by Mya Robarts
“Are you a virgin? What am I saying? You obviously are.”
I feel the insult deep in my heart. Maybe I can hit him. But what if I try to punch him and he calls his companions? Evasion is the best option. I drop my backpack and flee at top speed.
The chase seems to excite him. “You’re the juiciest bitch in heat I’ve ever seen.”
My heart beats frantically. I take a route that’s free of alleys. Fortunately, his companions don’t appear.
The cop keeps chasing me, slurring obscenities. All of a sudden, he jerks his right hand and touches my lower back. I almost gag. I would have been less revolted if a slimy cockroach licked me. He traps me from behind and tries to force me into a deserted building.
“Get off me!” I scream, struggling with all my might. He pulls my arm. His touch almost makes me vomit in disgust.
I step to the side and lean in the direction of his arm. He has been pulling forcefully, so this movement throws him off-balance. Gary goes down. I hit his stomach first, then his groin. He shouts in pain.
I sprint toward the plaza, screaming, “Fire!” His legs are longer than mine are and still have a soldier’s inhuman speed. Gary catches up in seconds. His arms encircle my body, constricting me. He lifts me into a chokehold, making sure I can’t hurt his groin again.
My fire warning has attracted attention, but people aren’t helping. They’re fleeing.
I force down my chin to make room for air. I crouch and kick my legs to throw him off balance. I’m about to free myself when somebody pulls us apart and strikes Gary angrily.
“You son of a bitch! Stay away from her.”
I’ve never been happier to see Rey. His face contorts with rage as he punches the cop again.
Gary recovers and counters Rey’s attacks, his face twisting evilly. With the disparity in the amount and quality of their training, Gary has the upper hand. Rey can barely dodge his strikes.
It’s almost as though Gary’s playing with a toy. He effortlessly avoids Rey’s punches. “You attacked me unprovoked. Are you this whore’s pimp?” Gary asks mockingly.
I throw my knife, but I miss his neck by inches and hit his armor instead. The blade can’t pass through it, but it gives Rey some respite. With renewed rage, Rey’s fist locates Gary’s jaw.
When the cop retrieves his pistol, the blood drains from my face. Rey pushes me behind him. His body forms a flimsy barrier between me and the gun.
“Rey, don’t,” I say.
“Rey, don’t,” mimics Gary. “Who’s gonna miss a pimp and his whore when so many decent people get killed every day?”
He’s right. Rey and I are less than third-class citizens to the Patriots and the Accord cops.
Gary’s voice drips with disgust. “You want this cunt so much? Huh?”
Rey’s face doesn’t display a single ounce of the fear that I’m feeling. I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of what Gary has in store for us before he shoots us dead.
“Is she that good? Does she suck you well? Show me, bitch.”
Panic dries my mouth and slows my movements. Perhaps I can buy us time. I need this guy to cool off. I kneel … slowly.
Unfortunately, Gary seems to be aware of my intentions.
“I don’t have all day, you fucking whore!” he bellows.
My scream echoes through the empty streets. “No!”
Gary points the gun at Rey, takes off the safety, and shoots.
12
Silence
The bullet misses Rey’s face by a hairsbreadth.
I’m sure Gary missed on purpose to make a point.
“I’ll aim the next bullets at your foreheads, you pair of hole diggers. Hurry, whore, and show me how you suck it.”
Blood runs down Rey’s cheek. He looks at me fleetingly, then glares at the gun.
Panic has given way to numbness. My mind slows. Time stretches on like an elastic band. I’m deaf and partially blind. The only thing my mind registers is that Gary’s finger is on the trigger.
Gary steps toward me. I take a step to the right, racking my brain, desperately trying to remember what I know about disarming guys. I’ll throw myself at the gun when Gary gets closer. He’ll shoot, but I’d rather take my chances than let him abuse us.
At that moment, someone arrives on the scene, but I keep my eyes on Gary. The newcomer wears the Accord armor and cape, so I don’t expect help from him. Even without a gun, he seems invincible. We can’t defeat two armed men.
My senses return the moment Gary’s back hits the wall with a loud thump.
“Aleksey … Sir,” whispers a white-faced Gary.
Aleksey looks enraged as he slams his fist into Gary’s jaw. Gary wavers, nearly collapsing to the ground. His pistol falls several feet away from him.
“Get her out of here,” Aleksey commands, his eyes fixed on Gary. Rey is as shocked as I am. We are witnessing the full power of a bestial man like Aleksey in all his wrath. He hits Gary repeatedly. The older cop looks more surprised than hurt when he falls to the ground with a thud.
Aleksey forces Gary to stand before landing more punches and kicks amidst feral grunts.
As though Gary were light as a feather, Aleksey grabs him from behind and throws him at the opposite wall. Gary’s back and head smash against the bricks with a deafening sound before he lands on the concrete. The impact has left cracks in the wall. Brick particles fall to the ground.
This display of strength is spectacular for an ex-soldier. In fact, I’m sure that even active, drugged-up soldiers can’t lift other military men like this.
A regular person wouldn’t survive that kind of collision. But Gary is an ex-soldier, and his armor is sturdy. He slowly straightens, using the wall for support.
Aleksey doesn’t seem ready to stop. “I told you to take her away! RUN!”
We flee. I can’t believe it. Aleksey has helped me again.
Rey and I approach the clinic, where he escorts me to my room. “Are you okay, Lily?”
“No, I’m not okay.” We’ve barely avoided sexual assault—the worst of my fears. It’s frustrating to realize that the defense techniques I know are ineffective against military-trained men. I need to get stronger.
I close the door in Rey’s face and spend the rest of the afternoon working out.
* * *
Conflicting rumors about the disappearance of an Accord cop spread throughout Starville. Some people claim that they saw Prince Aleksey crush Gary Sleecket’s skull and throw his body into the river. Others swear that Sleecket is a Patriot spy who fled upon discovery. Regardless, Gary joins the group of soldiers who haunt me at night.
Aleksey has become a fort of silence; I haven’t heard from him since that day.
I try to thank him the next time we meet at the glade, but he brushes me off.
“I didn’t do it for you. I can’t stand rapists.”
He may as well have added don’t bother me because that’s what I interpret from his voice, tone, and demeanor. Still, even though he didn’t do it for me, I owe him. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s an ex-soldier, I’d admit he isn’t a bad guy. Besides, I can’t hate anyone who says he despises rapists. Did he mean those words? Accord cops are experts in the art of lying convincingly. What if he’s pretending?
I’m the only Velez who is concerned about his soldier-like traits, and I wonder how a man so burly doesn’t remind Dad of the soldiers who brutalized his wife. I warn my family of the dangers of befriending drunken cops, but they ignore my request that they avoid eating the food Aleksey brings. I expect Olmo to trust others, even the Starvillers who mock his skin color. My dad … well, he’s the eternal optimist. But Azzy? She’s too comfortable around Aleksey.
I ask her about it, and she only winks at me. “I can’t be scared of a guy who is crazy about my sister.”
I snort, but I wish that I could believe her. I need fondness, affection. Something to balance the darkness that surrounds me. Unfortunately, Aleksey is so reserved I ca
n’t see him giving me this. Whatever he feels, I doubt that it’s anything more than lust.
It’ll be better to devote my energy to more pressing matters. Like getting my job back.
* * *
Poncho and I ride the train back to Starville after a day of job-hunting in Shiloh. Since Gary’s attack, my paranoia about men has returned. I don’t go anywhere without Poncho, and any attempt to flirt is now unthinkable.
I take out my knife as soon as we jump off in Starville.
As I pass the mall ruins, I run into someone. Someone whose arrogant gait infuriates me. Someone who has yet to answer a certain request. Instead of saying an ordinary thing like hi, he passes me as though he hasn’t seen me.
“Aleksey Furt!” I’m almost positive that his last name is pronounced fee-uh-st, but I made it sound like fart on purpose.
He doesn’t turn his head. I wonder whether he has even heard me.
“Mr. Fee-uh-st!” Nothing. I’m okay with his broodiness, but I won’t let him ignore me.
“General Fürst!” Maybe he is as good as I am at tuning out annoying people.
Aleksey is now several feet ahead of me. What do the Accord cops call him? Oh, yeah! He has a nickname. “Prince Aleksey, sir?”
He finally stops and turns around. His expression is haughty, but I see a hint of amusement in it. The guy has a sense of humor after all. Unfortunately, something in his eyes makes me uneasy. For a moment, they remind me of my mother’s cruelest attacker.
Not knowing what else to do now that I have his attention, I curtsey theatrically and bow my head. “I haven’t received an answer, your highness,” I say, hoping that he doesn’t notice my trembling hands.
The cop’s grave face reveals nothing. We stand in front of each other for an eternity before I break the silence. “Prince Aleksey, you seem to be a bit bored. May I suggest a way to use the time?”
His wary look grows starker. I notice that he doesn’t smell like alcohol today.
I venture a look. “I think you’ll find it pleasurable to train me in fighting. And driving?”
He’s listening, but he looks reluctant. “Pleasurable,” he repeats, mulling the word. Then he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“You told me that before, at the glade. May I inquire why not?”
“Neutrality.”
That’s true. Accord cops are supposed to be neutral. They shouldn’t fuel uprisings.
“May I point out that I’m a little girl in a forgotten city, and the ‘very neutral’ Accord Units have been covering Patriot crimes?”
He stares at the horizon, looking slightly annoyed by my use of finger quotes.
“Besides, you mightn’t have noticed, but my loyalty isn’t with the Nats.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not a Nat. I’m an American, and I won’t enter a political fight. I just want to learn how to defend myself from attacks. Like the one you saved me from a few days ago.”
He hasn’t said yes, but something tells me he might if I say the right words.
“I heard you tell my brother, ‘Give people a trout—’”
“A fish.”
I wave my hand impatiently. “‘… and you feed them for a day. Teach people to fish, and you feed them for a lifetime.’ So—” I swallow before continuing. “This is similar. Thank you for defending me, but you won’t be around forever.”
He looks at me. It’s the same hungry, penetrating look from when we first met. It shoots sparks through my body.
Aleksey takes a step closer. I fight my impulse to look at my feet. Instead, I hold his stare. To my surprise, he sighs, nods, and mutters something unintelligible before walking away.
He said yes! We didn’t set a place or time, but he’ll have to make good on his word. And he didn’t ask for anything in return!
I’m so happy that I prance my way back to the clinic, with Poncho jumping along beside me.
I’m passing Deuteronomy Street, in front of the Accord headquarters building, when I feel him. Oh no! I stop my prancing. There’s no way he didn’t see my childish display. Did he come to establish a time?
Aleksey looks like a lion about to corner his prey. “Miss Velez, I’ve agreed to your request. Have you considered the deal I offered you?”
I bite my thumb, looking away. My body language screams that I still don’t have an answer. I’m ready to bolt.
He steps closer. “Let’s discuss the terms of my offer.”
I swallow hard. “Shoot.”
He shakes his head. “Not now. The glade, in four days, at dawn.”
I glue my eyes to the spot where he has disappeared inside the building. Then, I take a deep breath and begin a sprint. Why the glade? Why can’t we discuss his proposition now? He’s so confusing.
As I hurtle along the dirty sidewalks, the howling wind brings back my usual pessimistic thoughts. In a matter of minutes, the weather has gone from scorching to windy. I adjust the hood of my cloak.
When we reach the stairs to the clinic, Poncho becomes alert. Something’s happening. I climb the steps at top speed and reach for my knife holder.
When I enter the building, I don’t see anyone, but voices are coming from an emergency room. Poncho isn’t in attack mode, but something is wrong.
I approach the double doors slowly. I can’t see anyone. Suddenly, an agonized scream pierces the air.
“Lila!” says an anguished voice.
I enter the room and freeze in horror.
13
A V boy
The wounds make the body on the operating table unrecognizable. He lies on his stomach while Dad takes care of them. The floor under the table is smeared with blood.
A shiver creeps down my spine.
The sight reminds me of something I read recently on TCR’s old gadget: an autopsy form. It’s like I still have that report in front of me. In my mind, I create a checklist of possible causes of death. It matches the words that Dad’s saying now.
Broken bones
Acute bleeding
Anal tearing
Rectum perforation
But the victim didn’t die this time. He survived and is in unbearable pain, his clothes stained with blood and fecal matter.
In my shock and confusion, I can’t figure out who he is. I do know that he’s dealing with a form of castration. He’s lost a part of himself that he’ll never recover.
“It seems there was more than one attacker,” says Dad.
I cross the doorway, my mouth dry. I scope out the room. Mathew, Cara, and Luke stare at the floor, wearing worried faces.
The survivor is shirtless. Someone has drawn on his skin with blood and dark ink. His mouth is bleeding and has all the signs that it was forced open against his will. Rey kneels next to the survivor as a seizure strikes his battered body.
Duque Diaz.
My eyes fill with tears. Why Duque? I care for him as much as I do for Rey.
I want to comfort Rey, but nothing comes to mind. What do you say to someone who has witnessed attacks on those he loves the most? First the woman he loved, and now his brother.
What if it had been Olmo? Or Azzy?
Duque’s agitated jerks ease into an exhausted calm.
I timidly walk toward Rey, who appears physically unscathed.
“Are you … do you have any wounds?”
He shakes his head. I hate seeing him like this. Hesitantly, I put my arm around Rey’s broad shoulders. It’s my way of telling him, I’m here for you. He holds my hand and we stay like that for some time.
Nobody speaks.
After a while, a strained voice breaks the silence.
“I have to go.” Cara leaves the room, fighting back tears. This scene must be a horrible reminder of the abuse she’s suffered.
“We were almost at the railroad when we saw soldiers coming.” Luke Rivers answers my unspoken question. “We separated to hide in the trees. When the coast was clear, we couldn’t find Duque. Then we heard his screams.” He pauses. I
swear he’s shivering. “And we found him … like this—”
“It looks like two soldiers attacked him,” says my dad. “A female and a male.”
Duque stirs. “Let me die,” he whispers.
Rey’s eyes are full of an agony we both know well. It’s the feeling of powerlessness when the people you love are suffering.
Dad looks at Rey. “I stopped most of the bleeding, but—”
Baron Diaz storms into the room, demanding to know what happened. As he hears the story, his expression changes, from one of concern to one of disapproval.
“Why didn’t he fight?” he asks, making us gasp.
“Father!” Rey’s voice is a mix of shock and contained anger.
“All evidence shows that he did, and look what happened, compadre. Resistance made his attackers even more violent,” says Dad.
I debate whether I should give Rey and Duque some privacy. I want to stay with them, but something tells me that Duque, unconscious though he is, doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Especially not a female friend.
Dad makes the decision for me. “Everyone, please leave the room. Duque’s wounds will need particular care. Rey, you may stay.”
Rey’s gaze is intense. He reluctantly lets go of me and waits until he thinks I can’t see him. Then he drops to his knees and covers his head with his hands. His despair breaks my heart. I feel desperate, too, but for different reasons.
If Duque’s life is forever changed, I hope he at least had the chance to love Veronica physically. I hope he wasn’t unsullied.
I close the door behind me and head to my room. The image of the broken boy on the table will haunt my dreams.
* * *
I make my way to the clinic after a string of unsuccessful attempts to get a job in Shiloh. Duque’s attack isn’t uncommon in Starville, but it still stirs the pot, so to speak. People who usually ignore me try to make conversation, but I know they’re only being nosy about Duque.
According to Dad, his godson’s anus was almost destroyed in the attack. Duque has had a colostomy and will remain at the clinic for a while, so the Diaz relatives spend a lot of time around, even though Duque has made it clear that he wants to be left alone. It cannot be easy for him. He must feel as though his attackers emasculated him. It doesn’t help that Veronica and her father visited the clinic to ask him to liberate her from their engagement.