I learned very quickly not to speak.
A young woman made a comment to a man in red about how he should be ashamed. Her nose bled for hours after his metal-covered fist broke it.
I also learned not to look up at the men in red, especially with a gaze that showed negative emotion.
A male, this time. He scowled at a man in red, dead into his eyes. That man was whipped right there on the spot, "For his ignorance." I'd never seen whip lashes bleed before.
I think we were being baked alive inside of a red tent. No air blew and I felt like heat from the sun could enter, but none could leave. There was blood on the sand in here, both old, crusty blood and some that hadn't even been there long enough to completely congeal. I avoided it at all costs; innocent blood on my hands was a living nightmare.
More men in red showed up, barking orders like a dog barks at a cat. They began shoving us, pulling us around by our hair, spitting and cursing and preaching about how dissolute we were compared to them. Both women and men were being treated like something that wasn't a person. And because both women and men were being enslaved, I'd assumed that there wasn't a prejudice against any of the sexes. It became obvious once the women were separated from the men that I'd been incorrect. So then, why enslave both?
A red man with far more silver-plated armor than the others barked at us, saying that we belonged to someone called Caesar now. "You'll do as any legion officer commands, or you will be punished."
All of us women were left alone in that stuffy red tent for the slowest, hottest hours of my life. Each exhale only added to the heat; each inhale struggled to take oxygen from the air. All the while I couldn't block out the crying, neither from others nor myself. We all flinched when the flaps were ripped open, expecting the worst to happen. However, our tension visibly subsided as we saw another woman enter. She was tall and incredibly skinny. A few other women entered behind her, wearing the same solemn faces and dirty cloth-woven robes. It was most definitely nightfall by now.
A red "X" was painted - in blood, perhaps? - across these women's fronts and backs. It wasn't until they reached the center of the room that I noticed them carrying baskets.
The tallest one, who wore a feather or two in her hair, pulled out a black, chunky necklace. "A collar," she explained, "One that you'll wear forever. You run away, then they explode and your head diminishes into red flowers. Understand?" My fingers rubbed my lace choker between them.
One by one, those three women clasped an explosive collar around everyone's necks. As they approached, they handed us clothes that seemed identical to theirs, both in looks and lack of cleanliness. The tall one with the feathers in her hair approached me. Her gaze did not meet mine, no matter how obvious I made it that I stared violently into her amber ones. She handed me the robes, and began reaching to clasp this enslavement-device around me when she noticed my choker. I could feel her fingers trying to remove it before I spoke up.
"I'm not taking it off," I told her.
She tucked her silky hair behind her ear, "You'll have a constant itch and irritation if you leave it on with this. It's best we take it off."
"Can't you help us?" I asked. She again reached for my necklace, but I scooted back.
Her eyes finally met mine. They were not empty, as I expected. Sadness and pity subsided there, and I wondered if she was still able to cry. Would she cry for us? Did she cry for herself?
"How long have you been here?" I asked. She successfully took off my necklace.
"Years." she said, "I'm supposed to confiscate everything you may have showed up with." She took my hand and opened it, laying my choker inside.
"I can see it in your eyes that this is precious to you. Do not get caught with it or we will both be punished, yes?" My swollen eyes popped more tears out at that.
Mark the time, for this was the moment I realized completely that I had reached my end. My necklace was off and so I no longer had a name. If I no longer had a name then I was no longer a person. No, not just that, but I was no longer anything because anything and everything had a name. Everything. An animal is precisely that; they even get names to show personality and value. Sunsets, smoke, sawdust, gunpowder, light, everything was more valuable than I was. And this woman before me, "What's your name," I asked her.
"I'm called Venus. It is not really important or meaningful."
She left me like that, and I cried violent and disgusting sobs. I didn't deserve to cry, for only something with valuable emotion should cry. Otherwise it's useless. And that's what I was, that's what crying would do for me: Nothing.
I'd say that I myself was nothing but even nothingness has a name, a feeling, a reason.
We all passed out from exhaustion with nothing else to do.
We were transferred from one tent to another the next morning like cattle. A rope tied us all together by our wrists and like children were led in a single file line to different places. A few girls were offered to these red men - legion men, they were called? I was not one of the sacrifices each time.
I'd noticed at one point that the sun had barely even woken up yet. I wondered if it could see how pathetic we were and didn't want to see such sorry sights, so it lacked light to lower visibility. I liked the sun for that, it was kind.
My stomach was making noises that had become painful begs for food. Everyone's seemed to cry out of starvation. It wasn't until nightfall that we received something to eat, and all though they were stale crackers, we still devoured them.
Crunches and sniffles quietly filled the humid tent with noise, possibly being the only thing keeping all of us sane. Would we get water, too? Silence, starvation, dehydration, confusion, and curiosity with absolutely no doubt swirled around everyone's heads. It was the perfect potion for madness. How long until we lost our minds? Upon the last hard swallow of my crusty cracker, I let my eyes wander over the two women who had accompanied Venus some nights ago.
For some reason, they made me feel like a little girl. Lacey, such a childish sounding name, like a girl trying to be pretty for a petty crush. Venus, though, Venus radiated status, power, womanhood. Not just the name, but her aura. I hadn't even realized I was standing in front of her until she greeted me.
"What will happen," I started, "What will happen to those girls who were taken by legionaries earlier today?"
Venus gently pulled at my arm so I would sit in front of her. "I cannot say. Whatever the men want them to do, those girls will do."
"What of the men that were in chains?"
"They'll become men in red."
"Will they become cruel?"
"What is your name," Venus suddenly asked.
"I'm," I stopped for a split second, recalling how precisely Venus had worded it, "I am called Lacey. It is not really important or meaningful."
"Lacey," her eyes were sympathetic, her hand overlapped mine, "Everyone in the legion is cruel."
We received water in the morning, and surprisingly lots of it. We were also fed a strange fish cake. Mirelurk cakes at home were far softer and tastier. These ones were as dry as sand. Again it was all the female slaves shoved into a tent, nothing but chewing and anxiety ringing through the air.
Venus wasn't within the tent. I'd looked over every face twice and was positive she wasn't here. When I asked one of the two girls that is usually accompanying her, she avoided eye contact and said that she was probably busy somewhere. I'd almost started complaining that she was so obviously hiding something but everyone went silent. All eyes were on a legionnaire who had entered the tent.
"Stop what you're doing and come unload at the docks," he announced loudly. Nothing else. He was already gone, and people were actually getting up. I followed as second to the last.
My feet burned in the hot sand as I stood, even through the old rags that I wrapped around them. During the time that many slaves were gathering boxes and chests of supplies from a ferry, I'd avoided looking at the legion men and focused on the slaves.
It was so easy to pick out who had been here for years and who had just been pulled in. The experienced women were mostly skeletons, though a few seemed more well fed than others. Bags filled with sadness and exhaustion decorated their under-eyes while calloused skin was like a permanent glove. The women with no experience to this life - if it classified as such - still had decent posture, weak arms, soft hands and quenched thirsts for sleep. The calling of my name tugged me from my observations.
Venus was holding out a long box for me to carry, "Take this. Can you take more?" Already she was planting more boxes in my arms. My arms wavered a bit with the three.
My mouth opened and I began to ask her why she was unloading boxes, but I had already been led away by other women and legion men urging us all to certain places. I hadn't seen her until several hours after that.
Many women were cleaning plates, silverware, and glasses for an upcoming feast that'd later take place in a large tent. Venus and her other girls that always seemed to orbit her like a moon does a planet were taking charge amongst us. Everyone listened and obeyed her as if she were a queen.
I'd been drying whatever was handed to me with a dirty, dry-rotted towel as a girl name Siri handed them to me.
"Why," we had been talking much about the legion. Siri was blunt about the terrors that I should fear being done to me if stepped out of line or perhaps receiving any attention. I was beyond grateful to finally learn something about my captivity. "Why do they follow her like a queen?" I'd finally asked.
Our eyes rested on Venus, "She's enslaved by the Monster of the East."
"Aren't we all enslaved?"
"She's a slave to the legion like all of us, yes, but if a red man likes a woman, they may do what they please. That is the case, she is a slave to him. However, that man - if he dared be deemed such - has rumors floating around about him. He's more brutal and evil than any other in this entire faction."
"Are any of these people men," I'd almost whispered to myself. Siri met my eyes and in them I found my answer.
For some reason, something resonated within me that kept me so oblivious to my situation. My family was likely dead, a cruel man may rule the most powerful area in this whole Mojave, a monster resides within the same walls as I... My childish nature must be what's keeping me so calm, when would I grow up?
We finished the dishes. The feast began after a girl with pale skin broke a dish and was beaten until that porcelain blossomed with purple. She cried in the tent behind the rest of the slaves while we began to set up. I thought to myself- Why, this is not life at all.