The other women and I moved deeper into the bus, settling in row by row. We were about halfway in by the time it was my turn to take a seat, which I did without hesitation, scooting over so Bette could sit as well.
She scurried after me, and in a quiet voice said, “The soldiers aren’t very nice, are they?”
“They’re not supposed to be.” Shifting my attention to the man I’d addressed – who was watching me – I lowered my voice. “I don’t know where we’re going, and based on what Hilary said, I don’t think it’s one of the prison hospitals, but don’t be fooled. We aren’t free.” I looked at Bette. “And we won’t be for a while.”
I said the last statement slowly, uttering it as much to gauge her awareness of the situation as to prepare her for what might happen after her baby was born. If this pandemic went on – which, based on history, there was no reason to think it wouldn’t – there was no way Bette would be allowed to return home even after she had her baby. In the eyes of the government, an unborn baby had the same rights as one that had been born, which meant they would protect them the same way. By keeping him or her separated from the general population.
But what about the mom? What rights did she have in this new world of infertility? That was the question threatening to keep me up at night.
When all the women in the program had boarded the bus, the fertility counselors filed on, followed by the rest of the soldiers. I zeroed in on Ramirez the second he appeared and wasn’t at all surprised when his eyes flitted around, finally stopping on me. Even though his expression didn’t change, something flickered in the brown depths of his irises. The hair on my scalp prickled, and I squirmed but didn’t look away as he moved to the nearest empty seat. Only when he sat did he break our connection, butthe tingling that had started in my scalp hadn’t eased and had now reached my arms, causing goose bumps to pop up on my skin.
Once everyone had taken their seats, the soldier I’d spoken to when first boarding the bus shut the door, then slid into the driver’s seat, his gun resting next to him. No one bothered to address us, not to tell us where we were going or what was going to happen next, or even reassure us, and the interior of the bus was so quiet I actually jumped when the engine roared to life. A few seconds later, we were on our way.
The silence hung on for a while after that, broken only by the occasional whispered comment or cough. It was like everyone was afraid to speak. Like we thought we would be penalized for it. I doubted that was true, but even I couldn’t make myself start up a conversation with Bette. I was just too tense and emotionally drained.
Close to half an hour passed before Bette finally broke the silence. “These seats are so hard.”
My first instinct was to be irritated because, on the surface, it seemed like such a silly thing to complain about. Minor comforts were the least of my concerns at the moment. But my annoyance quickly melted away when she started rubbing her stomach. Of course, she was uncomfortable. She was thirty-four weeks pregnant.
“We’ll be there before you know it,” I said, trying to reassure her – and hoping it was true.
Bette gave me a grateful smile.
She and I spent most of the ride in silence, only chatting to speculate about where we were heading as the city grew farther away and the mountains closer. Since I knew nothing about Colorado, the landmarks and small towns we passed told me nothing, but guessing where we might be staying served as a distraction to my unease. A hospital in an abandoned town that the government had fixed up specifically for this purpose, a prison or detention center that was no longer in use, a secluded hotel. A school, an old base, a casino in the middle of nowhere, a luxury resort. The possibilities were endless because so manyplaces like that had been abandoned over the last several decades as the population decreased more and more. Despite the distraction the guessing game created, none of the options were appealing. I just wanted to be home.
I hadn’t really been paying attention to how much time had passed, but for some reason, I could tell when we were close. It might have been that the bus had slowed – although since we were driving on some pretty mountainous roads, I didn’t think so – or it could have just been instinct. Either way, I shifted in my seat and craned my neck as the bus drove on, eyeing the soldiers – Ramirez, especially, even though I could only see the back of his head – and the landscape in front of us. When we rounded a bend and a stone sign that readThe Stanleycame into view, I knew we’d finally reached our destination.
A large white building was visible in the distance, several smaller ones around it. To say the landscape reminded me of a horror movie was putting it mildly. The building was clearly a hotel and old, and probably historic, but it looked like it hadn’t been used in quite a while. The grounds were overgrown, what used to be garden areas now wild with weeds, and the red shingled roof looked more than a little worse for wear, and there were patches of black shingles beside the old, gray ones, telling me it had been recently repaired. The exterior of the building also looked like it had seen better days, and more than one window was boarded up. Still, there was something beautiful about the place, and not just because of the mountains behind it or how secluded it was.
“It’s a hotel,” someone on the other side of the bus said as we drove closer.
“It’s where Stephen King wroteThe Shining,” someone else said.
I almost laughed, not because I didn’t believe the other woman, but because it seemed insane that the government would bring us to the hotel that inspired one of the most infamous horror novels of all time. Seriously? What were we doing here?
The bus rolled to a stop in front of the main building, but just like when the plane had landed, none of the women moved. The soldier driving, however, did, standing and opening the door butnot even looking our way before he ducked out.
The other women and I waited in silence, all of us seemingly holding our breath in anticipation of what was going to happen next. Ramirez glanced over his shoulder a minute or so after the other soldier had exited, and when our eyes locked, I had the sense he was trying to tell me something. I didn’t know what and didn’t have time to guess, because at that moment, a man I’d never seen before stepped onto the bus.
He was also a Department of Fertility soldier, although much less imposing than the one who’d driven us here. He was even smiling behind his mask, which I could tell because his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Welcome to the Stanley Hotel,” he proclaimed, sounding like the cruise director from a movie I’d seen once. “My name is Sergeant Collins, and I’ve been assigned as the point person for your group. I understand all of this is overwhelming but let me assure you that the government is doing everything in its power to protect the fertile women in this country. And we really lucked out on the location! Let me assure you that, thanks to the reopening of this amazing historic site, you’re sure to be comfortable as you wait out the pandemic.” A woman at the front of the bus raised her hand and the soldier said, “Yes?”
“How long will that be?”
The lighthearted expression in his eyes was replaced by a somber one. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to predict that. The CDC will keep an eye on the numbers, taking the infection and recovery rates into consideration, as well as the deaths. I wish I could give you a more definitive answer, believe me, but we just don’t have that information at this juncture.” The slight pause that followed the statement wasn’t long enough to allow anyone else to speak. “I know you all have questions and concerns, and let me assure you, we will answer them all after you’ve gotten settled. For now, though, I ask that you follow me into the hotel so we can assign you rooms. I know it’s late and you must be tired. And hungry.” A few chuckles followed that statement as well as several grumbles, which was understandable since it was close to eight o’clock in Ohio at this point, and we hadn’t been givenanything to eat during our trip. “We’ll get those things taken care of tonight,” Collins went on, “and deal with the briefing tomorrow morning.”
He waved to the open door, indicating it was time to go, then turned his back to us. The women around me began to stand, and I did too. Collins paused to say something to the driver, who’d reclaimed his seat behind the wheel. The sergeant’s expression was more serious now that he wasn’t addressing us, and something about both it and the way he interacted with the other soldier sent a shiver down my spine. We weren’t at a prison, but we definitely weren’t free either.
When Collins stopped talking, he headed out, half the soldiers following while the other half stayed where they were. Ramirez was among the men who remained on the bus, and when he got to his feet, he once again glanced my way.
Hilary and the other fertility counselors went next, then the rest of us. Since Bette and I were somewhere in the middle, we had a bit of a wait, and I focused on Ramirez as the women at the front of the bus filed out. He wasn’t looking at me at the moment, but the avoidance seemed intentional somehow. Like he knew I would be watching him and had purposefully averted his gaze.
When it was our turn, Bette stepped out of the row, but paused to let me go in front of her. As if she was scared we might get separated, she stayed close as we moved to the front of the bus then stepped out.
The hotel was even more majestic up close, although more dilapidated as well, which gave it a real horror movie feel. It was just after six o’clock here, and the sun was already so low it was blocked by the distant mountains. The air was cool but fresh, and the scents of nature filled my nostrils when I inhaled. Grass and dirt and fresh air. It would have been magnificent had this been a vacation. Too bad it wasn’t.
I’d known it was late, but seeing the proof in the setting sun reminded me that hours had passed since I’d said goodbye to Trevor. He had to be out of his mind with worry. I wished I could let him know I was okay, but after the soldier’s stern warning about keeping our phones on airplane mode, I wouldn’t haveeven tried to look at mine if one of the women in front of me hadn’t asked a soldier about it.
