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table, my blood running out of her mouth from when she bit into my shoulder, bulge of sun-fried belly jiggling from rapid-breaths, cowering her eyes so that Celsia won’t hit her again.
                The Sister entering, long hair sticking to her chest vaginas.
                "You were supposed to watch them!" Celsia spits at her.
                "I was busy taking care of your baby, as you call it," says the Sister, and Celsia throws herself onto a stack of dirty furs.      She calms, tells the Sister, "The council is only putting up a barricade around the center of town, which means they’re leaving everyone else vulnerable, especially us."
                "What are we going to do?" asks the Sister.
                "Try to protect ourselves," Celsia says, silver mushrooms sprouting from the corners of her eyes.  "The best we can."
     

CHAPTER THREE
               
     
                Just before she drilled a fingernail in my butthole, that young girl had told me, "I am Tamu," my toes writhing beneath her. 
                She kept her eyes closed when she fucked me, imagining me to be something else -- the Sister enjoys to do this as well -- a boy or a man.  The girl wouldn’t go near my female parts, pussy sauce boiling out of me, but she would not lick or even touch it.  She called out a man’s name when she fucked me, crying sometimes or laughing out loud, afraid of the rapists coming to the door.  So many emotions for such a tiny person.  There was even the emotion called happy, which spilled out of her just before Celsia came into the room to beat us. 
                The girl is still hiding under the table, even though it is morning and the morning-bugs swirl her face, crawl up and down her mud-sticky limbs. Too scared to masturbate herself awake, as Celsia and the Sister did earlier in the morning.  Crying, ugly with fear.
               
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
                The Sister is dancing naked in the garden with the undead, grinding feet into the earth and rubbing steam bodies, while Celsia puts up spiky bars, razor shiny, around the perimeter of the house. 
                Moving in twisty curls, the Sister delirium-dancing, whipping her hair, the long braids hooking zombie meat sometimes, and she splashes them when her body-cunts begin to drizzle.  I still cannot see them, I see only their presence.  I see bushes shifting sometimes, and from the shadows hear growlings when the Sister gets too close to one of them.  They cry out in green-anger, because their cocks are too withered to fuck her.  And they also cry out their fear of the rapists in the village, anxious-stampering to get inside the barricade begging for sanctuary.
                I can see Tamu across the room, hiding, stuck under the table as if she were tied there, as I am tied here, far from my reach.  She’s still crying, her eyes tight together.  Shoving her breasts in my direction with every outburst of air, as if she wants me to touch them from across the room, her dirty body shivering from fright or from lack of sex, lack of a man’s body.
                I am similar to a man.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
                Outside during Celsia’s break stepping through icy mud grass crabs with thorns attacking my toenails, watching her frolic excitedly.  All thoughts of the approaching rapists separated from her head and whooshing behind, chasing after, not quick enough to catch her in this manic state.
                Celsia cuts down a chokon tree in the fortress cemetery and empties its meaty center onto the spider pavement.  She smiles in a horrid way, dirty teeth from eating spice roots, waving to me to come let her fuck me in it.  
                The wound on my leg is getting crusty and worms are eating the rotten parts, but Celsia won’t let me swat them