Ruth, Rated T
At first, it had bothered her. The idea of such brutality troubled Ruth. But the people in the tail had boarded illegally, and who was she to question Wilford’s decision on how to handle them? It had been an odd choice to even allow them to live-one she did not agree with, but again: who was she to question Wilford?
Melanie had stopped dealing with the tailies herself early on. She’d never said why; perhaps she was not as suited to brutality as Ruth was, even though she was always the bad cop when they’d had to wrestle some unruly first class passenger into submission over something as trivial as dessert.
“Back up!” Ruth shouted, wincing internally at the feedback screech from the microphone, “I said-back up !”
The tailies-for the most part-did as told. They glared at her, eyes full of burning hatred. Six and a half years in, and Ruth’s patience with them was completely gone. She no longer questioned the cruelty of the punishments bestowed upon them. How dare these people feel so entitled to Snowpiercer’s safe haven-to Wilford’s generosity, when they had boarded the train like bloody pirates?
The arm of a woman who’d tried to rush a brakeman-unhappy with the lack of food-shattered in the grate on the floor. The angry mutterings of the tailies sounded like the buzzing of wasps, but Ruth paid them no mind.
They were as insignificant as wasps, after all-and had it been her choice, she would have thrown the whole bloody lot of them outside then and there.
Luckily for the tailies, Mr. Wilford did not agree.
Who was Ruth to question his methods?