The v Girl

by Mya Robarts

  My voice is derisive. “You love visitants and used to hire them. Frequently. But when you got old you couldn’t get it up. You got tired of making a fool of yourself in front of them. And you still can’t get it up. Not even with oral. Your wife cheated on you because …” I take a breath to yell, “You can’t get the damn thing up!”

  He tries to spit in my face, but I dodge. “You’re old and afraid to get older. Oh, poor Sargent Sleecket! Comparing himself to younger, better endowed cops all the time. That’s why you molest girls, don’t you? And the older you get, the younger the girls you rape. You had been eyeing my sister.”

  Cara puts a hand on my shoulder. I think the other Comanches are somehow worried about my sanity.

  “You’re pathetic; you’re a creep. I thought to avenge all the girls you’ve raped by castrating you.” I point my knife at his groin. A slight trace of fear crosses his face. “I won’t. There’s practically nothing to castrate in the first place.”

  I slap his face like he slapped me. “I’ll kill you.”

  Cara looks at Gary with hate, as though all the abuse in the world is his fault. “Not yet. He has to tell us about the bugs. And as for me …” she takes good aim and kicks his groin. “This is for my daughter.” She kicks his face. “This one is for me.”

  We run an exhaustive search of Gary’s and the soldier’s bodies and snatch their j-devices and their guns.

  Divine soaks Gary’s groin with alcohol. “How many bugs have you planted?” Gary shrieks and twists but doesn’t answer.

  We haven’t ever tortured anybody and now that I see him defeated, I’m having qualms. I kicked his manhood physically and—I hope—emotionally. He isn’t a threat to my family anymore, so I wish things were different. I wish we could expose him to the world as the rapist he is. I wish people hated on him and a court punished him with death. But in the world we live, rape is not only accepted, but institutionalized. Nobody cares.

  “Let’s just kill him and get out of here. More soldiers might come.” I say.

  Poncho growls and barks at the inert mass that the soldier is. He must have gained consciousness. I move over toward the soldier and put the gun in his forehead. “This one first.”

  “Careful,” says Joey. “Sometimes the bullets rebound.”

  The soldier squeals and struggles against his restrains. He has long brown curls and dimples in his tattooed, gray face. He can’t be older than fourteen. A tattoo on his arm tells me he was expelled from a military academy. This boy never completed training although his genes must have been engineered for combat. Perhaps before he was born. His Patriot armor is as fake as Gary’s which means he’s also acting against military laws. The weather is still scorching, but I’m trembling. He looks so much like a soldier. I force the fear to subside and put the gun inside his mouth.

  No wonder it took only four of us and Poncho to defeat him. He hasn’t got the full power of a mature, well-trained soldier. And yet … there’s something about the way he’s fighting his restrains, about the way Poncho barks at him. Perhaps ... No!

  I fire the gun at the same time the soldier throws his body against mine. My bullet rebounds in his armor as I fall to the ground under his weight. My head throbs painfully as I try to scramble away from him.

  “Watch out!” someone yells. But it’s too late. My body writhes when excruciating, unbearable pain slashes my thigh.

  I scream in agony as my body twitches violently on the ground. I order my body to get a grip, but I’ve lost all control of it.

  Through the convulsions, I catch a glimpse of my leg. Something with two metallic fangs is buried deep in the back of my left thigh. A biomechanical snake. Like the ones the troops use to inject the drugs into themselves.

  The machine exits my body and moves away as it has life on its own. The pain spreads quickly from my thigh to the rest of my body. It feels like a fire is burning and shredding every single nerve ending.

  I’m in so much pain that I barely register the sound of a vehicle approaching. More soldiers? Through a fog of agony and darkness, I hear shouts and metallic stomping.

  The intensity of the pain only increases with each second. My eyes are open, but everything looks dark. Even as my consciousness starts to drift away in a sea of darkness, the pain only increases.

  Firm, strong muscles scoop me up as if I weigh nothing. Has the soldier just made me curl against his chest? I struggle to push him away. My arm shakily, slowly moves up an inch before falling limp at my side. My body has frozen.

  I’m about to pass out, when I hear a taut, masculine voice.

  “Don’t die.”

  Chapter 27

  “If you hear me, move your leg.” The voice sounds distant, distorted. My leg doesn’t move an inch, and the pain is killing me. I want to beg the voice’s owner to take the pain away. Am I dying? If I’m going to die, stop the damn pain by killing me now.

  A commanding, hoarse, slightly accented voice is getting clearer now. “Sargent Wong, go after Sleecket.”

  My eyes ache when I open them. An anguished, pained face looms above me. The darkness engulfs me, but I fight against unconsciousness, struggling to hear everything. Someone says my heart has stopped.

  “She’s so cold,” says a feminine voice. “Her muscles are so rigid. Is she alive?

  I’m lying on a flat surface. Someone cuts my trousers around my thigh wound. “Oh no!” says a second woman. Cara?

  “Prince Aleksey, look at this!” says another accented voice.

  Aleksey? It can’t be. He’s far away. I want to tell him to take care of my family but my voice fails me and all that comes out from my mouth is a garbled mess.

  “Shh, it’s okay.”

  Tristan’s voice is desperate now. “He injected tonics into her thigh.”

  Using all my willpower, I open my eyes. Everything is so dark, but Aleksey’s long blond hair stands out in a blur of dark moving shapes. Is he really back from his commission? Next thing I know, I’m on my stomach, and he has shred my trousers to pieces in a swift movement, leaving me semi-naked. His lips find my thigh and suck harshly.

  Stop! It hurts! But I notice the pain is starting to dull little by little as if Aleksey is sucking it out of my body.

  A warm touch caresses my forehead and slides to my cheek. I hear Aleksey’s voice whispering in my ear. How can he make his voice authoritative, worried, and gentle at the same time?

  “Meine kleine kämpfer. Fight death with all you have.”

  I can’t hold to consciousness anymore and let the darkness embrace me.

  I hear voices telling me that it’s not my time to join them yet. Mom, Rey’s mom, Angie Weaver. Whether I’m having my own version of a near death experience, or I’m losing my mind doesn’t matter. All I know is that I can hear everything that’s happening around me. That’s how I find out the Comanches and Poncho only sustained minor wounds. At times, I get glimpses of my body lying limp on a clinic bed, connected to tubes.

  I’ve read once that people feel peace during a near death experience. Or see dead relatives. Not me. I’m all by myself, desperately fighting to get back to my body, afraid that I’ll die if I don’t. And the pain doesn’t match my idea of peace. My heart has stopped four times, and I’ve felt the pain of the electric charges they use to make it work again.

  I float over my inert body, which is surrounded by my family. Rey and Aleksey are here, too, leaning on the title walls. One openly concerned. The other concealing his emotions behind a scowl.

  I need to get back to make sure Aleksey fulfills his promise of helping the boy who is patting my arm cheerfully.

  Olmo’s voice is hopeful. “Come back to us, Lily. You can do it.”

  Azalea looks from Rey to Aleksey as she holds my hand. “You really like your drama, don’t you? Wake up, idiot, so I can kick your ass for frightening us like this.”

  “Hey! Her mouth twitched. Are you smiling, Lila?” says Dad. “Are you listening?”

  I want to answer
him, but the effect of the sedatives drags me into a dark tunnel again.

  The sedatives have another undesired side effect. They give me double dreams. I’ve had dreams within dreams before, but the combination of sedatives and tonics have made them frequent. My dreams are a perfect, vivid imagery of every single recruitment ceremony I’ve witnessed. Gary stalks me in my dreams, but nothing wakes me up. I’m lucid. Completely aware that I’m dreaming, but the terror is still the same. Until darkness engulfs me again.

  The obscurity bursts into a swirling explosion of color, and I wake up in a double bed. Rey’s bed. He’s immobile and has his naked muscular back turned to me. I sit up and take a look at the long mirror across the room. I’m looking at a forty-year-old version of myself. My bushy hair is a mess, my flesh is flabby, and there are bags under my tired eyes. I’m wearing a hospital gown that can’t hide the rolls of fat that have accumulated on my body throughout the years. Judging by the evidence of his release running down my thighs, we’ve just had sex.

  Rey finally turns and looks at me indifferently. The contrast between us couldn’t be more painful. I look ghastly, but the years have enhanced his muscular beauty. We’ve been married for so long that his voice reveals years of tedium. “I’m sorry, the answer to your question is yes. She’ll always be the love of my life.”

  A dismal sense of loss invades me, and I’m screaming in frustration at his words. All these years together and he still doesn’t love me. It would hurt less if he hated me. That’d mean that he at least cares enough about me to feel something. I know I’m dreaming, but the disappointment and pain feel real.

  The room disappears from my view. The darkness overpowers me, but I’m awake. When I open my eyes, I find my hospital cot has been moved to Aleksey’s room. I’d be naked if I weren’t wearing the same gown than from my dreams.

  “Finally you’re awake,” says Dad brightly. He shoots at me the kind of questions a doctor needs to ask a patient to gauge their health.

  I realize my wrists aren’t connected to multiple tubes, except for an IV line. I look at the door wistfully. I crave air. I yearn to get out of this room, but my eyelids feel heavy, and I’m not sure I can get up.

  I sit up and look at my surroundings instead. I slept here once and hardly remember the enormous room. The large walls are bare, except for a digital torch. His double bass case leans against an abnormally high chair. There’s a mirrored wardrobe next to a door that leads to a bathroom. Besides the cot I’m lying on, there’s a night stand that wasn’t here some nights ago. No pictures, no personal items.

  What stands out is his enormous bed. Perfectly made and covered by one of his red capes. I measured it that night out of curiosity. I was surprised a soldier’s bed looked so proportionally similar to a regular single bed. As everything that is related to Aleksey, size and extension, matter: Height: Fifty inches. Length: eighty-eight inches. Width: forty-four inches

  “Why am I here?” I ask without taking my eyes off of his bed.

  “You were delirious and kept screaming about soldiers coming. It turned out you were right, and we’ve had plenty of injured soldiers. I didn’t want you to wake up surrounded by them.”

  “The bugs … Gary threatened us—”

  “Shh! It’s okay. Mr. Fürst has a battalion hunting him down. The young soldier was found dead. Sargent Sleecket was trialed in absence by a Patriot court and sentenced to death.”

  “Death? Why?”

  “Sleecket stayed in the country illegally, stealing and faking official army items. He coerced an underage Patriot citizen to attack you, and most importantly: He disobeyed a direct order from a General when he left the hospital before his deportation. That’s equivalent to desertion and treason. It’s been an international scandal.”

  “Where is Aleksey? What about his promise? And Olmo?”

  “Relax, Lila. We owe him too much, already. He read your note and found you in the nick of time. And he’s been taking care of you as much as his General duties allow him.”

  He removes the catheter that connected the IV line to my wrist. “Rey, too. Until you sent him away.” Dad looks at my puzzled expression and explains “You were screaming for him to go away. Extremely rudely, I might add.”

  “Oh no! I didn’t mean to …”

  “Hush. Don’t worry. My godson knows you meant no harm.” His eyes take in the cop’s bed before falling on mine. “He doesn’t know you’re here. Rey is … overprotective, so let’s keep this sleeping arrangement a secret. Shall we?”

  I nod. There’s plenty to worry about but getting better and out of this bed is my priority. “I wanna get air.”

  “Take it one step at a time.” He crosses the room in his cart and once more takes in the bed. “You should never act against yourself.”

  That’s his favorite quote when he thinks I’m taking too many risks with my health. I collapse back against the bed, staring at him in wonder. For some reason, I think he’s talking about something else.

  But he decides to change the subject. “You know? The twins will be so happy to know you’re finally awake.”

  Am I really?

  * * *

  The soldiers have searched the clinic but didn’t dare to check Aleksey’s room. Clearly the cop intimidates them. I can’t wait for him to start training me as he promised. His training might make the difference when I face a soldier again.

  The only window in this room shows a sunset ruby-red sky. Helicopters come and go all the time. I know I’ve been awake enough to feed myself. To go to the toilet. To fool the twins. But Dad keeps giving me sedatives, and the grogginess never goes away. He says two days have passed since the incident, but I feel as though it’s been years. The NDE’s have stopped, but I have false awakenings all the time. I dream I’m sleeping on this bed, and then I dream I wake up feeling dazed, but it’s still a dream. Dad says the soldier’s drugs caused what he calls “mild schizophrenic symptoms.”

  I get up woozily, surprised to be by myself. Where’s everybody? I want air, so I make my way to the door when an angry voice stops me.

  “Don’t. The soldiers are still around.” I flinch in surprise. I didn’t notice Aleksey’s seven foot, one inch frame at first, but the sedatives make me inattentive. He’s in a chair with his bass between his legs, adjusting the strings. He wears a white shirt open at his chest and black slacks.

  I continue my slow advance toward the door. I need air. Badly.

  He storms toward me, irritated by my defiance. “Stop. Return to bed.”

  He sounds so commanding that the grogginess disappears instantly. “Nobody will see me if I’m careful.”

  “I’ll drag you to bed, Miss Velez.” He growls threateningly.

  I’m almost at the door now, feeling more awake than ever. I’ve just remembered how much he turns me on. Defying him creates a special energy between us. He wants me to obey him, and I want to see how far he’d go to stop me.

  I barely have time to turn the doorknob when I feel his arms scooping me up and carrying me to the bed. His voice is angry. “If you’re going to act like a brat, I’ll tie you up.”

  He lays me on the bed softly, checks my blood pressure and temperature, and returns to his seat to play a fast and furious melody. He closes his eyes, too engrossed in his music.

  Disappointment curls through me. That’s it? The way he’s just treated me makes me feel as if, for him, I’m just a little girl.

  I sit up and take a look at him. The way he skillfully works the strings makes me aware of the contrast between us. He’s older than me in more than one sense. The man is the leader of his Unit: well-travelled and skillful in music, medicine, and the art of seduction. I’m a girl who is not even close to becoming a gang’s leader. I have yet to seduce anyone, or even leave my hometown. Unlike him, attending medical or music school is only a dream. In short, he has lived his life. Whether he has led a good life or a bad life, at least he has lived. My life has been based on survival; I have yet to live.


  I want to live. He’s offered to teach me the basics of sexuality, but at the moment he’s ignoring me completely. A yearning to make him pay attention awakens in me.

  I get up and rush toward the door. I don’t get to take two strides before my back slams harshly against a hard surface. His palms are pressed against the wall, and somehow my head ends up enclosed between them. Looking furious, he kneels on one knee, erasing our height difference. We’re face to face now.

  “Lila.”

  The hoarse sound of Aleksey's voice makes me shudder. Nobody’s ever said my name like that, with that breathy, lustful quality. I don’t want to admit that I love the way my name sounds on his lips.

  Please say my name again.

  My mind reels and for a moment I feel as though I’m about to faint. Right now, the sedatives aren’t letting me think clearly. All I want is to hear him say my name.

  I try to escape, but I find myself caged up in the prison of his strong arms. Eager anticipation courses through me. Something is about to happen. I want it to happen, but Gary’s voice replays in my mind. He’s a soldier and a rapist. Gary lied about everything that day. I’ll believe he was lying about Aleksey as well.

  “Let’s start your training.” Gary’s voice evaporates completely from my mind. The way his breath caresses my face sends bolts of electricity all over my body.

  I’m trembling. “I … uh … swords training?”

  A coy smile appears in his face, and I realize what kind of training he’s referring to. I shiver.

  “Don’t be nervous.”

  “I’m not nerv—” I gasp when he puts his hands on both of my hips and roughly presses them against his hardness. Rubbing. Grinding.

  The sensations threat to overwhelm me. I shove at his chest, trying to put distance. "Let me go."

  He ignores me.

  I try to use one of my self-defense moves, but he dodges easily and traps my wrists firmly with one enormous hand. I use all my strength to try to free myself and I can’t.