GAIA: Rogue State (A Girl Power Novella) by P.T. Dilloway

Author:P.T. Dilloway [Dilloway, P.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Planet 99 Publishing
Published: 2016-01-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The horrid men toss her into a jeep. As they drive her through the town, she notes hardly anyone around except white men dressed in paramilitary garb. There are a few occasional natives, all with the same furtive look to them. These natives all make sure to look away from the jeep. No help is coming from them.

It seems a reasonable conclusion that whoever had attacked her village has also taken over this town. Apparently it’s too important for them to wipe off the face of the planet with one of those firebombs. To keep it operating they’ve left a few of the natives; they’re little more than servants really.

What a fool she’s been. She should have known she couldn’t perform even so slight of a task as to get help for Diane and her village. She’s utterly useless, a complete waste of space. One of the men squeezes her arm. “Don’t cry yet, darling. You’ll have plenty more use for it later.”

The way they all laugh gives her a chill. She imagines they’ll take her to a prison camp, something like the concentration camps the Nazis used. She won’t be one of the lucky ones to survive; she’ll die there before help can arrive.

It’s not a concentration camp they take her to. The building’s size and the smoke stacks and such indicate they’re taking her to a factory. The name of the place is written in both the native language and German. She recognizes the logo as that of a car manufacturer. They’re putting her to work on an assembly line?

The jeep stops in front of a loading dock where three men even bigger and more brutish wait for them. “This is what you’ve brought me?” He seizes her right arm to squeeze her bicep. “I don’t need another girl who’ll die after twelve hours.”

“You’re quite right: I’m no use on the assembly line. Perhaps you should let me go.”

“So you can tell someone about this place? I don’t think so.” The man turns to one of the others with him. “Put her to work on the cleaning staff.”

“Yes, Kommandant.”

Part of her wants to protest being put to work as a cleaning woman, but the rest of her realizes this is much better than working on an assembly line. She might even have the freedom to move around to find a way to escape. Perhaps that’s too hopeful, but it’s all she has at the moment.

The inside looks similar to pictures of assembly line factories she’s seen in the newspaper and on television. Except from what she sees they aren’t making cars. It appears they’re assembling metal tubes. The workers they pass are all natives, most looking very undernourished.

The men toss her at the feet of a scrawny young woman with a mop in her hand. “She’s yours,” one of them growls.

The woman sets down her mop to help Dr. Pierce sit up. “Thank you, young lady. My name is Khala Pierce.” She leaves off her title, leery about giving away too much information to a complete stranger.

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