Repression 2: Rebellion
by John Savage
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 John Savage
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Prologue
In a third world war, the forces of under the banner of Islam were defeated by those following the Cross. Millions lost their lives when the conflict turned nuclear, and portions of the globe will remain uninhabitable for generations to come. Under the pretense of uniting the world to prevent future such conflicts, the One World government was formed, guided by and controlled by the victorious religious elements. Before most people realized it was happening, the Church assumed total control of every nation and every person on Earth. With surprising swiftness, local laws were abolished and replaced with laws designed to ensure total obedience to One World and the Church. Every portion of daily life became controlled, every element of society followed rigid guidelines set down by a group dictatorship such as the world has never seen.
Such power and control corrupts. However well-meaning those who wielded it might have been when it started, their methods inevitably became more extreme and more controlling until, finally, little remained of the religion that had once preached meekness and compassion. Individual freedom became a thing of the past. Schools taught obedience and submission, and punished failure to comply. Within society itself, dissidents were identified and removed, supposedly for re-education but in reality they were locked into prisons labeled abbeys and monasteries. Unknown to the general public, within those walls the sick and elderly were eliminated. In a few years, this practice of culling the human population was extended to all those who were not young and healthy and attractive. Once that policy began, these monasteries and abbeys became places of cruelty and pain for its own sake. Sexual perversions were the practice of the day, with these sinners, as they were called, being the target of sadism and sexual abuse by those in control.
Behind the scenes, another change was happening that few were aware of. Gradually the nature of those in command of these prisons changed. Men were retired or replaced by women. Before anyone was aware of it, all the positions of importance were held by women. The same evolution was occurring in all other functions of government. Eventually the wardens over these thousands of sinners/prisoners became totally a woman’s occupation. Under the title of nuns, they delivered daily cruelty and abuse to both men and women. Soon the only male employees were Guards who arrested accused individuals, transported these sinners, and performed other tasks under the direction of the nuns. Even the priesthood, which had traditionally been the power of the church, slowly lost control until they were figureheads, leaders in name only, while the real power rested in the hands of women.
One of the people accused of “sedition, heresy and other crimes against One World and God” was Dawn, a young girl just turned eighteen. Picked up right off the street on her way home from school one day, she was shackled, locked inside a steel box and hauled off for a life of “purification and penance.”
In reality she became a prisoner of Saint Secundina’s, a place run by sadistic nuns. She was constantly kept in restraints, often painfully tight rope bondage, and forced to “pray” for hours each day. The slightest sign of disobedience or, heaven forbid, rebellion, earned severe punishments that left her skin marked and sore, her body pained and aching. Her virginity was stolen from her and sexual acts of cruel and unusual nature were performed on her attractive young body. Suffering became a daily routine and escape impossible.
But escape she did, using her intelligence and a little luck. Stealing a nun’s uniform, actually a black leather catsuit, and forging a pass, she simply walked out the front door.
Dawn was free, but with nowhere to go and no friend in the world, her freedom might well be short-lived.
Chapter I
A Spy is Caught
Sheri Martina looked carefully around the corner. The dark alleyway appeared to be empty, so she eased her way around the corner and, staying to the shadows, moved down the street.
Her mouth was dry and her heart pounding. It was a nervous time for the pretty young woman. The packet of documents hidden inside her blouse seemed to burn her skin with its importance. She did not know the contents of the leather pouch she carried, only that it was of highest importance to the handful of brave people who fought against the evil of a highly repressive government.
Faint light from the thin crescent moon lit one side of the alley, showing broken, dark windows and dirt-smeared bricks with faded paint. Sheri stayed on the dark side, keeping a watchful eye for any movement. Three more blocks to go and she could get rid of that dangerous pile of paper. Let someone else worry about getting it to its finally destination. She felt strongly about the resistance, but feared greatly having to put her life on the line.
At the end of the alley, she paused to look each way down the side street. Nothing to the north. She poked her head around the corner to look south. And froze. There was movement down the street.
Her heart beat even faster. Yes, there were figures moving towards her. As one stepped out into the moonlight, she saw the dreaded black uniform of a Guard. Then another one came into view. They were patrolling the street, and coming towards her!
Sheri turned back down the alley and froze. Another pair of Guards was coming from behind her. They did not act as if they had seen her yet, but they would soon.
Fright gripped her heart tightly. What to do? Almost without thinking about it, Sheri reached into her blouse and jerked out the packet. With her back to the building, she reached behind her and dropped it through the broken window.
Without that, she felt better. Maybe she could bluff her way out of this situation. Standing upright, she began walking towards the Guards, planning a story about being lost and trying to find someplace she could call someone for help.
Both Guards were holding assault rifles at the ready.
“Could you please help me?” she said, trying to sound innocent but not quite able to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I’m lost. Could you take me to a phone so I can…”
“Freeze!” one cut her off. Then he was talking too low for her to hear into a mike.
Shit! They’re not buying it! she told herself. A cold fear gripped her body, making her legs tremble and almost making her wet herself.
“Hold your arms straight out to the side,” she was ordered. She did, but feared that her arms were trembling as much as her legs. The other Guard came around behind her and began frisking her professionally, working from her arms down to her shoes. She was glad that she had refused to take a weapon. Her long sleeved blouse and tight pants showed her figure off quite nicely, but also showed that there was no weapon hidden anywhere.
First her left arm, then her right arm was pulled down and behind her. She felt the bite of cold steel against her wrists and felt like crying. The stories of what happened to women who were arrested filled her mind. Torture, rape and worse, she had been told. Maybe she should have taken a gun. She could have used it to kill herself. Too late for that now. They had her.
With her arms secured behind her, the Guards felt a little safer; enough to take a good look at their prize. In the beam of a flashlight, they found a much more pleasant view than in the faint moonlight. The figure under those clothes promised to be very nice. Breasts that were good sized but not huge. A slender waist and long legs. Her hair was blonde, long and straight. A cute, sweet and innocent face with just slightly overly big lips made the Guards grin.
One Guard reached for a breast with the intention of a test squeeze, but he was interrupted by headlights illuminating the scene. A van came around the corner and pulled up alongside them. A door slide open on the side and two Guards jumped out, while a third Guard still inside swung open the side of a steel box that occupied the center of the van. Inside the box was a small seat.
The two new Guards grabbed Sheri by the arms and roughly dragged her to the van. She was lifted into and set down inside the box. A chain attached to the back of the box was pulled around her waist and locked again behind her. A pair of handcuffs with a very short chain attached were locked on her feet, forcing them back and under the seat. The top of the box was so low that Sheri had to bend her head down when she was pushed in. When the front of the box was swung shut, she was left in the dark, tightly secured to the wall, shackled and bending over.
Sheri had heard of these transportation boxes. They were designed to keep the prisoner totally helpless and uncomfortable for the trip to the prison. Sheri was startled by how fast it had happened. In less than four minutes she went from a free person to a chained prisoner heading for an unknown but undoubtedly terrible fate. She began to cry softly in the dark.
Chapter II
Stealing Clothes
Dawn’s hands were trembling as she gripped the steering wheel. She had driven far away from Saint Secundina’s, until the gas gauge told her that she would have to buy fuel soon if she wished to go farther. So she pulled over to the side and stopped. Then a delayed reaction set in and she began crying and shaking all over.
Eventually the shakes stopped. She looked around. It was a section of town with apartments. A few people were walking by, a few more standing or sitting on steps. Some were looking at her but making no move to approach her. Then she remembered that she was wearing a nun’s uniform. They may have known what that meant, or maybe not. She would have to get rid of it as soon as possible.
It had been easy to know what to do when she was a prisoner, being tortured and sexually abused daily. Escape! That was the only goal. And that she had managed. But what to do now? All she had was some vague notion of finding people who hated One World and the Church as much as she did. There should be an underground movement, or something.
Okay, she told herself. How do you go about finding the underground? The resistance movement, or whatever it called itself. There had to be something, somewhere. But that was not something she could just look up in the phone book. Who would know? The Guards, the police arm of One World? Maybe. But if they knew, then it would not be a very effective underground, would it?
Then something from history came to her mind. What group had traditionally been at the front of many resistance movements? What group was intelligent enough to understand the problem, and idealistic enough to want to do something about it? The university! A common source of radicals and rebellion down through the years.
Where to find a university? Dawn had been assigned classes in high school that would not lead her on to college, so she knew nothing about higher education. She was sure, however, that she had read in history lessons about them, and that they were a breeding ground for rebellion.
Seeking a university would have to wait, however. There were items with a higher priority. Like finding different clothes. And some money. Food would be nice, too. Little things, like those.
Maybe there is something I can use in this car, she told herself. The glove box held only some papers of no importance. There was nothing in the back seat, so Dawn got out and popped open the trunk. Several small boxes rested there. The first one surprised her. When she opened it, there was a gun, a .45 automatic in a holster. Next to it were several extra magazines and a couple of boxes of bullets. She had never seen any of the nuns at Saint Secundina’s wearing a gun, but the belt and holster looked very much as if it would go with the black leather catsuit that was their uniform.
The next box held five pairs of handcuffs and one set of legirons. The third box had some rope, looking well used. She was not sure how the nun who had owned this car used these, but apparently she did. She put the belt around her waist and felt the weight of the automatic on her hip. It was somehow reassuring, even though she had no idea how to use it. When she closed the trunk lid she noticed the license plate. The number meant nothing to her but it reminded her that this was a stolen car and would soon be the target of a Guard search. She would have to abandon it.
Dawn had hoped to find a change of clothes or something along those lines. The gun might prove useful but she was not sure how or when that might be. Then a thought occurred to her. She got back into the car and headed down the street. It was not too long before she found what she was looking for.
Dozens of students were walking away from a school, most a little younger than her eighteen years but a few of her age. Carefully she watched them from her parked car, noting the girls who were about her height and dress size. She was rewarded when a single girl came out and turned down a side street alone. Dawn started the car and cruised slowly down the same street. When she was sure that no one else was coming along, she passed the girl and came to a halt.
Stepping out of the car, she turned to the girl who had frozen in her tracks. “Halt!” she called out and then went up to the girl.
She was approximately Dawn’s age and obviously scared. “Do you know what I am?” Dawn demanded.
“I… Some kind of Guard?” The girl did not know but was plenty scared. The Guards did that to citizens.
“You are right. I wish to talk to you. Get in the car.”
The girl obeyed but only after looking around for someone to come to her aid. If anyone saw the incident, they had disappeared. The street was empty. Dawn shut the door and came around the back of the car, stopping to open the trunk and extract a pair of handcuffs. Then she was sitting in the driver’s seat and starting the motor.
“Do you exactly as I tell you, and you will not be hurt,” she said in as firm a voice as she could muster. “I only wish to ask some questions,” she lied. “Do you understand?”
The blonde nodded her head vigorously, but the look on her face said she was about to pee in her panties.
Dawn drove back towards an area she had noted before. One block was marked off with “Do Not Enter” signs and appeared abandoned. The buildings looked ready for demolition. She ignored the signs and pulled into the underground parking of an apartment. She stopped the car and was immediately out, stepping around and opening the passenger door.
“Get out,” she commanded, pulling the gun from its holster. “Stand over here.”
Dawn could see the girl trembling and felt for her. This would be unpleasant but nothing like what had happened to Dawn the day the Guards picked her up. She waved the gun as if she knew what she was doing and ordered, “Take your clothes off!”
The girl looked as if she were about to cry, but with trembling fingers she set down her books and began unbuttoning her blouse. That went on top of the books. The skirt came next, leaving her in bra and panties of a soft blue color. “Those too!” Dawn ordered.
Then the girl was naked, all her clothes resting on the books and her hands trying to cover herself.
Looking around, Dawn found what she wanted. “Go over there, by that pipe.” On shaky legs, the girl obeyed, tears finally running down her cheeks. Dawn felt badly about scaring her so, but also felt that her need was of a higher order than this girl’s need for clothing.
“Stand by that pipe with your back against it.” When the girl obeyed, Dawn went around behind her and pulled her arms around the pipe to lock the wrists in the handcuffs. She was careful to not lock them down as tightly as they would go, but still make them tight enough so that the girl could not pull her wrists out.
Stepping away, Dawn was struck by the notion that she had just done to this girl what so many nuns had done to her. The good-looking girl was now naked and shackled, in a helpless state that Dawn knew so well.
“I’m sorry to have to do this to you,” she told the girl. “I am going to leave now. You are not to call out for help until a full hour has passed. Understand?”
The girl nodded.
“If you do, I will know and you will be punished,” she said, implying an omniscience she did not possess.
Gathering up the clothing, she put it in the car and drove off, leaving the frightened girl naked and helpless in an abandoned parking garage. Not a nice thing to do to an innocent young girl, but Dawn wanted some time to pass before this girl would be able to tell the Guards about the nun who stole her clothes. The thought had occurred to her that if the girl managed to get free or be set free by someone other than the Guards, she might not tell them about the theft. She hoped so.
On the other hand, Dawn had disturbing visions of the girl not being able to summons help and having to stay locked to that drainpipe all night – maybe much longer.
With a sigh, Dawn pushed those thoughts down. She had other things to occupy her mind. When she could, she found another abandoned part of town, there seeming to be many of them, and parked the car in an alley. No one was in sight, so she got out of the car and began stripping off the leather catsuit. Then she dressed herself in the girl’s clothing. She hated the idea of putting on somebody else’s underwear so she left those out, but the light blue blouse and skirt set fit her nicely. She wished she had remembered to take the girl’s shoes but had not, so she settled for wearing the nun’s black, high heeled, lace up boots. They did not go with the blouse and skirt, but there was nothing she could do about it.
There was a small purse with the books. Dawn looked within and was delighted to find some money, not a lot, but enough for a few meals at least. The ID would not do her much good because she looked nothing like the blonde-haired girl, and there was nothing else in the purse. With the catsuit off, she looked more like everybody else, so she drove until she found a fast-food restaurant. She parked the car in the back where passing Guard patrols might not see it. The meal was lousy hamburgers and cold, over-cooked fries, but it was good to get something in her stomach. She had not eaten since the evening meal at Saint Secundina’s, just over twenty hours before.
The shopping center had a bookstore. In the map section, she found the location of the two universities in that city. At least it was a place to start.
Chapter III
Processing a Prisoner
The light blinded Sheri when the transportation box was opened. It had been a long, very uncomfortable drive for the captured girl. The chain holding her to the back of the box cut into her middle. The handcuffs had tightened up because her hands were caught and pressed between her back and the steel wall. Her back ached from being bent over and she had cried herself out of tears during the hours of riding in that steel cage.
As she blinked in the bright light, she felt hands upon her ankles and the handcuffs there coming off. Likewise, more hands unlocked the chain from around her waist. She was lifted out of the box and set upon her feet. As her surroundings came into focus, she felt like crying again. This was obviously a prison. There were armed Guards, bars on the windows, and shackled prisoners standing nervously in a line.
A Guard with a clipboard came up, looked her over and checked his notes. “Processing room seven,” he called out.
Two other Guards, whom she had not seen because they were behind her, grabbed her arms and forced her off towards a row of doors not too distant. Each had a number on it. Inside of number seven, she found a small room, a desk and two chairs. The one on her side of the desk was bolted to the floor. They sat her down, making sure that her handcuffed wrists were behind the chair’s back, and then locked her ankles together with another pair that were connected by a short chain to the chair. Another short chain came up and was locked to her handcuffs with a padlock. They left her chained to that chair.
For a long time Sheri sat alone in that room. There was only a single overhead light, and no windows at all. She could feel air moving slowly through the room but the walls must have been thick for she could hear nothing from the outside. Nervously she tested the handcuffs on her wrists and ankles but found them tightly locked.
All kinds of stories came to her mind about those taken by the Guards. All were killed. Most were sent to slave labor camps. The pretty girls were sent to brothels. A whole host of horror stories offered up by people who had no knowledge of what they were talking about. The real trouble for most people was that no one ever returned once arrested by the Guards. So no one knew for sure what happened to them. The only ones who knew some of the real facts were a small group who made up the underground, and of which Sheri had become a member. Even they did not know all the facts, just enough to scare them.
When the door opened she was surprised to see a nun enter. The white on black habit headpiece proclaimed her profession, but Sheri knew that most of the nuns were not religious persons but rather the true guards and wardens of the woman’s prisons they called abbeys. Her connections with the underground movement had taught her a little about the true state of things in the world.
Without preamble the nun demanded, “Do you know the name James Cartwright?”
“No.”
“James Cartwright was arrested very close to where you were arrested and at about the same time. He is a known terrorist.”
Sheri felt herself go cold. She did know the name; it was the man Sheri was to pass that packet of documents on to.
The nun had seated herself opposite Sheri and was looking at a single sheet of paper in her hand.
“Your name is Sheri Martina. You are nineteen years old. You graduated from Madison High School and worked for a while at the One World Regional Relocation Center as a clerk-typist. Then you disappeared. Your whereabouts for the last six months are unknown.”
Sheri waited tensely for the questions to begin. Those six months had been spent with the underground movement. She knew a fair amount about the workings of the movement, enough to be trusted with the delivery of important information. Which also meant that she knew enough to be of interest to the Guards. And, apparently, also their bosses, the Church.
No questions came. The nun studied the paper a bit more then put it down with a sigh. “You will be transferred to Saint Dorina’s. There you will tell all you know of the resistance movement. After that…” She looked up and into Sheri’s eyes with a very evil smile upon her face. It was more frightening that she left the sentence unfinished than if she had made all kinds of dire threats.
“I know nothing of any resistance movement,” she protested.
Ignoring her, the nun rose from the chair and left the room without another word.
Sheri began to shake. What was this Saint Dorina’s? She knew there were abbeys within or near their city, such as Saint Secundina’s. What and where was this Saint Dorina’s? Some of the stories she had heard about Saint Secundina’s were bad enough. That there was a place specializing in making prisoners tell all they knew, she had not known. That very idea scared her to the bottom of her soul.
Two guards entered the room. They removed the shackles holding her to the chair and marched her out of the room. Their destination was another room, larger and filled with crates and boxes and steel cages of assorted sizes and shapes. She was forced to stand as they took rough measurements of her body. A box looking somewhat like a coffin was wheeled over and set upon a table. It was made of metal, probably steel, with rivets showing and hasps on the sides were locks could be used to secure the lid down.
Sheri was forced to sit in a chair and a small cart wheeled over to her. While one guard held her shoulders down, the other took a small black rubber bag with a hose coming from it, and inserted it into her mouth. She tried to resist the thing, but their strength was too much for her. The rubber bag was totally in her mouth when they began fitting a rubber mask over her head. It was much along the lines of a scuba diver’s hood, save that it had only one small opening in front. When they had forced the rubber hood over her head and smoothed it down, the opening was positioned before her mouth. The rubber tube from the thing in her mouth went through that hole.
The rubber hood was tight around her head and cut off her vision totally. It even dampened her hearing where it covered her ears. She could not see what was happening but felt that tube going into her mouth move. There was a hissing noise and the rubber bag inside her mouth began to enlarge. Someone was pumping air into it! As it grew in size, it tried to push her jaws open. It also pushed her tongue down. There came a point where it could inflate no more. The tight rubber hood was working to hold her jaw shut while the inflatable bag was trying to push it open. Some more movement on the tube and then the pumping stopped.
The hood and bag made a very effective blindfold and gag. She could not see, could not talk and already she was uncomfortable. In addition, the rubber tasted very bad in her mouth. She shook her head but to no avail.
She was pulled up to her feet and the handcuffs taken off. Strong male hands held her arms while someone else was busy taking off her clothing. She tried to pull back but was held in place. The blouse was easily removed by unbuttoning it, and then the rest of her clothing was cut off, save for her panties which were ripped off none too gently. Once naked she was lifted and turned horizontally. She felt something soft under her back and pressing in on the sides. But the back of her neck met with a hard edge. She could not see it, but she had been lowered into that coffin-like box. It was, however, not a coffin and was, in fact, shorter than she was tall. Her neck had been placed in a half circle at one end while her feet were up against the other end.
Hands pushed her arms down by her sides. Wide straps began going around her arms and body, holding her down tightly to the foam backing of the box. Straps passed over her ankles, knees and waist. More on her arms, even some across her chest. When finished, she was firmly secured to the bottom of the box. The lip was then closed. She could feel the foam padding pressing against the front of her body. And the hard edge of the top half of the head hole against her neck. From the jerking of her box, she could guess that the lid was being locked down.
She felt herself lifted and rotated until she was standing upright, or at least the box was. Her rubber-clad head was sticking out of the top but the rest of her body was tightly pressed by foam padded and tight straps, and out of sight. For a long time she was left standing like that.
It was not as uncomfortable as the transportation box had been. But then that rubber hood and inflatable gag were quite unpleasant by themselves. Eventually she felt a couple jerks, and then she was moving. A whole series of movements and halts occurred, until she had no idea where she was or what was happening to her.
In reality she was sitting on the loading dock of the Guards transportation division. Guards moved many such boxes around, loading some into trucks, unloading others. She was loaded into a truck, left alone for a while, then felt the truck moving out. For several hours that box with the helpless prisoner inside was driven down roads and over highways to be delivered eventually to an airport. After another hour’s delay, the box with its human contents was loaded onto a cargo jet and shipped across the Atlantic to England. There were several other human cargo boxes on that flight, none knowing about the others, and all very uncomfortable for the entire trip.
Chapter IV
An Old Friend
The university did not look much different from her high school, Dawn thought. The students were older, a little bigger, and the load of books they carried was usually larger also. The buildings were also older and somehow grander, as if their purpose were more noble than the plain architecture of the high school. There were also more nuns and priests and Guards than she had ever seen before.
What now? Just walk up to a student and ask, “Are you a member of the underground? No? Well, can you direct me to someone who is?”
That seemed an excellent way to be back in chains and ropes before sundown.
Without being a student, she had no idea of the social rules that govern the campus. If she had friends among the students, she might learn something. Then it hit her! Karen Salen, an old friend who had graduated just before Dawn, and who had been accepted to the university. If she could find Karen, that was one person she could trust.
Ah, but where to look? She remembered Karen’s mother saying that she lived on campus in one of the dorms. But which one? Dawn did not even know where the dorms were.
She began walking, not really having any plan but hoping that something would come her way. The problem was that every time a nun or priest walked near her, she almost panicked. These nuns were dressed in traditional habit, not the leather catsuits, otherwise she might have donned the catsuit she had used to escape and tried to bluff her way around.
It was growing late in the afternoon and the number of students seemed to be diminishing. Maybe classes were over for the day? Then a piece of luck finally came her way. A kiosk at the intersection of four walkways had a campus map behind a glass frame. She studied the map carefully, figured where she was, and knew that the dorms were all behind that large gray building.
They were; all six of them. Three were easy to rule out because they had only male students coming and going. Dawn picked the closest of the others and boldly walked through the front door.
The front desk was manned by two coeds. As Dawn walked up, they were busy with students so she waited in line. While looking around she noticed that a booklet lying on the counter with a label of “Student Directory.” Trying not to look like a hungry cat pouncing on a mouse, she casually picked it up and turned the pages until she found “Salen, Karen. Room 344, Dykster Hall.”
From the sign outside, she knew this was Dykster Hall. Trying to look as if she belonged there, she walked to the elevators and waited for one. Around her several girls chatted about this or that, some cool boy or some really unfair professor.
The third floor, room 344 was not too hard to find. She knocked on the door and held her breath.
The girl who answered was not Karen. “May I help you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Karen Salen,” Dawn said. “She’s an old friend of mine.”
“Karen’s not here, but she’ll be back in a few minutes. Won’t you come in?”
The room was small, mostly taken up by the two beds, two desks, two dressers and two closets. The view out the window was of the old buildings, some not nearly so regal when viewed from above compared to the ground view.
“My name’s Nancy. You knew Karen in high school?” the roommate asked.
“Yes. I’ll be coming here, and I wanted to ask some questions of Karen.”
“Great. Karen’s a nice girl. We get along fine.”
At that point Dawn was saved from idle chit-chat by the arrival of her friend. Karen looked shocked to see Dawn, but quickly recovered. Dawn told her story of wanting to know some things about the university and Karen suggested that they go down to the cafeteria for coffee. She hurried Dawn out of the room.
They did not go to the cafeteria but out into a common area in the center of the dorms. The shadows were lengthening and there were only a few people around this close to dinner time. Karen motioned to a stone bench.
“All right, what the hell is going on?” she demanded in a fierce whisper as soon as she was sure they were out of earshot. “My mother said you were arrested by the Guards weeks ago. Was she wrong?”
“No, I was arrested. But I escaped.”
“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Karen. “The Guards are looking for you?”
“Probably. Karen, let me explain.”
It was a long explanation summarized into a short one, with Dawn leaving out a lot of the tortures of Saint Secundina’s. “When I got out, I decided to do what I could to bring down such evils as Saint Secundina’s. Karen, I want to find if there is an underground; you know, a resistance movement, some people who want things as they once were.”
“So you came here thinking I can help you?! Dawn, you’re unbelievable. You think I would risk my own life just to help you become a rebel and terrorist?”
Dawn was taken back by Karen’s intensity. “I had hoped you would help me. You don’t have to join me or anything. Just tell me where I can find them. There has got to be some people who see the evil happening all around us.”
“Oh, there’s evil all around, all right! You think all those nuns and priests are here because they want an education? Hell, no, they’re here to make sure we stay in line. I’ve seen too many students disappear overnight. Just like you did, Dawn. Only they don’t come back.” She shuddered visibly. “If what you say is true, now I know where they went.”
She must have seen the dejection on Dawn’s face because she added, “Look, I would like to help you, I really would. But I can’t do anything.” She looked around nervously. “Christ, they even bug the dorm rooms. That’s why I brought you out here. If I’m seen with you…”
“Okay, I’ll leave,” said Dawn.
“Oh, Dawn, what can I do? I would like to help, really I would.”
“Then just tell me who to go to.”
Karen sighed. “There is only one person who might know what you’re talking about. His name is Professor Millard. But don’t tell him I sent you! I gotta go. Bye!”
Dawn watched her old friend hurry off towards the dorms.
As she slowly walked back to where she had hidden the car, she was thinking. By now she was certain the nuns knew she had escaped from Saint Secundina’s. She could not go back to her parent’s apartment, but that would surely be watched. Nor could she register in any hotel or motel. Such registrations were recorded on-line and reported to the Guards. She was uncertain just where she could go.
It was well into dusk when she reached the car. On the way she had grabbed an unwatched backpack from the front of the bookstore. She would put everything she had, what little of it there was, into that so she could abandoned the car when she had to. The gun, handcuffs and even the ropes went into the backpack. For a moment she considered leaving the nun’s uniform, then changed her mind and stuffed it into the pack. Shouldering the load, she walked several blocks to another fast food place for a simple dinner. In a strange way, she missed the gourmet meals of Saint Secundina’s.
After the meal, she found a public phone, looked up a Professor Millard, and made note of his address. It was not too far off, and she decided not to take the car. It was a certainty that the license plate was on the wanted list of ever Guard city wide, so driving it around was dangerous.
The professor’s address proved to be an apartment complex. His apartment was in the back, just behind the swimming pool. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, and paused before the door. She had seen light coming through the window and knew someone was home. It was nervous time again. If Karen was wrong and this professor turned her in, it would just ruin her day.
She knocked with a trembling hand and tried to think of what to say.
The door was answered by an older man, gray temples and a few wrinkles, but not bad looking in a sort of rugged, outdoor way.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Professor Millard?”
“Yes.”
“I have to talk to you.”
For a long time he simply looked at her, and then he stepped back to allow her in to the apartment.
It was filled with books in shelves and cases on every wall, stacked in piles in the corners, and some even on the dining room table, not totally unexpected for a university professor. There was a smell of onions and coffee the air and she guessed she had interrupted his dinner.
“You’re not in any of my classes,” he said as he waved her to a chair.
“No, I’m not.” She was having a hard time getting words out. If this man was not what she hoped he was, well, she would be in deep shit.
“I want to talk to you about… Do you… I mean… Oh, hell. Do you know anything about a resistance movement against One World?” she blurted out.
The professor did not react as she expected. It was as if he had expected her to say that exact thing. Calmly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small automatic that he pointed directly at her chest.
“Please keep your hands were I can see them,” he told her. “And no sudden movements.”
Dawn felt her heart sinking fast.
The professor rose from his seat, walked backwards to one bookcase and took something out of a box hidden between some books. As he approached her, Dawn saw that is was a pair of handcuffs!
“Slowly stand and turn your back to me. Put your hands behind your back.”
She obeyed meekly, when what she really wanted to do was run screaming from the room.
There was the familiar bite of steel on her wrists and the clicking of metal cuffs closing.
“You may turn around and sit down again,” he told her.
She did but started to speak, “I only wanted to…” But words failed her. He would call the Guards and she would be hauled away in one of those transportation boxes again. This time she was sure Saint Secundina’s would not be so kind to her. She remembered the punishments meted out to those who had only attempted escape. She had actually done it!
“Do not speak,” he told her. Then he pulled the backpack over and began going through it while still holding the gun upon her. He held up the .45 automatic with its holster and belt, but said nothing. Likewise the handcuffs and ropes.
“Young lady, you are in a lot of trouble,” he said. “Tell me why I should not shoot your right now.”
Dawn swallowed. But a tiny part of her mind wondered why he should threaten to shoot her when all he had to do was call the Guards and have her hauled away.
So she told him her story, right from the day she was arrested up to her escape. She even told him that a student had directed her to him, but did not give Karen’s name.
“That’s it. I came here hoping that you could direct me to the underground or whatever it might be called. I want to fight the evil I have seen.”
A long time passed without him saying a word. When he finally spoke it was with disbelief in his voice. “That’s quite a story you have. But can you prove it? That gun in your backpack is Guard issue. And the handcuffs. One might suspect that you came here to try to get me to admit to being part of the resistance and then arrest me. Again, can you prove otherwise?”
Dawn thought hard. “No, not really. I found the gun in the car I stole. I don’t even know how to shoot it. You sure you can’t think of something I can tell you or do? I can’t.”
Then Dawn had an idea. She stood up slowly and careful to show him what she was doing, bent down to step through the handcuffs and bring her joined hands up in front of her. She unbuttoned the front of the skirt and let it drop to the floor. The professor seemed a little bit uneasy for the first time at the sight of her nudity from the waist down. She turned around and bent to present her bottom for his view.
The whipmarks given her by Saint Secundina’s were still there. Most had faded to some degree but the more recent ones still showed as bruises.
“They did this to me at Saint Secundina’s. And a lot more. My breasts are marked up also. Unbutton my blouse and you can see.”
She turned around to face him again. Slowly he rose, placed the gun on the coffee table, and approached her. He unbuttoned the blouse and pulled it aside. She was correct. There were marks all over her breasts, mostly older but a few still black and blue bruises. He returned to his seat.
“Did you have to check my breasts?” she asked him. “Wasn’t my poor bottom enough?”
“It was,” he replied. “But those are very nice breasts. I wanted to see if there were really as nice as they seemed through your blouse.” He smiled at her. “I get to see a lot of breasts from female students who want a higher grade. But none as nice as yours.”
“Well, thank you for the compliment,” she said. “Now can I have my blouse closed?”
“No. The view is too nice. I’ll finish getting dinner ready while we talk about the evils of the establishment.”
She did not bother to ask him to take the handcuffs off. He would just refuse. Nearly naked and handcuffed she had dinner with Professor Millard.
Chapter V
Innocent Bystanders
“I am only a recruiter,” he told her after dinner.
They were sitting around the coffee table, he having coffee, she tea. After making her eat her dinner with handcuffs on, he had finally taken them off. Of course, to make it less difficult for her, he had allowed her to keep her hands in front for eating. Once off totally, she wasted no time in buttoning her blouse and regaining her skirt.
He had apologized for the inconvenience but he also admitted that he enjoyed the show her body had put on.
“I talk with students and if I find someone who really thinks that our current form of government should be replaced, I let them know there is a group that feels the same way. And who want to do something about it.”
“But what can be done?” Dawn asked. “The Church and Guards control everything. The population is so afraid of them that they won’t say boo. And the schools…! I see now how we were conditioned in school to accept the One World and Church ideas. But the worst part is that they can take anyone they want right off the street and lock them away for a lifetime of torture.”
“What can be done?” he repeated her question. “I don’t know. As you say, they control everything. I can only introduce you to the group. Well, at least one contact. That’s all I know of them. One man who will take you the rest of the way. You can understand why, can’t you? If I’m suspected or caught, I can only give away that one man. And I don’t even know his name except as Tom.”
Dawn sighed. “If that is all you can do, then fine. Introduce me. Maybe he or someone else has ideas about what to do.”
“You will be a boost to them,” he added, along with another spoon of sugar to his coffee. “As far as I know, no one has ever escaped from one of the abbeys. Your knowledge of what goes on inside them will be of great value.”
“I hope so.”
“When it gets later, I will take you there. Meantime relax and enjoy some more cake.”