The Killing Queens Read online

  “I thought you retired?” Vice President Volb asked as they walked into the school.

  “Oh, I am dear. Don’t get it twisted,” Mrs. Gillard explained.“I still live out on James Island on that very nice pension you ensured all educators, but I had to come off the island for one of my best students,”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Gillard,” The Vice President responded.“Come on. Let’s see what this school has done.”

  A secret service agent opened the door for her and Mrs. Gilliard. A group of people, including the current principal of the school greeted them as they entered the school.

  “Priscilla , on behalf of the of the students, staff, and faculty here at Septima P. Clark, welcome,” Dr. Rosalina Quintanilla said calmly. She was a thin and average height middle aged Latino woman with short tight curled hair and hazel eyes. Behind her stood a set of five girls all in purple jackets and skirts as well who looked eager to meet her but also nervous as well. They all had smiles beaming across their faces but their thin knees wobbled as they struggled to contain their emotions.

  “Thank you so much, Principal Quintanilla,” Priscilla said in response.

  “This is the student government association,” Principal Quintanilla said as she pointed to the girls behind her. “They will take you to the auditorium and show you to your seats,” she said.

  “Very well,” Priscilla said.“Ladies, lead the way,”

  “Yes, Madame Vice President,” they said in unison.

  “Ok, that was a little bit too creepy. Let’s not do that again,” she said in response.

  “Oh, ok,” each of them said separately as they started down the long corridor of the school to the auditorium.

  Priscilla , Ms. Gilliard, five secret service agents, and Principal Quintanilla all walked in a line behind the students.They were led down a corridor filled with oil paintings of famous female graduates of both Septima P. Clark High School and the previous name of the school, John C. Calhoun High School.

  “M-m-m-Madame Vice President,” the girl on the right stuttered. “Welcome to the p-p-p-show,”

  “Thank you,” she responded as they opened the doors into the auditorium.

  It was filled with more purple. Purple chairs, lavender walls, and dark plum curtains on the stage. In the room sat hundreds of girls who were staring in awe of Priscilla .

  “It’s good to be back. Even though this school is new in name and remodeling, it is the same place that I went to as well,” She said began.

  Priscilla began to slowly walk around the stage, facing the crowd of smiling faces of students.

  “You and I walked these same buildings, corridors, and facilities. I grew up here in Charleston. Biking up and down the streets, wearing corsets,being presented to society in a debutante ball, marrying my husband in that same ceremony,” She said as the crowd laughed along with her.

  “But seriously though, it’s good to be back. Thank you for inviting me. Now lets see this presentation,” She said.The audience applauded as she handed off the microphone to another student before walking off stage and sitting in her seat.

  The lights dimmed over the stage and the curtains rose in the darkness.

  “The year is 2042 and the country is its peak of purity, peonage, and patriarchy” an announcer said in the background as the stage lit up. The scenery was that of the Washington, DC. Cut outs of the Capitol, the White House, and the Supreme Court were in the background. In the forefront, there was a small crowd of girls girls dressed in white gowns kneeling on the ground with their heads bowed while a group of girls, dressed as men in black suits stood over them.

  From the center of the stage, a single student dressed in a long black robe with a black haired wig walked forward with a bound black book in her hand.

  “This is the day that America becomes her very best,” The student announced to present herself to the audience. She stood smiling in a way that was happy yet creepy as she revealed her teeth one by one.

  Priscilla squirmed in her seat. She felt a stabbing pain in her pierce her stomachs. She bent over in her chair, holding her stomach and silently crying in anguish.

  “It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon,”

  The acting on stage brought back her own wedding memories. The itching of her skin as she was strapped down against a hard wooden chair in a white lacey gown that engulfed her with rough, even itchier tule. She started scratching and clawing her skin. She felt compelled to stop the pain, stop the hurt, and stop the ceremony.

  But she couldn't because she knew it wasn’t knew it wasn’t real but she would keep her head down so she couldn’t see it.

  “Madame Vice President,” One of her SecretService Agents said to her as she had her head down.

  “It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon,”

  But she couldn’t. The chilling memories of her own wedding crept into her mind. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the arms of the chair and felt her teeth gritting against each other in her dry mouth. Beads of sweat grew on her face as she breathed heavily through her nose sounding like a car engine revving up.

  Images in her mind of white dresses and women being She remembered the day that the narrator said as the horrific scene played out on stage and the memories of what occurred in reality played in everyone’s head that lived through that time. Women who were neglected by their husbands, beaten, and had their hair ripped out of their skulls.

  “STOP!!!” A voice said on stage.

  The thoughts of fear and intimidation stopped swirling in Priscilla’s head. She peered over the seats to see a replica of the militia that Catherine lead nearly 5 years ago. A rag tag group of Marines, Sailors, Soldiers, Guardsmen, and Costies all formed up armed with guns, axes, swords, rakes, and other random household objects that had bean weaponized. They were all covered in dirt, mudd, leaves, and remnants of make up palates.

  In the front of the line were the actors playing the six members of The Cabinet: herself in Marine desert cammies, Zora in Navy green beans, Riva in Army Camo, Sierra in grey and tan Air Force dungarees, Martha in Army Camo, and Nancy in Army Camo: all armed with rifles, a sword, and a pair of pistols on each side.

  They were lad by their fearless leader Catherine. Standing with her sword against the man in blacks neck, her red hair had globs of dirt in it. Uniform covered with blood stains and leaves, yet she stood pridefully before him.

  rThey had enough of their captivity, their entrapment based on their gender, and their use as trophies and breeding stock.

  They would take it no more. They would have their revenge and take their power back.

  Chapter 7: The Pentagon

  Inside a large business craft jet named Gulfstream V, Nancy sat pondering how her life had led her here. She looked down at a black folder with a red seal on it labeled Project Bouidca Part 2 that was in her lap.

  “ I guess now is a good time to look in here,” She said to herself.

  She took a deep breath as she opened the file. Her brown eyes darted across the pages, looking at graphs, charts, and designs of rockets and space shuttles.

  “Ma’am,” a voice said from above.

  She looked up to see a tall woman with light blonde hair hovering over her in an olive green dress uniform. “We’re nearing the landing zone,” the woman explained.

  “Oh,” she said in a slightly alarmed tone. She sat up straight in her seat and then gripped the chairs arm rests and squeezed her eyes shut. “ I’ll be on the ground soon, I’ll be on the ground soon, I’ll be on the ground soon.

  Roughly an hour later, Nancy and her staff made it to The Pentagon, Nancy was cool, calm, and collected. She had her hair and makeup done in her office and changed into her Dress Blues before going backstage in one of The Pentagon’s largest auditoriums. She was set to speak on the new program and how it would make the country better.

  “Gunnery Sergeant, how long till we go live?” she asked as she was handed a battery pack and microphone which she put on her waist ban
d.

  “Thirty seconds, ma’am. They need you on stage,” The Gunnery Sergeant said. She guided her to a marked spot on the stage.

  “Good luck, ma’am,” the Gunnery Sergeant said as she quietly darted off stage.

  As the general stood there alone in the dark, she calmly took a deep breath.

  “Attention on deck!”

  The sound of dozens of seats squeaking and feet landing on the floor reverberated as hundreds of military members stood at attention; feet at a forty-five degree angle, arms by their sides, fisted rolled as if they were holding a roll of quarters, heads forward with eyes straight ahead on her as she stood there waiting for the perfect level of silence.

  “At ease. Take your seats,” she said.

  With that, echoes of seats going down and feet hitting the ground made the room feel a bit at ease because the information that she had to share was to be a bit brutal and rough.

  “The have been countless women in history who have picked up a weapon in the name of the defense of their country. The British had Elizabeth I, the Scottish had Mary, the French had Joan of Arc, and Ndongo and Matamba had Nzinga. And there was once a legend,” she said as she stopped pacing around the stage and looking at those who had eyes on her. “A legend of warrior women named the Amazons,” she continued. “The Amazons were a fierce group of women raised to be warriors from birth. Free from men, they were able to be themselves and maximize their potential without any laws or constraints. Taught to fight, defend, and maintain peace within the world. That was their mission, their purpose of existence. That is what this new project—this new law will do.”

  She clicked the small remote she held and behind her appeared an image of five warrior women, each representing a branch of the military along with the title: Boudicca Project.

  “Allow me to present to you, the greatest program for our defense since 1776,” Nancy began. “The Boudicca Project is our way to solidify and strengthen our country,” she onto the next slide that showed a chart of growth from civilian to serviceman.

  “To start, we will be borrowing the idea of mandatory service from Israel,” Nancy said. “Instead of immediately going to college or work, each woman that is able-bodied, will be with our new physical education program, will be assigned their military branch on their eighteenth birthday. They will be expected to report to training immediately after graduating high school. Then as they did in Israel, once they serve a period of 4 years on Active Duty, they will be free to go to college or continue their service. Either way, their college will be paid for while they continue to receive their rank’s salary.,” she explained.

  People in the audience held various expressions. Half seemed to be excited, half were worried, but all were taking notes.

  “This program will go into effect the same day as our second new federal program.”

  There were gasps in the room with this news. This was a good sign. She had left enough to be desired by the audience members but not a large enough chunk to give away the surprise. In the meantime, they had a new project to absorb at first.

  “I am not at liberty to say what thatprogram involves, but I can say that the President will address you in the coming days. That being said, the changes I have stated are set to go into affect immediately. The first drawing will occur tonight at midnight. Names have been organized along with branches. Each girl will be notified with both an email and letter. Objections will be met swiftly with execution. No rebellions will be tolerated. You will be apart of our force.,” she said.

  The room was quelled as she said those words. Nancy looked around at the silence in the room. She could tell that some people were surprised, others were eager to have this program started. Some were nervous.

  From the tests that she had done earlier, she could tell that while some people would be successful, others not so much. Those who were successful carried on in their service, those that did not had another life to live.

  But that was not her life. Her life consisted of recruiting, promoting, and correcting. She was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and here she was doing her job, no questions asked.

  “Thank you for your time. Have a pleasant evening.”

  “Attention on deck!” an announcer hollered.

  The people in the auditorium raised themselves out of their chairs and stood at attention, waiting for Nancy to walk out of the room.

  She was lead out to wait for her car to take her back home, but as she waited, she pulled out her phone and made a call.

  “I told them as you asked. Yes, they’re ready.”

  Chapter 8: The Assignments

  “Alright, what do you think?” Martha said as she came down the staircase into Kelly’s hideaway. The dress was a fitted black mermaid style with one shoulder covered and the other revealing her collar bone.

  “You look really hot, babe,” Kelly said as he saw her from his shelf-bed wrapped in a blanket.

  “Thank you,” she responded. “Now, I’ll be home late tonight, but I promise I’ll be back, dear. Goodnight,” she said, leaving her male counterpart in his hideaway.

  Martha then traveled via her driver to a lavish plaza in the center of the Capitol. It had been erected solely for this occasion. It was square in nature and Grecian in architecture. Her secret service agents moved her into the building quickly to get away from protestors again asking where the men were being held and photo journalists taking photos of all of the guests and asking them questions about their specialties as well as their feeling on the overall state of the union.

  As soon as she entered, she saw the beauty, glamor, and strength inside the building. Athletes, politicians, artists, actresses—all female, of course—filled the area, socializing and celebrating each other's accomplishments. Crowds and crowds of the most powerful women in the U.S. and in the world in some fields, dressed all in black, waited inside the front foyer.

  A vision come true.

  Ding, ding, ding, ding.

  “Ladies, please make your way into the dining hall,” An announcement rang out.

  “Madame Press Secretary,” a secret service agent said to her as she took off her coat.“The rest of The Cabinet is this way, ma’am.”

  “Oh, yes. Right away, ” Martha said in response.

  As the crowds of women entered the ballroom to sit at lavish circular tables, Martha followed her agents to a long square table in front of the room where other members of The Cabinet were seated in front of a stage.

  “Good evening, ladies,” she said.

  “Good evening. About time you showed up,” Riva commented.

  “I’m sorry. I like to be both professional and pretty,” Martha responded to her concerns.

  “Considering she is a walking history book, I say we give her a break this time, eh?” Nancy said as she took her seat next to her.

  “Thank you so much, General,” she commented.

  “Not a problem. I saw your history lesson the other day to those reporters. Holy cow, all the way back to the 1800s and everything in between then and now for both race and gender relations. That’s impressive.”

  “Here, here,” Priscilla chimed in.

  “Alright, let’s make a toast,” Zora said, raising her glass of champagne with Riva, Martha, Nancy, and Priscilla .

  “Here’s to our country and our new solution to the problem. May they bring us more pleasure than pain. Cheers.”

  “Cheers!” they said in unison, clinking glasses and then sipping on sweet champagne.

  Then tune of “Hail to the Chief” played, announcing the President’s arrival. Everyone stood silent and still as Catherine walked into the room and onto the stage. She was radiant and elegant in a long flowing strapless black gown with a single red rose pinned over her left breast.

  “Thank you, thank you. Please, take your seats,” she said to the crowd.

  They all sat quietly and waited for their leader to speak.

  “Good evening, ladies, and welcome to the first ever As
signment Night,” the President began. “I know for many of you this night has been a long time coming. Many of you lived before this administration and may have suffered in some way, shape, or form at the hands of men. Maybe it was a manager, a superior, a parent, a sibling, or even a friend. For that suffering and those we lost to that suffering, we wear black tonight to honor their memory as well as the memory of those we lost in the war.”

  As she said those words, a light shone down on a single chaired table with a few items on top: a single lemon slice, a salt shaker, single candle, an empty glass, red rose in a vase, and a bible. All symbolic of those that suffered and died along with the tears of those that grieved their death.

  “They died so we could live in this better world. May we not do it in vain or without acknowledgement of their sacrifice,”. The President then bowed her head, and the crowd followed in suit. The moment of silence lasted for approximately one minute before she spoke into the microphone once more.

  “Now, let us begin with the assignments,”Catherine said. She clapped and the crowd joined in, breaking the silence. “I know many of you have been wondering where the men have been and if we will ever see them again. Today, you all will receive your very own man,” she said. “ Never should you fear abuse or shame or death from these men. They exist only to serve and obey you. Here they come and with your favorite meals.”

  As she laid out that last command, men rolled out and off stage. They were all dressed in black tuxedos and carried out the customized orders of the women. These various men looked quite dashing Dishes ranging from a simple hamburger and fries to the healthier choice of cobb salad. There were more lavish meals as well, such a roasted quail eggs with a melody of peppers and broccoli.

  Then once they placed the food in front of The Cabinet, the men all dressed in waiter uniforms, stood behind thed their assigned mistresses and waited for their next command to follow.