His cheeks glowed cherry red as he imagined the humiliations he’d be subjected to if he didn’t manage to win Gull’s macabre, twisted contest.

Gull stepped right up to the foot of the cross and held the last card up in front of Bruce’s nose. Bruce’s eyes crossed as he strained to read the card. His heart sank when he saw the words in Gull’s bold block printing “YOU’RE SCREWED.’

“If you hit this card, right here in front of your feet,” Gull said conversationally, “you’ll have to admit that you really deserve whatever happens to you.” He swallowed hard and patted Bruce’s cheek lovingly. “And, believe me, what will happen will be painful, slow, and humiliating.” Gull swallowed hard again and put his fist to his mouth as if to suppress a cough. “Get some slaves in here to bring Brucie to full arousal,” he said in a strained voice. “After all, we’re all fair men here aren’t we? We want to give him every opportunity to win.”

Gull spun on his heel and rapidly left the room. In the corridor, Gull put out a hand to support himself as he quashed the latest wave of nausea. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier, so whatever was wrong with him must be passing. Straightening, he noticed a line of prisoners waiting to be moved towards the holding cells. Going over to them, he examined the new prisoners carefully.

The Enforcer guard at the back of the rank snapped stiffly to attention. “New prisoners, m’lord. We’re just now getting ready to process them.”

“Good, good,” Gull nodded. He stopped in front of a terrified effeminate looking teen with masses of auburn hair that spilled nearly to his shoulders. Gull looked the young man over. Reaching out, he took the teen’s chin in his hand. “Name?”

“C-ch-chris.”

Gull smiled. “Chris, huh? I like that name, it fits you.” He turned to the guard. “Have this one washed up and brought to my chambers.” He took the guard to one side and whispered additional instructions to him before striding off to his chambers.

Gull was sitting at his desk when, after a perfunctory knock, the door opened and the guard led the prisoner, Chris, into the room. He was totally naked and looked even more frightened than he had before. He had both hands clasped protectively over his groin.

Gull smiled broadly and came around to the front of the desk. “Welcome, Chris,” he said in a soothing voice. “I hope you and I are going to be good friends.” He let his eyes slowly travel over Chris’ naked body. “You look uncomfortable, Chris. Is it because you’re standing there naked?”

“Well … yeah,” Chris said.

Gull tapped a finger speculatively against his lips. “I really don’t see why you need to feel uncomfortable. From what I can see, you have a very nice body. You should be proud of it.” He waved his hand. “Still, I don’t want to start our new friendship off with you feeling uncomfortable.” He turned to the guard. “Did you bring the clothes that I asked for along with you?”

The guard smiled knowingly at Chris. “Oh, yes sir! I have them in a bag out in the hall.”

“Well don’t just leave them in the hall! Can’t you see that Chris is uncomfortable being the only one in this room who’s naked? Bring the clothes in here”

The guard quickly ducked out into the corridor and returned moments later with two large shopping bags. Chris looked from the bags to Gull in confusion. Maybe the stories he had heard had been totally wrong about Gull and the Brotherhood.

“Go ahead, Chris, get dressed,” Gull said encouragingly.

Chris eagerly reached for the bag that the guard offered him and rummaged through the contents. He froze and straightened slowly. “Th-there must be some mistake. These are all girls clothes,” he said weakly.

“Oh no, there’s no mistake,” Gull shook his head. “The moment I saw you I was struck by how pretty you are,” he said. “Then, I thought to myself that such beauty was being wasted on a boy.” Gull’s voice got hard. “Go ahead and get dressed. Start with the panties.”

Blinking back tears, Chris hesitated holding the peach satin panties in his hand. He looked at Gull who was staring hard in his direction. He turned to look at the guard who was smiling wickedly and realized that there was no help from that direction. Finally, he looked to the panties in his hand and began to cry softly as he bent down and slowly pulled the satin panties over his legs. He straightened and with his head hung in humiliation, faced Gull.

“That’s very good, Chrissy,” Gull said encouragingly. “Did anyone ever call you Chrissy?” Chris shook his head. “Well, get used to it, Chrissy, because that’s your name now. Why have you stopped getting dressed? You still have more clothes in there.” Gull rifled through the bag and pulled out a peach colored bra that matched the panties. “Put this on,” he ordered, holding out the bra.

Chris took the bra in trembling fingers and fumbled his arms into the straps. The guard stepped forward at a nod from Gull and fastened the bra in the back. Gull moved slowly around Chris.

“There’s something wrong with this picture,” he turned to the guard. “Can you see what’s wrong?”

The guard played along and pretended to examine Chris from all angles. “I know that there’s something wrong, sir, but I just can’t put my finger on it,” he said. “I know!” The guard exclaimed in mock surprise as he snapped his fingers. “He just doesn’t look like a girl – even with those clothes on …”

“That’s because I’m not a girl,” Chris whined.

“You interrupted me,” snapped the guard, pointing his finger in Chris’ face. “I was about to say that he doesn’t look like a girl because his body’s too hairy.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Gull said with an evil grin. “Take a look at him – there’s almost no hair on him at all.” Gull ran his hand over the prisoner’s smooth chest.

“True, sir,” the guard admitted. “But, look at his legs and arms … he has way too much hair on them.”

“By god, you’re right,” Gull laughed. “The only solution is to have Chrissy shave. Bring shaving gel, razors, and a basin of water. Chrissy is going to shave right here and now for us.”

The guard hurried off to get the items ordered. Chris realized that from how quickly he returned that the whole scene had been a setup to humiliate him. The tears flowed freely as he raised his left arm and coated his armpit in foam as Gull ordered. He was close to sobbing as he shaved his other armpit and each forearm down to his fingertips.

“The legs, don’t forget the legs, Chrissy,” Gull ordered.

Chris shaved each leg smooth and bare then stood for further orders. He broke into open sobs when Gull ordered him to shave his crotch clean and begged to not have to do that. Gull fairly leapt across the room from his perch on the edge of the desk and grabbed Chris by the hair.

“Listen up, pretty boy,” he snarled. “You’re not in a cell right now waiting to have your worthless dick and balls chapped off only because I thought that you were too pretty to waste. If I want you smooth and hairless and dressed as a girl, then you’re going to be smooth and hairless and dressed like a girl.” He grabbed Chris’ crotch. “As small as you are down there I should think you’d be happy to shave that bush off. A bare crotch will make your puny dick look bigger. Now, get to work before you really piss me off.”

Chris hurried to carry out Gull’s commands fearful of what the Enforcer leader would do to him if he got truly pissed off. His fingers trembled as he slid the panties off and smoothed the gel into the reddish thatch of hair between his legs. He had to stop as he shaved the hair away several times to get control of his shaking hands. When he was finished and smooth to Gull’s satisfaction, Chris slowly put the peach panties back on.

“That’s much better,” Gull praised when Chris was once again standing in peach panties and matching bra. He pulled white knee socks from one of the bags and tossed them to Chris. Gull watched as the crying boy fumbled his way to rolling the knee socks onto each leg. Next came a blue plaid skirt, a white blouse, and a blue cardigan. Gull steered Chris across the room to stand in front of a cheval mirror. The reflection staring back at him was that of a school girl in a uniform. He hung his head and cried harder.

“You really are a girl,” snapped the guard in derision.

“Now, now,” chided Gull. “Be nice to Chrissy, can’t you see she’s easily upset and emotional … girls are like that, you know.” He stroked Chris’ shoulders. “You really do make a pretty girl. Now, to get the job finished and make you even prettier than you are right now.” He turned to the guard. “Bring her in,” he ordered.

The guard opened the door to admit a girl with shocking pink hair. She bowed to Gull in passing and strode to stand toe-to-toe with Chris. She examined him carefully before turning and facing Gull.

“How far do you want me to go with her transformation, sir?”

“I want her to look like a sweet schoolgirl, Anita,” Gull answered. “Light makeup and a suitable hairstyle. Something a little shorter, but still feminine.”

“Oh you could give this one a crewcut and she’d still look feminine,” Anita assured Gull.

“Don’t go that far,” Gull said. “I don’t want Chrissy to forget that she’s a girl now. But, something short and sassy would be nice.”

“Leave her to me,” Anita said. “Oh. I almost forgot to ask – do you want her ears pierced?”

Gull thought about the question and then nodded. “I think that’s appropriate … it will be a constant reminder that she’s a girl now.”

Anita turned to the guard. “Take her to where I’m set up,” she said. “I’ll be along in a minute.” She watched the guard lead Chris away and turned to Gull. “You know you don’t have to turn a pretty boy into a girl. If you really wanted a girl, there are lots of us who would be happy to put out for you.”

“Oh, I know that,” Gull said in an offhand manner. “But, it will be even more appealing to me to force him to be a girl against his will. Every time I fuck him he will be humiliated – remembering what he used to be.”

“What happens if he comes to like his new position?”

“That’s easy,” Gull replied lightly. “I just get rid of her and make a new girl.”

“That simple, huh?”

“It is just that simple,” Gull confirmed. “By the way, did you stop at the drug store on your way over here?”

“Yeah, and I got exactly what you ordered,” Anita said. “It was freaky rooting through that place in the dark with only a flashlight.” She pulled a half dozen pill bottles from her bag. “That shit’s called Premarin – it’s kind of a female hormone. I don’t know how many to give him, though.”

Gull shook two small pills into his hand and studied them. “Since it’s his first time, I guess about five or six pills should get the female hormones going good,” Gull mused. “Hell, try six for the first dose. If it doesn’t kill him, it might make the physical changes come faster. Oh and make sure she knows what the pills are for when you make her take them.”

Anita smiled wickedly. “You can be sure of that.”

When Chris was returned an hour later, Gull couldn’t believe his eyes. Anita had done a job on the girl-to-be. Chrissy’s auburn hair had been stylishly cropped to about an inch all over, with feathery bangs falling in wisps across her brow. Although almost boyishly short, the new hairstyle accentuated the femininity Gull had first spotted in Chris’ facial features. Anita had skillfully plucked Chrissy’s eyebrows into delicate, girlish arches and curled her eyelashes. The boy/girl’s ears had been pierced and each lobe sported a single pearl earring in a delicate setting. Anita had been sparing in her application of makeup to her subject’s face. Chrissy’s lips sported a light pink blush lipstick, and there was just a hint of rouge on the cheeks.

“Anita did a fantastic job,” Gull said in wonder as he slowly moved around Chrissy. “What’s wrong, now?” He snapped as the boy/girl started to sniffle again.

“She had me tied down and forced some pills into my mouth … she made me swallow them … and, and she said that they’d …” Chrissy whined plaintively.

“They’d make you grow breasts,” Gull finished, sitting down at the desk to sign some papers. “That’s right … I told her to start you on hormones.”

“But why?”

“Because I wanted that,” Gull replied simply. “I want to watch you blossom into a girl … the idea pleases me.” Gull rose and came back around the desk. “Now, get up and come with me. I’m late for a date in the torture chamber and I want you by my side.”

Bruce almost cried out in pleasure when the door opened and Gull. By the Enforcer leader’s side was a frightened girl Bruce had never seen before. But Bruce didn’t dwell on wondering who she was or why she was present. He only wanted the torture to stop. Ever since Gull had left, Bruce had been subjected to the ministrations of a team of pleasure slaves. They had taken turns getting him aroused and keeping him in that excited state. The only time they stopped was when he had come too close to climax and then only long enough to make him relax slightly.

The pleasure slaves had caressed and sucked his nipples until they were almost raw. They had played with his ass – using fingers, dildos, and feathers until Bruce didn’t care whether he survived the stupid contest or not. He had the worst case of blue balls in history and just wanted relief.

“Well, well, well,” Gull said cheerfully. “I see the slaves did a good job of getting you aroused. Do you think you’re ready to perform?” Bruce squeezed his eyes closed and gave one sharp nod of his head. Gull spoke to one of the guards. “Release his right hand.” He turned back to Bruce. “The rules are very simple. Jerk on that magnificent dick of yours and shoot your load. Where it lands … well, you know the rest.”

Bruce didn’t wait to hear the rest. As soon as his hand was free he grabbed his aching cock and started frantically pumping away. He just wanted relief, he didn’t care about Gull’s stupid penalties or anything else at the moment. His hand moved back and forth so fast that it was a blur to the onlookers watching in amusement and taking side bets with each other.

When he felt a climax building, Bruce closed his eyes and began stroking even harder and faster as he pushed his hips forward as far as his restraints would allow. Bruce’s eyes snapped open at the moment of climax and he was rewarded with the sight of his cum shooting out in a big arc to land across the room. He managed a weak grin behind his ball gag as he watched Gull step across the room to examine the pool of cum. His feeling of victory was short-lived as one of the guards grabbed his free hand and secured it to the cross again.

“Close, so close. I’m really impressed,” he said with just a hint of admiration in his voice. “I honestly didn’t think that you’d get this far.” He slowly walked over to stand in front of Bruce. “You made it far enough to win your freedom, but these stay here with me,” he reached out and cupped Bruce’s balls in the palm of his hand.

Bruce whimpered and began crying.

Gull slowly stepped over to the table where his torture instruments were laid out and examined his choices. He experimentally hefted a large pair of hedge clippers, looked over in Bruce’s direction and then, with a shake of his head, laid the hedge clippers back down. Next he lifted a set of pruning shears with curved blades. He placed the pruning shears on a small rolling cart. Gull examined and rejected in turn a small hatchet, a butcher’s cleaver, and a serrated edge knife. Gull picked up a pair of scissors that had a curious bend to them and placed them on the cart as well.

“Get the forge going and heat up a couple of irons for cauterization,” Gull ordered. Several of the guards moved quickly to carry out his orders. He rolled the cart over in front of Bruce and snapped his fingers at a couple of the other guards. “Get Brucie here properly prepared. Put a ball stretcher on him and get that sac stretched out. You there, yes … you the one with his thumb up his ass. You’re not doing anything … run to The Leader and tell him I’m about to do a castration. Tell him I’d be most happy to have his presence while I relieve Brucie of his balls. And, when you come back bring the medic with you. I want to see him about something.” He turned to face Bruce and smiled. “I do hope that you’re not in a hurry to get this over with, because it looks like we’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

Bruce didn’t have much longer to wait. Within fifteen minutes the door opened and the guard Gull had sent away stepped aside with a low bow as The Leader swept regally into the room. He made straight for Gull.

“Lord Gull, it’s good to see you back where you belong,” The Leader said. “We do hope that you’re not being hasty in getting back to work so soon after your return.”

“I appreciate the concern, Leader,” Gull said. “But, quite honestly this is the best therapy for me.” He explained that Bruce was being punished for insubordination and outlined the details of the contest he had devised.

“Intriguing solution,” The Leader said. “We are impressed. We especially like the idea of the contest. It carries with it the hope of redemption and without that where would we be?” The Leader sighed. “We had feared that we might find you ill when we heard that you had sent for a healer.”

Gull laughed. “The healer isn’t for me,” he said.

“We are relieved,” The Leader replied. “But, if not for you then who?”

“I wanted him to examine Chrissy,” Gull explained. He introduced The Leader to Chrissy. “She was among the batch of new prisoners today.”

The Leader looked Chrissy over. The boy/girl felt a chill run down his spine. “She appears healthy,” he announced.

“Oh she is,” Gull said. “She just needs a little correction that I don’t feel absolutely comfortable doing.” Gull went and stood behind Chrissy, with his hand on her shoulder. “You see, when she arrived here today, Chrissy was a male.”

The Leader smiled and examined Chrissy more closely. “We can see no signs of that,” he said appreciatively. “She must have been a beautiful male to catch your eye.”

“Indeed she was,” Gull responded. “As a matter of fact, he was such a pretty boy that I decided it would be a shame not to make him into a girl and let that beauty go to waste. I had him shave all of his body hair off and then had Anita come in and work her magic on Chrissy. I also had Anita administer the first dose of female hormones to Chrissy.”

“What an intriguing idea,” The Leader beamed at the though. “We shall be pleased to join you in watching this little beauty change into the girl Nature must have meant her to be.” He turned back to Gull. “We assume that you do intend for her to be totally female?”

“Yes … that’s why I called for one of the healers,” Gull said, pulling down Chrissy’s skirt and panties and exposing his genitals for all to see. “I can perform castrations, but I want everything down there removed as cleanly as possible without a lot of scarring.” He turned to the healer. “Can you do that?”

“That depends,” the medic said crouching to examine Chrissy’s cock and balls.

“What kind of answer is that?” Gull demanded.

“I can’t do a real sex change operation,” the medic explained. “But, I can amputate this penis and these testicles nicely.”

“No!” Chris shrieked. “No, you can’t do that…”

“I can do whatever I want to you,” Gull explained savagely. “Remember that from now on. You remain alive because it amuses me.” He turned to two of the guards. “Take Chrissy to my chambers and stay with her. Don’t let her hurt herself or you’ll pay dearly.”

The Leader watched as the guards escorted Chrissy from the room. “She’s going to be a very pretty girl,” he said. He turned back to face Bruce and rubbed his hands together. “And, now for the reason you invited us here.”

“Ah yes, it is time to harvest Brucie’s balls,” Gull said lightly. “As you can see, his scrotum has already been prepared – he spent sometime in a ball stretcher and he’s already been wired.” Gull pointed to the two sets of copper wire that had been wrapped tightly around Bruce’s scrotum. The wire wrappings were about an inch apart and had already begun to cut off the blood supply.

The Leader examined the wire wrappings with great interest. “Good work, we are impressed.”

“These are medical bandage scissors,” Gull said, lifting the bent bladed scissors from the cart. “I’ve never used them to harvest a set of balls before…”

“There’s always a first time for everything,” The Leader observed. “We see that you are prepared for the possibility that they won’t get the job done,” he said indicating the pruning shears.

“Yes, m’lord,” Gull said. “I suppose I could just try the scissors repeatedly until I manage to hack through the scrotum, but that would be sloppy and I hate sloppy work.”

“We’ve always been impressed with the high quality of your work,” The Leader said.

Gull knelt in front of Bruce and reached out to hold the prisoner’s balls in his free hand. Bruce tried to pull away, screaming wildly from behind the ball gag in his mouth. His bucking became more frantic as Gull pulled down on his balls and moved the scissors into place.

Gull felt his stomach begin to jump slightly, but he concentrated on the task at hand and fought back the queasiness he was feeling. He opened the scissor blades wide and slid them between the bindings of copper wire. Now, for the moment of truth, he thought. Gull brought the blades closed and was doubly surprised by the result. Bruce’s balls came cleanly away in his left hand, and he didn’t vomit all over the place.

“Excellent work!” The Leader exclaimed. He examined Bruce closely. “Do you really intend to let this one go free?”

“I do, sir,” Gull replied calmly.

“Why?”

“Because I promised him that he would go free if he managed to shoot his load to that particular marker,” Gull answered. “I think it is important that people know that our word is good.”

“Excellent reasoning,” The Leader beamed.

“And if he manages to survive long enough to reach other Tribes – and if they don’t kill him first – he can make a good example to others what penalties we mete out for disloyalty.”

“We like that reasoning,” The Leader said excitedly. “He will make an excellent example to the outsiders.”

“If he manages to survive to find outsiders who will take him in,” Gull replied. “He’ll leave here naked and without provisions. But, I’m getting ahead of myself – his punishment isn’t quite finished.” He turned to a guard. “Remove the gag,: he ordered.

“You’re all whacked out freaks!” Bruce screamed hysterically.

Gull’s hand shot out and seized Bruce’s jaw in a vise-like grip. “Vise-grip pliers,” he said calmly over his shoulder. One of the guards hurried to carry out his order. “Now, grab his tongue with the vise-grips and pull it as far as you can out of his mouth,” Gull instructed.

The guard struggled for a few minutes to get the tool’s jaws around Bruce’s tongue, but he finally managed to complete his task and soon had Bruce’s tongue extended from his mouth. Gull released his tight hold on Bruce’s jaw and went to the forge to retrieve one of the cautery irons.

“See what happens to those foolish enough to let disloyal words roll from their tongues,” Gull said in a raised voice as he placed the white-hot iron against Bruce’s tongue and rolled it around.

Bruce threw his head back as far as he could and screamed in agony. The eerie sound was amplified by the echo effects of the room and became something positively unearthly. The effect on The Leader was immediate – he laughed and clapped his hands gleefully like a little boy watching his favorite television show.

Gull stepped back and removed the hot iron from Bruce’s tongue. “Cauterize that wound where he used to have balls,” he ordered, breathing hard. “Oh, and before you let him down from the cross – break each of his fingers.” He tossed the cautery iron back onto the forge. “That should make his survival a little more difficult.”

“Wonderful touch, my lord Gull!” The Leader cried out gleefully. “All good things necessary to sustain life come from the Brotherhood. People who turn their backs on the Brotherhood rightfully give up the right to gather sustenance easily.” He studied Bruce for a moment. “Wait until a hour to release him … we want the time for that piece of shit to be paraded before the other Brothers and let them give him their full measure of scorn.”

A little over an hour later, the Brotherhood was assembled in full strength on both sides of the street as Bruce was led out of town. The Brothers jeered, screamed insults and threats, and spat at Bruce as he staggered down the street naked. Bruce held his hands out in front of him as he walked painfully, the Brothers could see that all of Bruce’s fingers were splayed at unnatural angles and swollen to two and three times their normal size.

Gull and The Leader watched the spectacle from the back of a flatbed trailer that served as a viewing stand. “We’re glad to see you back and so obviously feeling like you old self,” The Leader said, leaning over to speak to Gull. “We have to admit that we had concerns about what effect your brush with death would have on you. Clearly, you’ve suffered no ill-effects.”

“To be honest, sir,” Gull said. “I was a little concerned about that myself, but I see now that there was no reason for me to worry.”

“We hope that you can join us for dinner,” The Leader said. “We find your company so refreshing and entertaining.”

“I’d be pleased to be there,” Gull responded. “But, can it be a late dinner if possible?”

“Oh?” The Leader’s eyebrow raised. “Is there something else you have to do?”

Gull grinned. “I suspect that Chrissy is still a virgin,” he said. “I plan to lift that burden from her shoulders before the healers do their work on her.”

The Leader grinned back. “Yes, today’s activities have been stimulating that way. We know exactly how you feel – perhaps we could use a similar relief. A late dinner it shall be.”

Bruce had run out of tears long before his guards had released him outside of town. All of the guards who had been in the escort had been Bruce’s friends. But, that didn’t show in their work now – his former friends were the ones who shouted the loudest insults and spat on him the most. At the edge of town, Bruce had been shoved to his knees and each of the six Brothers who had been in his escort took their turn pulling out their cocks and pissing all over Bruce while continuing to laugh and jeer. As the hot piss streamed down on him, Bruce had curled protectively into the fetal position and tried to ignore the hot fluid beating down on his bald head.

Bruce had lain huddled on the road in the puddle of urine long after they had gone and left him to his own devices to live or die all alone. At first, he just wanted to lay there and give up. Death had to be better than the pain and humiliation he had experienced just because Gull took insult with something he had said. Shit! He hadn’t even meant any insult and that bastard Gull had humiliated and mutilated him just to prove what a big deal he was.

Gull wasn’t such a hot shit like he thought he was, Bruce told himself. Bruce thought about how good it would be to see that bastard taken down. He even managed a crooked smile as he imagined watching as Gull’s balls were bound and chopped off … that would be a sight to see. The great and almighty Gull tied down as his precious balls were chopped right off.

“Well, you won’t get to see that if you don’t get your ass off of the ground,” a voice said.

Bruce’s eyes snapped open and he looked around to see who was talking to him. He even raised his head to see if somebody was behind him.

“Look around all you want, asshole,” the voice said clearly. “There’s nobody there.” Suddenly an image of himself shimmered into view out of thin air. But, it was an image of himself from pre-Virus days complete with his curly brown hair that refused to stay neatly brushed. “I can see that you’re not going to get up off your ass unless you can see who’s talking to you.”

“I must be dreaming,” Bruce thought. He didn’t try to speak aloud because of the damage to his tongue.

“That’s right, you are dreaming,” his alternate self said, nodding. “And you don’t need to speak aloud … just think it, and I’ll know what you want to say.”

But how?

“Never mind the how and why,” his alternate self told him, crouching down in front of him. “Just concern yourself with what’s important now. If you want to live to see Gull get what’s coming to him, get your ass up off the ground. If not, stay there and die.” His other self sighed and rose from his crouching position. “The choice is yours … but, I have to tell you that it won’t be an easy death. You’ll linger and suffer more than you might if you try to do something.”

Are you trying to tell me that Gull will be defeated someday? Bruce thought. When will that day be?

“Yes and I don’t know.”

Huh?

“Those are the answers to your questions,” alternate Bruce told him. “Yes, it’s inevitable that Gull will be brought down. His kind always are … it’s just a matter of time. As for when and how, I don’t know. I can’t see into the future.” The other Bruce walked away a few paces, stopped and turned. “Well? Are you going to get up or stay where you are and die and let Gull win?”

Oh fuck, Bruce thought. I’ve got to have a pushy conscience with an attitude.

“Be happy that I’m being pushy now,” alternate Bruce said. “Otherwise, you’d die. If you’d have listened to me in the first place you’d have never joined the Brotherhood. Look what it got you … you have that stupid tattoo on your forehead,” his conscience raised a hand and casually raked it through his brown curls, “and that haircut and weird color. What’re they all about? I gotta tell you, that’s a stupid look on you.”

Bruce tried to roll over and push himself up. He screamed in agony as the pain shot through his broken hands. He collapsed in a heap on the tarmac. Leave me alone, you bastard, he thought bitterly.

“Suit yourself,” alternate Bruce said with a shrug. “I’m tired of being ignored. Lay there and you’re on your own. Go ahead and ignore me, you’ve done it before and look where it’s gotten you – castrated and with broken hands.”

At least help me get up, thought Bruce.

“I can’t,” alternate Bruce said. “I’m only real in your mind … I don’t really exist outside of there. This is one time you have to do it yourself, no matter how much it hurts.”

Bruce struggled fighting the waves of pain coming from his hands, groin, and mouth which threatened to send him spinning back into unconsciousness. Eventually, he succeeded in getting unsteadily to his knees. He stayed like that for a long time catching his breath, then with a superhuman effort, he pushed himself to a standing position.

What now?

“I knew you could do it,” alternate Bruce said with a genuine smile that made Bruce feel warm and good inside. He hadn’t had that feeling in such a long time and realized that he’d missed it. He knew now that he could survive and make it to find help and care for his injuries. After that, he’d make sure that he’d be around when Gull was toppled. Maybe he wouldn’t be the one to do it, but it was enough for him to know that it could be done.

Bruce stood still for a few minutes getting his wits about him and then turned and staggered in the direction of The City. He was sure that help and salvation waited there.

To be continued …