Don’t talk of worlds that never were,

The end is all that’s ever true…

There’s nothing you can ever say,

Nothing you can ever do…

Still every night I burn, every night I scream your name

Every night I burn, every night the dream’s the same…

Peggy looked in the small window that separated her from her daughter.  Always with the metaphors, she thought. Windows, glass, walls—there’s glass between us!—she thought this and nearly laughed.  Once, they had watched a strange sort of movie…oh, what was it…something about a Huckabee.

“Ms. Peabody?” A gentle male voice sounded behind her.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. I was off in my own world.” She said.  “Do tell me…

..how are they?”

Inside the room, Bette and Helena remained quarantined. The hunger came and went, but never seemed to focus either woman on the other.  They recognized their own kind, and when the infection rose within them again, Helena and Bette threw themselves at the door, not at each other.

The rest of the time, they spoke quietly, laying together and encouraging sleep where sleep could be found.  Nightmares, misspent dreams of hope and even erotic dreams, trapped them while they slept, making sleep more exhausting than waking life.

“I need a FUCKING shower! Fucksakes!” Bette screamed for the tenth time that day, it seemed.  Little did she know, that she had only been lucid for an hour.  She stripped off her shirt, leaving nothing but a pair of Shane’s new line of Calvin Klein underwear and a black tank on herself.  Helena walked over to the vast supply of Evian water, soaked Bette’s shirt, and brought it back to her.

“Goddammit, I’m so sorry…I’m so so sorry baby.” Bette apologized, wiping herself with shame evident in her eyes.  Helena shook her head, took the shirt away, and resumed washing Bette herself.

“Nothing to be sorry for. You did your best. We’re still alive—there’s still hope.” Helena added with a lopsided grin, “And hey, you don’t smell that bad to me.”

“Ummmm…coming from you, that doesn’t mean…” Bette burst into laughter as Helena threw the wet tshirt at her face this time. “Ow! That stung. I’m just kidding baby.”

Suddenly, the door to their room clicked.

It swung open.  Somehow, this terrified them more than anything else.

Helena and Bette sat still for a long time, waiting.  The hoards of infected would burst in, at any moment, it seemed.  The hallway beyond their door remained dark.

Down where Lara and Alice’s room should be, a stereo played.  Courtney Love, singing Gold Dust Woman, eased eerily into the stale air.

…Gold dust woman

Take your silver spoon,

Dig your grave…

Bette and Helena exchanged a look—distrustful again, worrying that the other would regain her strength first.

Did she make you cry,

Make you breakdown

Shatter your illusions of love…

“Let’s go…see what it is.” Bette said quietly.  Helena nodded, reaching for her hand.  They would have to stick by one another, no matter what. 

“Girls!” the voice of Mother rang out loudly.

Peggy and Bette stopped, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness.  This happened surprisingly quickly.  They both had their strength back now.  The doors were unlocked…

…and they were hungry.

Bette gripped Helena’s hand hard with her own.

…shadow of a woman,

…black black widow…

…shadow of a woman,

Black widow…

They were certainly in this together.  They would even feed together now.

To Be Continued…