by Sean Grigsby
Dipity swung again, but this time Hurley Girly ducked and landed a hit in Dipity’s stomach. The air left the big woman with an oof, and Hurley Girly hopped in a semicircle, giggling.
Lena watched from atop a manna box in the corner, scratching a fingernail into the glass wall. Scratching, scratching. She could sit there and do it for another decade and never make a blemish – a benefit of Oubliette glass.
That shit stain, Farica, she thought. I should have let Pao knock her out. Took the baby and ran.
Rory. What kind of name was that anyway?
But she’d just stood there and let Grindy grovel to the truce, to those murderous savages. Grindy had weakened them in that moment. Lena remembered the old days, when Grindy was ruthless and didn’t put up with a damned thing. Then one day she’d given it all up, fell in love with that dweller, Taylor, and decided to put her rang-shooting days to bed. She made Lena head of the Daughters and it wasn’t long before Grindy concocted the truce.
Had it been Taylor’s idea? Some suggestion whispered in Grindy’s ear while she lay in bed with the dweller’s arms wrapped around her? Dangerous ideas were planted in positions like that. Women liked to think they weren’t susceptible to pillow promises or swayed by swinging hips, but weakness to lust and other four-letter words was a fault that knew no gender. It’s why Lena had sworn it all off before she ever left her shipment box.
Fuck the truce.
Lena waited for the voice of reason, the one hiding in the back of her head that always shouted against her craving for blood. But it didn’t come. The voice had disappeared or, more likely, harmonized with the urge for war.
Well, I’m one less person to convince, Lena thought. Five more to go.
Hurley Girly and Dipity had their arms grappled and stumbled around the ganghouse like a pair of locked-up crabs.
“Call it a match, sheilas,” Lena said.
They dropped their arms and turned to her, breathing hard. Sterling and Sarah looked up from where they sat, but Ava still slept.
“Wake her up,” Lena said.
Sarah gingerly put a hand on Ava’s shoulder and shook it.
The gang’s right arm woke with a frown. “What the fuck?”
“I want your attention,” Lena boomed.
“I was asleep.”
“And I don’t give a shit!”
Ava snapped to her feet and walked toward the others.
Lena stayed on the manna box. “Are you all as tired as I am?”
“I was trying to fix that with a nap,” Ava said.
“I mean tired of playing nice. Did you see the smirk on those Amazons’ faces? They were laughing at us. Kicking us out of the Core like they owned the fucking thing. Is that who we’ve become?”
“Hell, no,” Dipity said.
“Apparently it is. This truce has done nothing but weaken us since the day it started. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of always second-guessing myself, telling you sheilas one thing while believing another. I feel like two fucking people wrestling inside the same skin. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
None of them spoke. They looked to the floor or a wall, except Sterling. She kept her eyes on Lena, listening.
“Well?” Lena sat straighter.
Sterling signed, You’re two people? Which one should we listen to?
“Don’t be a wiseass,” Lena said. “I thought we could keep the peace, like Grindy wants. But it’s not going to happen while those dick nuggets are still around.”
“The Amazons?” Dipity asked. “Or everybody?”
Lena rubbed her eyes. Tired. So tired. “I’m not looking to dominate the city. And I’m not worried about the OC.”
“But if we break the truce, we’re all fair game. You said that yourself not too long ago.” Hurley Girly bit her lip and shook her head. “Sterling’s right. I don’t know which one of you is the real Lena.”
“It was a fucking metaphor!” Lena jumped off the manna box.
“What do you want us to do?” Sarah’s voice cracked. The others turned back to her like they’d forgotten she was there.
Lena grinned. Pao would side with her. She’d given her word and that was a rare commodity, on Oubliette or anywhere else. “We need to give them a reason to come looking for us. And when they do, we’ll be ready.”
“Like an ambush?” Ava asked. “What could we do to piss them off?”
“Take the baby,” Lena said.
Dipity whistled.
“Holy shit,” said Hurly Girly.
“What about the OC?” Ava asked. “They’ll come for the kid, too.”
“We’ll worry about one gang at a time,” Lena said.
Ava scoffed. “Not if they tag team us.”
“You know what I think,” Dipity said. “I think you need to cool down a little, Horror. You aren’t thinking this through.”
“I’ve been thinking it through since we tossed that Amazon bitch over the bridge. Now who’s with me on this?” Lena looked over the group, but none of them raised their arms or spoke up. She stopped and stared at Sarah Pao, waiting for her to do what she promised.
Sarah shied from Lena’s glare and looked at Sterling. The mute tightened her crossed arms and sniffed. Sterling had obviously made up her mind, but Sarah stirred and, with glances from Lena to Sterling and finally the floor, she raised her hand.
“I’m with you,” Sarah said.
“You just earned your jacket,” Lena said. “Is she the only one?”
Ava stepped forward and shrugged. “Fuck it, I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Sorry, Lena,” Dipity said. “I don’t think it’s a good call.”
“Me neither,” said Hurley Girly.
“Well,” Lena said. “I’m sorry you all think this is a fucking democracy.”
Groans croaked under breath and they all stirred on their feet. It was something every leader had to do sometimes: tighten the belt so they didn’t get too big for their breeches.
“We’re going to do this,” Lena said. “But I’m going to make it a fair deal. Any of you feeling froggy and want to challenge my authority, come get some. You knock me on my ass, you can lead the gang.”
Dipity and Hurley Girly stepped back and harmonized in saying, “It’s your gang.”
Sterling stepped forward and took off her jacket. She threw it to Sarah and signed, Hold on to that for me.
Sterling, huh? Lena never thought it would be her. Ava maybe. Sterling was always a rock, consistent, loyal. But even rocks could be crushed. Lena left her jacket on. She fought better that way, and it took some of the sting from any body shots. “You sure?” she asked Sterling.
Sterling nodded and immediately swung for Lena’s face. Lena flinched backwards, bringing her hands up. The punch had almost taken her out.
Never trust the quiet ones.
Lena let loose, a flurry of punches, although Sterling quickly blocked them with her forearms. Lena weaved and ducked, aiming for the body when she couldn’t see an opening for the head. Sterling met her fists with a block each time.
Lena roared and stomped into Sterling’s kneecap. When Sterling dropped, Lena went in for an ending blow, but Sterling lashed out and socked Lena in the gut. Both women fell to their knees, wrestling for a hold of each other. Hair was pulled, screaming and spit huffed through gritted teeth. Lena’s swelling rage bubbled up, the one she kept deep down in the dark. It wanted out.
So she let it out.
Sterling’s nose appeared through a gap between their arms and Lena thrust her head forward. The crunching cartilage against Lena’s forehead felt exquisite, like autumn leaves under a new pair of boots. Sterling fell back and Lena spun around to catch the mute’s head and locked her arms around Sterling’s neck.
Squeeze. Squeeze the fucking thing off!
Lena vaguely heard shouting behind her, and then pats that became punches in her back and side. Sterling stared up at her with bloodshot eyes, red face, blue lips. Blood filled her nostrils but never
dripped from them. Lena had wanted something like this for a long time. It felt amazing. But it wasn’t the face she wanted. It wasn’t Farica.
Jesus!
Lena released her grip and scrambled back with hands and heels. Squatting over her, Sarah rubbed Sterling’s back as she hacked and spit. Sterling’s color slowly returned to normal.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sarah screamed, keeping her teary eyes on Sterling.
For a split instant, Lena wanted to apologize, to comfort Sterling along with Sarah and the others. But that would be too easy. It was a fair fight, one Sterling had willingly gone into. Hell, she wasn’t even dead. They needed this sort of thing every now and then. Remind them that they could die at any moment.
“You OK?” Dipity helped Sterling up by the forearms.
Sterling nodded and hid her face from Lena.
“Get yourselves together,” Lena said. “We’re taking that baby and we’re wiping out the Amazons for good.”
Lena hurried toward the black stairs, toward her room, to cool down. The dark would envelop her with peace and silence, just the thing to let her mind settle and think of a good plan for what was to come. She’d do it alone if she had to. Let the others chew on what had just happened.
In Lena’s wake, among Sterling’s coughs and the soft assurances of the others, Ava said, “And that, Pao, is why we call her Horror.”
Chapter 14
Four weeks after meeting with Martin, Senator Dolfuse curled up on her couch to watch the replay of the State of the Union with a Coke and a bag of Skittles. Her and Bobby’s anniversary had been the week before, and she’d had to buy herself the regular gift of candy and soda – an annual treat that cost more than the clothes she wore.
She’d been studying the packet again; the one Martin had given her, the one with everything they knew about Oubliette, which wasn’t much more than what Dolfuse was already wise to.
Oubliette had started as an experiment in interstellar living, initially funded by a small group of investors who were rich enough they hadn’t invented an -illionaire to describe their combined wealth. They’d planned it to be their own private island in space – or rather, for their children’s children, seeing how long it took just to send builders out to construct the space gate. It took over a century and their combined estates as endowment.
But it wouldn’t belong to any of them.
It was only after the space gate was functioning, with the city nearly finished, that the Earth decided it would bring about another ice age. That’s when the United Continent of North America stepped in. The continent’s best minds quickly constructed the enviroshields to block out the cold, while the UCNA seized Oubliette in response to the encroaching disaster. Thus, the issue arose of what to do with the blasted city.
With a flick of her wrist, Dolfuse tossed the packet to the other side of the couch and hit play on the State of the Union recording.
Of course, she’d been there to hear the address in person. From where she sat, she could have counted President Griffin’s wrinkles without squinting. But she never seemed to be able to concentrate during those kinds of things since it was so loud and electrified by partisan bias, and the entire continent’s eyes were on them all. Dolfuse had practiced being good at faking it, but every time without fail, she found herself drifting on thoughts of other things while the president spoke.
Tonight had been one specific thought, on one specific person. Two, if she counted Bobby’s occasional cameos.
“There are still those,” President Griffin said on Dolfuse’s television screen, “that claim we are needlessly controlling the population and that we have no cause to be in the east.
“I stand before you tonight to proclaim there is only so much food and room to go around. It’s a hard fact that we have to face. We are not callous, we are supporters of choice. We do not murder, we give second chances to those given up. Oubliette and the Interstellar Relocation Act are still working. Crime is nonexistent. North Americans are living better since this cataclysm affected our planet. The Eastern Axis is dwindling to nothing. My fellow citizens, the state of our continent is strong, and will continue to be, so long as I am its president.”
A standing ovation from the congressional floor followed. Dolfuse popped a few Skittles into her mouth and spotted herself in the crowd – a toothy smile and enthusiastic clapping.
I should have been an actress.
She surfed through television channels bloated with advertisements for new hovercars or public access poetry slams speculating what had become of shippees long forgotten. There wasn’t much on at this time of night. Against her better judgment, she decided to see what the crazies were discussing on the Vox Network.
“…and tonight we’re discussing Oubliette. What happens there? Is it working after all these years? Or should we bring these women home?” The host, John Fillmore, sported his usual greased-back hair and scowling face, a UCNA flag pin ever-present on his lapel.
“My guests are Tom Scott, editorialist for the Boston Commuter, and Trax, a member of underground anti-Oubliette group, No Ship, who’s asked us not to reveal his real identity.”
The TV showed a middle-aged white man on the left and a shadowed figure backlit with red light on the right. Dolfuse guessed watching this trash wouldn’t aid in her mission to discover Oubliette’s secrets, but it wouldn’t hurt.
“I don’t know if it’s Mister or Miss Trax, but let’s start with you,” Fillmore said. “Why hide in the dark? Why the secret?”
“Well first, John, this government, and this administration in particular, doesn’t make it very safe or welcoming to publicly protest shipping. Second, it’s no secret what we stand for, and that’s the complete shutdown of Oubliette and the return of all women who’ve been sent there.”
The white guy to the left shook his head.
Fillmore responded. “But supporters of shipping say it’s not like the government is forcing mothers to send their children away; they’re given the choice. And most continental citizens say they aren’t even pro-shipping, they’re just in support of the mother having authority over their children’s lives and if their family can afford them.”
“That’s where these confused individuals are mistaken,” Trax said. “I fully believe in mothers choosing how they raise their children. However, I don’t know about you, but I’ve made plenty of bad choices in my life. And what about a shippee’s choice? People don’t consider that mothers could be coerced by an abusive spouse or family member. Hell, even the government preys on the impoverished by offering them money in exchange for their children. When this administration uses the word ‘choice’ they’re incentivizing the choice they want to be made.”
Fillmore smirked and nodded.
“I was the only girl, with three brothers and a single mother,” Trax said. “Never once did she consider sending us away to the military or Oubliette. What the government has done is hide a population control agenda within the guise of maternal choice. This whole thing is hypocritical. Our continent doesn’t want to be labeled murderers, but that’s just what we are when we send our children to die in an unwinnable war, or our ‘noncompliant’ females to some city in space. We spend millions of dollars shipping them and sending them food every quarter. This government feels guilty but is too big of a pussy to just kill all of them like they’d really want.”
“OK, you can’t say–”
Dolfuse laughed.
“And that’s why we want it shut down,” Trax finished.
Fillmore huffed from inflated cheeks. “Tom Scott, what do you have to say about all this?”
“John, one thing myself and the lady behind the curtain,” he laughed, “have in common, is that I believe how we’re proceeding right now with Oubliette is totally wasteful. However, I would never want to infringe on shipping or military acquisition.”
“So, you’re saying–”
“John, I’m saying we keep shipping without all the hubbub of fe
eding them, too.”
Trax lifted frustrated, shadowy arms. “Did you just suggest genocide on continental television?”
“That’s not what I’m saying–”
“No,” Trax said. “That’s exactly what you’re suggesting. At the very least it would be the worst case of neglect and abandonment. John, this is exactly what I’m talking about. This kind of attitude…”
An email notification appeared in the bottom corner of the TV. Bobby had sent it.
Dolfuse gasped and nearly choked on her candy. By God, it was like hearing from someone long dead. Bobby, he was alive. She ran to the TV screen and touched the notification. The broadcast paused and the email appeared.
L,
They finally let me up for air. I’m coming home in a few months. I miss you a hell of a lot. I don’t have much clearance for a long letter, but I wanted to let you know the good news. I also have a surprise for you. How would you like to start a family?
Love you terribly,
B
Oh god, it hurt. The joy and the despair together like some mismatched lump of fire and ice lodged in her chest. Her eyes stung and then the tears came. She lay on the couch so as not to wet the carpet, placing her hands to her face.
We’ll be happy, she told herself. He’ll be back soon and everything will be like before he left. He won’t find out. He can’t.
She wished she was as good at lying to herself as she was the rest of Congress.
Chapter 15
“The baby,” Lena said as she stepped into the main room of the ganghouse. “We’ll take her the night the shipment comes in.”
“Don’t you think it’ll be pretty obvious we’re not there?” Ava was cleaning off her jacket. They all wanted to look sharp for the night’s ceremony.
“That’s the point,” Lena said. “We want them to come looking for us.”
“And if they bring the baby with them to the stage?”
“They’ll leave her with the dwellers,” Lena smiled. “I have it on good authority.”
What she had was a good mole in the Amazons’ dweller population, a psychotic who’d choke herself with her own hair mid-conversation. But the information she traded for manna made it worth dealing with her crazy ass. It was Lena’s little secret and she wasn’t a bit ashamed of keeping it to herself.