Quaranteam: Piper's Prelude (ch. 03)

Quaranteam: Piper's Prelude

Part Three

The look on Fiona's face made it clear she understood what sort of territory they were starting to venture into, and while it was the beginning of the parts Fiona wanted to know about the most, they were also the parts that Piper wanted to relive the least. Still, the athlete had decided if she told her story and got it out there, once it was down on paper, she wouldn't be forced to focus on the details themselves, and could instead simply accept and address how appalling Covington's behavior had been, and maybe spot how to fix the flaws in the system.

"Do you think Covington was able to procure you because of his donor status? I've heard he used much of his wealth to help set up and fund New Eden and the serum, so do you think that's what let him have so much control over the pairing system?" Fiona asked her.

"I think that prick is so used to buying people all the time that he figures whatever he wants is always available, once you know the price and how to pay it," Piper sighed. "I fucking hate him, more than any human being I've ever known."

"I keep meaning to ask - do you know if the serum has a name? I can't imagine they're just calling it the DuoHalo vaccine around the office."

Piper let a slightly bitter laugh slip from her lips. "I heard Rachel call it the Quaranteam serum offhandly one point, but who knows if that's what they're actually calling it, or if it's just a joke among some of the staff. Niko would probably know. Phil

definitely

would know."

"Like Phil's going to tell me

anything

," Fiona sighed. "He's probably going to want to disown Andy when he finds out I'm writing a book about this whole experience."

"Mmmm..." Piper said. "You might not know Phil quite as well as you think you do. I think when the pandemic started, Phil thought he was doing the right thing under the worst possible circumstances, but Andy said he's been different since everybody arrived in New Eden. Less sure of himself, and to hear Andy tell it, there's never been a time when Phil hasn't seemed completely confident about

everything

. So it wouldn't hurt to talk to him."

Fiona nodded, flipping the page of her yellow legal pad over to the next sheet of paper, clearly taking copious notes the entire time they were talking. Piper also noticed that Fi's phone was recording the conversation as well, to catch whatever she couldn't get written down fast enough. "I know these next few bits aren't going to be any fun for you, Piper, but I feel like once you have them out of you, once you've

told

someone about what you went through, you'll feel a bit better."

"I don't know if that's true, but I suppose I can try."

"Have you told anyone about your time with Covington?" the older woman asked.

"I think I've told Andy about half of it, and he's the one I've told the most about it," Piper sighed. "I wanted to tell my mom and dad about it, but..."

"You didn't want them getting into Covington's crosshairs, I imagine."

"Well, yes, but..." Piper said. "I didn't want them to think less of me, and before you start in on telling me it wasn't my fault, that I was caught up in the system... I

know

all of that. I rationally know that I'm the victim in this story, but nobody likes feeling helpless, even when they were.

Especially

when they were. My dad would drive up here and try and kill Covington himself if he found out."

"He's

going

to find out from my story, Piper..." Fiona warned her.

"Oh I know, but hopefully by then, there'll be some justice taking place," Piper answered. "Just the fact that you're

writing

this book is going to shine a spotlight on some of the atrocities that have been taking place here. We've all been

very

lucky, considering how scrupulous and kind Andy is. It's very important we show that not everybody is Andy Rook. In fact, I think most people

aren't

Andy Rook. You definitely want to investigate what sort of challenges and problems people like, say, the level 1 and 2 men are going through."

Fiona clicked her tongue a little bit. "That's just it, Piper... there

aren't any

."

Piper stopped mid sip of her juice, lowering the glass down from her lips. "What are you talking about, Fiona?"

"So I can't tell you who I heard this from, but I have a source who's told me that any man who was rated a level 1 or a level 2 and is still

alive

at this point has been elevated to level 3," Fiona said, leaning back in her chair a little. "In fact, the whole system is going through a very dramatic reworking right now, ahead of the President's speech tomorrow. Because the casualties are even higher than people know. I think maybe even Phil and his team have been kept in the dark, mostly to try and keep morale up."

"Jesus Fucking Christ, Fi, how bad

is

it, I mean, really?"

"As of 2019, the male population of the US was about 160 million. Nobody seems to have a definite account of what it is right now, but the estimates in the upper echelons of Washington are that we have somewhere between five and nine million men alive in the USA. Some of the more optimistic estimations are putting it as high as twelve million, but my source seems to think that's rose-tinted goggles, and shouldn't be given any credibility."

"Eight million is

five percent

of what we used to have," Piper hissed quietly. "What's the female population looking like?"

"It was 166 million in 2019, and now I think my source in Washington thinks it's about 140 million these days, give or take twenty mil," Fiona said. "It's very dangerous to us, no doubt about it, but DuoHalo is infinitely more dangerous to men. To us, sure, there's some fatalities, but mostly it's long term lung damage, immune system compromises and a whole litany of muscle, bone and organ damage. But men? Shit. They're dead within a

day

. Knowing you could be gone just like that?" Fiona let out a soft whistle. "That's going to do a number on all the men who are still alive."

"How are they keeping all this secret?" Piper said. "Shit, I mean the local

Target

is still open..."

"Sure, but at what cost?" Fiona laughed. "I mean, haven't you figured out

how

it's still open? It's entirely staffed by women, partners of all the support staff for people living around, but not in, New Eden. Dos Eden, Little Eden, all the weird little feeder communities that staff up everything here. The men are kept in their little bubbles, and those of us with the high end men stay and keep them warm and cosy, but the ladies in the lower tiers, they've still gotta pay bills somehow. I'm more amazed the shipping lines haven't completely broken down myself."

"People panic if things don't feel at least a little normal, so maybe that's their top priority," Piper said. "People need to feel protected..."

"Exactly. The people who

are

protected, they're probably still scared that something could go sideways. And the men who aren't protected yet? They've got to be scared out of their fucking minds, hunkered down, knowing just how vulnerable they are. We're all going to have PTSD by the end of this, but the men who survive? They're going to have some weird combination of survivor's guilt and hyperactive fight-or-flight responses. So the government is doing literally

anything

it can think of to try and keep men alive. No level 1s, no level 2s... they just want to make sure any living man in the US

stays

alive. In every sense of the word, every American man is some level of a VIP. Because they have to be. And god knows, it's just as bad, if not worse, abroad."

"When are we going to hear more?"

"I think once President Pelosi comes clean about our losses, so will most of the rest of the countries," Fiona said. "I think a few of them are going to try and project strength, but in the end, it's going to be pretty easy for those illusions to get shattered, so we'll see."

"Most of the men of the world are dead, and the politicians of the world are still engaged in dick measuring contests," Piper sighed. "It's maddening. We should be in a new world. With the numbers you're talking, it's over ten-to-one ratio of women to men."

"If it's the worst-case scenario for men's fatalities and best-case scenario for women's fatalities, it's nearly thirty-to-one."

"Suddenly, Andy having twenty partners doesn't seem so silly, does it?" Piper laughed. "Whatever it takes to keep men alive, that's what we have to do."

"All men?" Fiona said. "Tell me about your first meeting with Covington."

Piper groaned, shaking her head. "Not

all

men. If Covington fries, I wouldn't mind one bit. Hated that prick right from the start..."

* * * * *

When the escort came to collect me the next morning, I felt like shit. I'm told that's sort of a side effect of the serum, that the day after, until you get paired, your body feels almost incomplete, like it's lacking something, like you don't have the energy you feel like you should. Rachel said it was normal, and that as soon as I'd been imprinted on Covington, the sensations would pass, and she urged me to get it over with as quickly as possible. Her words, not mine. I remember, because it made me nervous in advance, especially since she wouldn't explain in any detail.

I wasn't alone in the pickup either.

There were two of us being delivered to Covington that day. Rachel was escorting us, along with our handlers. I know a lot of people seem to have gotten nice rides to and from the base, but for us, we were signed, sealed and delivered by the Air Force Security Services, with Rachel DeMarco leading us down the highway to hell.

Along with me was a woman named Layla Greene. You might actually know her, or at least know

of

her, considering you have slightly similar backgrounds, although only partially I guess. She was a reporter and analyst for Fox News. She's like the majority of women there - white, blonde hair, blue eyes, busty figure, superiority complex a mile wide and yet, still willing to be subordinate to any man she thinks can help her make progress up the food chain. They must print them out like Barbie dolls in Kansas or something.

Layla had on a short black skirt that barely reached past mid thigh, with dark stockings on underneath it, and a loose, expensive looking red blouse, with a large Donna Karan purse that probably cost more than everything in my little wheelie suitcase combined. I didn't even want to imagine what was in hers.

She recognized me from the GIF because of

course

she did, and as annoyed as I was about

that

, I think she was equally annoyed that I didn't recognize

her

from Fox, because no way in hell am I watching that garbage network. That pissed her off, but she tried very hard to hide it from me, because she thought we were going to living together for the rest of our lives, so getting off on the wrong foot would mean too long to clean up.

I'd put on track pants, a sports top and a track jacket, hoping to look as shabby and unappealing as possible. I'd been getting nothing but bad vibes up until this point, so I remember thinking that maybe if I looked slovenly enough, maybe this Covington person would turn me away.

We were encouraged not to talk too much on the way over, thankfully, so after some brief introductions and a little idle chit chat, we rode silently most of the rest of the way over to Covington Manor, which, I have to tell you, is a goddamn fortress.

Andy's seen it, but I know you haven't, so let me tell you, there is an Aryan poster child of a woman with a machine gun manning the gate, and I think he's got at least two to three others patrolling the grounds, not to mention the cadre of dogs. I think it might have only been two or three guards in total when I arrived, but around the time, well, that I started to lose myself, the day before Andy rescued me, I'd counted at least five, so I suspected he was getting them delivered during the point between my arrival and my departure. By now, I imagine his home is practically goddamn Fort Knox, maybe even better and more secure.

I'll come back to that in a lot more detail later...

The plot of land that Covington Manor lays on is massive. Maybe that's why it lays on the corner of the New Eden area. It means that technically, he has an exit from the campus that he has total control over, even if a lot of it is on a goddamn hill. He doesn't just have one house - he has three. The main manor is where Covington and his inner circle of bitches live and play. That's got to be where they held the poker game, and where I imagine Andy found me. Apparently the cook, Veronica, also doubled as the card dealer for their little game.

I know Rachel, as one of Covington's favorites, lives in the main house, as well as Alicia, the mother of Covington's children, although she divides her time with the children in one of the other houses.

Alicia's a weird force at the house, almost kind of like a ghost, rarely seen but often spoken of, and her presence is felt

everywhere

. I think she doesn't like the idea of having the children seeing all the weird shit Covington gets up to, so the kids don't come into the main house. In fact, during the entire nine days I was there, I only saw Alicia the once.

We'll get to it, I promise.

Sorry, I know I'm getting shit all jumbled up. I'm trying to focus, but this is a lot of shit I'd much rather forget about. No no, I'll get through it. I just have to keep on talking.

When we arrived at the building, Layla and I were given our little suitcases and taken into a large living room, where we were told to wait. We weren't given our cellphones back, despite both of us complaining that we had people we needed to call to inform where we were.

The thing about Covington's house is that no matter where you go, the fucker is

always

showing off his wealth. The living room we were left in wasn't the biggest one in the house, we would later find out, but that didn't mean he wasn't above hanging a Renoir to show off that he could spare one. Three couches, no television, bookshelves on the walls all filled with first editions of books over a hundred years old - Dickens, Swift, you know the type.

Rachel sat down in one couch, with Layla on a second and me on the third. "So, ladies, Mister Covington will be in in just a little bit, but I thought I might give you a little briefing about what your life's going to be like here. You just mostly need to keep your head down and stay out of his way and then you can enjoy a life of luxury, but anytime you're around Mister Covington, you have to realize that he is the Master of House, and that whatever he says is what goes. He owns this house, he owns the land it's on and, frankly, he's probably the most powerful man in all of New Eden, maybe even in Northern California. He has a way he wants things done, and a way he wants people to do and act. It might seem a little old fashioned, but whenever he's not around you, you can do whatever you want around the house."

"What do you mean 'old fashioned?'" I asked Rachel.

"He's in his 60s and he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Piper," Rachel sighed at me. "If you're expecting a modern man, you're going to be very disappointed. He's about as conservative as they come, and that includes believing women should take a back seat to whatever the man thinks. That means you should agree with him on just about everything. When he's not around, you can do whatever you want, but when his attention's on you, it had better be 'Yes sir,' 'I understand, sir' and 'of course you're correct, sir,' otherwise there'll be hell to pay."

I remember being very angry at that, as you can imagine. "What the hell happened to 'giving you your ideal match' and all the other nonsense they fed us when they came to pick us up?" I said to her, fuming, unable to sit down, pacing around the room like a caged lion.

"Don't be naive, Piper," Rachel sighed, exasperatedly. "You live in the same country I do, and the rich make all the fucking rules, so when Arthur Covington the 4

th

decides he wants you as one of his brides, that's just what's going to happen, no matter what you want."

"This isn't the fucking Handmaid's Tale, Rachel!" I shouted at her. "I'm not a piece of property or cattle to be traded away for some parcels of land and a better title! Covington doesn't just get to

decide

that I belong to him, no matter how fucked up the world is right now!"

"He does and he

has

, Piper," Rachel said. "And that means you are, you do. You do belong to him now and forever more. And you may

think

all of this sounds terrible, but any time he's not around, you live in a fucking

mansion

, with servants catering to your needs. There's a full pool, and a gym, and you can continue with your Olympic training and do whatever else is you want to do with your day-to-day life, but for a few hours a week, you get to pretend you're a docile little girl back in the 1500s, because that's how Arthur likes his women. If you really don't like him that much, then just be as boring as possible, and he'll lose interest in you, and you'll only have to service him during your spot in the rotation, but other than that, he'll barely even know you're around." She looked at me with a very stern expression on her face. "But if you try and struggle, if you fight back or try and do something awful to him, he can utterly make your life a living hell."

"And what if I just get up and leave?! What about that, Rachel?"

"How, Piper? There's dogs and sentries guarding the perimeter, and they're all completely loyal to Arthur. They're going to chase you down and bring you back here, and you won't have gained anything, will you? All you'll have done is piss Arthur off, and then he's only going to make it that much worse on you."

"Worse? How the fuck could it be worse?"

"You

really

don't want to know," Rachel sighed. "I've been with Arthur since the whole program formed New Eden here in June, and if you want to cause trouble, he will take great delight in breaking you, like a stubborn horse that needs to be trained." She laughed a little. "Oh yeah, there's a stable here, so you can go horse riding any time you want. If you're especially nice to him, maybe he'll buy you a pony."

"I'm not some twelve year old girl he can buy off with a goddamn

pony

, Rachel. I'm not going to put on a pretty little dress and parade around for him like I'm happy in a life of slavery. I'm going to get the fuck out of here."

"You're not, Piper," Rachel told me. "I know it sounds like it sucks, but there's like a 95% chance he's going to fuck you and then forget about you, and as long as you stay out of his way, he won't even think about you when it isn't your time to service him. Your best option is to just make yourself

forgettable

, if you really don't want to cozy up to him. There

are

benefits to being on his good side. Artie's got enough money that if he likes you, he can buy you whatever or whoever you want. He could bring one of your friends here to join you, so you've got someone to spend time with. They'll have to tend to Artie's needs as well, but you can do that together, which generally makes it easier."

"I'm not bi-sexual," I said to her.

"Neither am I," Layla said, reminding us both of her presence for the first time in minutes.

"You will be," Rachel laughed. "He'll turn you into one, force you to learn to like it. Or you'll at least learn to fake it. But it'll be better to come around. Your biophysiology is changing right now, in ways you can't even begin to understand, making your mind more pliant, more open to suggestion, to doing new things, to losing societal taboos. Every woman thinks she's not going to change or be changed by the serum, but every woman learns that

nobody

beats science. That's why it's science. Science always wins. You're going to learn to crave Artie, to yearn for the sweet release of the orgasms he can give you, to feel that rush of endorphins flooding your system over and over again. Shit, you'll go into it thinking you only want to do the bare minimum you need to survive, but eventually you'll start craving the orgasms more and more, and you'll find you have less and less morals in your way to getting them, especially if he decides to hold out on you and make you wait, because the frustration, the pain and the suffering from

not

getting them? I watched my sister deep in the throes of heroin withdrawal, and that didn't hold a fucking

candle

to what women in need of their orgasms are like."