by Mya Robarts
“I told you, I’ll never marry you.”
His face falls. “I’ve accepted that. I’ll take whatever part of you that you want to give me.” He presses his lips against my neck. “Let me make love to you … now.”
I look at him in shock. “Why did you change your mind? Charity work, Rey? You don’t have to help me.”
He talks with emotion, his eyes brilliant. “No, Lily; I love you.” His fingertips lightly brush my cheeks. “I can’t think of a life without you. Not talking to you like we used to has been torture. When we’re together, we’re better people. I don’t have much in my life. No money, no future to offer a woman, but you … you are one of the best gifts life’s given me.”
I’m moved but I shake my head. “I was thinking of him when—”
“Don’t you have feelings for me, Lily?”
I care for him. “In a way…I do, but …it’d be so wrong … when there’s someone else. In your heart and …” I swallow. “… in mine.”
“But they’re not here, Lily.” His face reveals an internal battle. “They’re the past. We could start a new story. Our story.”
He sits me on his lap and his muscular arms encircle me. “You still want to lose your V before the troops come. Haven’t you realized I’ve been fighting for that honor?”
“Rey, I’ll leave Starville. You’ll stay and keep fighting to get the Patriots out of the lands of your ancestors. You and I…It’d never work.”
“Then let’s you and I not waste the limited time we have left together,” he whispers in a deep, hoarse voice. His lips brush my earlobe, sending a thrill all over my body.
He takes off his shirt and places my hands on his strong shoulders. He presses his lips against my collarbone and from there, he places kisses all over my neck. Reflexively, I tip my head back.
“If you want to, it would be only tonight, Lily. And later I’d be your friend again.”
My body welcomes his advances while my mind keeps repeating: The recruitment is tomorrow. His lips move urgently on my mouth and his hands go up and down my back.
At first my lips refuse to cooperate.
He takes off my shirt sliding his hands up and down from my waist to my neck. His mouth is still ravishing mine when, his trembling hands roam all over my torso. Suddenly my skirt isn’t covering my legs and hips anymore and it becomes a messy bunch of fabric around my waist. I can’t think straight; this doesn’t feel right in my heart. But my body responds as by reflex and my mind is telling me this is my last chance before recruitment.
With a moan, I surrender to the way his mouth possesses mine and I kiss him back in a desperate attempt to match his passion.
He is still all hands and lips when he lays my body on the mattress and removes my skirt.
I suddenly feel naked although I’m still wearing a top and my underwear. I cover myself with the bridal sheet. The one that by design should allow him to enter me, but won’t allow him to see my body.
In the blink of an eye, his body is over mine. “You want me to continue?”
His question provokes an internal turmoil. This is war, and it’s not the time to hesitate. I could experience sex for the first time with a man who cares for me. Or I could be deflowered by a soldier.
But my heart becomes an enemy working against me, and part of me wishes Aleksey were the one I could trust with my mind, body, and heart. I almost expect to see him burst through that door and interrupt us as he did once.
Rey’s beautiful face is sweaty, his breathing is ragged and he can’t hide the look of hurt in his eyes at my hesitation. I know it’d shred him if I say no at this point. Unless … What if he is the one who changes his mind? The thought scares me. This is my very last chance.
I order my heart to cooperate and put my arms around his neck pulling him closer. Still covering my body with the bridal sheet I untie my underwear and toss it to the floor. Shivering all over, I force my hips to express my consent.
Rey understands and positions his body between my legs.
* * *
I feel a strange sensation on my face, so I run my hand over my cheek. Moisture. I must have shed a tear or two.
He kisses my forehead and asks in a voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”
I nod although my heart feels heavy. It felt like an out of body experience. My body overrode my brain and my hormones cooperated. But it was as though it was another girl on this mattress and I was watching the scene from another place. I barely remember how it was, except that physically, I felt something close to relief. Emotionally this was a painful, bittersweet victory. I’m not emotionally satisfied. Not at all.
I run my fingers over my thighs and find some of his release.
I looked down at the white bridal sheet, and a strange compulsion to burn it runs through me. I settle for tossing it to the ground. Why am I feeling so irrationally upset? It’s absurd. I’ve made a decision and I shouldn’t second guess it. Perhaps it’s the events of the last few weeks what have left my feelings raw and exposed.
Later, Rey wraps me in his strong arms and falls sleep. I wonder if it’s normal that I’m in the arms of a guy while thinking about someone else.
I cover my eyes with both hands, feeling a pang of sadness for the lovers Aleksey and I could have been. We both fought hard to make him the first man I made love to and we failed. My dreams of losing my virginity to the man I love were never achievable in the first place. But now that I’ve accepted that Aleksey won’t come back, I realize that my dreams have officially died.
I turn my back to Rey.
Knowing that as much I long to see Aleksey, he’ll never come back makes my chest hurt as if gripped by an iron hand. He marched away thinking I didn’t feel more than a girlish crush.
Out of all moments, my traitorous heart had to choose this one, when I’m in bed, wrapped in a different set of arms to realize: I’m in love for the first time. In love with a man who will never become what I needed him to be: the first man who made love to me.
His red cape, his coy smile, those strong arms that wrapped around me when I had a nightmare. The man who played a sweet melody on his bass to lull me to sleep. The one who told me he loved me without realizing it. All those memories of him come to my mind, accompanied by pangs of longing. I want to see him so badly that my chest constricts painfully when I think of him.
“I love you, Aleksey,” I whisper to my mental picture of him.
As much as I struggle to fight the tears, a couple of them make their way over my cheeks. I inhale deeply and promise to myself that these are the last tears I’ll ever cry for Aleksey.
That’s when I hear the helicopters.
The troops have arrived.
In warfare in ancient times, the spoils of war included the defeated populations, which were often enslaved, and the women and children, who were often absorbed into the victorious country's population.
World Heritage Encyclopedia
Chapter 51
Naked and scared, I rub my most intimate areas with an alcohol-based gel before swallowing Dad’s pills. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I inhale and exhale deeply in Aunt Olga’s bathroom before donning the recruitment uniform: a tank and white pants made of an embarrassingly translucent fabric that reveals my white underwear. My thigh wound is bleeding and I’m having a hard time keeping the uniform clean. Today we’re not allowed to wear anything that isn’t white.
My dad must already be at the gym, but my siblings are waiting for me outside the bathroom.
I open my arms and the twins take the invitation to hug me. Olmo is unrestrainedly crying while Azalea buries her face on my shoulder. I’ll leave the twins in the care of Aunt Olga. I wonder if I’ll be the one who will pick them up after the ceremony. Maybe my dad will be forced to do so because I’ll have become a recruit.
“Come back to us, Lila,” says Azzy as she frees herself from my embrace.
Rey, dressed in the recruitment outfit, meets me in front of Olga’s and
together we head to the gym.
When we cross the gym doors, the sight of the stones makes bile rise from my stomach. Fifty stone benches are sprawled around the wooden stage. They’ll hold the bodies of recruits while the soldiers rape them. I better hide my fears behind a mask of tranquility.
The wooden stage is lit by a set of lamps suspended from a metallic structure above the stage. In addition, three soldiers in the middle rows are pointing moving lights towards the stage. Ironically, the ceremony always gives the vibe of an inoffensive event: A school play, a sporting event, or a graduation.
A huge crowd is already filling the rows when Rey and I line up along with the other potential recruits. A section of the rows is left empty.
I notice them walking near us: The new Accord Unit. As they get their cameras ready, the new cops look old and fragile in comparison to their predecessors. One tired-looking old cop is talking loud enough for me to hear. “I looked it up on the wireless yesterday. Prince Aleksey is a world away from here.”
“Good! He would’ve made us face the soldiers,” answers a Russian-accented voice.
Kit Lee-Rivers climbs the stage and welcomes the 03631 battalion.
Silence spreads around the crowd when herds of soldiers turn into a single being as the 03631 battalion enters the gym by the east doors. TCR’s efforts dwindled their numbers, but even so there must be hundreds of them, marching in ultra-coordinated perfect formations around the court. They’re human, but their grey-colored faces, artificial heights, and dehumanized actions make them look demonic in nature. They emanate a stench that burns my nostrils. At the order of their superiors they cease their military choreography and become as still as statues.
A claustrophobic sensation courses through me when the doors close. I shiver.
The leader of the 03631 regiment is Colonel Landry, a red-haired soldier whose grey, tattooed skin shows recent scars from the derailment. He addresses the crowd without a microphone. “In accordance to the protocol established by sections seven to eighteen of the thirty-first Amendment, before the recruitment ceremony begins, we welcome the enlisters to our glorious Army.”
The crowd filling up the gym rows applauds halfheartedly.
After delivering a long speech about the heroism of the Patriot troops, Landry invites the enlisters to join him on stage.
Enlisters are volunteers. People who are so poor that they say it is better to enlist than to starve. Enlisters that please the troops earn a salary and Patriot citizenship. Some families would die if it weren’t for the contributions of their enlisted relatives. Recruits on the other hand end up as Vassals—unpaid visitants, and in the case of girls, baby carriers. The strongest boys enter as low-grade soldiers, the ones who in battle will be on the front lines.
Over the last few weeks, the number of registered enlisters has increased. The air-raid left a lot of Starvillers in a dire situation. Each enlister claims loudly, I pledge my allegiance to the army of the Patriot States of America. Two hundred and ninety people enlist. They climb down the stage and form a line backstage.
“Starvillers, this is your last chance to submit voluntarily and to improve the living conditions of your families,” shouts Landry.
When no one else enlists, they divide us into groups, according to our age. When Rey is about to join the twenty-one year old group, his eyes meet mine. “Take care,” he mouths.
Landry calls the rest of us to parade around the gym’s court. As we stroll around the gym, the troops take a good look at us. I frown. They must be choosing their favorites. Some of them take videos with their j-devices.
I’m not an animal.
I’m not an object.
I’m not a spoil of war.
Finally, they make us line up at the right side of the stage. They usually take thirteen recruits among unmarried boys and girls on each age group. They’re superstitious and rarely carry more recruits from each group. According to them, that brings bad luck.
A murmur spreads around the crowd when a group of female soldiers enters the gym from the east doors.
Starvillers keep repeating: witches, witches. They’re as tall as the soldiers although slightly less muscular. These women will determine the V status of the potential recruits. They brought a polygraph with them, even though they rarely use it. The troops are convinced the witches need nothing more than to touch the arm of a recruit to guess their V status.
The witches join Landry on the stage.
The lights go out and I cover my mouth to suppress a scream. The darkness lasts a couple of seconds and you can hear the collective breathing of the crowd surrounding us.
A huge beam of light illuminates Landry’s massive figure. “On August twenty-fifth of the twenty-first year of the Patriot States Era, in the name of the Minister of War, General Maximillian Kei, I declare the eleventh recruitment ceremony officially inaugurated at exactly 1400.”
Chapter 52
The twenty-three year old group steps up the stage as a monstrous-looking captain reads their names from a list. Since most of them have marriage tattoos it’s obvious that the seven eligible kids from that group will get recruited. All these recruits will be assigned to the L category.
Landry calls the first candidate from that group. “Ingrid Philomena Wisniewska.”
A blinding beam of light follows Farrah as she shakily approaches Landry.
Landry shouts, “You will join the Patriot army as an L class recruit.” Ingrid’s face remains inexpressive but I swear her legs are trembling.
The seven 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 the 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 there 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 new thirteen recruits join the enlisters backstage and it seems like they’re fighting tears. Looking vulnerable isn’t a smart idea in the army.
The twenty-one year old group steps up. Rey is spared immediately because his religious tattoo is evident under his near translucent tight-fitting shirt. In this group only thirty people are eligible. The witches touch the arms of all the kids. None of the boys in that group are declared to be a virgin so they’re safe. When the girls are particularly attractive, the witches skip their virginity “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 sort of silent communication among the soldiers that reaches the stage and indicates their preference to Landry.
From that group, they recruit thirteen scared-looking V-girls.
The twenty year-old group comes; eighty-two people. Elena Rivers’ magnetic Asian features and curvaceous body have caught the attention of the troops. Reluctantly, Landry spares her because her tattoo indicates she’s about to get Patriot citizenship. The V-status of thirteen girls earns them a spot among recruits.
I shuffle uncomfortably. It’s almost my turn.
The nineteen years old group is the most crowded. Ninety-eight potential recruits. Most of the girls are what the troops call Starville beauties: generous bosoms in an otherwise ultra-slim figure. Not to mention their blond hair and slender legs.
The witches find three boys to be virgins and they recruit them along with ten V-girls.
“Eighteen years old group! Step up!” booms the voice of the female general.
I swallow hard as my stomach drops to the floor. We climb up the stage and make a line.
The lights hurt my eyes and blind me partially. Everything beyond the stage is dark. The soldiers must be looking at all of us from their spots below, but I can’t shake the feeling tha
t all eyes are on me. The crowd is hidden in the dark but I’m aware of their presence. They’re whispering, they’re shuffling in their seats, they scratch their heads.
Fourteen eligible candidates. Only one of us will be spared. They’ve already recruited non-virgin kids, so no one is safe. I try to straighten my stance and look confident, although my skin has broken out in goosebumps. It’s surreal to be here. The moment I’ve dreaded all along.
I’m looking at Luke, who has just been spared, when Landry calls my name.
“Lila Velez Tcherkassky.”
I step forward and the beam of light falls heavily all over my body. It should feel warm but I’m shivering. I make my best to raise my head up and look strong.
One of the witches, a monumental green-haired woman wearing a Sergeant tattoo on her grey-colored face is looking at me questioningly. “Are you a V-girl?”
I find strange that she avoids using the word virgin. “No, I’m not,” I answer firmly. Distant sneering reaches my ears. Apparently, Starvillers don’t believe me.
The beam of light points at my body. She touches my arms and is convinced I’m being truthful. The contact burns my skin. I drop my eyes so they can’t see the hate and fear brewing inside me.
I’m staring intently at my feet when a familiar voice makes me look up.
“I’m not a V-girl,” answers Holly. I look at her in confusion. I thought Holly was keeping herself for a future husband.
I observe her carefully and 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 as her daughter. She’s thirty-five, but training has given her a youthful-looking body. Holly and Cara share Starvillian beauty features that make them look like twins. Some Starvillian mothers would take the place of their daughters if they could but that’s not allowed. Cara’s love for her daughter made her find a way.
Landry leers at Cara and exchanges looks with the troops below them. He speaks loudly. “Holly Marie Winston. You’ll join the Patriot Army as an L grade recruit.”