SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS
Chapter Seven
Author's Notes:
As always, I want to thank my amazing beta testers, Denisia and Severine.
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Craig drove back to Starlight House, leaving Techrat hard at work. The peculiar man had uncovered one piece of information already, something that Craig was determined to find a way to use. Apparently Pizzazz's mother, Gail Nye, was one of the higher-ups in the regional Morality Office and had arrived at the jail earlier today. Her purpose for the trip was not clear. Techrat had uncovered that higher-ranking Officers rarely visited prisons. Craig knew nothing about Nye – his sister had never mentioned her – but he knew that she could be useful.
Craig now wanted to regroup with Video and the others at Starlight House to see what they had learned and calibrate with them on a plan of action. He briefly considered paying an unexpected visit to Riot but decided such a mission would be pointless, if not suicidal.
He shook his head. A few short years ago he would not have hesitated to march into Riot's Stinger Sound office and tie a lamp neck around Riot's if need be, to get him to cooperate. But Craig took a breath and forced himself to think rationally. In this environment, doing so would only get him locked in a prison cell which wouldn't do Aja or his sister any good.
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Gail Nye entered Officer Houghton's office at the prison. Long divorced from Harvey Gabor, Gail had reverted to her maiden name and had never looked back nor remarried. After a couple of decades living the free-spirited and flighty life she had wanted – financed mostly by Harvey's divorce settlement – she grabbed hold of the Morality Office soon after it had formed and never let go.
As an official in the Morality Office, Gail clung to the discipline and structure required. At last she had a purpose and direction. At last she had some clear and simple answers. It all made sense to her now.
"So it looks like that Kimber Benton somehow took the test twice on the night of the concert," Gail observed, after reviewing Houghton's reports. She did not look at Houghton as she continued to page through the paper report and glance periodically at the computer screen.
"Yes, Officer Nye," Houghton nodded. He was not happy that she was here. He silently berated himself for not acting faster as his chance for receiving any bribe money was now dwindling. Officer Nye had a reputation for clinging to the letter of the law and strictly interpreting every policy.
"I think we should detain both bands indefinitely," Nye decided. The decision, of course, was not solely hers to make but she knew she had enough clout at the regional office to convince her superiors.
"Do we have enough evidence?"
"These reports on the bands are filled with strikes against them!" Gail said. "Let's just start with Jem and the Holograms. One of the band members is illegitimate. They have sung songs with irresponsible lyrics, including a song that glorified that obscene Mardi Gras spectacle – I'm so glad we no longer allow that celebration of perversion and sloth to take place," she added. Gail then continued, "Some of their videos and lyrics have also advocated fornication, such as that disgusting 'Come On In the Water's Fine' video or the song 'Who Is He Kissing'. Horrible messages, especially for a band that lives with foster girls! What are they teaching them?" She paused to take a breath and then added, her voice dropping in volume although the two were alone, "Besides, the racial integration of that band is disturbing. Like belongs with like. Those White women shouldn't spend all their time with Blacks, Asians, and Hispanics."
Houghton nodded. The Morality Office did not public ally advocate racial separation but most of their leaders agreed with Nye's position.
"What about the other band?" he asked.
"What about them?" Nye snorted. "Their cavorting on the town yesterday night was horrible behavior for four unmarried women. Besides, one of their members is also illegitimate and one of them is not an American citizen, nor has she shown any attempts to become one. And most of the lyrics sung by their singer are licentious and shameless, such as that 'I Like Your Style' song." Gail was glad that she had dumped the Gabor name; others would have no easy way of knowing that the "Pizzazz" creature was her daughter. Regardless of who she was though, Phyllis and her bandmates deserved to be locked up, in Nye's estimation.
"So we'll just plan to keep them here for a while?" Houghton asked.
"Yes. At least a month or two. We must teach them a lesson and maybe even convince them to give up their careers. A few weeks here can work miracles like that." She paused and then added, "And then maybe others will get the message about what kind of music is permissible today and which isn't. The longer we keep them here, the more likely their careers will just ruin themselves."
She took a breath. "And I think we need to learn more about how they were able to fool us the night of the concert. We may want to send for the interrogator. He can be here tomorrow and then we will find out what they did and how they did it, using whatever means necessary."
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When Craig returned to Starlight House, he found more trouble. Danse was there, talking assertively with representatives from a child welfare office. No Starlight Girls were seen inside the room.
"Alright, Miss Dvorak," one of the men was saying, as Craig walked into the living room. "We will entrust these foster girls to your care on a temporary basis. But Miss Benton had better return soon. You cannot run both Haven House and Starlight House indefinitely by yourself."
"I assure you, Mr. Jenkins, that both groups of youth will be well taken care of. I have a very experienced assistant at Haven House. Trust me that this arrangement is better than breaking up the Starlight Girls and placing them in new foster homes."
"We shall see," he replied, skeptically.
When Jenkins and his colleagues headed for the door, Danse took notice of Craig, seemingly for the first time.
"Hello," she began.
Craig could tell from the quizzical look on her face that she couldn't recall his name or where she had met him.
"Craig Phillips," he said, extending his hand. "We met at the benefit concert. I'm -- "
"Oh, yes, of course," Danse said, breaking into a smile and shaking his hand. Her touch was exceptionally soft. "Aja's boyfriend. It's nice to see you again."
Craig returned the pleasantry. He also could not help but notice that Danse was a strikingly attractive woman. Her type of ethereal and graceful beauty was different than Aja's down-to-earth, confident charm. Danse's long hair, flowing towards her slim waist, was especially alluring.
"So I take it you heard what happened to Jem and the Holograms," Craig said.
"Yes. Video told me everything just before she left. Her grandmother has taken a turn for the worse and she had to leave to be with her," she explained. "I got here as soon as I could. Mrs. Bailey's at her home now."
"Where's Jerrica Benton?"
"I don't know," Danse said. She took a few steps over towards a bottle of water that she'd set down on the coffee table. Craig noticed that even her walk was fluid, as if she nearly floated over the carpet. "No one's been able to get a hold of her. Are you sure she wasn't there when they took the band away this morning?"
"I'm positive," Craig said firmly. "It was Jem and the four Holograms. No one else."
Danse took a sip of her drink. "Jerrica does have a way of…disappearing at times. Sometimes she can be really hard to get a hold of."
"I know, but at a time like this?" Craig questioned.
"Maybe she's at the prison right now, trying to negotiate with the authorities," Danse suggested, though her voice was tentative and she did not meet Craig's eyes.
"Maybe. The Misfits have all been arrested too," Craig said. "I found that out when I went to the Gabor mansion today."
"Video managed to get a hold of Anthony Julian. He'll be coming in on a red eye tonight – or tomorrow morning, technically." She then considered the information that Craig provided. "If the Misfits have been arrested, can't Harvey Gabor do something? He has such wealth and influence…"
"He's on a business trip in Japan."
"We just can't cut any luck," Danse said, sighing. "What do we do?" she despaired.
"Maybe we should try to get over to the prison ourselves," Craig suggested. "I don't know what good it will do but maybe we can at least talk to the authorities there and demand more information on why the groups were arrested. They might treat them better and release them sooner if they knew there were a lot of people who wanted them let out."
Craig and Danse whirled their heads at the sound of a voice.
"Perhaps I can help."
A woman had somehow entered the room silently. She stood in the living room with them now. Craig felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. How had she managed to walk into the mansion without them noticing her?
"Who are you?" Craig asked.
"I am a friend of Jem and the Holograms'. My name is Cynthia Madrigal." She was an attractive, middle-aged woman wearing a tailored suit. She wore understated, classical jewelry including a silver brooch on her jacket and diamond stud earrings. Her graying hair was pulled back from her face. Several lines on her face only added character to her features. Her rich voice conveyed wisdom.
"I've never heard them mention you," Craig began, eyebrows scrunched together.
Danse, however, did not seem to share Craig's skepticism. "Have you heard what happened to them?"
"Yes, and I believe I can help. I will be going to the prison now to talk to the authorities."
"What can you do that will help?" Craig asked. "Do you know someone in power there?"
"I am an attorney. I've worked with the band before on legal matters."
"Well, let's go with you, then. It would beat sitting around here."
"No, Craig. It is best if I work alone."
"Well I think we – " Craig cut off his train of thought. "How did you know my name?"
"Jem once mentioned Aja's boyfriend to me," Cynthia responded, without flinching. "She showed me your picture."
"You must have one good memory," Craig commented, suspiciously.
Danse gently touched a hand to Craig's shoulder. "I think Cynthia is probably our best shot at the moment," she said softly. "Let's trust her. If she thinks it's best to work on this alone, it probably is."
Still unconvinced, Craig decided not to argue. He turned to Cynthia and said, "The Misfits have also been arrested. My sister Mary – Stormer – is one of them."
"I will make every effort to secure their release as well," Cynthia said, in her calm and competent manner.
"I also learned that Pizzazz's mother, a woman named Gail Nye, is there too but not as a prisoner. She's one of the higher-ups in the Morality Office – at least at their regional headquarters. I don't know what kind of relationship she has with her daughter, but she may be able to help."
Cynthia nodded. "Gail Nye you said her name was?"
"Yes," Craig responded. He then turned his back to Cynthia and looked at Danse. "Danse, we can't just trust this stranger. We have no idea who she is. I've never heard of her. We can't leave the fate of….no offense, Cynthia," he said, turning back towards the mysterious woman.
But she was gone. Cynthia had managed to suddenly disappear.
Craig looked at Danse again. He closed his mouth, not wanting to appear as flustered as he felt inside.
"I know this seems odd Craig," Danse began soothingly, stepping closer towards him. "But sometimes…strange things happen around Jem and the Holograms. I can't explain it, but I've known the band for years. Sometimes you just need to trust that everything will turn out alright and that the band has….resources."
"This isn't the first time that I've heard that," Craig said, clearly frustrated. "It's not the first time I've heard that we just have to trust them even though they can't or won't tell us the full story. What is the big secret?" he asked, though the question was a rhetorical one.
Danse did not share his desire for answers. "I think we just need to have faith and realize that things will turn out alright. If a friend of Jem's is here, that's always a good sign."
"Even a mysterious friend who we've never heard of?" Craig shook his head. "So does the band treat all their friends this way…just leaving them in the dark?" He also wondered whether Danse was truly content with this situation or whether she knew more than she was letting on.
Terri entered the room. "Danse, can you help us? Naomi's crying – she's scared and she keeps asking for Shana," she said, referring to one of the new, youngest girls.
"I'll be right there," Danse responded, eager to end the conversation with Craig.
Meanwhile, Ashley turned towards Deidre. They had been sitting quietly on the staircase. "I wonder if they got arrested because of Stormer," Ashley whispered.
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Returning from dinner, Roxy and Jetta walked past Pizzazz and Stormer's cell. They made eye contact as they passed. The four band members exchanged looks during those brief seconds that conveyed fear, caring, uncertainty, and determination.
"So – er, you guys okay in there?" Roxy asked, raising her voice, once she and Jetta had been locked back inside their cell. She knew if she spoke loud enough she could be heard by the others, and the guards had already left the area.
"We're just fine, Roxy," Pizzazz called.
Roxy and Jetta exchanged a look. Pizzazz's voice, while sounding like normal upon first listening, also conveyed some disquiet.
"Missed you at dinner, luvs," Jetta added, a forced breeziness to her tone.
"We'll be fine," Stormer added. "But thank you for asking."
Stormer looked at Pizzazz. Both knew that this method of communication with the others was awkward, and now was not the time to be giving them the full story of what had just occurred. In order for them speak loud enough to be heard, half of the prisoners in this wing would be able to hear their conversation as well. Besides, Stormer also knew that it was up to Pizzazz how much she wanted to disclose and, understandably she probably did not want to relate the entire story.
"How's your neck, Roxy?" Stormer called.
"It's alright," she answered, with a glance in Jetta's direction.
The group then quieted down. At some point, Pizzazz pulled out the newspaper she had retrieved earlier from the library and began to read. Stormer took it as a good sign. She returned to her book, ignoring the rumbling of her stomach. She knew that she had a long time to wait before she would be allowed to eat anything. Her appetite had started to return.
"Your cold seems a lot better," Pizzazz said after a while, breaking a long silence.
"It is," Stormer nodded. "Whatever I had, it must've been one of those twenty-four hour things." She then paused and, realizing the significance of Pizzazz's comment, said, "Thanks for asking."
Pizzazz had a look on her face, almost as if she wanted to say more. Stormer regarded her for a second or two, and then opened her mouth to say something encouraging when she heard voices and the sounds of heavy footsteps.
"Lights out, ladies," one of the guards yelled. "It's time for bed."
The lighting level of the entire wing decreased sharply. Sounds of other prisoners reaching for blankets could be heard.
"Sheesh, already?" Pizzazz muttered. She was tired, however. Her emotional state was making her entire body feel fatigued. "Damn I miss my bed at home!" she said into the darkness.
"Me too!" Stormer replied. "No wonder Roxy's neck hurt her."
Stormer kept her ears alert and ready, waiting for something from Pizzazz. Her intuition told her that the singer was getting ready to speak, and that putting the words together would not be easy for Pizzazz.
"What a day," Pizzazz finally commented.
This was an atypical Pizzazz remark. Stormer pondered it for a second or two, while Pizzazz went on, "I can't believe we're gonna spend another night in this stupid jail. What a shitty day," she repeated.
Stormer then tentatively piped up, "Do you wanna talk about…what happened before…with the person who visited us?"
"No," came Pizzazz's flat reply.
Her answer was quite truthful. She was mortified that Stormer had seen her so weak, had seen her weep. Stormer had listened to Pizzazz's mother verbally denigrate her and she had been unable to do anything in response.
But intriguingly, Pizzazz wasn't angry. She had no desire to throw something or scream at Stormer. Perhaps she was physically weak from hunger and from crying (the latter being an action her body was unaccustomed to). But as Pizzazz turned over in bed, she realized that it was more than that.
A subtle shift had occurred inside Pizzazz's mind somewhere during the past several hours. You had to demonstrate your caring for other people. You had to allow yourself to care in the first place. If you didn't, the consequences could be dire. Her own memories left no doubt of that. Pizzazz's mother had left her decades ago and the consequences were still with Pizzazz to this day. She wondered if she could ever have a normal life – whatever that meant – as a result of what her mother did.
But Stormer was right here with her. Obviously they had no choice but to occupy the same space while in this cell, but Stormer's support during the past few hours had spoken volumes. As uncomfortable as it had been to reflect on this, it was true.
And Roxy and Jetta would be right there too, if they could – of that Pizzazz was certain.
Pizzazz knew that this caring thing couldn't work one way though. A voice seemed to ring in her mind admonishing, 'You gotta give it to get it.' So she slowly opened her mouth.
"Hey Stormer," she began. "You – er, you had a point there earlier. With what you were sayin' about me. I'll, uh, I'll try….I'll try harder." She then made a decision within an instant, "And I'll sing those lyrics you wrote, if we ever get out of this dump. They were good."
"Thanks, Pizzazz," Stormer said softly, unsure of how to tread in these new waters. "And you were right on about some of what you said too. I do appreciate the stuff you've done, like asking Jem for help and such."
"Cool."
They ended their conversation there. It was almost a relief to both of them; they had said what needed to be stated for the time being. Within a few minutes, Pizzazz drifted off into a strangely contented sleep.
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The prisoners in the adjacent cell did not find slumber so easily. Jetta sat upright on her cot, her blanket wrapped around her tightly. She forced herself to take a deep breath in and expel it outwards.
They could return at any moment. Last night the would-be assailants were chased off by other guards, but tonight there was no such guarantee of a repeat occurrence. The guards might come back and if they did, resistance would be pointless. She and Roxy could fight them off – both of them had the skills of those who spent much of their youth on the streets – but eventually they would be overpowered and brutalized. The thought, which was both nauseating and terrifying, looped itself inside Jetta's mind over and over again.
In the darkness, she saw Roxy turn over on her cot and sigh as she fluffed her pillow.
"Can't sleep?" Jetta whispered.
"My damn neck's still killin' me," Roxy groaned. "I'm not even that tired," she added. Her afternoon nap now left her devoid of drowsiness.
Both women were silent for a few moments. Roxy then peered at Jetta. "Why're you sittin' up? Aren't you even gonna try to get some sleep?"
Jetta contemplated her response for a few seconds. She then replied, her voice an eerie whisper, "What if they come back?"
"Who?" Roxy asked. She then realized what Jetta meant. "Oh. Them."
Jetta looked incredulously at her bandmate. Roxy hadn't been flustered by their encounter with the guards last night. Perhaps deep down she was worried a bit but it seemed to Jetta that the confrontation just hadn't made much of an impact on Roxy, and that Roxy had not spent the day fearing another such occurrence.
Jetta had. Her sharp mind would have been churning out numerous ways to handle the situation, but as she saw it, they were trapped. The best plan that Jetta had been able to formulate would be for them to try to communicate with their potential rapists and let them know that they were close friends with Phyllis Gabor, daughter of the billionaire Harvey Gabor, and that a hoard of attorneys would be after them should they harm Jetta and Roxy.
But Jetta didn't think that attempts to reason with them would succeed. It hadn't worked with her uncle either.
And if they were assaulted, would the authorities even listen to or believe them? Jetta's parents hadn't.
So their only other option would be to try to fight them off, with the heels ripped from Roxy's shoes as their only weapons. The guards would have access to guns and the fight would likely be over quickly. Jetta shuddered violently.
"They won't come back," Roxy said. "The other guards told 'em they'd get in big trouble if they touched us."
"So what's stopping them from sneaking back in here without the other guards' knowledge?" Jetta asked. Her voice shook.
"I don't think that's gonna happen. But if it does, we fight 'em off," Roxy said, her voice casual. "I got our weapons under my pillow."
"But we'll need time to get ready," Jetta stuttered. "I mean, we can't let them sneak up on us. Do you…would you do what you did last night?"
Jetta despised the weakness in her voice and the very fact that she had to ask Roxy for a favor. But she saw no alternative.
Roxy rose from the cot. "Yeah. I'll do it, but I don't think it's gonna help the cramp in my neck any."
"I could…give it another rub down," Jetta offered.
"Nah, that's okay," Roxy mumbled as she rose from her cot. She gathered her blanket and the pillow and did not complain as she stationed herself at the cell's entrance.
In the darkness, Jetta observed Roxy lying on the hard floor of the cell. She wished that she had had a protector like that years ago.
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'God that was embarrassing,' Kimber thought. She reached for the sink and washed her hands in the cold water. No soap had been provided and the towel was filthy. Against her better judgment, she wiped her wet hands on her uniform pants.
Although Kimber and her bandmates were as close as sisters and customarily shared everything, the idea of using the toilet in the prison cell was still humiliating. Not even a curtain shielded the toilet from the rest of the cell.
Kimber padded back over to the bed she was sharing with Raya. It was not nearly big enough to accommodate both of them, even with Raya crammed against the wall and both women on their sides. It felt to Kimber as though every inch of Raya was pressed against her body. One of Raya's arms had to go around Kimber's torso as there was nowhere else for it to be placed.
'At least I won't be cold in here,' Kimber thought. The cell was chilly.
Meanwhile, Aja pulled her blanket around her. It had a huge hole in the middle and did little to stave off the cold. Her stomach grumbled when she thought of the repulsive dinner she'd choked down, and she had to fight off panic at the thought of staying in jail for an indeterminate duration.
Aja decided to try to use positive imagery as a soother. She visualized Craig's smiling face. She felt confident knowing that he surely was doing all he could to help the band. Her mind then went on to form a montage of pleasant Craig-related thoughts. She remembered their talks with each other, thinking of the strong and gentle sides to his personality which she loved. She focused on his skilled drumming, smiling at how much she liked to watch his muscular arms as he played. She remembered running her fingers through his hair. She thought of what it felt like to kiss him, to gently touch her tongue against his. She remembered their one date when they had barbequed and Craig had taken his shirt off. She had nearly begun to salivate that afternoon and it had not been over the grilled steaks. Aja no longer felt the least bit cold.
Kimber heard a gentle gasp emanating from Jem's bed, which was directly above her own.
"What is it?" Shana whispered.
"I was just contacted by…a friend," Jem whispered back. She clung to the idea that the authorities might be monitoring them, and thus was being deliberately vague. "She has a plan."
"Yes!" Aja exclaimed.
"She didn't say more."
"Yay!" Kimber exclaimed. "I knew we wouldn't be here that long."
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Having taken on the guise of a lawyer named Cynthia Madrigal, Synergy experienced little trouble entering the prison. She used a new program to lull the guard who met her into a state of semi-hypnosis. He brought her directly to the office in which Gail Nye had taken up temporary residence.
Despite the fact that midnight was approaching, Gail was still working. She had not yet checked into the hotel which held her reservation. She had no friends, and no family that she acknowledged. She had no hobbies nor did she ever take a vacation. The Morality Office was her life.
"What is the meaning of this?" Gail stood up at the intrusion. "I am not to be disturbed, especially not at this hour."
A few seconds of being around Synergy quieted her down. The super-computer emanated a soft rhythmic sound and projected visual images which virtually entranced Gail within a matter of seconds. She was a strong woman and attempted to fight back, but Synergy's program was even stronger and more persistent. Soon the lulling images and sounds had taken hold of Gail's mind.
The guard who had escorted Synergy to Gail's office silently returned to his post, soon to be forgetting the encounter with "Cynthia Madrigal" altogether.
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Within twenty minutes, Officer Nye's report was complete. The two rock bands posed no threat to society, and given that they had all passed their blood tests, they were to be released immediately.
As Gail wrote up the report, Synergy interfaced with the Morality Office's computers. She was glad that she had been able to trace Craig's trek to Tech Rat's headquarters. Techrat's detailed records and knowledge of several Morality Office codes enabled Synergy to crack their files easily. She modified their records of the bands' blood tests, including the telltale instance of Kimber having undergone the test twice on the night of the benefit concert. And for good measure, she changed Stormer's test result from that night in Chicago so that it no longer read "inconclusive" and was changed to a "pass".
When Officer Houghton opened his computer the following morning, he would be enraptured by a program Synergy placed inside. It would slowly cloud his memories of the blood tests from the concert. Houghton might retain a hazy memory of a discrepancy, but the computer files would not corroborate any instances of falsified records.
"This way," Nye gestured at Synergy, as if to lead her towards the prison cells. Moving as if a woman possessed, Gail walked steadily down the hall. She did not notice that "Cynthia Madrigal" had disappeared. Synergy wanted to be spotted by as few people as possible.
The wing where Jem and the Holograms were being kept was closer to Gail's office. She reached the quintet's cell and unceremoniously unlocked the door. The five women bolted upright as soon as they heard the sounds of keys jangling.
"You're free to go," Gail said, her voice nearly a monotone.
Jem and the Holograms looked at each other, nervous and excited. They decided that now was not the time to ask questions, so they mutely followed the strange woman.
Upon reaching the waiting area near the exit, Gail handed some papers to the guards stationed there, stating, "These women have been released. Here are the papers authorizing the release."
As the guard examined their papers, Gail said to the band, "You can wait here for the other band if you like, or you can leave as soon as he finishes reviewing your release papers."
Jem eyed Gail, wondering why the woman failed to make eye contact with her. She seemed almost hypnotized, her voice distant and flat. Kimber, meanwhile, studied Gail's features and noticed a familiarity.
"The papers look good," the male officer said. "You ladies may leave whenever you like. There's a payphone there," he gestured at the utilitarian wall.
Jem looked at her band. "I guess we should stay and wait for the Misfits. Assuming they are this other band. It's not like we can go anywhere without a car, anyway."
The others nodded. Aja then added, "We should call Starlight House in the meantime, to let them know we're okay. And to see if someone's been waiting for word on us and can come pick us up."
Kimber turned towards the male guard and mustered up her most beguiling smile, "Um, can we borrow some change? Please?" Even with her weary eyes, not a trace of make-up on her face, and her hair askew, Kimber possessed an ebullience and charm that few could resist.
As he handed her a few coins, Gail left the waiting area.
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Danse jumped as soon as the phone rang. She had been dozing lightly on the sofa in Starlight House's family room. It was the kind of sleep where one knows that she is still half-conscious, where one feels as if the lids of her eyes aren't even closed and she can still sense what's around you.
"Hello?" she asked, before the second ring.
"Hi, it's Jem. Who is this?"
"It's Danse! Oh, Jem thank goodness! Are you alright?"
"Yes. We've been released. It looks like the Misfits are going to be released too."
"I'll call Craig and be right there to come get you!"
As soon as she was off the phone with Jem, Danse phoned the Phillips residence. Craig had been forced to return home because regulations prevented any male from sleeping over at the foster home for girls. He also answered the phone before the second ring and it was evident that he was fully awake.
"I'll meet you at the prison!" Craig vowed.
Danse swiftly changed out of her pajamas. Craig had never undressed for bed and did not need to change his apparel.
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The trek to the cells containing the Misfits would take at least fifteen minutes for Gail to complete; the prison was large and the Misfits' cells were in a different wing of the complex than the Holograms'. Gail was also unable to move swiftly. Under Synergy's hypnosis, her movements were heavy and slow.
The jail was quiet at this hour. Her every footstep echoed. Gail passed only a few guards and they avoided eye contact with her. She was so much farther up on the Morality Office totem pole than they were, it would be inappropriate for them to smile or greet her unless they were spoken to first.
Walking down the long, dark hallways, Gail's mind began to wander. What a strange day it had been. She was used to working 14 hour days and becoming fatigued. It seemed almost as if an eternity since her flight had landed this morning. She vaguely remembered reviewing reports with Officer Houghton in his office earlier, but that memory was somehow clouded and she could recall no details.
Gail's footsteps quickened in pace. She had satisfied some curiosity earlier today as she had seen her daughter in person. She recalled feeling a tug of satisfaction and superiority. A confirmation that she had done the right thing.
She hesitated before rounding a corner towards the elevator. 'Where am I going again?' she wondered. 'Oh yes. To release four more prisoners.' Her thoughts halted again. 'Including that woman who is my rock star daughter. Why I am releasing her?'
Gail couldn't answer that question. It made no sense to her. As she waited for the elevator, she wanted to ponder it further but her thoughts kept careening away from there and urging her to proceed to the jail cells. She ignored the doubts though they grew evermore persistent and harder to brush aside.
Roxy leapt to her feet as soon as she heard the purposeful footsteps and saw the silvery glint of keys. Jetta jumped from the bed and pressed her back against the wall of the cell.
Roxy wheeled about to stare at Jetta's shaking form. "Chill. Just chill," she ordered, and turned to study the new possible adversary.
"You are being released," Gail began. "Follow me."
"Alright!" Roxy exclaimed loudly. "'Bout time." She turned her head and looked at Jetta. "Told ya, didn't I?"
Jetta was too relieved to question the change in her luck. She stepped through the open cell door to freedom
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I can't believe that I had fallen asleep but I must've. I felt a jolt and opened my eyes when I'd heard Roxy's exclamations from the adjacent cell.
And then I froze again when I saw Pizzazz's mother standing outside our cell. I wanted to gasp but my mouth was frozen. I blinked when I saw Roxy and Jetta standing behind her as she unlocked our cell.
Pizzazz was sleeping soundly. She remained asleep even when the door to the cell opened. I gently nudged her awake.
"You are being released," Pizzazz's mother said. "Follow me."
It was really weird. She sounded almost like she was on drugs or something. She had this blank look on her face and her eyes might as well have been in another zip code. It was the same woman who had visited us before, but in a way she was not the same woman at all if that makes any sense. She was almost like a zombie, though it seemed this trance (or whatever it was) had a fragile hold on her.
Pizzazz sat up in her cot. I saw her eyes begin to focus. "M-mom?" she asked. "Why are you releasing me?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jetta and Roxy exchange a look of shock.
But I was much more concerned by what I saw on Pizzazz's mom's face. Suddenly her eyes came back to life. Color returned to her face and she looked a lot more like the person I had met earlier in the day. I could just feel the fact that her senses were returning to her and the zombie was gone.
"What am I doing?" she breathed, I guess asking herself. "Why would I be releasing prisoners?" She shook her head and questioned, in a commanding toe that I guessed was her usual one, "What is going on here?"
And then I can't explain what I did next. All I knew –somehow -- was that our chances at getting out of this hell-hole were about to go right down the drain. If I didn't do something quick, Pizzazz's mother was going to lock us back up and we'd never leave.
"You're rescuing your daughter," I said. My voice sounded raspy as usual, and both firm and gentle at the same time. I used a tone that I sometimes used with Pizzazz herself. "You're doing it because it's the right thing to do, and you want to get us out of here so she can live her life. And you're doing it to try to make up for some of what you put her through years ago."
Pizzazz's mom looked as if she was going to say something. Her gaze was squarely on Pizzazz; she didn't even look at me. I thought I may have seen some hesitation, so I spoke up again.
"And after all, if you let her go, you'll never, ever have to see her again. She can leave, and nobody will ever know who she is."
She then blinked and said, "Yes. Phyllis, I want you gone. And I never want to see you again after this."
Pizzazz had a look of shame on her face as she rose to her feet. She didn't respond. We fell in line behind her mother and the rest of our band.
But I knew there was one more thing we had to do. I gave Pizzazz a gentle nudge on the arm and mouthed, 'Clash' at her. I knew I was pushing it but we could not leave her here.
And I also knew that I'd need to keep nudging Pizzazz to get her to do the right thing. I didn't mind playing that role, I decided. Maybe that's just what she needs – a little push here and there and she really can do the right thing.
"We have a friend who needs to be released as well," Pizzazz said. This time she had a hint of confidence in her voice. I was kinda proud of her for that.
"I'll see what I can do."
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Just as Danse and Craig's two vehicles pulled into the parking lot, the Misfits and Clash were escorted to the waiting area by Gail. The same officer reviewed the signed papers authorizing their release and quickly ushered the ten women outside.
In the parking lot, it was pandemonium. A pleasant sort of chaos took place, but chaos nonetheless. Kimber spotted Stormer and hugged her tightly.
"I'm so glad you're safe!" Kimber exclaimed.
Stormer, meanwhile, was shocked to see Kimber. "W-what are you doing here? Did you come all this way to pick us up?" She then took note of Kimber's prison uniform. "Oh my God…you were arrested too?"
"We all were. We're free now!" She then pulled back and asked, "But how did you pass the blood test? They did test you, didn't they?"
"They did….and I frankly have no idea how I passed."
Shana overheard the exchange and grasped Kimber's arm. "Kimber, sshhh!" she whispered. "We're in the parking lot of the prison itself. Do you want us to be overheard?"
"Sorry," Kimber said, an awkward grin on her face. She then turned back to Stormer and said, "You sound congested. Do you have a cold?"
"Sorta. It's mostly gone now."
Stormer's last several hours had been so intense that she hadn't given much thought to her dwindling cold. Her head swam. Just being outside and drinking in crisp, clean air made her want to dance with joy. She didn't want to analyze the last few days. She just hugged Kimber more tightly and savored every second of freedom.
Meanwhile, as soon as Craig and Aja spotted each other, they embraced tightly. Aja was not even concerned about her unkempt appearance – she was simply delighted to see Craig again.
"Oh, Aja, thank God!" Craig exclaimed. "I've been worried all day."
Aja smiled before reaching for his lips. "Thinking of you helped me keep my sanity today," she said. She then pressed her lips against his.
Meanwhile, Roxy looked at Pizzazz and Jetta, and tilted her head in the direction of Aja and Craig. Nudging Jetta, Roxy made a comment about excessive mushiness and they giggled together.
But then Jetta noticed that Pizzazz was not joining in their gaiety. "You alright, yank?" she whispered, going up to her lead singer and placing a hand on her shoulder.
Roxy, concerned as well, began, "You wanna talk – "
Pizzazz held up a hand as if to silence them both. "Later," she ordered.
When Aja and Craig had finished embracing, Craig spotted his sister. He and Stormer hugged each other. "I'm so glad you're safe," he said.
Danse sought out Shana and said to her, "Anthony was able to get on a red eye flight. I jotted down his flight info for you," she said, handing her a slip of paper. "His plane is landing at 2:35 a.m. Which is only a couple hours away," she added.
Shana smiled that her fiancé would soon be there. "I may as well not go to bed and just get ready to pick him up," she grinned.
Danse also told Jem that Rio was unable to get a flight any earlier than the next day's afternoon.
"Let's get outta here," Kimber suggested to the group. "I so wanna get away from this prison." The massive building towered over them in the background and Kimber felt her stomach dive when she turned around and looked at it.
Jem looked at Pizzazz. She noted that her former rival looked quite flustered, more so than she'd ever seen her. "We should discuss what happened today," Jem suggested. "Maybe our bands should get together – when we've had a chance to get some sleep."
Jem was half-expecting a nasty reply, but Pizzazz just nodded and said, "Yeah. Let's talk tomorrow. I'll call you in the afternoon."
The rest of their bands were amenable to that plan. The large group was now faced with a logistical nightmare. Their only two vehicles were Craig's and Danse's. They decided that Jem and the Holograms would pile into Danse's car, and Craig would drive home the Misfits and Clash. Both cars had four people crammed into their backseats, but it could not be avoided.
Unbeknownst to the bands, one Morality Officer stood by a window and mutely watched their departure. Gail gazed at her daughter as she piled into a car and drove away. For a moment she wondered what might have been.
TO BE CONTINUED
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