by Corrie Wang
All my life I’ve been told of Fortitude’s viciousness, but it is something else entirely to see it firsthand. It looks like he stood in the street and haphazardly launched Molotov cocktails in every direction, only the flaming bottles were the size of cars. Enormous chunks of the buildings are missing. No wonder we fled.
“Sorry,” Sway mutters.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” I say.
“I know, but I feel like it keeps needing to be said.”
On the jog over here, I filled Su in on everything that happened in the last few hours. Now we spin, taking in all the labs, trying to figure out which one Grand used to call home.
“That one,” we say together.
“Excellent,” Sway says. “The one with the protective twenty-foot-tall iron fence capped by the triple row of razor wire.”
“No,” Reason says, “the one with the lights on in the top-floor windows.”
As we watch, the light goes off, then another goes on a few feet away from the original. Then that goes off and another light switches on a few windows down. Reason’s dogs whine.
“Maybe it’s a faulty circuit,” Sway says.
“Only one way to know for sure,” I say. “Apologize to Comma for me.”
Taking off my coat—fly away, little hood—I throw it on top of the razor wire. Then, gripping a single iron post, I plant my feet on the bars and walk up the fence. When I reach the top, I push off the bars, use the momentum to flip over the barbed wire, and fling myself to the other side, landing neatly, gymnast-style.
Applause meets my landing.
Sway and Su are standing next to me, grinning with almost identical smiles.
“Loose spoke in the fence,” Sway says. “Like, a foot that way.”
Switching off his hover board, Reason also slips through the fence, telling his dogs to wait. Reluctantly, I leave the puppy with them. Then we all hurry to the entrance doors. Unlike the other lab buildings, this one is missing any noticeable holes. Only a few second-floor windows are shattered. NEUYUE is etched in white on the black-tinted glass.
“How do we get in?” Reason asks.
Intending to see how thick the glass is, I walk up to the doors. When I reach my hand out, they soundlessly slide open.
“The building has power,” Reason says, halfway between a question and a statement.
I pull Slim from her sheath. Reason twirls his crutch upside down and pops off the rubber tread to reveal a sharp spike.
“Nice,” I say.
“I do okay.” He shrugs. His eyes cut to Su. “Despite first impressions.”
“I’ll be sure to call you when I need a hole punch,” Su grunts, hatchet out.
We all look to Sway. He pats his pockets.
“I think I left my wine key at home. Don’t y’all look at me like that. A corkscrew’s a great weapon.”
“Actually, Glor,” Su says, “if I were you, I’d go for Crutches.”
With both males’ complexions traffic-signal red, we step inside. Since the outside windows are tinted against the sun, the lobby is pitch-black. Yet a soft yellow glow emanates from a bank of elevators. Sway presses one of the glowing buttons. It turns green.
“How did you know to do that?” I ask.
“Ha!”
As sharp red numbers above the elevator count down, the males cluster behind me as if any distance greater than one inch between us isn’t safe. They’re probably right. The elevator dings and we all crouch defensively.
The doors glide open.
Gentle music drifts out.
The elevator is empty.
“It could be a trap,” I say.
“Oh, it’s most definitely a trap,” Su says.
“Maybe we should go straight to the train station,” Reason says. “There have to be better places to kill an hour and a half.”
“You goits.” Sway laughs. “It’s an elevator. A working one. Any of you ridden in one of these before?”
He steps inside, bounces.
“See? Perfectly safe.”
With no time for subterfuge or sneak attacks, once inside, I press fifteen. The button for the top floor. As Su attempts to identify our blind spots in a simple square box, the mirrored doors glide shut. Suddenly, we’re all staring at ourselves.
In the ambient lighting, Reason takes off his hat and sheepishly uses it to rub a smudge of dirt off his cheek. Realizing his hair is even more of a disaster, he quickly puts his hat back on. Thanks to Comma, I’m remarkably cleaner than usual, but my hair has flopped over and I can’t help noticing that the used clothes I’m wearing are starting to smell. Su fixes the lines of lipstick she drew under her eyes, then frowns intimidatingly… at herself.
“This is why I stopped working out with you,” I tell her.
Sway, meanwhile, is spotless. With his blue shoes, camo parka, neat haircut, and bright red snapback cap, he looks like he stepped out of one of Comma’s magazine ads. He quietly whistles along with the elevator music but stops when we all turn to stare at him.
“What? Backstreet Boys. Classic.”
The elevator dings. We collide into one another in our effort to be the first out, only to be bathed in immediate bright light. Reason wields his spike. Su swings her hatchet. I tug Mama Bear out to fight alongside Slim. Sway grabs hold of my sweater. But nothing happens. The hallway lights above us have simply turned on. As one, we shuffle forward. When we’ve gone three feet, the lights behind us go off and the ones directly above us flash on.
Su lets out a muffled scream. “They’re following us.”
“Energy-saving lights, bruth.” Reason grins.
Nothing on Grand Island was outfitted with this level of green technology. Yet a quick look around tells me the motion sensor lights are the least remarkable fixture of the space. No wonder all the fees spoke so highly of these labs. In the very first room we pass, on gleaming stainless-steel tables, there is an ultracentrifuge and a tabletop one and a microfuge. Sterile tubes and cryovials sit on neat shelves on the back walls behind a swinging bucket rotor for gradient purification. In the second lab, there are ultra-cold freezers and refrigerators. Biosafety cabinets and autoclaves. And actual proper nitrogen tanks. Eight at a glance, so unlike the ones Grand and her staff rigged back home.
“Someone’s keeping this place up,” Sway says.
“No, it’s more than that,” I whisper. “Listen.”
But telling from everyone’s blank expressions, they don’t hear all the purrs, beeps, and hums that I do. To me, they sound as loud as doorbells.
“The machines are on. Someone is actually using them.”
I follow a cord that runs from one of the ultra-cold freezers. It ends in a room filled with fans and generators. If the power went down, the backup generators would instantly kick on and no cells would be lost. Reason moves to the next room and peers in through the glass door.
“Yeah, but using them for what?”
We all crowd around to look. Inside, plastic tubs with metal grated tops are stacked on shelves running five wide and six high. Each tub houses a rat. And each rat is covered in angry red sores. A few are dead. This was either very sloppy lab work or these animals died so recently the techs hadn’t had a chance to remove them yet.
“I don’t want to go in there,” Sway says.
“Probably a good idea,” Su grunts.
“That looks important, though,” Reason says.
He points to a cord that’s as thick as ten ropes braided together. It runs through a hole in the wall to a room next door. As Sway and Reason push through the next set of double swing doors, Su remains staring at the rats.
“Suze?”
“Gimme a minute.”
Inside the next room is a desk with a holodisplay. It sits in front of a plate-glass window that looks into darkness. Reason immediately goes to the computer. One by one, I turn the lights on. Except I stop as soon as I see what’s on the other side of the glass.
“Holy crow,” I say.
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“Holy bump,” Sway adds.
Reason looks up from the computer. “Holy bumping bump.”
Not only was someone still using the labs, they were still using them for their originally designed purpose. In the room on the other side of the glass, heavy clear plastic bags hang from the ceiling. And inside each one…is a fat perfect fetus.
“Holy waste,” Su says, rejoining us.
“This finally proves,” Sway says, “that there is no end to the uses of Ziploc bags.”
Su rolls her eyes. “Those aren’t Ziploc bags, numbtits. They’re SymSacs.”
Maybe Symbiotic Sacs don’t physically resemble wombs, but they do incorporate all the same key components. The clear plastic bag holds and protects the fetus while tubes pump in an electrolyte solution that doubles as amniotic fluid and helps it exchange carbon dioxide for oxygen.
“Suze, the males are making babies.”
“Yes. I see that.”
“Those are babies, right?” Reason asks. “Actual babies? Growing in a bag.”
“The word is gestating,” Su says. “I mean, where did you think babies came from?”
“Fees!” Reason cries.
“They do,” Su says. “Fifty percent of all those fetus’s genetics come from a fee.”
“No, I mean…” Looking sheepish, he gestures to his groin.
“Oh, you mean from our vaginas?” Su snorts. “That’s so old-school.”
Originally, Symbiotic Sacs were solely used for premature babies as a way to incubate them longer in the “womb.” Then fees began using them out of medical necessity—if they were too old to carry children in vitro or if their womb was inhospitable. When their babies came out fat and strong and healthy, the entire world took note. Grand told me eventually a few “movie stars” used them for very public births. After that the practice took off.
Looking at them, I think, No wonder they called us the Miracles. They are exactly that. Miraculous.
“Suze, why are males making babies?” I ask.
“I really don’t—”
“How are males making babies?”
“Glor, I don’t know.”
“I know for a fact,” Reason says, “that Chia knows nothing about this technology.”
“Just like you knew he was one of the good guys?” I ask, then immediately regret it when Reason’s peevish expression falls off. “Sorry. That came out meaner than I meant.”
Yet Reason was probably right. NeuYue was an entirely fee-run company. Of course, there were males in the world who had this technology, but they didn’t work out of Buffalo. Only fees did. That was NeuYue’s whole mission statement. NeuYue made procreation a right for everyone. No matter their age, relationship status, sexual preference, or gender. The power of conception was entirely in fee hands.
The only question was how and why and when did males acquire that power, too?
Despite everyone telling me not to, I pop open the door to the gestation room. There are fifteen fetuses all together. They look to be about six months old.
“Chia called us the herd,” I say. “You think he was referencing the fact that initial ex-utero birth trials were all with fetal sheep?”
Three sets of eyeballs simultaneously roll upward.
“Right,” I say. “Probably not.”
“How come you two know so much about this?” Sway asks.
I try very hard not to look at Su. Playing it equally cool, Su walks to the farthest end of the gestation room as if she hasn’t heard the question. The answer is simple.
It was my Grand Mati’s life’s work.
“Every fee does,” I say. “It’s conception. Plus, since the buildings were hermetically sealed, everyone working here during the Night survived. We’ve been learning the science behind ex-utero births for as long as I can remember.”
“Man, this whole thing creeps me out.” Reason shudders.
But Twofer was born the old way, and all I remember is blood and more blood and the sound of Majesty screaming. Compared to the Symbiotic Sacs, the natural process is so barbaric. Then it occurs to me. I nudge Reason’s arm.
“I told you Chia didn’t rescue you from some day care. He rescued you from these labs. You’re a Miracle baby.”
I almost say, Just like me, but stop myself. Reason is not impressed.
“I came from a sac?” he asks flatly.
Sway ever so lightly touches one of the bags. The little fee inside has the hiccups.
“You guys notice anything particularly striking about these babies?”
He wiggles a pinkie finger in the air, then lowers it like it died. I walk around to the next-closest bag. She already has wisps of dark hair on her head. The next one is sucking her thumb. They’re all so beautiful. But as I look into the next bag, then the next, my heart sinks.
“They’re all fee,” I say.
Out in the observation room, a timer goes off on an autoclave.
“Hey, fees,” Su says. “Remember why we came up here in the first place?”
“The lights were on,” Sway says.
“The motion sensor lights,” Reason corrects. “We’re not alone.”
“Don’t we want to see who’s working here?” I hiss as we hurry to the outer room.
“Sure, we do,” Sway says, switching off the lights. “And I’m sure they will gladly let us leave with this obviously public knowledge that they’re breeding baby girls.”
“Shh,” I whisper. “Someone’s coming.”
“Don’t tell me you can hear them,” Su says, always a little jealous of my better-tweaked senses. “This room is sealed.”
“No.” I point. “I can see them.”
Out in the hall, the motion sensor lights outline two figures against the frosted glass. Inside the room there is nowhere to hide, only one storage cabinet and the desk. I motion toward the gestation room. Once everyone’s in, I lock the door behind us. There’s a camera in the corner; thankfully, the lens is shattered. We press ourselves against the wall beneath the observation window, our knees tight to our chests. Each sac gives off a blue ethereal glow until the lights go back on around us and in the outer office as well. A shadow slides across the floor. It’s a big shadow.
“Progress report?” a familiar male voice intones.
“The fetuses are two months out.”
“That’s a fee voice,” Su says, surprised and loudly.
Shut it, Sway mouths, then, something…something…crazy?
I’ll shut you… something… something… numbtits, Su angrily mouths back.
“How is the environment?” the fee asks.
“Not ready yet. But the mayor is pleased with how things are progressing. It won’t be long now before they submit or are all dead.”
“Good. This is cutting it close.”
The doorknob shakes. Then shakes again.
“Do you usually lock this door?” the male asks.
“No.” The fee sighs. “But none of us are operating on much sleep. My keys are downstairs in my room.”
I take the mirror out of my bag again and angle it so I can see through the observation window into the outer room.
“Glori!” Su hisses. “They’ll see.”
But I have to know who the traitor is. When I get the reflection to work, Reason’s and Sway’s heads are pressed right alongside mine.
First, we see a giant male, tattoos.
“Rage,” Reason murmurs.
“And?” Su whispers.
Curly hair pulled back into a quick knot. Midfifties. A weary expression and a too-tight lab coat buttoned over pajamas. I shake my head. Her face is familiar, but I can’t place it. Like I’ve only seen it in a dream.
Moments after they leave we are on their heels, popping open the outer office door. As soon as we hear the elevator ding shut behind them, Su points at a stairwell across the hall.
“Go,” she says quietly.
Needing no second invitation, Reason is down the hall and through the door, nimbl
er on his crutch than Sway is on his own two feet, as is evident when Sway skids and trips on the polished floor. Su and I go together. Every lab we run past, I expect someone to jump out and snatch us.
Just like that, I know who the fee is.
Her name is Esperanza. She was one of Matricula’s most brilliant protégées. A self-described loner, she never cohabitated with anyone. Instead she preferred the solitude of the labs. The companionship and stimulation of progressive science. Which is why no one immediately knew she was missing when the beasts raided her home and snatched her shortly after Majesty was taken almost six years ago. Espe was discovered missing a full day after the other five fees who were also kidnapped.
Thanks to all the blood, our EMS declared her dead.
I guess they were wrong.
We steal Rage’s car to get to the transport station. Yes, it’s stupid. And dangerous. But we’re late and Sway insisted that by the time Rage found his car we’d already be on a transport a few hours away. Plus, Rage’s ride is a Hummer, which impressed Su and the males. Unfortunately, it is much smaller on the inside than it looks. Which meant the dogs didn’t fit, and after lengthy hugs, Reason commanded them to “Go home.” Next second, they were loping off through the snow. All but the puppy, who I hid inside my coat.
Now the Hummer is parked in a driveway a block behind us, and we’re running through snowy woods across from a street lined with dead trees and enormous brick houses the likes of which I’ve never seen on Grand Island. I’m sure they’re what used to pass for “luxury” housing, but I can’t imagine keeping their massive rooms warm right now. Accordingly, they are all dark. Reason says the transport hub is through this park. Whatever transports are, they must be at least ten times bigger than cars. I’ve heard them rumbling for a mile now.
As we race through the woods, Sway as ever a few feet behind, I tell the males about the fees who were snatched right around when Twofer was born. I don’t include the fact that my mother was also snatched months before that. Alone.
“Esperanza was supposed to be dead,” I say.
“Does that mean the other five snatched fees aren’t dead, either?” Reason asks.