Chapter 20 - Surprise

Brewer watched Lystra carefully through half open eyes. He kept his head down and peered over his bare knees. His arms tightened around his legs when she stirred. Her bare back was hidden when her hand reached down and pulled a cover over herself.

Despite heaters being on, Brewer couldn’t stop shivering. The ragged linen cloth with a hole for his head didn’t really cover much. He had the edges tucked under him, trying for modesty. It didn’t matter, the wrap wouldn’t even close on the sides. For ease of access, he had been told.

There was enough play in the cable fastened to collar on his neck that he could have gotten closer to a source of warmth. But doing so required being closer to Lystra. Instead, he leaned his back against the anchoring post, letting the cold seep through his buttocks and into his bones, the thin material failing to provide any protection.

Brewer shuddered.

The memory of the first night intruded again, caused him to shut his eyes. He started panting, heart racing, humiliation burning in him. He held his legs tighter. Sara would never forgive him.

During his performance with Lystra, all he could see was her face past the curve of her belly, between her breasts, looking down at him with a half sneer on her lips, eyes burning bright. Fear, overwhelming fear, coursed through Brewer the whole time. At some point, she closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh before drawing back on her ankles. The trestles creaked as she crawled back off the table. Then, the naked ranting about her holy mission began. It went on for hours.

Brewer sat still, feeling sharp metal all around his neck, afraid to move his head, wanting to wipe his face to get the sweat and smell of her off. And he needed to relieve himself. His leg fidgeted up and down.

Lystra finally noticed his strained attention. “Oh, right.” She rubbed the amulet between her breasts and the table hole snicked open.

Brewer’s head drooped forward. A low moan came unbidden. When he pulled his head up, Lystra was gone. Relief flooded him.

That’s when he wet himself.

He tried to ride the emotions flooding over him, trying to find gladness that he was still alive. His eyes closed. Sara’s face showed up behind his eyelids. She would hate him for what he did, for what he’d become. A pain started in his chest, welling up in him. A struggle broke out in his throat. He lost the fight. Tears came and sobs wracked him. He hung his head in shame.

“Shut up, you big baby. Lystra is trying to sleep.” An unfamiliar woman’s voice startled him. He sucked air through his mouth and looked up.

The blurry vision of a woman standing in front of him greeted his eyes. He could make out other women standing behind her in a rough wedge. They all wore revealing clothes, barely there wisps, except for the speaking woman. She wore a plain dress. It could have been a Farmer’s wife dress. They all had O tanks.

Brewer winced. His nostrils flared and his chin quivered.

The woman at the head of the wedge stared at him with hatred. “Don’t get excited, Romeo. We’re just the clean-up crew.”

“I’m sorry. I wet myself.”

The women behind her covered their mouths and tittered. The leader said, “Huh. Usually the mess is much worse. We’d be hanging your shirt up about now. Don’t congratulate yourself for impressing Her Ladyship. She has her phases. That’s all you are. A phase she’s going through.”

Brewer felt his cheeks burn.

“Come on, girls. You know she won’t be out for long.”

The dozen women swept around the edge of the table and, taking position, lifted it up off of him. The boss lady came over and snapped an iron collar on him. She showed him a small box with a button.

“You get out of hand, I press this. You’ll make a bigger mess on yourself then. Understand?”

Brewer mutely nodded.

“Good. I’m going to take the chains off. We’re going to walk to the back to clean you up and get you ready. You will be quiet. Very quiet. You do not want to wake the Lady up. Got it?”

Brewer again nodded. The woman slapped him as he sat there. “I said, ‘Got it?’”

His cheek stun. He swallowed. Familiarity with the procedure returned. “Got it.”

“Good. You speak when spoken to. No other time. Now, come on.”

His chains came off. The women surrounded him and led him into the back.

There was a bed in the middle of the crowded space. Chests of drawers and trunks were all around the periphery. Shelves held all sorts of artifacts and gadgets. The octagonal table top was leaning against a couple of cabinets with a glass front. Thick carpets covered the floor. Lystra lay naked in the bed on her stomach.

Seeing her caused Brewer to stumble. A not gentle shove in the small of his back got him going.

They went through a flap in the back of the tent. The early morning sun made Brewer’s eyes water. A large tub sat in the open. Breath fogged in front of the all the people.

“Strip.”

Brewer looked at the matron with alarm.

“I’m not going to tell you again.” The controller was held up.

Brewer did as he was told. Cold air felt like fire on his exposed skin. Another woman pointed at the tub. He got in and crouched, cold metal numbing the soles of his feet.

Freezing water was poured over him, finally rinsing his body. He exclaimed through clenched teeth, the cold burning his skin. Stiff brushes applied soap. More cold water followed. It felt like every nerve was alive and screaming. He didn’t need additional prompting when he was told to get out.

Shivering uncontrollably, he was handed a piece of cloth about as wide as his shoulders with a hole in the middle for his head.

He slipped it on. It came down mid-calf. The fabric clung to his wet skin.

“Let’s go, loverboy.”

Back inside they went. Brewer was secured to a post where Lystra could see him if she turned to look.

Brewer sat on the ground, hugging his legs to his chest. He shivered for a long time in the dark of the tent.

* * *

Lystra didn’t sleep long. She was up in a couple of hours. She went out through the same flap Brewer had gone through and came back naked and dripping. The handmaidens buffed her dry with big, fluffy white towels. Her legs went into a set of dark green pants with oversized pockets that hugged her curves. A tight, olive drab short sleeve shirt with a deep V came next and a tailored camouflage jacket completed her ensemble. It didn’t look like she would inconspicuously blend into the troops to spy on them as was told to Brewer. She looked at him at him the whole time she was getting dress with a salacious smile, licking her lips.

Brewer tried to shrink down even farther.

Finished, she went through the curtains to the anteroom. Soon, the muffled voices of men speaking on the other side reached Brewer’s ears, not quite loud enough for him to make out. Lystra’s husky voice could be heard with rapid-fire talk.

The unintelligible murmurs lulled Brewer. The replay in his mind slowed and exhaustion caught up.

“Take him. I want him ready by tonight.”

Brewer’s eyes snapped wide. His heart leaped. Lystra stood in front of him, looking down. Her eyes flashed as she assessed him.

“Ma’am, it takes a few days to be ready.” An unidentified man dressed in black stood to her side, facing her, .

“I want it done now. Bring him back as soon as it’s finished.”

The man pursed his lips. “Of course.”

Lystra left and went back up front.

The matron unfastened Brewer from the post. She held the cable on his collar like a leash.

“Come on, you.”

Brewer staggered to his feet. His joints protested the movement but one look at the eager grin on his keeper’s face forced him to stiffly follow the man.

Through the curtains they went. There was still a gathering of people there. It looked like Captains. Captain Merrill, Brewer’s captain, glared at him. Lystra blew Brewer a showy kiss. Brewer wanted to crawl away somewhere small and hide. He wanted to run. Instead, he carefully stared at the back of the man leading him out.

His bare feet walked on cold, muddy slush. His toes grew numb. Ahead was another tent, not the size of Lystra’s but still bigger than what a Captain merited. At least, that’s what experience told Brewer.

The man held the flap open for him. Inside, translucent plastic sheeting covered white surfaces. Various unknown machines beeped and had inscrutable displays. Trays of polished metal with unknown instruments of gleaming metal were on top of small tables with wheels. A shiny, metal table, large enough for a person to lie on, was in the middle of the room. A bank of lights hung over it. It looked cold.

“Get up on the table, on your stomach.”

Brewer squinted at the table then at the man. “What for?”

“To fix you.”

Brewer shook his head. “I don’t have anything broken.”

The man smiled at him. “Fix. As in what you do to an animal.”

Sudden comprehension dawned. Brewer got two steps toward the door when the world was set on fire.

* * *

That night, Lystra spouted her ideas and reasoning to complement the physical misery he felt. Her eyes would stray and linger on the shadows around the tent, an unseen audience to her rantings. She spoke in fragments and would struggle to say the next part all while downing small cups of a brown liquid. Some of it spilled down the front of her shirt as she gesticulated with the glass in hand. She would refill the cup from a bottle. The shirt grew wet.

Brewer couldn’t follow her train of thought. He was surprised that she was still on her feet.

The attendants stayed hidden in the recesses, their faces peeking out on occasion, monitoring the object of their attention, Lystra. Brewer was the sole recipient of Lystra’s speech. She grew more animated and peeled her shirt off, leaving her bra on. Her skin gleamed from perspiration running in lines between her breasts and her stomach.

Despite the creeping chill, he started to sweat.

Pacing back and forth in front of him, she stopped and focused on him. She bent down and ran a finger along his slick brow.

“I can feel every pore on your skin.” She licked her finger and smiled at him.

Brewer’s thoughts kicked into overdrive. He started shaking.

Lystra turned and walked to her bed. She looked over her shoulder at him and bared her teeth.

“Prepare me and bring him.”

She held her arms straight out. A couple of women ran to her and helped her take her pants off, then her undergarments.

The head attendant went to Brewer and yanked the cable on his collar.

Brewer looked at her, his eyes wide. “No, please.”

“Shut up. Move. Now.” She brandished the controller at him.

Blinking back his tears, he walked over to the bed.

* * *

Daylight filtered in. Brewer lay curled by his post on the hard, uneven ground. The thin carpet didn’t help. Wakefulness pounced on him. He forced himself to lie still. Rest was only a memory.

A gentle snoring was coming from the direction of the bed.

The bed! Lystra had laughed and rode him harder while he whimpered with pain. He still felt very tender. Emotions roiled in him but fear rose to the top fastest. It paralyzed him. He tried to slow his breathing.

With eyes closed, he listened. There were sounds of movement. Must be the attendants. Their voices were low.

“...down for a while.”

“About time. This one was long.”

“Any idea how long she’ll be out of it?”

“Nah. But it’s always short.”

The talking couple moved away.

Brewer chanced a look. One eye slit open.

The chief attendant padded toward him. With her boot tip, she prodded him in the ribs.

“Wake up.” Her voice was a harsh whisper.

Eyes fully open, he sat up.

She continued, “You will not disturb the Lady while she is like this. You will not interfere with our duties to her. Someone else will be in charge of you now. I have more important things to do. You will be quiet and not speak of what you see here to anyone. The slightest provocation will be dealt with harshly. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She nodded her head and waved at one of the other women. “Cindy will be your keeper now. Her word is final. Do not make me come over.” She handed the controller to Cindy, turned, and walked past the curtains out into the larger world.

Brewer looked at Cindy. She had long, blond hair in a thick coil on top of her head. She was also much younger and prettier than the previous keeper. She had a satchel at one hip, and a holster on the other. Like all the other women, her clothes cleverly revealed and concealed various parts.

Since it was morning, Brewer had certain needs. He looked her in the eyes and whispered, “Can I go to the bathroom?”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

She detached his collar from the cable and walked behind him to the back flap stopping only to get a coat to wrap herself. Brewer had no such luxury bestowed. The only concession was a pair of sandals.

“I’m tired of cleaning the floor after you come in. You will take them off before walking on the carpets.”

A nod was all he could manage. Chattering teeth made it difficult to answer.

Squatting in the outhouse, he was finally alone. Moist, stinking air rose from the hole under him. His hands reached out to touch the rough walls to steady himself. This was the only refuge. He felt faint. Images of his old life, the brewery, of Sara, even the stupid Abbot flitted in his mind.

“Hurry up in there. It’s cold.”

“Coming.”

He finished his business and rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Thought you had fallen in.”

Brewer shook his head. He took a calculated risk. “What’s wrong with Lystra?”

Cindy instantly formed a cross expression. “Nothing is wrong with the Lady. She just has her ups and downs. She’s been going strong for a good while now. She just needs to rest and recover a bit.”

She stopped in the middle of the yard. “Don’t be getting any funny ideas. We protect her while she’s like this. I’ve got this.” She touched the holster on her side.

“I was just asking, out of concern.”

Cindy’s eyebrows came together and her lips were a hard line. “Sure. Don’t even think of it. She’ll be out for a bit, get better, and then get going again. And get going yourself.” She pointed at the tent.

They arrived at the tent. Brewer remembered to remove his sandals. His skin was icy, and the heat from inside the tent hurt. Cindy took him straight to his post and fastened him.

There were maybe half a dozen women on the bed. They were dressed differently now, covered up in loose gray pants and shirts. They each extended an arm and had their hands on a body. The matron cradled a head in her lap. Brewer was startled to realize the person in the center of all this was Lystra. Lystra’s plaintive mewling was audible above the soothing.

Cindy got a concerned look on her face. She couldn’t take her eyes off the spectacle on the bed. She ducked behind a curtain and came back in matching attire. Picking up a broom, she joined the others in cleaning and straightening the place.

Brewer sat down.

* * *

A routine developed.

Lystra spent her time in the bed. She would alternate between sleeping and sobbing. Alternatively, she would sit up and stare off into space. A flock of attendants hovered around her, consoled her, fed her, cleaned her and otherwise took care of her. Cindy supposedly took care of Brewer.

Brewer stayed quiet and small. Everyone ignored him. Cindy brought him food and walked him a few times a day but otherwise ignored him.

The first couple of days, Brewer lowered his head and closed his eyes whenever he heard Lystra. Vivid recollections played on repeat in his head. After a few more days, though, the sound of Lystra’s lamentations started to bring him comfort. Things seemed to fade a bit.

One quiet day, he woke to find Lystra sitting on the edge of the bed studying him.

His eyes snapped open and his nostrils flared. He sat up with his heart in his mouth. She was in a thick robe. Her short, black hair stood on end in every direction. The straight line of her jaw brought attention to her full red lips. Slightly rosy cheeks contrasted with her white skin. Brilliant green eyes studied his face. They brimmed.

Brewer gazed back. His heart flopped and his jaw dropped. He understood why people looked up at her. But there was something else, something more, something almost familiar...

Lystra buried her face in the palms of her hands. “What have I done?”

A swarm of attendants instantly surrounded her. The matron said, “How are you feeling, your Ladyship?”

“I’m fine. There’s a lot that needs to be done. I need to get dressed.”

The head attendant clapped her hands twice. A flurry of activity broke out. Clothes, a modest tunic and pants, were brought out. Lystra had a sheet put up so Brewer wouldn’t see her nakedness.

Dressed, she walked past him to the curtains. Stopping just short, she looked at Brewer, shook her head twice and said, “Take care of him,” before continuing out to meet with the accumulated petitioners.

The handmaids looked at each other. Cindy brought him pants, shirt, and shoes. A couch was moved next to his pole, facing the bed. A blanket and pillow were provided. Cindy still kept the controller. The leader of the handmaids ignored him.

Brewer kept careful tabs on where Lystra was. He tried to always be standing when she was in the back with the sofa between them. He did manage to get some sleep at night, in relative comfort.

One afternoon, after a week of being fed and relative rest, he found himself alone in the back of the tent. Boredom kept him on the couch. He leaned against the armrest half asleep. The curtain was yanked aside. Lystra stood there, curtain edge in hand. Her eyes bored into him.

Brewer felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He sat very still. “Is--is there something you need?”

Lystra’s jaw muscles clenched, relaxed, clenched again. “I am sorry. Sometimes I get a little carried away.”

He couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. A haze of anger settled down over everything that had happened over the last almost four months. His memories shimmered, threatening to solidify. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog.

The corners of Lystra’s mouth instantly went down. She came around in front of him. “No! Really, I am sorry. Look, I promise I won’t kill you. You’re going to die but it won’t be me that does it.”

Brewer sat ramrod straight. He leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, one of my attendants will do you in. Or a Captain. To protect me, protect the mission. Probably when I’m out of it.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the bed.

Brewer scooted to the very edge of the seat. “Can’t you do something?”

“Not much I can do when I’m down. I’ll be told later it was an accident. They don’t like me to know they destroyed my property. I’ll know, of course, but that’s what they will say. May I?” She pointed at the couch.

Brewer shoved himself against the armrest. With a shaking hand, he gestured at the far end of the couch.

Lystra came over and plopped down on the other end. One leg went up on the cushions between them and she turned to face him.

“What is your mission?” Brewer tried to sound casual. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

She nodded. “Yes, my mission. Our mission. The world is horrible. Haven’t you noticed? And it’s our fault. We were the drivers for all this.” She waved her hand to encompass the world.

“The Cloisters?”

Lystra wrinkled her face like something unpleasant was shoved under her nose. “The Cloisters, yes. But that’s just icing on the cake. You know what icing and a cake are, right?”

Brewer gave a little nod of encouragement.

She took a deep breath. “Sanctimonious self-serving bastards. No, they are just a ways to the mean, an attempt by the privileged few to avoid the inevitable. There is a mission for me to spread far and wide, to all corners of the globe. Starting here.” Lystra edged closer, her words coming out a little faster.

“This is not something I chose lightly. Oh no. I had to leave. Something wrong with me, they said, not viable for their experiment.” She snorted. “I went north and west, out of the swamps, got to the plains and wandered over them for a long time. I had plenty of time to think, to really think about what they did to me but more importantly, why they did it to me. To delay the end. Hmphf.” She leaned close enough to Brewer for him to feel her breath on his face. He stifled the urge to get off the couch and put it between them. “But when things were darkest, when I was going to give up, a vision came to me. To me! Clear, fully formed. No doubt remained. There, in the wastes, I found the means to implement the vision. My purpose.” Her eyes were intense with pupils dilated wide open. She focused on something behind him. Involuntarily, Brewer turned. There was only emptiness.

Lystra rose to her knees, a hand’s breath from Brewer. She looked over the top of his head at an invisible audience. “People started coming to me. To me! They believed in the vision. They supported me and gave me the strength and the will to go forward, start down the path. It was easy. Nobody could stop us. Nobody can. That’s how I know I’m right. That this is a holy mission, from Gaia herself, if you believe that.”

Brewer spoke without thinking. “What is this holy mission?”

Lystra gave a little jump. She looked down at him, focusing her attention on him. She gently rested a hand on his head and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Simple. To get rid of humans, of us. We had our chance. Our own greed and stupidity ruined the environment, the whole planet. We had our run. Now it’s time to go. Let others have a chance.”

Brewer’s mouth hung open. “Do the others know this?”

“The Captains do. My Handmaidens. I don’t keep it a secret from the others. It’s simple in execution, really. Get rid of the Cloisters, the source of the technology that is supporting us still, and we will die out soon enough. Anything that prevents that has to be stopped by us.”

Her hand went to his cheek, a gentle caress. “Join me. Help my holy crusade. I’ve seen how you are, how you don’t need an oxygen tank. You would be a perfect Captain. A Captain’s Captain.” She bent down, almost nose to nose with him. Her eyes gleamed.

Ice ran through Brewer’s veins. Revulsion at her touch threatened to make him jerk his head away violently. He force himself to hold still. “I could never join you. I believe that we can fix things, make things better for Gaia, for all,” he said with a firm voice.

A smirk wormed its way on her face. The hand went to his chin and grasped it hard, gave it a shake. “We shall see.” She licked his forehead.

Standing, she moved toward the bed. “Maidens, come change me. I have important meetings tonight. And then, we’ll celebrate.”

Lystra got dressed in a low-cut dress whose plunge almost reached her belly button. She grinned at Brewer the whole time.

* * *

Brewer waited for Lystra to return. With each passing hour, nighttime drew closer and Lystra’s promise loomed larger. His stomach knotted a little tighter, his breath grew more labored, and his blood pressure rose. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. He paced the extent of his leash. The Handmaidens sneered and ogled him, making rude gestures and loud comments. They had changed back into their revealing clothes. They laid the ragged, open tunic on the bed.

When he thought he would pass out, he heard sounds from the other side of the pavilion. It was night and Lystra had returned. Her rapid words called for her attendants. The handmaidens left him as they rushed to Lystra.

Brewer frantically looked around. What could he use? All that he had was a pillow. He grabbed it, holding it like a shield. Tonight, he would try to rid the world of this monster.

He needed the element of surprise. Tense as a coiled spring, he forced himself to sit on the couch, pillow in his lap. Closed eyes, deep breaths, face relaxed. He had decided what to do. His fate awaited him.

A loud bang in the distance interrupted his reverie.

There was shouting now. Brewer heard rapid orders from the front of the tent. People were yelling and rushing out. Silence reigned.

Almost silence. Something banged into a table, knocked whatever was on it over. There was someone out there, coming closer.

Brewer’s heart pounded. Was he about to be taken care of? He hid behind the couch, eyes peeking over the back, Lystra’s words burning in his consciousness. The fabric was moving. A tip of a spear pushed the curtains aside.

A handmaiden he had never seen held the spear, someone with red hair pulled up in a bun and covered in a couple of ill fitting coats, worn black leggings and a tunic over a dirty face. They looked ridiculous.

He wasn’t expecting this. He stood and looked at the woman.

She looked back.

“By Gaia’s hairy tit! Brewer!”