ME, FROZEN TO THE FLOOR

Standing alone in the Commander's office, at the side of his desk with his waiting chair opposite, the chair waiting for his presence - and the unknown outcome of why I'd been summoned.

It occurred to me - Janine, Ofjoseph - she had been, way back at the beginning, the flaming-red-haired woman in the truck with the other women with me, right back at the first. When our daughter had been taken from me. Us. When I'd lost track of my love. Back then I'd actually hoped that I'd run into him, that he would rescue me.

With what I've seen since, I now feared that I would run into him. We had briefly glimpsed each other that day that Janine's particicution had been stopped, we'd also later embraced at the Putnams. (I think that was it. Those embraces, they became all forgiving for what he might have done. All I knew is that he might have done some terrible things, not that he'd actually done them for sure.)

Now? After Ofjoseph's yelling match with Mrs. Lawrence? The kitchen-gossip about Janine? The gossip was remarkable in that no one knew anything.

With regard to the boss-martha here, I was not stupid. Okay okay, it took me a while to put it together. Seeing her in the basement with three unknown marthas, them standing over two other injured and blood-covered marthas who were also strangers. Me, I guess later seeing her on that very spot downstairs with the Commander (the Commander!), them arguing like enemy combatants - that was the one which really filled me with fear.

A woman of ANY rank, going toe to toe with ANY man. 'Fear', one rivaling seeing Lieutenant Stans for the first time. It was as if my concussion was returning. Please, God above, no!

THE GRAND ENTRANCE

They were in mid-conversation when they came in. With the boss-martha close behind him, Commander Lawrence was halfway through a sentence when he strode in, oblivious to me, ".… Naomi is up with her parents and Angela. So she's out of the way. I have one of Blaine's men handling the other thing….."

The boss-martha interrupted, "You fucked up the children-thing, a lot of good marthas were salvaged because of you. How you survived, I'll never know."

The Commander briefly sat silently, finally looking up at me standing there. "I think it's because I look good in Commander-black!"

Marthas in Commanders' homes got good at listening to conversations-of-state, but not listening to them, if you get my meaning. Indeed, since my posting here, I had to ignore anything 'New Bethlehem', but be on the alert for the two words 'brown sugar'. You had to listen so that you knew not to listen. Marthas have lost eyes for fumbling that skill.

This one, those two wanted me to hear every word.

Without permission the boss-martha, she pulled up a chair on my side of the desk and sat. Then there was silence, as they both looked me up and down.

The boss-martha then rested an elbow, leaning on the Commander's desk, and said, "are you sure? Are you sure this is the only play?"

Commander Lawrence answered, smiling sweetly at me, "I have a tingle about her," saying it to my boss but continuing to look straight at me. "Besides," he said, "I've got a good record on hunches, even you'll agree with that," he said to her still fixing his gaze on me.

He then said, "look at that sweet face. Who'd want to mess with that?" Those words had not properly sunk in when he added, "Do you think we should tell her?"

My boss-martha took her eyes from me and gave him a look that would have ended most women.

He sat up, and based only on the look said to her, "Okay, okay, don't get snippy." He put his folded hands on the desk, looked at me and asked, "you've seen some strange things here, haven't you?"

Those sorts of direct questions from Commanders, or worse - their Wives - often made people like me pass out. Drop to the floor right there. There was no right answer.

My boss-martha, she contributed a hit from another direction when she looked at me, "you've not told a soul, have you?" She only waited a few seconds, not expecting a response, not really. She then added, "if you had, you would have disappeared - we would simply have got another martha."

The Commander, he added, "but The Missus, she loves your scones. I'm a labour economist, I call that 'job security'."

At that point, I had not said a word. To be honest, I was so scared that I didn't even think a word. I was hoping to sink straight into the floor, find a place in the basement which was safe and pull cobwebs over me.

The Commander and my boss-martha made eye contact with each other, finally my boss asked him, "Should I be the one?"

The Commander looked back at me and answered, "no, let me. I've not done this for a while."

The silence and their game-playing, it was killing me.

Finally he said, "how'd you like to go for a ride with your husband?"

Those were words impossible to digest. Were they trying to entrap me?

My boss, she reached for something, held out a small piece of leather for me to take. It was a mouth-gag, a gag that prisoners wore, especially women-prisoners. That Guardians would tie tightly on to you. Was I about to be arrested?

Instead, she said, "here, stick this in your pocket. When the time comes, you're going to put it on."

NEW ASSIGNMENT

It was pointless to do it, but we had to keep ourselves busy. Keep sharp. We spent our time in-barracks plotting how to spring Commander Blaine from detention. Colonel Blaine. Not that that was ever going to happen.

Sitting around like this, I preferred Chicago - charging a nest of Nighthawks, rather than this ordered idleness.

At that, one of Commander Lawrence's Guardians came in, a man I did not really know but whose reputation was solid. A guy you'd go to war with.

He told me to stand. Since we were of equal rank, I lolly-gagged - standing in an overt manner of my own making, mainly for my guys. If he was who they said he was, seeing my manner he'd give me some guff, guff for show for his guys, but he would let it go. If he didn't then he was a dick, who would drop in my estimation. And we'd take it outside to settle.

He told me he had a mission, one that, "only one of Blaine's men could do," he said. I had no idea what that meant - I was positive I was not going to be ordered to raid Blaine's prison!

'Only one' of Blaine's men. I told him whatever the mission was, I was going to take two of my senior corporals. He looked me up and down, with a hint of disdain. That meant for me to stay quiet while we competed for who would reply next. Staring contest - I never lost staring contests.

He finally blinked. He said, "Fine, it's your funeral." Me and my two guys then saddled up - which by itself was a relief to be doing something. As the three of us positively ran from the idleness of the barracks, I told the remaining guys I'd make it up to them.

We had our full Guardian's kit. All cleaned and shipshape because, well, we'd had nothing else to do. Including our standard issue weapons. Including the standard amount of ammunition.

What we didn't have? We didn't have that Guardian's prison transfer-van which waited for us, which Lawrence's man pointed to. He threw me the keys, said, "your orders are on the front seat."

At that he turned for his own SUV, saying loudly as he left, "don't fuck it up."

ORDERS - DISORIENTING ORDERS

As instructed, the three of us drove over to Commander Lawrence's abode, not a house, but also not a mansion. I'd never been Sons of Jacob, me and the wife, we were not particularly religious. We'd done what we'd had to do, we'd said what we'd had to say, so that we could live a comfortable econo-life. So it was I appreciated that Commanders - Blaine and Lawrence being two - that they didn't throw their wealth in your face. Into the grunts' faces, the guys that kept them where they were.

Whatever it was, the Lawrence house had been the place where Commander Blaine had been arrested by Commander Mackenzie's men, men who I would not go to war with.

If only. If only Commander Blaine had not left us in the SUV as he rushed in on Lawrence's wedding night. Me, as his second, his Ex-O, I'd chewed him out many times, but never in front of the men. Still, I felt guilty about not stopping him. I feel guilt about not doing my job.

Speaking of. What was ' my job'. My job was what I was ordered to do.

My orders? The brown envelope had two other envelopes in it. The one marked 'No. 1', ordered me to the Lawrence's to collect two prisoners. Two, but not for arrest. Not really. I was to put on a show. Signed by Commander Lawrence himself.

That was peculiar. But what I found there, almost ended me.

Standing in the Lawrence's hallway, in her martha utilities? My love. With the same look for me that I must have been giving her.

To which Commander Lawrence said, "I thought as much." He then added, "can we save fond embraces for later?"

I told the Commander that his orders were for me to collect two prisoners - who were not prisoners, whatever that meant.

Lawrence came over to me, put a hand on my shoulder and said, "do you know what a SNAFU is, son?" He then told me that the handmaid in question, she'd been collected by a Birthmobile sometime earlier, that she was now at the Red Centre. "And you'd better get there soon, son, before anyone else's Guardians grab her. You wouldn't want to spoil your second honeymoon, would you?"

At that, my love she walked up to us. A woman, approached two men, one a Commander, the other me, a Guardian. I had to fight the instinct to put her in her place.

Instead, she reached into her utilities, and pulled out a small piece of leather - a prison gag. Reaching her hand out with it for me she said, her first words, "you'd better put it on me. And please, make it tight."

This scene was compromising my situational awareness. 'Family' had always been the one thing that screwed up one's ability to discern and plan - while live fire was overhead.

Commander Lawrence then took a step back, then said, "Son, leave Commander Blaine to me, and get yourself with this lady here, get over to the Red Centre, tout suite." He paused, then added, "you do speak French don't you? It means 'hit the road'."

KEEPING ONE'S SENSES DURING A PIVOT POINT

My love, she was in the back. She'd supplied the gag, which had been weird. What martha has her own prison-gag!? A first for that! I had to put the cuffs on to her, she'd not brought any (that was meant as ironic, I hope you picked up on that.) I mean, that would have been weirder. Me, I'd cuffed my love. But appearances from now on, they were everything.

There we were at the side of the road, midway between Lawrence's and the Red Centre. One of my corporals was driving, waiting for me to command him forward. Me, I'd opened the second envelope - the orders of what to do when we'd collected our 'prisoners'. (As you can see, 'prisoners' I now put in finger quotes.)

Colonel/Commander Blaine had warned me about this. Back in Chicago, he hadn't had to. Dealing with Nighthawks required making 'unorthodox alliances', as Blaine had called them. The men, they got used to seeing known Mayday rebels in our camp, speaking to Blaine. They got used to marthas in full utilities going into Blaine's office - alone. Then coming out of his office no worse for wear, sometimes swearing back at him as they left HQ.

That was how messy Chicago had been. Alliances there, that you closed your eyes to.

But this, this was New Gilead. The most stable District in all of Gilead. Martha-networks were real here, I got that reality…. but I couldn't see my love being part of that. I really couldn't.

But there it was, as we sat stationary at the side of the road, my corporal waiting for my order. My order, given that I was trying to reconcile my written orders, signed by Commander Lawrence of all people.

That paper, my order - what I'd been told to do with my love and the Handmaid we were to arrest, up ahead from under the Founding Aunts' noses!

What followed was pure Mayday. If we went and got that Handmaid and followed through on Lawrence's directive - I did not have the messy chaos of Chicago as an excuse, during this potentially heretical pivot. I was ordered to do Mayday's work for it. I really hope you get my meaning on that.

Because it was not just me and my unorthodox orders.

It was my love in the back, she in a gag and handcuffs. If it had been anyone else, I would have shot her and reported Lawrence.

With no Blaine to call, what do I do? He was still in prison.