Quarantine #2: The Saints by Lex Thomas

thought.
    Lucy made her way out of the kitchen, the same way Violent had led her in. She saw mattress men like hers stuffed into the open storage closet where she’d stowed her shoes. She wedged hers between two others, and went to grab her sneakers. Like her bag, they were gone. Maybe Violent had moved them, or sent them to be cleaned.
    Lucy walked barefoot into the dining hall. In one corner Sluts worked out in pairs. One would do push-ups or deep knee bends with her partner on her back. There was sparring in the opposite corner. Girls wore oven mitts stuffed with something that made them plump like boxing gloves. Near Lucy, other girls were busy at work, clearing out the last of the breakfast. On the last uncleared table, there was a wide iron pan of scrambled eggs. A third of it was still uneaten.
    Lucy’s stomach woke up. She knew about the powdered eggsin the drops but she’d never actually seen them cooked. They glistened in the pan, golden and yellow. They called out to her tongue. They must have called out to her feet too because she was drifting toward the pan.
    “Not so fast.”
    She looked up to see a group of Sluts approaching her. They were led by Lips, who was finally fully clothed in black jeans and a black half shirt.
    “Girls who sleep in don’t get eggs,” Lips said.
    “I didn’t mean to sleep in,” Lucy said. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”
    “Oh, you guess?”
    The girls laughed. Lucy didn’t know what was so funny.
    “You need to shower,” Lips said.
    “You’re dirty,” another Slut said.
    “Okay …,” Lucy said. “I didn’t know you had showers.”
    “The Sluts are a clean gang. Don’t you know nothing?” another girl said.
    “You’re behind schedule. Move it,” Lips said to Lucy.
    Lips pulled Lucy back to the kitchen. The others stayed behind. All the kitchen chores were apparently done, everything was put away neatly and there was no one else in there. Lips brought her in front of a sink with one of those highpower dishwashing hoses hanging above it. She tossed Lucy a cardboard box of powdered dishwashing detergent.
    “Strip down and soap up.”
    “What, right here?”
    “Stop being a little girl.”
    Lucy pointed at the sink. “This is the shower? There isn’t a bathroom or something?”
    “You want to put us more behind schedule? Come on!”
    Lips creeped Lucy out. How did she get trapped with this chick? Was this some kind of twisted come-on?
    “Where’s Violent?” Lucy asked.
    “She’s busy. Get on with it already.”
    Lips squeezed the handle on the hose’s nozzle and a jet of water fired out of it. The water hammered down on the metal of the sink, sounding like a drumroll on a trash can. Lucy sighed. She unzipped her dress. It was the second replacement zipper she’d salvaged from another dress and sewn in. Her fingers quivered. This didn’t feel right. Maybe Lips was playing a trick on her.
    “I can do this myself. I don’t need you working the hose,” Lucy said.
    Lips smiled, but her eyes stayed mean. Lucy didn’t like it.
    “Fine. Be quick about it,” Lips said.
    Lips walked out of the kitchen. Lucy still wasn’t sure she wasn’t being made a fool of, but she wanted to make a good impression. And the truth was she couldn’t remember the last good rinse she’d had. She was already the new girl and the slacker girl. She didn’t want to be the dirty one too.
    Lucy wriggled out of her dress quickly. Then her underwear.She laid them over the counter, then poured the white powdered detergent into her hand. The detergent had little blue flecks in it that were kind of pretty. She made a mud out of it with water from the hose, and smeared it on to the important parts: pits, feet, and undercarriage. She didn’t intend to linger in this “shower.”
    When she was sufficiently lathered up, Lucy sprayed herself with the hose to rinse off. The jet of water sprayed soap into her eyes.
    “Damn it—”
    She dropped the hose and rubbed her