Theater

Light. Bright.

Becca blinked. She was cold all the way through, lifeless.

She tried to sit up. Leather bit into her wrists.

Restraints.

-Art? she croaked. Silence.

She turned her head. The movement made the room spin.

In its place, two narrow hospital beds sat side by side inside the gold cage.

Becca was in one, Art in the other.

He was strapped down, too. Naked. Pale. He looked dead.

He was staring at the ceiling.

The thin woman stood between them. She was arranging a stainless steel tray.

Scalpels. Clamps. Clippers. A heavy, electrical drill.

Becca pulled against the straps.

-I need him, she whimpered.

Art turned his head.

-I need you, too. He struggled through the restraints to reach his hand toward Becca. She pushed harder against her own, trying to throw herself off the bed to get to him.

The Amazons relented, pushing the beds closer together. Their hands grabbed each other.

The thin woman picked up a razor.

-Prep them, she said.

The Amazonians grabbed the clippers.

One of them grabbed Becca’s hair and lifted it, cutting the hair at her temple.

It fell to the floor. Becca squeezed Art’s hand tighter.

She looked at him. They were shaving him too.