The V Girl: A coming of age story

by Mya Robarts

  The four new recruits are flanked by the soldiers and descend the stage to form a line in the back. The non-recruits occupy seats in the section of rows that was left empty.

  Mathew is part of the twenty-two-year-old group, but he skips recruitment because he has a marriage tattoo. In his group are fifteen eligible people. One boy, fourteen girls.

  “It’s the witches’ call,” murmurs Holly Winston, who stands by my side.

  The witches touch the arms of the fifteen. Two girls are declared non-virgins and Landry spares them from recruitment. The thirteen new recruits join the enlistees. It seems like they’re fighting tears. I want to shout at them to stop crying. Looking vulnerable isn’t a smart idea in the army.

  The twenty-one-year-old group steps up. Because his religious tattoo is evident under his nearly translucent, tight-fitting shirt, they spare Rey immediately. In this group, only twenty people are eligible. The witches touch the arms of all the potential recruits. None of the boys in that group is declared unsullied, so they’re spared.

  When the girls are particularly good-looking, the witches skip the test. The troops will take the most attractive girls no matter what their V-status is. Landry’s eyes go back and forth between the candidates and the troops. There’s a silent communication among the soldiers that reaches the stage, indicating their preferences to Landry.

  From that group, they recruit thirteen scared-looking maidens.

  The twenty-year-old group is next, forty-two people. Elena Rivers’ magnetic Asian features and curvy body have caught the attention of the troops. Reluctantly, Landry spares her because her tattoo indicates that she’s about to get Patriot citizenship. The V-status of thirteen girls earns them each a spot among the recruits.

  I shuffle uncomfortably. It’s almost my turn.

  The nineteen-year-old group is the most crowded. Fifty-eight potential recruits. The majority of the girls are what the troops call Starvillian beauties. Generous bosoms on otherwise ultra-slim figures, not to mention blond hair and slender legs.

  The witches determine that three boys are unsullied. They are recruited along with ten girls.

  “Eighteen-year-old group! Step up!” booms the voice of the female general.

  I swallow hard as anguish washes through me. We climb the stage and form a line.

  The lights blind me. The soldiers must be looking at all of us from their spots below, but I can’t shake the feeling that all eyes are on me. The crowd is hidden in the darkness beyond the stage, but I’m aware of their presence. They’re whispering, they’re shuffling in their seats, they’re scratching their heads.

  Fourteen eligible candidates. Only one of us will be spared. They’ve already recruited non-virgins, so no one is safe. I straighten my posture, attempting a look of confidence, although my skin has broken out in goose bumps. Being here is surreal. The moment I’ve dreaded all along.

  “Lila Velez Tcherkassky,” calls Landry.

  I step forward, and the beam of light falls across my body. Instead of warming me, the light turns my body to ice. I do my best to lift my head and look brave.

  One of the witches, a green-haired woman wearing a Sergeant tattoo on her gray-colored face, is looking at me questioningly. “Are you a V-girl?”

  I don’t answer right away. My fear has evaporated. I find it strange that she avoids using the word virgin. I used to hate the term, but I realize now how ridiculous their virginity obsession is, and how foolish I was whenever I took the name as an offense. I was playing by the Starville rules I despise so much. I’ve put extra weight into the unfair burden that society has placed on me and my virginity.

  I hold my head high. “No, I’m not a virgin,” I answer, putting emphasis on the last word.

  Distant sneering reaches my ears. Apparently, Starvillers don’t believe me.

  The beam of light is still pointing at my body. Both witches touch my arms. The contact burns my skin. I drop my eyes so that they can’t see the hate brewing inside me.

  They’re convinced that I’m being truthful and skip the polygraph test. “She’s not a V-girl and the other candidates are more attractive. Let’s put her on hold.”

  My mind goes numb. I’m staring at my feet when Holly’s voice makes me look up.

  “I’m not a V-girl.”

  I thought Holly was keeping herself for a future husband. Is she lying to avoid recruitment? If the polygraph determines that she’s lying, they’ll punish her and recruit her, anyway. I look at Holly in confusion. Then I bite my lip to suppress a gasp.

  The woman in front of the witch is not Holly. Cara Winston is trying to make herself pass for her daughter. She’s thirty-five, but training has given her a youthful body. Holly and Cara share the Starvillian beauty features that make them look like twins.

  Landry leers at Cara and exchanges looks with the troops below him. “Holly Marie Winston,” he orders. “You’ll join the Patriot Army as a G-class recruit.”

  I don’t have time to worry about Cara. Twelve out of the fourteen eligible people in my group have been recruited, and they seem to be holding their decision on the last candidate, who is being tested with a polygraph.

  “Duque Charles Diaz Jurado. Are you a V-man?”

  Duque holds up his colostomy bag. “I’m not sure.”

  At the sight of the waste inside the stoma, the witches, who had been staring at Duque with greedy eyes, wrinkle their noses.

  His doom could mean my freedom until next year. I hold my breath. My muscles feel like jelly. I still hate the traitor who hurt Azzy, but I wish things were different. I wish the soldiers would spare us both.

  Long moments pass. The troops can’t decide who they prefer. Everyone has their eyes on Duque and me. I’m sure people notice that I’m shivering. I ignore them and look around. Am I waiting for a miracle? For an angel to fall from the sky and stop the ceremony, send the soldiers to hell, and liberate the victims? Am I waiting for Aleksey to appear?

  Duque’s voice surprises us all. “I pledge my alliance to the army of the Patriot States of America.”

  A collective gasp echoes throughout the gym. I turn to glance at Rey, who looks as shocked as everyone else. The troop explodes with murmurs. Is Duque’s petition allowed? This is an unprecedented act in a recruitment ceremony.

  Landry frowns and projects a hologram of the protocol sections with his j-device. He seems to search for anything that would prevent enlistment in cases like this.

  I close my eyes, not daring to hope. Please allow it. Please don’t recruit me.

  Landry looks at me, and for a moment, I’m afraid he’s about to recruit me.

  After minutes of consultation with the troops, Landry makes his decision.

  “Duque Charles Diaz Jurado, you’ll join the Patriot forces as a recruit. Your rank will be recruit class G, like all the non-enlisters.”

  As much as I despise him, as much as I don’t want to be recruited, I feel sorry for Duque. I don’t see how he’ll survive the cruel life of a vassal when he hasn’t yet recovered from his injuries.

  Before taking his place among the other recruits, Duque leans in to whisper in my ear, “Does this redeem part of my offense?”

  He doesn’t wait for my answer. He walks backstage, holding his head high and his colostomy bag in front of him.

  I have no answer for him. I’m speechless. Did he volunteer because of what he did? Or is this another suicide attempt?

  The troops allow us non-recruits to descend the stage and take a seat in the front rows. I’m faking calmness, but I’m a mess inside. In theory, we’ve been spared from lives as sex slaves. They won’t take me as a recruit, but the danger isn’t over.

  Now comes the worst.

  53

  Familiar voice

  A chubby Accord cop steps forward and addresses the camera.

  “I certify that everything was done according to the constitution of the Patriot States of America.”

  Teams of troops around me break their formations. Th
eir eyes can’t hide their excitement.

  “Turn down your cameras,” orders Landry.

  Until this point, the crowd has responded with a muffled noise. Now, the audience gets eerily silent. Everyone knows what will happen next.

  A group of soldiers places a dozen recruits on the bench stones while other soldiers keep the recruits’ arms immobilized. The monsters have taken off the part of their armor that covers their pelvises. The light falls on the bench stones that will hold the true horror of the recruitment ceremony.

  The multiple sexual assaults begin.

  My mind is fighting to remain conscious. My muscles are tense, and my breathing becomes ragged. For a few seconds, I can’t look away. Just like that time when I lost my mom, I’m unable to close my eyes. I want to scream at them to stop, but I’m frozen. Nobody dares to talk, move, or even cringe. We don’t want to draw attention to the fact that our faces are contorting in disgust, in impotence. That could get us recruited.

  When I force myself to look away, I can’t find a place to lay my eyes where I don’t encounter the gruesome sight of trios of soldiers attacking recruits. I can’t cover my ears either. The recruits’ ear-piercing screams make me realize that they didn’t take any pills and therefore they feel the full force of the attacks. I can smell the blood, thick in my lungs. I fight to keep my head up as my mind reels with desperate thoughts. Don’t hurt them. It must hurt so much. Stop.

  Above the diabolic symphony of screams, the voice of a soldier reaches me.

  “My turn.”

  Immediately, a soldier who was mounting a recruit props himself up on his elbows and relinquishes his position.

  Some attackers look so young that, despite their size, they remind me of my mother’s assailants. They are enjoying themselves, laughing like they’re crazy. Still, I catch sight of some soldiers who don’t look comfortable with this show. If they don’t like it, why don’t they stop it? By not speaking up, they’re as responsible as the others. I hate them all equally.

  In a moment of infinite terror, a soldier approaches me. It feels as though he’ll drag me to a stone, but then he focuses his attention on someone else.

  At that moment, a loud wail overpowers the screams of the recruits, startling me. A familiar voice is screaming in rage, pain and disbelief. A soldier is dragging Elena by her long hair to one of the stones.

  “Nooooooo! Luke! Help me!”

  The troops laugh as a soldier throws her to the floor. Three other soldiers roughly lift her and place her body on the stone. While a soldier grabs Elena’s body by her arms, two more grab her by her ankles and spread her legs.

  “Get your hands off of her!” shouts Luke Rivers, making his way to the court. What’s he doing? He’s going to get himself recruited, and then they’ll attack Elena anyway.

  The witches, using the strength of their modified genes, drag him to a stone. They punch him over and over and force him to lie flat on his stomach.

  Abruptly, the doors of the gym open.

  The light of the sun prevents us from making out the appearance of the new arrival. All we know is that a red-caped figure stands on the threshold.

  54

  Sacrifice

  My chin drops to the floor when I recognize him.

  The lanky cop scans the scene, and his eyes narrow. I can sense Tristan’s desperation to do something, but what can a single decent cop do against hundreds of soldiers?

  He marches into the gym. “I’m Colonel Tristan Froh, from the 25th Accord Unit. According to the protocol, the ceremony should have ended twenty minutes ago.”

  How is he here? I remember seeing pictures of Aleksey and his Unit boarding a military hovercraft. I look around. If Tristan is here, perhaps my Aleksey is, too. Then it hits me. I was so upset that I didn’t notice whether or not Tristan was in those pictures.

  The soldiers not engaged in abusing recruits look at Tristan derisively. They seem to find this interruption funny. Sergeant Landry hasn’t even bothered to spare a look at the new arrival.

  Tristan’s eyes rest on the Accord Unit. He won’t gain support there.

  The young colonel walks directly toward the witches who are about to attack Elena and Luke. I shuffle on my seat nervously. As he forces the witch holding Elena to release her, Tristan seems to be forcing a confidence he doesn’t really feel.

  “Section seventeen of the twenty-first amendment, civilians in the process of acquiring Patriot citizenship are not eligible for recruitment. Let these two people go.”

  The soldiers burst into a fit of cold, demonic laughter. Looking at the debauchery around us, Tristan’s statement sounds naïve.

  To my surprise, the soldiers let the siblings go. “As you wish, Colonel.”

  Luke and Elena dash for their seats, where the Rivers family and servants welcome them with open arms. I look at Elena. Tears fill her eyes, and her face is contorted in terror as if she is screaming, but no sound comes from it. Luke pulls her into his arms and cradles her.

  Rocco approaches Tristan and yells, “The 25th Accord Unit was banished from Patriot Territory. Return to your country.”

  Landry finds this information interesting. “So the cop is an illegal immigrant?”

  Tristan moves his earring-device, and a hologram of an official-looking document appears. “I have written permission from Maximillian Kei to stay in the country to—”

  Abruptly, one of the soldiers grabs Tristan from behind and forcefully tears his earring-device, breaking Tristan’s skin. The cop’s scream of pain makes even the monsters attacking girls on the stones turn their heads.

  Landry steps on Tristan’s jewelry-device. “We haven’t seen any document,” he claims in a sarcastic tone.

  I put my hand in my mouth to suppress a cry of horror when they shove Tristan against a stone. The witches call dibs. I’ve never seen them attack cops. The Accord Unit is protected by UNNO. These soldiers are making a statement: nobody, not even UNNO, can interfere with us.

  My mind reaches its limit and shuts down. I go numb. My eyes are open, but I see only darkness. A small part of my brain registers Tristan’s screams, but the rest is a high-pitched sound. I feel nothing. I’m replacing reality with delusion like Olmo does. In my imaginary world, I attend university. Aleksey picks me up after school every day to ride in his Humvee. Olmo is cured, and everyone I care about is safe and sound.

  By the time I return from my delusion, Tristan is drenched in his own blood and is inert. I can’t wrap my head around the injustice of it. He’s the only Accord cop brave enough to oppose the soldiers, and his bravery has been punished. My face reddens, my fists clench, and I welcome the fury that replaces the fear.

  Tristan’s sacrifice is the end of the ceremony. Landry mobilizes the troops and the recruits. They march their way through the doors. The attackers carry their unconscious victims while Tristan’s body is carried away by the Accord Unit. I used to doubt Tristan would do the right thing during the ceremony; now the memory of my distrust slaps me hard. Please survive this, Tristan.

  Rocco and the local soldiers order us to stay in the gym until the 36th Battalion has left the building.

  I watch the contingent become smaller as soldiers leave the gym. The sound of helicopters departing is all over town. I suppress a fit of hysterics. Tristan. Cara. All those recruits and enlistees.

  I try–and fail—to find relief in the thought that the worst has happened. I find strength thinking about my family. Olmo, Azzy. I’ll see you soon. We’re safe from recruitment.

  But the side of me that is always mulling over pessimistic thoughts brings me back to reality.

  For now.

  * * *

  I shiver as a mist covers the glade. I get up and smooth my dress before putting on my cloak.

  “It won’t work,” says Divine as she dismounts Joey’s semi-naked body and collapses on the grass. They hold on to each other as though that could solve all the world’s problems.

  Lately, the couple’s inability
to reach orgasms has ruined their mood for exhibitionist sex. The events of the past few days have thrown all the Comanches into varying levels of depression. Luckily, the new additions to our ranks, Azzy and Elena, have added spark to our decaying numbers. Unfortunately for TCR, Azzy will soon leave. She’ll go with Olmo and Dad to New Norfolk.

  TCR members have been hacking Patriot sites, searching for information on Duque, Cara, and Tristan’s whereabouts … or evidence of their deaths. Although the Comanches barely knew Tristan, his attack has struck a chord, not only in Starville but all over the world. Patriots took things too far, and this time there’ll be repercussions.

  Later, because Joey’s leg is still recovering, Divine and I become human crutches as we make our way to town.

  We’re passing a clutch of trees when I see Rey perched on a branch, holding our old gadget. Divine and Joey are unfazed, but I blush. My voyeurism isn’t something I want to share with him.

  “How long have you been there?”

  Rey jumps to the ground in a graceful movement. “A while.”

  “Did you know that I—that we—”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here to hack the wireless. I hope all the international pressure will force them to liberate the recruits.”

  I bite my lip. I don’t want to remind him that although he has publically condemned the attack on Tristan, Maximillian Kei must spoil his soldiers. Kei would rather face international scorn than lose the troops’ support. It’s the support that has made him more powerful than the Patriot president. Tristan’s attackers are in prison waiting for a trial, but the other monsters won’t ever face charges. The law says that they can take recruits in any way they want.

  Duque and Cara won’t ever come back. I wish Rey could accept that, but I won’t ruin his hopes.

  “They’ll survive,” I say, holding his hand.

  Soon, Divine and Joey walk on their own through Genesis Street, as if trying to give us the privacy we don’t need. On the eve of recruitment, Rey agreed to be just my friend. But I can tell by his glances that he can’t forget what happened. Lines are getting blurred between us, but who cares? I won’t live in Starville much longer.