Chester and the 24-hour Lottery
Chapter 15; Always a fly, never a spider

“Get up and hit me!”

Chester groaned and once more rolled off of the smelly blue mat to face Garth. The burly asshole had barely broken a sweat in the half-hour they’d been sparing. Three days of the man tossing him around like a rag doll with a pull string that howled, ′ow’ made Chester wish he had a better build or a gun.

Garth snorted when Chester weakly lashed out intending to hit his left side, “What did I say about reach and stance? You’re too far away and you didn’t even make a fist! Hopeless Chester, that’s what you are.”

Yes, most definitely a gun.

Chester smiled and bowed, “Glad to receive such high praise. My mother would call me a crying little bitch so hopeless I’ll take.”

Garth chuckled, taking off the padded gloved he wore, “I remember her. She put you down more than I have bodily.”

His smile faded, “Don’t. You helped Spell abduct and drug her.”

Garth shook his head with a dark glower, “I did nothing to your mother. My job was to protect Fort Ozark and monitor lottery participants. I was with you the entire time.”

Chester gripped the ends of his sweaty hair, letting out a frustrated breath, “I’m sick of being your punching bag and...” Racket’s interrogation sex doll, “And want out of my room.”

“Tell you what, let’s clean up and go to the mess hall. I should show you the exits in case something unexpected happens.”

“How is knowing where the exits are going to help when I’m locked in a room? I don’t intend on being a problem and I never have. You don’t need to lock me inside especially when others have a key.”

Chester had hinted Racket was entering his room but Garth never took the bait. Either he was in on it or didn’t care, most likely both.

After Chester showered and changed Garth lead him to the dining hall for the first time. The bunker was laid out in tunnels and he carefully paid attention to the twist and turns for later use. The large room held a familiar face among several strangers.

“Joey?” He couldn’t believe his eyes as the man came over to greet him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too,” Joey beamed, lightly smacking his arm, “I’ve been here since Halloween when Garth asked if I’d help by adding my weapons specialty to the cause.”

Chester gave a weak smile, “Is that so?”

“Sure and I’ve spotted Vanyla a few times although she hasn’t spoken to me. That girl’s always in a rush but wondered where you were. How are you?”

He slid his eyes towards Garth who spoke to a tall blonde woman wearing the same clothing they all wore. It was as if everybody had to match or they were just people coming together to wait. Chester was tired of waiting.

“Looking forward to catching up with Saldivar, have you seen any of the council members?”

“Nah I spend my time in the armory cleaning and cataloging,” he frowned, “It’s like I never left my assigned position.”

“Go eat,” Garth shoved his shoulder, “Ten minutes.”

“Fuck off,” Chester grumbled but moved to the lunch line.

The server inside the stainless steel covered alcove quickly handed him a plate of bland food with wide eyes. He snatched a water carton out of the woman’s hand when she stood gawked at him.

Chester sat down at a table with Joey who fell silent when everyone stared. He laughed at their shocked faces when they realized he was living down in the cement hole alongside them. Uncomfortable but starved, he stuffed his face with lumpy mashed potatoes and bits of overcooked beef without looking up.

Then she appeared.

Chester didn’t even have to look to know her icy stare was solely on him. The room became deathly still, but he ignored them.

“What the fuck is Chester doing here?” Racket demanded in a low threatening tone.

He sighed, pushing his tray away while Joey’s expression went from puzzled to scared, then back to frightened. The warring looks were so comical he wanted to laugh but scooped up the unopened water turning to address his tormentor. Racket stepped in Garth’s space, whispering something while poking the disinterested man in the chest.

“I don’t care,” Garth said with a shrug, “Mans got to eat and stretch his legs.”

Racket glared at Chester, “Get up! Return to your bunk.”

Chester felt his cheeks burn with heat. Who did she think she was? Defiantly, he rested his back against the table, slowly and deliberately opening the water, focusing on his task instead of the crazed woman.

She knocked the container out of his hands leaning over to hiss, “Do we need to have another conversation about rules Chet!”

“Back off,” he stood, and she stumbled backward, “That’s it! I’d rather take my chances up top then down with everyone treating me like a fucking criminal.”

Several people gasped, and the silence broke when whispers circled like gossiping bunk monitors around the room. Racket’s face pinched and eyes as black and impenetrable as a starved vulture froze him in place.

“Chester,” Joey found his voice, “You can’t leave. Governor Spell placed a bounty on your head and turned citizens against you.”

He shot Joey a look, grateful for the distraction, “How am I to know Saldivar won’t turn me over to save his own ass?” Then he glared at Racket, “Who put you in charge, anyway?”

“The council,” Garth spoke up, “She’s chief of security.”

Of course, the crazy bitch was, and when her lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk while her dark eyes danced, Chester knew she was plotting his punishment. Racket was a sadist and him her new toy.

“Fine,” he grumbled, going towards the doorway, “but tell me the second Saldivar arrives.”

Garth remained silent on the way back and Chester felt sick with stress anticipating Racket’s visit. A note stuck out of the closed door and he palmed the paper before Garth noticed. After the door locked, peeled open the square to see girly handwriting.

Vanyla.

Grinning, he sat at the table to read the words she wrote feeling oddly comforted even if it said to fuck off and never speak her name again because he was a whiny piece of shit.

Chet,

Everything is fine, I promise. Will see you soon!

V

Unbelievable, he crumpled the note and tossed it into the toilet. Same rhetoric from the Construct Babe. To Van, everything’s hunky fucking dory even though he waited for Racket to come and beat the crap out of him while asking weird moralistic questions before screwing his brains out like a demented therapist intent on breaking what little hold he still had on his sanity.

In his boxers he laid on the bed to pretend to sleep, wondering where Van spent her time or if she cared what happened to him. There was no reason for her too after seeing him put away. He let out a slow breath, trying to reel back the panic. For a second, and only a second, he missed waking up to replaceing his mother drunk and passed out on his way to work.

Racket entered slamming the door closed with the heel of her boot, “What was that shit you pulled in the mess hall? Do you think it’s wise to undermine my authority?”

He jerked into a sitting position, “Oh, I’m sorry Racket, I wasn’t aware you had authority. I thought they sent you to babysit my dick.”

She reached out to slap his face, but he grabbed hold of her wrist and her eyes widened, “Finally, a backbone from the man who kills and maims innocent women.”

He sneered, squeezing her flesh hard, “We’ve already established no one is innocent and if it comes down to me or someone else, no matter the gender, I’ll make sure I’m the one standing. What do you want from me?”

He voiced the question over and over the last few days but Racket never answered.

“Do you believe gender is no consequence in a war? Would you kill anyone that put your life at risk?” she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

He took a deep breath, “Yes, I would. That includes you.”

Racket nodded and paced the small room, “You have good instincts but trust issues. When Vanyla first made contact, I worried she wouldn’t be able to penetrate your mistrustful demeanor, but that was all it was. You needed someone to treat you with kindness and equality.”

He startled at her accurate description, “She’s a pathological liar. Everything she ever said was a lie.”

“For the cause. We Construct Babes come wired differently. What we do and say is on a higher playing field than men understand. That’s why I’m in charge and Garth is not. Vanyla cares about you, which is a waste of energy.”

Chester paled, “How did you… never mind. Van’s a liar and you’re a psycho. Actually, you both have psychopathic tendencies.”

Racket laughed and sat at the table to unlace her boots, “Tonight’s conversation hasn’t been too insightful. You are still protesting against your own nature.”

“I won’t sleep with you,” he swallowed, “If you’re so superior, go replace a better partner.”

“I’m doing this for you,” she spoke like he was dense, “Self-esteem issues stemming from your relationship with your mother has caused severe emotional problems. Her selfishness has stunted your ability to take what you need as a lover and to stand up for yourself.”

“WHAT?” he stood and held up his hands, “First off, don’t mention sex and my mother in the same sentence. Who cares what I do? For a revolution meant to free people there seems to be a lot of talk about classification and gender biases.”

Racket pulled off her top, and he looked away, “Why didn’t you commit armed robbery or vandalize as other lottery winners have in the past?”

He frowned, “There wasn’t a reason to, not with Van saying we should pick up the council members.”

“There was plenty of time to burn down Neighborhood Diamond or even fuck that woman from the diner. She wanted to.”

“What is the point of discussing these things now? I’ll tell you what I told Van, I craved steak. Get out Racket, I don’t care what Saldivar wants, I’m leaving.”

She laughed and ran a hand through her butchered hair, “I love your sense of humor, Chet. Remember the thing I did last night? I’ll do it again if you answer one question.”

Swallowing hard, keeping his eyes on the door he muttered, “Please Racket, leave me alone.”

“Don’t you like having someone to release tension with? You’re a skinny man, but hold up well. Will you grow a pair and answer my question?”

Groaning Chester covered his face in frustration, “Are you serious right now? You’re completely insane. Fine, ask.”

“If I asked you to kill Emily Allard by week’s end or your mother will be slaughtered in broad daylight with the words Drivel Delirium being chanted over her bloody corpse, would you?”

Chester dropped his hands and stared at the madwoman, “What kind of fucked up question is THAT?”

Racket smirked, unzipping her pants, “We could kill her together.”

“My mom?!”

“No idiot, Allard. Let’s table it for later. I brought you a healing pack, can’t have Garth complaining I made you unable to practice because you need all the help you can get.”

The bottom dropped out of his world as Racket's lips brushed his neck and her arms encircled his waist. She was the devil and had willingly walked into her lair.

Everything is NOT fine, he mentally broadcast to Van, and the next time my hands touch a woman it’ll be to strangle you.