The Dorvak Reckoning 7
Seaside, California
December, 1972
You couldn’t exactly say Barefoot Allie woke up. True, just as she did most every night, she had gotten eight hours of the deepest, most restful sleep. True, a bell ringing made her and the other girls in the dormitory room simultaneously open their eyes.
But you couldn’t say any of them were awake.
Allie swung her lithe legs over the side of the bunk bed. Then she landed on her bare soles on the tiled floor. She joined the line of nude women that was forming at the entrance to the bath area. Once they were all in line, they marched in to attend their personal needs and to shower. Exactly ten minutes later they filed back, many with their hair wrapped in towels. Allie had a short pixie cut, and her blonde hair was already nearly dry.
During their showers, the day’s mandated clothing had been set on each of their bunks by other slaves. Nancy, the Goddess’ Prime Chosen, had the household working like clockwork.
Most days, they were given short white togas, worn with no underwear. Today, Allie found a bra and panties, blue jeans and a tee with a R. Crumb “Keep on Truckin’” cartoon image. While most of the others were still drying and brushing their hair, Barefoot Allie was already dressing. She moved to the large, full length mirror, and took a comb for a final touch. People said she looked a lot like the actress Sandy Duncan.
No make up had been provided today.
Barefoot Allie padded down the hall to the dorm dining hall. Her only thought was how nice the cool tile felt on her bare soles. She took her normal seat at one of the long tables. A bowl of mush and a glass of Tang was set before her. She did not pick up her spoon. Next to her bowl was a piece of paper setting forth her daily assignments. She quickly read it, committing it to her enhanced trance memory. But she never forgot she had other tasks not listed on the page.
Soon, all the Day Shift was seated. Still, no one touched their spoons. Each girl spent a moment looking over their sheets.
Barefoot Nancy, strode into the dining room with her ever present clipboard. Taking a hand-held microphone, she began speaking to her rapt audience.
“Good morning, Barefoot Ladies of the Day Shift.”
Allie and the rest responded in unison. “Good morning, Barefoot Nancy.”
“Focus on my voice, and obey.”
Again, they answered as one.
“Yes, Barefoot Nancy. We have spoken the words and we must obey.”
“We will have guests from the outside for much of today. A local t.v. station is doing a profile of Goddess and our home. We must protect Goddess.”
“We must protect Goddess.”
“Yes. And the best way today we can do that is to allay any suspicion of what Goddess is doing for us. Therefore, we will all be in ‘Wake Mode’ today. Still obedient to Goddess and her Chosen but acting and sounding just as you are when you are awake. Just as we have rehearsed. Go ahead......let’s begin. ‘Wake Mode’, now.”
The effect of these words were immediate. Barefoot Allie’s posture relaxed, and she blinked. She smiled, throughout the dining hall, the girls seem to come to life. The scratch of chairs moving as ladies shifted their weight and occasional giggling and conversation briefly filled the room. But soon the sounds quieted, and the Prime Chosen smiled and continued.
“Good...you guys look great. Eat up and get to work, you bums.”
The ladies laughed and clapped, and began eating and cheerfully talking.
Barefoot Allie ate and watched a pretty Latino girl, Barefoot Gaby, two tables away, finish her bowl and stand. The voluptuous girl had been in the Spa the same time as Allie. Barefoot Allie picked up her half eaten breakfast, got up, and joined her fellow slave at the bowel collection station.
“Hey, Gabs....I love that dress.”
“Morning, Allie. You look great, too. They always choose the right thing for us, don’t they?“
They were now heading out of the hall. As soon they were outside, crossing the lawn to the mansion service entrance, Barefoot Allie triggered her sister slave.
“Barefoot Gaby, you will stay in ‘Wake Mode’.”
Gaby blinked, and smiled.
“Sure, Al......whatever you say.”
“You’ll go about your day as planned, doing your assignments and obeying Goddess and her Chosen, just like normal. But the instructions I am about to give you override any other command.”
“Groovy.”
Barefoot Allie spoke to her a while, then snapped her fingers. Barefoot Gaby blinked and resumed walking to the House. Allie headed to the pool.
Barefoot Ruth wore a black one piece that contrasted with her pale skin. She pushed the long handled pool brush. Barefoot Allie approached her from behind, pushed the girl’s long black hair off her ear, then whispered.
The pool brush slowly sank into the water.
A little later, Barefoot Gaby walked into a storeroom, where a young black woman, Barefoot Jane, was inventorying cans of food. Gaby whispered in her ear. They talked for a bit, and Gaby returned her assigned task.
Barefoot Ruth, still in her swimsuit, strolled out onto the lawn. She looked until she found her target, a brunette with bangs and a white tennis dress washing one of Goddess’ many cars. Barefoot Ruth whispered in her ear, just as Barefoot Allie had done to her. Triggered, Barefoot Jane accepted Ruth’s commands.
Thus began the “Waitress Revolt” in Queen Norma’s Realm.
Tampa, Florida
Fatso slowly woke up on the bed, surprised he was not tied. As his head cleared and vision cleared, he saw a pair of caramel soles crossed near his face.
“Do you mind, lady?” He slowly propped himself up on his elbows.
“Sure, Honey.” The bare feet moved off the bed, and Carlson saw they were attached to a long legged beauty, sitting next to the bed. The woman was casually pointing a silenced semi-automatic at him. She had a dazzling smile on her gorgeous high cheek boned face.
“You shoot me with that dart? And why did Norma send you....this some kinda double cross?”
Rukiya ignored his questions. Instead, she spoke to someone else.
“He’s awake, Comrade.”
The bedroom door opened, and the Big Man entered. He wore his black dress pants and shoes, his braces over a white tee. A hand towel was draped around his neck. He stood in the doorway and smiled his broad, toothy smile.
“Warrant Officer Carlson........been a while.”
Fatso stared groggily, then it came to him.
“Da Nang......’67. You’re the Spook....the CIA guy that needed the ten local girls.”
“You got it. You were of great assistance to the Company on that.......you truly were, Carlson.”
Rukiya spoke up.
“He thinks I’m one of the Breckinridge women, Comrade.”
“Consider her a distant cousin in the extended Dorvak Family, Carlson.“
Fatso looked her over. “So you process women, too. Good for you. Guess I know what you did with those pretty Vietnamese girlies. She keeps calling you Comrade.....you playing for the other team now....you KGB?”
“Oh, I guarantee I’m still a true blue fan of Free Enterprise, Warrant Officer.”
“Stop calling me that. My days in the Army are over.”
“Yeah, I heard. Discharged for less than honorable circumstances. That’s a hard fall for an Army C.I.D Senior Agent. Suspicion of involvement in heroin trafficking. My oh my, Carlson.”
“They had nothing. I was good.....I had a better conviction rate than anyone else in the M.P.s. Then they cry foul just cause I.....they suspected me of shipping some H to the ghettos back home. Fuck them, I was glad to be rid of the Army. And, by the way, fuck you. If you’re going to have your Zombie kill me, get it over with, Comrade.”
“Why Carlson, I don’t want to hurt you.....I want to help you. You just need to help me. You’re going to tell me why you’re here. You’re going to get me the Dorvak papers. You’re going to help me absorb the Breckinridges and all they have. And you’re getting me this Doctor Spender so I can put him to use in my production line. Plus, you’ll help me clean up any loose ends like the kid and his friends. You do that, I’ll improve your retirement a whole lot.”
Fatso was relieved. He wasn’t in a life or death situation just yet. He was in a negotiation.
“I guess if I don’t.......”
“Comrade, the Warrant Officer here appears to be confused. Please point your gun at his right knee. When I reach three, shoot.”
“Yes, Comrade.” Rukiya’s face was a blank mask as she aimed the gun.
“One.......”
Carlson forced his voice to sound calm.
“OK, stop the theatrics.....I’ll do it....I’ll do it cheap. I’ll get you all you want.... for a price.”
“How much, Carlson?“
“Oh....money...for sure, enough to set me up....but that’s not the real prize. I want Norma Breckinridge. I help you, you give Miss Va Va Voom and her trigger. A man shouldn’t retire alone. Otherwise, have Zombie Girl shoot me in the head.”
Flanagan smiled his friendliest smile.
“Put the gun down, Zombie Girl. We have a deal, Harry. You come through, I give the Bride away myself. You and I are going to do great things, Buddy.”
Seaside, California
Norma strode across the lawn like barefoot royalty. She wore a modest, navy blue tennis dress, her platinum blonde hair in a simple pony tail. She wore little make up. But her presence was of a Hollywood Goddess of yesteryear.
“Holy shit.” Gus, the location producer, whispered under his breath. “That’s a fifty year old broad?”
“Cool it, moron. And she’s 48.” Talia Whitcomb sensed she had a major story, and didn’t want a chauvinist pig ruining it.
Rebuffed, Gus resumed helping to pack equipment in the news van.
Talia was a driven young woman, determined to prove herself in the male dominated journalism world. Her colleagues called her “MTM” behind her back as she purposefully dressed and wore her hair like the “Mary Richards“ character from “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”. Worse, they all believed her success sprung from being the niece of Congressman Carl Whitcomb. She admitted her uncle had opened doors for her. But after that, she’d worked twice as hard as any male reporter.
And now that work was paying off, and she’d found a worthy target. Norma Breckinridge was in the midst of a meteoric rise. She’d gone from a secretary to a mover and shaker in just three months. Politicians and business leaders throughout the state took her calls. Her “Process” was the talk of the growing “Self Help” movement.
More and more young women were flocking to her estate, some on their own, others through contracts with county and city governments for drug addiction rehabilitation and other counseling. There was talk that the L.A. Times “Woman of the Year” award was already hers.
But not everything Talia dug up was so positive. First, there was the scandal of the 1959 Seaside killings. In short order, a reputed local gangster, two other men with known underworld ties, a psychiatrist, and a nightclub owner had all violently died within the space of a day. Norma Breckinridge was connected to all of the dead men. The police investigation of those cases was perfunctory, at best.
More recent were the whispers about Norma’s newest enterprise, “The Process”. Relatives, spouses, and friends of the women here were beginning to talk about how the women seemed changed....no longer themselves. Many of the ladies renounced their old lives, choosing to move to the estate.
Some people even called it brainwashing, comparing them to Manson Girls.
Digging even deeper, Talia heard rumors Norma was spreading more than goodwill to community leaders. There was talk of bribes and kickbacks, outright prostitution and blackmail.
The tentacles of the Breckinridge money and influence reached all the way to Talia’s T.V. station. But, she had to hide her agenda for the story, telling management it’d be a fluff piece. Gus was the only one she’d confided her plan. She would wait until she had Norma Breckinridge on camera and hit her cold. And if her station refused to air it, she had contacts with the networks.
But for now, she had to keep her target. She stepped forward with her most dazzling smile. Norma spoke first.
“Well, Talia, have you gotten all your background footage.....I hope the gals here were cooperative.”
“Mrs. Breckinridge.........”
“Please call me Norma, Talia.
“Oh....Ok.....Norma...uh....the folks here have been great. And they sure love you. They go on and on about how wonderful you are.” Talia realized there was a hint of sarcasm in her tone. She gave her most genuine smile to cover it. “No, really they’ve been great. We got all our background shots this morning, talked to some of the ladies. All we need now is your interview.”
Norma’s smile stayed the same, but her eyes had a steel glint.
“Yes.......the ladies here are grateful to me and my stepdaughter. But, my dear, I hope you haven’t been listening to the nasty rumors....that we’re some kind of cult. Some sort of weird coven of barefoot witch women.” She gave a girlish giggle.
Talia thought fast. “Who listens to that garbage, Norma? I’m just here to help you tell the World what you’re all about.”
Norma sighed and took Talia’s smaller hands into hers.
“That’s all anyone can ask, Darling. You know, I think I can trust you.....like I can really unburden myself....tell you everything. I just have the best feeling about you.”
Talia tried to hide her elation. “I’d love to talk with you......really have a conversation about you.....your life......and what you’re all about......it’ll make for a far better interview.”
“Splendid.......I have some time now. Why don’t you send your crew off......we’ll get you back to the station when we’re finished.”
“Umm......sure....that sounds great. Gus, you and the boys head on back.”
Gus looked like he was about to object, but Talia’s glare silenced him. He got into the van, and soon the engine started.
“Well......now that’s settled, should we go to your office.....Norma?”
“I have a much better idea, Darling. Tell me.......have you seen our spa? All our girls say it’s....what’s the phrase? Far out.”
Talia thought the idea was a bit odd, but shrugged.
“Why not?”
Norma took the pretty reporter’s arm, and they headed across the lawn.