“Can we call our families now that we’re here?”
The man, whose face was mostly covered by his mask, shrugged. “You can try, but I doubt you’ll be able to.”
Around me, the women who’d heard the statement pulled phones from their pockets, and I did as well, but their furrowed brows told me there wasn’t going to be reception even before I had a chance to switch mine off airplane mode. Zero bars. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering our location, but it still made me swear under my breath.
“What is it?” Bette asked. “No reception?”
“No.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket. “I’m sure that was one of the reasons they picked this place.”
Before she could respond, someone called, “This way, ladies.”
The fertility counselors stood on either side of the front steps, urging us forward in a way that reminded me of a rancher herding cattle. The way they waved, the impatience in their tones and eyes, and their eagerness to get us moving. No surprise, since we were pretty much the livestock of society.
“Let’s go,” I said, shaking my head at the thought.
We rushed forward as a group, silent and exhausted and scared, our footsteps thudding against the steps as we climbed to the porch. Between the cold expressions of our chaperones and the soldiers brandishing guns, it felt like a mix between being in school and being ushered to a public execution. Or a scene out ofThe Handmaid’s Tale.
I’d watched the popular show about a dystopian society years ago, and despite The Fertility Act looming over me and my trip to the farm, it had seemed far-fetched and crazy at the time. Years later, though, when it was pulled from all streaming services and the book became suddenly impossible to find, I changed my tune. Now, I couldn’t help wondering if the men who’d originally been assigned to the Department of Fertility had used it as a blueprint of sorts. It sure as hell felt like it at the moment.
Bette clung to my hand as we passed the armed soldiers, and even though it felt slightly childish, I allowed it. If I was beinghonest, it was actually a comfort to know I wasn’t alone in all this.
The hotel’s interior was gorgeous despite the obvious signs of neglect, with dark, ornate wood, red and brown paisley carpet, and vintage chandeliers. A carpeted staircase that split in two one landing up stood directly in front of us when we stepped inside, a check-in desk immediately to the left of it. Next to that, a couple men in uniform stood with tablets, the first few women to enter the building already standing in front of them.
My focus was on one of the soldiers when Bette and I fell in line, watching as he tapped his finger against the tablet’s screen, then turned and grabbed a key from the desk at his back. “You’re in room three fourteen.”
The woman took the key when he held it out but didn’t move. “My luggage?”
“It will be delivered to you,” he replied before shifting his attention to the next person. “Your name?”
“Vic,” the androgynous person I’d noticed on the plane replied.
“Full name,” the soldier replied, his tone impatient.
The person sighed. “Victoria Rachel Miller. I go by Vic, though.”
“I don’t care,” the man snapped as he typed, not even bothering to look Vic in the eye.
They crossed their arms, tapping their foot to let the man know how irritated they were. I was still a bit surprised to see them among all the fertile women, but supposed it made sense. Although I’d never thought about it before. I also liked this person already. Anyone who wasn’t afraid to show these soldiers how they really felt was an ally in my mind.
The soldier didn’t appear the least bit fazed by Vic’s irritation as he grabbed a key and held it out, saying, “Room three fifteen.”
His attention had already turned to the next person in line by the time Vic took the key.
It went on like that, the line moving forward a little at a time as the soldiers took our names, typed something in their tablets, then assigned rooms. I wasn’t sure how many rooms there were or if we’d all get our own, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shareor not. On one hand, being with someone else might be nice – especially if it was Bette since we’d grown close. On the other hand, it also might be nice to have some privacy since we would no doubt be watched constantly while we were here. And Bette would eventually have a baby to contend with.
When it was our turn, Bette went ahead of me, and once the soldier had assigned her to room three fifty, his focus shifted to me. “Name?”
My friend stepped aside, the hand clutching her key resting on her round stomach while I stepped forward.
“Arabella Murphy.”
The man flicked his finger across his tablet’s screen, scrolling through what I could only assume was a list of names. When he located me, he typed a couple things, then grabbed a key off the desk. “Room three fifty-one.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took the key, then immediately cringed.
There was no reason to thank this man. He hadn’t done anything, and I wasn’t on vacation. I was a prisoner, and he was one of several armed soldiers. I needed to remember to keep my gratitude in check from now on. I wasn’t going to give these people anything they weren’t owed.
The soldier looked past me without responding, and I moved to join Bette.
