Dystopia Pt 02

Chapter 8

Emil carefully pulled into the barn. There wasn't a lot of clearance on for the truck, and there were sharp tools lining the walls. Last thing he needed was to damage his precious U-Haul. Turning to the slave he just purchased he considered her form. Her skin was flushed and taught from the cold, and she was shivering despite the emergency blanket he bought for her. He had caught her staring at him with fear in her eyes, like he was a rabid wolf that would lunge any minute, and it made him wonder about the horrors she had endured. He had to be very careful dealing with her. She might be docile now, but if she felt threatened... there was nothing more dangerous than an animal backed into a corner.

"Wait here and stay in the truck." He told her, waiting for her nod of understanding. He glanced down at the floor of the truck wondering what she was looking at, then heaved himself out of the cab. Since he was already in the barn, he quickly dropped some hay into the rabbit's pen glad to see that they were all still alive. Tugging his coat around him as the wind started to pick up, he stomped over to the house.

'Great the door is iced over again.'

He bemoaned. Holding the latch open Emil slammed his shoulder against it, popping the door free of the ice. Of course he forgot to account for the ice under the door, immediately slipping and falling flat on his face...hard.

'

Yeap, that seems about right. Missed you too house.'

he groaned.

Rubbing his shoulder where he was sure he would be sporting a phenomenal bruise, evening out the one on the other shoulder from last night, he quickly gathered a spare set of boots. Isla couldn't walk across the ice barefoot, she'd slice her feet all to ribbons. He lugged the boots back out to the truck and opened the door to find Isla still staring at the floor. What the hell was so fascinating about the floor?

"Come over here," he said motioning to Isla. She slid across the bench seat and over to the driver's side of the cabin, all without meeting his gaze. He grabbed her chin and forced her head up.

"Ok listen. I'm going to take the chains off so you can put these boots on and protect your feet. There's no point in running. As you saw we're three hours away from the nearest human being, and all that's between us and them is tundra. If you did run, you'd die of hypothermia in less than twelve hours. If you managed to steal my truck and drive to town, everyone there knows I bought you so you'd be returned very quickly and I'd have to take measures to ensure that never happened again." He let the obvious threat hang in the air, her imagination taking care of getting the message through.

Emil removed the manacles from her feet and wedged the boots on. Using the ankle manacles as a leash, he led the girl from his truck. By the time they had made their way to the front door, Isla was shivering uncontrollably. He kicked the front door open and drug her inside, since she was having a hard time guiding her legs in front of each other. He noticed her eyes were beginning to blink slowly, which was not a good sign for her body temp. At this point she was moving so slowly he began to get frustrated. To speed things along he grabbed and threw her over his shoulder.

Kicking open the mudroom door he carried her through the house and into his bedroom, throwing her down on the bed and piling the blankets high. He then busied about making a fire in the pot bellied stove that was in the room. Normally he saved the stove for severe storms because it pumped out so much heat, but Isla was in a bad way, slave or not, and he needed to warm her up quick. Once the tinder caught he threw a few small logs on it, and opened the flue. He checked on Isla making sure she was still conscious. Sure now that she wasn't going to die he attached one end of the manacles to the stove itself making sure that she wouldn't go anywhere, then hurried outside to check on his flock.

The goats hadn't eaten through the fence, but nevertheless three of them had somehow made it out and were gnawing on the wood of his house. Why? Because goats are assholes that's why. They eat everything you have and then pass the time by smashing everything else to pieces with their empty skulls. Grabbing a rope from the mudroom, he was able to herd two of the goats back in the pen, but had to rope the third, tossing him into the mud room.

Fortunately, the sheep and rabbits were much better off. After a quick feeding he threw a heavy blanket over the rabbits and unloaded the truck. By the time he had finished he wind was howling and the temperature had dropped precipitously from freezing to 'fuck you'. Emil stumbled back into the house as just as the snow started to fall sideways in big wet flakes. The goat was bleating incessantly until he drug it outside and slit its throat, as well as a few large arteries in his fore legs. Tying its hind legs, he hung it outside the corner of the house letting it bleed out. While it hung there he went back inside to check on Isla.

He opened the door, and almost choked on the heat. The room had to be in high eighties, and the stench of unwashed clothes and goat hide blankets was atrocious. Isla was as far away from the stove as her chains would allow, and had kicked the blankets off using a sheet to cover her nakedness. Emil reached to unlock the chains, and immediately burned his hands.

"Ow. Fire hot, dumbass."

He went to grab one of the blankets off the bed, but as soon as he was hit by stench, he changed his mind. Stomping out room and over to the kitchen, he grabbed the largest stewpot he could and went to fill it up with snow outside.

Unfortunately, because of yesterday's warmth there wasn't much snow on the ground and instead he had to chop through a thin layer of ice on the water barrel just outside the door, and fill from there. Lugging the giant pot back into his room he set it on top of the stove to begin warming. He then walked down the hall to his favorite room; the bathroom.

Quickly he took in the raised floor with its half sunken tub, repurposed from some abandoned house. There was a dangling pipe that led from a cistern outside, and another that led to a homemade water heater on a stand above a brazier. Turning a valve on the side of the cistern's pipe he allowed it to fill the tub as he bent to light the brazier to start water heating. Filling the tub about a quarter of the way, he shut off the cistern valve and went back to fetch the Isla.

The room was

rank

. The stove had warmed the room up to about ninety degrees and all of his bedding stank from having not been washed in the past month. Add to that the ripe sweat of a slave who likely hadn't seen a proper bath in a month... it was enough to curdle goats milk.

Ignoring the shackle connected to the stove, Emil reached for the slave who was now sweating profusely. He unlocked her remaining shackles and pulled her to her feet.

"You smell like shit. Come with me."

***

Isla winced at the comment, thinking about this morning's bath in the laundry room. It wasn't her, it was the bedding, but she figured insulting his room and hygiene wasn't a good way to start a relationship with a man who owned her. She grabbed a blanket from the bed to cover herself with, but Emil grabbed it away from her. He pulled her roughly down the hallway and into the water closet and she saw the small tub half sunken into the floor. Emil tested the water in the water heater and it was very warm. Dumping the entire reservoir of heated water into the tub filled it about halfway and brought the temperature up to a lukewarm, but then he added the water from the pot and it was now steaming.

"I assume you can bathe yourself?" He asked

"Yes, Master," she squeaked.

"Good. Soap is in the bucket, towels are in the chest." Emil then pointed to the next room over in the hallway. "That room has spare clothes. When you're finished, get dressed. I've got to finish getting things ready for the storm. " Emil then turned and left her to it, but left the door open so he would be able to see her if she tried anything foolish.

Isla crawled into the tub, reveling in the heat. She had always preferred her baths to be on the hot side, and now twice in a single day she was allowed to be truly warm. She sunk deep with a sigh, just her knees and the tops of her breasts out of the water. Her relaxation ended quickly though when she remembered he hadn't given her a time frame. He could be back any second.

She reached into the bucket near the tub and pulled out a lump of hard soap that was mostly from animal fat, with a very small amount of lye in it. It was much better than the harsh chemicals she had been forced to use earlier. After scrubbing her skin thoroughly she started in on her hair. The tangles in her hair were so thick and matted, it took her nearly fifteen minutes of fighting with it, just to be able to run her hand through it reliably. She would have to find something to make comb out of eventually but for now it would have to do. Rubbing the soap into her scalp felt

so

good. Little tingles went down her spine as she scrubbed and scratched, cleaning off nearly a year of dirt, sweat and god knows what else. Her entire life she had taken for granted the ability to be truly clean, but now she reveled in it even as it made her feel vulnerable.

When she was done she rose from the tub, grabbed a towel from the chest, and padded over to the room he had pointed at. This room had obviously been occupied by two people previously.

'Probably slaves. I wonder what happened to them. Maybe they died. Or maybe they displeased him and he killed them.'

The thought terrified her. If he had already killed two slaves before her, then he wouldn't hesitate to kill her too. He was obviously rich enough to buy more as needed. She remembered his hesitance when he was negotiating for her. He remembered Regina saying something about proper tools and trying to send him to a brothel. Is that why he bought her? Was it to have a sex slave? Her breath caught in her throat, as part of her brain accepted this rationale and she began to acknowledge she was his. Well, if she was going to be a sex slave, she would give him exactly what he wanted and never give him cause to hurt her.

'

Sleeping with him is a small price to pay to keep living. Maybe next spring I can escape into town and get away from this monster.'

She dressed quickly in clothes that fit very snugly, the previous slaves had obviously not been as large as her. She even found clean socks, putting two pairs on over her feet, as the rest of the house was very cold. She couldn't find any shoes, though, so she padded from the room looking for Emil, but couldn't find him anywhere.

She ended up in the kitchen, and was eyeing the cabinets with her stomach rumbling when she saw him walk past the window holding a gloved hand over his face as the wind whipped his thick coat. She had no real frame of reference, but it looked like the storm had hit, and it was just snow everywhere, she couldn't see beyond twenty feet. She heard the front door open and slam shut, then after a few seconds the mudroom door open and slam as Emil stumbled inside and made a beeline right for the bedroom. Isla's eyes widened when she saw the ice encrusted on his jacket and followed him into the room.

'

The storm must be bad.'

***

Emil peeled himself out of his jacket, under coat, and gloves and sat in front of the stove rubbing his ears. The storm had roared up quick and he didn't have time to grab his cap. His ears were burning something fierce. Fortunately in Emil's experience, the harsher the storm the faster it blew itself out.

He saw Isla standing just outside the room watching him out of the corner of his eye, dressed in some of his mother's old clothes. She was too wide and short for them, but she wouldn't be freezing any time soon. It was already late, the storm was upon them, and the animals had been seen to. The room still stank in the heat that the stove was putting out and he knew some of it was coming from his bedding.

"Did you dump out the water from your bath?" he asked Isla.

"No. Uh, Master."

"Good, take these blankets and wash them in the tub, hang them up over it until they stop dripping and then bring them in here to dry. Then search the other room for any bedding and do the same."

"Yes Master"

Emil just grunted. He wasn't used to being called

Master

, but he figured it was a good way of reminding himself not to get complacent. She was a slave, but she was still a human being and humans don't like being caged. If she got it into her head for even a minute that she would be better off without him, she would try to kill him and run. Having her call him

Master

seemed like a good way to remind himself that she was dangerous.

Emil's ears stopped burning, and he wandered into the kitchen to start cooking dinner looking at his supplies and deciding to celebrate a little bit with some roast rabbit. Firing the stove, he threw a whole rabbit, carrots, onions, mushrooms, salt, pepper, and garlic into a roasting pan, put in a little water to make sure nothing dried out, and set the whole kit in the oven. Emil wondered absently if Isla knew how to cook. That would be nice.

He then set about filling several buckets with water just in case the storm lasted longer than anticipated and froze the cistern solid, and quickly emptied all the wash basins refilling them instead with clean water. It took him a few minutes, but by the time he was done they were set for clean water and the rabbit was roasting away nicely.

He checked in on Isla, who was struggling with the weight of the bedding from his parents room. He watched as she lugged the heavy sheets and wool blankets down to the bathroom, studying her body. She was very pale, even more so than was common for people that lived as far into the cold as he did. She was at least 30lbs heavier than any girl he knew, even the ornery barkeep. Her hands were smooth and callous free, and her wrists were very thin.

She had never worked a day in her life. Not real work anyway. Quietly sighing to himself he thought about all the basic chores and survival skills he was going to have to teach Isla before she would even be able to

help

with daily routine.

This was going to be a long winter.

***

Isla struggled with the slave bedding which was heavier than she ever would have thought necessary, It was several very thick and heavy wool blankets, as well as a quilt that had been made from the skins and fur of some animal. The bedding was so well cared for and so thick she was surprised that it was in the slave's room, she would expect to see this in some lord's manor or in a nice inn.

'

Must be one of the perks of being a well off rancher. First pick of the herd.'

she thought. It was obvious that Emil was well off, but she wasn't sure how well. Not that it really mattered to her. Her job was to just stay alive and un-beaten as possible until she could figure out a way to get out.

Wrestling the blankets into the bathroom she started to load them into the tub one at a time, and scrub them clean of dirt, sweat, (and several questionable stains), then hanging them to drip dry. She busied herself with the task completely oblivious to the man who was watching her, losing herself in a task that she knew she could complete well.

Slave or not she took pride in being helpful and the simple chore reminded her of growing up in her father's laundry. A place she missed badly. The smell of the salt baths, the chatter of the laundress' gossiping over the days wash. The kids laughing and shoving each other into the springs. Her father buying exotic fruits for the family to taste.

She had a good life. Until now.

Isla finished hanging the last of the bedding to drip dry from a couple wooden rods suspended near the ceiling, she imagined were for just this purpose, and checked the first set of sheets she had hung. They were no longer dripping so she pulled them down and brought them into Emil's room. She eyed the bed intending to lay the sheets flat on it allowing it them to dry, but doubted he would appreciate sleeping on a wet mattress.

She looked around the room for something to hang the sheets from, and spotted several coat hooks on the wall behind the stove. Smiling inwardly at her own genius, she tied small knots in the corners of the sheets and hung them on the hooks.

'

Now they're near the stove and out of the way. Behold the cleverness of me.'

Isla repeated this process with the last of the sheets, but was forced to leave the quilts spread around the room, as they were too bulky to hang on the hooks. Finished with her task she drained the water from the tub, and tidied up the bathroom leaving it as when she arrived.

She padded over to the kitchen just as Emil pulled some fantastic smelling pot off of the stove and her stomach rumbled audibly. He glanced her way and she shrunk a little in his gaze, embarrassed by her unseemly noises.

"I've finished the bedding, and tidied the bathroom Master."

"Excellent" A small smile tweaked the corners of his mouth, as he turned back to his pot. "Grab some plates out of that cabinet," he said, indicating one with a nod of his head.

Isla quickly scurried over and grabbed two wooden plates out of the cabinet and stood there while he dished food into them. Her eyes widened as Emil completely emptied the pot of rabbit and vegetables equally onto both plates, and then took one and sat down at the table digging in quickly with fork and spoon.

She held the plate in her hands trying to decide if this was some sort of cruel joke. This was more food than she had eaten in one sitting, in over a year. Hell, this was more food than she had eaten this entire last week. She looked up and met his gaze, and he chuckled.

"If you don't eat it quick, it's gonna get cold."

She didn't have to be told twice. Grabbing a fork she tucked in with a vengeance. The steaming hot rabbit burned her tongue at first, but she ignored it and scooped the delicious meat as fast as she could.

She was surprised at the flavors; it was a different spice palate than she was used to, but it was delicious. Savory and sweet, with the vegetables providing a nice texture to complement the meat. This was a meal fit for a king.

Emil finished first and rose to rinse out his plate in the sink, adding it to the collection of dishes needing to be washed.

"Alright Isla, time we talked."

Chapter 9

Markem sat at the grimiest wooden table this shit heap of a tavern had. The grime bothered him, but it was more important to keep his back to the wall. Too many times he'd cheated death from behind, and usually from someone claiming to be a friend. He wasn't relying on luck anymore.

The flickering light of the fireplace at the far end of the room barely made it to his table, leaving his corner in a murky shadow. He played with the dented and scratched mug, half filled with the piss the bar claimed was beer, as he sunk deep into his thoughts. Absent mindedly he pulled and straightened his coat, which at one time had been pristine and bright, but was now stained and torn.

Twelve years of service to Lord Aldridge, and what did he get? Literally the coat on his back and a bounty on his head. He had no idea how those letters made it into his satchel, and had only ever seen Lady Wellington from a distance. He had no interest in trying to woo a Lady who literally bought and sold soldiers like him every day. He was more than content with the local brothel, no matter what those letters said.

Of course there was no love lost between him and his commanding officer in Lord Aldridge's guard. When he was accused of planning to kidnap Lady Wellington for -ahem- physical reasons, Commander Archer had been more than happy to pile on any discrepancy she could think of.