Winter Pt 9

Maggie was barely able to feel her toes. Even though she wore two pairs of wool socks she could feel them going numb. When she looked down there was snow and ice crusted over the worn leather boots. Some of the snow had gotten in and melted, leaving her toes as little more than popsicles.

“You okay?” 

Glenn could read her like a book. She wouldn’t complain but she wouldn’t deny her distress.

“Toes are numb.”

“Look there,” said Daryl.

Both Maggie and Glenn focused ahead. They reached the edge of town but vines had overgrown and created a tangled wall between the buildings. It took some effort but they managed to make a hole big enough to push through. Thankfully there was nothing on the other side, either living or dead, to pose a threat.

“An empty house,” said Daryl.

“Somebody has set up camp here and they’re using cameras,” said Glenn. “For all we know we’re being watched right now.”

“Those same people must have Rick and Michonne. God, I hope they’re not dead already,” Maggie worried.

“In here. We’ll worry about a threat once we face it and not before,” said Daryl.

The house they entered had never been nice; it was severely run down. Peeling wallpaper, warped tile, and rotted carpet junked up the cramped living room. The one good thing about the place was that it had a hearth. Daryl hoped the flue hadn’t been clogged since the place had emptied.

“I saw a couple cords of wood outside. I’ll bring some in for a fire,” Daryl said.

It didn’t take long to get a small fire going in the hearth. Maggie warmed her feet by the flames while Glenn heated a can of soup. Outside, night had begun to fall and cold wind sounded like the moans of the dying.

“How long before we move?” asked Maggie.

“Two hours at most,” said Daryl.

Glenn heaved a sigh from his place by the window. “Sooner. We’ve got company. They’re armed.”

Maggie hurriedly pulled her socks and shoes on and eyed the soup with hungry regret. She’d just laced up when the window smashed open and a canister rolled into the room, spewing noxious fumes. She partly dove, partly stumbled, into the kitchen area as Daryl shoved her away from the canister. 

“Run!”

She wanted to stay and fight but long experience had taught her that sometimes you had to run so you could fight another day. 

Even the small sniff of whatever chemical had been thrown at them made Maggie’s eyes burn and her head spin. Glenn and Daryl were inside, pinned down by gunfire. They were most likely unconscious or in pain and helpless. Though she hated it, she made a beeline for the exit.

Maggie shoved through the rickety screen door and ran, literally, face first into the barrel of a shotgun. She grunted in pain and reached up to her forehead, feeling a small cut ooze blood. 

“Hey, pretty little girl. My boss wants to meet you.” 

*****

From the outside the old Tudor looked derelict, unsafe even. The inside was quite a different story. Walking into the parlor with an armed guard behind her, Maggie was astonished at the splendor of the place. It was like stepping back in time to seventeenth century France. The room was lined with gilded trim, the walls decorated with fine rococo art, accentuated with delicate vases, and the center of the parquet floor were covered with a heavy rug that muted the sound of her footsteps as she was led to a plush divan. 

The windows, she’d noted on her way to the house, were secured with heavy cast iron bars. 

“I’ll be outside,” her guard said. “Don’t be stupid and try to run. She’ll make you sorry if you try to escape.”

“Melvin, Melvin. You know me too well,” a sultry voice with a heavy French accent said. 

Maggie faced a strikingly handsome woman in her late 40s, perhaps early 50s. She was dressed in platform velvet heels the color of fresh blood and a form fitting, knee-length dress to match. Her hair, colored blond but lightly grey at the roots, was coiled into an elaborate bun and festooned with a real rose. Her bottle green eyes were hard and glinted with malice. She entered the room on a rolling, flirtatious gait and proceeded to walk around Maggie with an appraising gaze. 

“I’m Evelyn. You are?”

“Maggie.”

Evelyn offered her a smile. “I know. I heard your name spoken as you came in through the back door of the town with your friends. I simply wanted to know if you would lie to me if you thought you could get away with it.”

“Where are they? My friends.”

“The Korean man is being held off site. I’m trying to decide what to do with him. Glenn, I believe you called him. The other man, Daryl, is on the loose. He killed two of my men and a woman. I’ve decided to kill him on sight. He’s dangerous.”

Maggie didn’t bother to hide her look of pride. “Yes, he is.”

Evelyn completed her circuit around Maggie and stopped to face her. “I am impressed by the loyalty your people have shown to one another. You came back for Rick and Michonne.”

“They’re our people.”

“Of course,” Evelyn agreed. She went to a wet bar and poured two snifters of scotch without asking Maggie if she wanted a drink. 

“I don’t drink,” Maggie said, even as Evelyn picked up both glasses. 

Evelyn sashayed over to Maggie and said, “You will drink if I tell you to drink.”

“No, I won’t.”

“A wise man--or woman--picks their battles. This is not a worthy battle,” she said, pushing the glass toward Maggie. 

“This is a worthy battle because it’s about control. I get the sense that you have the need to control everyone and everything around you.”

“This is true,” Evelyn readily agreed. “I will control you, too.”

“Maybe, but I won’t make it easy for you,” Maggie replied. 

“Indeed?” asked Evelyn, when Maggie took the drink offered her. “Is that your idea of being diffi--”

Maggie splashed the whiskey into Evelyn’s face and then steeled herself for the consequences. Evelyn’s flinty eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared as her breath quickened. She threw her own glass against the far wall, causing it to shatter in a splintery crash.

“I’ve fed people to the rotters for less,” she breathed.

Maggie nodded. “I’m sure you have.”

Evelyn’s pink tongue flicked out and licked her lipstick painted lips. “You have a choice before you now. You can have a safe, comfortable life with me, or you can be chained in cold misery with Glenn.”

“I’ll take cold misery with Glenn. Take me to him,” Maggie answered, without hesitation.

Evelyn nodded and attempted to wipe some of the whiskey from her dress. “Melvin!” she called.

“Ma’am?”

“Escort Maggie to guest room two. Have Ziga visit her. I wish her to be prepared to join me for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’ll see it’s done.”

Melvin’s grip on Maggie’s arm was tight as he hauled her away from Evelyn and toward the grand staircase. Once upstairs he turned right. There were two sets of doors on either side of the hall. He banged on the first door to his right, and then moved on to the room across from it. He shoved Maggie inside, revealing a bedroom that was dominated by a king sized bed. It, like the rest of the furniture, was covered with white sheets. 

“You out of your fucking mind?” Melvin demanded. “You should never push Evelyn like that.”

“I’m not afraid of her.”

Melvin shook his head at her staggering ignorance. “You should be.”

“If you had any idea of the things I’ve been through, you would know I don’t scare easy.”

“My God, Melvin. What is the ruckus?”

Maggie took in the new arrival. It was a man wearing a silk pink bathrobe. His black hair was short and curly but he still wore a bright pink headband. His skin glistened from a facial treatment. His eyebrows were contoured and, even without a great deal of makeup, the delicate bones of his slender face gave him a soft, feminine look. He could easily be mistaken, from a distance, for a woman.

“Ziga, Evelyn wants this one prepared. She’s to join her for breakfast tomorrow. Get it done.”

“Certainly.”

“Talk some sense into her. She threw her drink in Evelyn’s face.”

Ziga’s thin eyebrows rose in surprise. “And you’re still alive?”

“Looks like,” Maggie answered.

A corner of Ziga’s lips drew up in a display of mild amusement. He shooed Melvin from the room and then motioned at Maggie to turn around. Maggie remained in place.

“My dear, I’ve seen I don’t know how many men and women come through here determined to buck Evelyn. They die very hard deaths every time they do.”

“I won’t be controlled by her. I’m not having breakfast with that crazy bitch.”

“Would you see me dead, as well?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that if I fail to get you ready Evelyn will punish me. I know we’re strangers, but I don’t want to die for your folly. So please, I’m asking you nicely, turn around and let me size you up.”

Maggie sighed in annoyance sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed. Ziga cocked his head to the side and studied Maggie with curious interest before taking a seat next to her.

“Do you have something against gays?”

“I have something against anyone who would help someone keep me captive, gay or not.”

“Doesn’t answer the question of whether or not you hate gays.”

“No, I don’t hate gay people. Why would I?”

Ziga shrugged. “Paul Ziggler,” he said, offering a hand, which Maggie shook. “I used to be a Queen in the Atlanta nightclub scene. Ziga was my stage name.”

“What’s this woman going to do with me?” Maggie asked, not at all interested in the life story of any of Evelyn’s people.

“She’ll rape you. She’ll amuse herself with you by making you her unwilling sex slave. When the novelty has worn off she’ll either kill you or offer you a job. She’d have to trust you to offer you a position in her gang. I doubt she’ll ever really trust someone as headstrong as you.”

“She’d be right. If she ever puts a gun in my hand I’ll blow her fucking head off. If I get my hands on a knife I’ll slice it across her throat,” Maggie said fiercely.

“She heard you say all of that, you know. She listens to everything everyone says,” Ziga warned her. 

Maggie looked around the room, hoping to catch sight of a camera. Evelyn hadn’t hidden them. She had them in all four corners of the bedroom. Maggie chose the one in upper right corner of the room and flashed it the finger with both hands.

Ziga sighed. “You’re not going to last long. Evelyn doesn’t have very much tolerance for your type of personality.”

“Once again, I don’t fear her. She’s not raping me, either.”

“She rapes me, she raped everyone else. The more you hate it the more she’s turned on. As soon as you accept that and learn to live with it the better. Now what do you say we get you all dolled up, starting with a much needed bath. We have hot and cold running water here.”

“I don’t think so,” Maggie said. 

Ziga didn’t argue, as Maggie expected. Instead he continued to stare out of the window directly across from them. Fat snowflakes drifted calmly down to settle on the windowpane where it began to pile up. It was unusual to see this much snow this far south, but they had, on occasion, gotten a good storm. It never lasted. Maggie thought this snow would be gone by afternoon the following day.

“When the shit hit the fan I left Atlanta to head for the country. I was with two groups before Evelyn found me. Being openly gay, I was always the expendable one. I was the one who ate the leftovers. I was the one who was used by so-called straight men. I was the one who was beaten when some ham-handed fool wanted to work out his aggression. It got so bad in my first group I had to leave them. I was on my own for almost a month before Melvin’s group took me in.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to make you understand the life you’re destroying by refusing to let me do my job,” Ziga explained. “The second group was the same as the first. They kept trying to throw me out but I wasn’t about to leave. I used to be a Nurse Practitioner before the Turn but I wasn’t about to use my skills on the assholes from the first group. I ‘fessed up to the second group and proved myself by saving a man from a rotter bite when I took off his arm and kept infection from setting in. 

“Then a few men from their hunting party returned three days after I arrived at the group. Melvin was one of them. It was love at first sight. Well, on my part.”

“Melvin’s gay?” Maggie asked with obvious surprise.

“No, I don’t think he is. He’s protected me. He’s fucked me when the loneliness gets bad and there’s not a woman around, which is what he really wants. I take what I can get because I love the damn fool. He’s kind to me, even though he doesn’t return my feelings. Nobody would fuck with Melvin, and he made it clear to the others that I was staying. If they didn’t like it they could fuck off and fend for themselves. For the first time since it started I was finally safe. Or, as safe as you can be in this world. Then we came to Charlesville on our way to Blairsville where he had family. We never left. Obviously.”

“So you joined up with a woman who kidnaps and tortures people?”

“It wasn’t like that. There’s a lot you don’t understand about Evelyn. There’s a lot you don’t understand about Charlesville.”

“Then maybe you should fill me in,” Maggie suggested.

Ziga heaved a breath and stood up. “If I’m going to give you the goods on Charlesville and what goes on here, I’m going to have to do it with a drink. Come to my room, Sugar. You’ve got a lot to learn.”



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