The Gender Fall

by Bella Forrest

  “Miss, I cannot accept your refusal, but I promise you, my associates and I would never hurt you and your friends, unless it’s in self-defense.”

  She swallowed and then looked around the room.

  “Sixty seconds,” Thomas barked at me.

  I moved closer to her, and she flinched back a bit, but managed to keep her feet planted on the ground.

  “The case, please, miss,” I said, holding out my hand.

  Eying my hand nervously, she seemed to struggle with her indecision, when Amber’s voice piped up from behind the guards.

  “Jacob doesn’t kill women,” she said. “And he’s not good at threatening them, either. But as a woman myself, I don’t have his moral inhibitions.”

  The tech stiffened, and I frowned at Amber over her shoulder, but then the blond girl held out the case to me. I passed it over to Cad just as Thomas announced there were thirty seconds left to go. I heard Cad kneel down, but my eyes were focused on the three women in front of me.

  “Over there,” I said, pointing with the gun.

  The women filed over and sat down next to Cruz and the other two guards. Ms. Dale stepped farther into the room, her gun trained on them all while I pulled out the zip ties.

  “Fifteen seconds.”

  I glanced over to where Cad was quickly connecting leads into the box, Jeff watching him closely. “Jeff!” I breathed. I yanked the box containing our video clip from my pants pocket and held it out to him. He grabbed it and moved over to Cad.

  “Five, four, three, two… one.”

  The stadium went dark, and in the dim red light of the control room, I froze, wondering if, after everything, we had screwed it all up.

  36

  Violet

  “So, Violet, not to be rude, but the whole boy look you have going on is a bit much.”

  I heard Dr. Tierney’s appalled gasp, but I couldn’t help but crack a smile at Henrik’s quip. Turning from my work, I made my mouth into an ‘o’ of surprise.

  “Oh, darn—here I was hoping it would help me blend in with the locals.”

  “Well, now that you mention it, you do make a very fetching boy,” said Henrik, a merry twinkle in his eye.

  “Well, at least that makes one of us,” I shot back with a wink.

  Henrik chuckled, and then began to cough, a wet, racking thing, and I immediately took a step closer. Dr. Tierney was already there, the scanner in her hand, her eyes on the screen. “Fluid is still building up in your lungs,” she tsked at him. “I’m going to have to up that medication after all.”

  Wheezing, Henrik fell back on his pillow and nodded weakly, his energy seeming to desert him. “You said if you did, I would also have to start using a blood thinner,” he replied in a hoarse voice after catching his breath. Dr. Tierney frowned, looking at him.

  “You will,” she said. “But it’s a risk we have to take. It’s been some time since the surgery, plenty of time for the holes Dr. Arlan patched to start to heal up. We’ll keep monitoring it.”

  Henrik nodded, and Dr. Tierney reached out to touch his shoulder. He smiled at her, his white-speckled beard breaking apart like the clouds after a storm. I watched the exchange, worry gnawing a hole in my stomach. Even though Henrik was doing better—sitting up, eating, making jokes—it was clear he was still struggling on his road to recovery.

  One lousy bullet. One lousy bullet that had somehow ricocheted in him, causing severe organ damage. Not to mention his age was working against him. Still, I had hope the man would pull through. Not just because he was a good strategic thinker and a gentle, wise leader, but because I liked him. He was a good man who followed his heart rather than the social norms that dominated our two societies.

  Sighing, I turned back to Quinn and stepped back up to the bed. I felt a slight twinge in my ribs, but they still felt okay; they had been getting better every day. I was so glad I hadn’t broken any of them on top of all the other injuries.

  Reaching out with my left hand, I worked my thumb under the bandage covering the remains of Quinn’s ear, slowly peeling the cotton back. I winced as some of it caught on the stitches there, but, with a degree of patience that surprised even me, I carefully untangled it and pulled it back.

  “When will his stitches come out?” I asked as I tossed the cotton into a bucket next to the bed.

  “Soon,” replied Dr. Tierney from behind me. “Probably today or tomorrow.”

  I reached up and smoothed some hair from the young man’s forehead. The people assisting Dr. Tierney, including me, had tried to keep his hair tidy over the days of his convalescence.

  “Why is he still asleep?”

  “Well, he originally must have gone into shock from the blood loss, but to be honest, it’s probably a mental response to the trauma he experienced. It’s not that surprising. Sometimes people just… break.”

  Frowning, I dipped a gauze pad into the salve Dr. Tierney had given me and smeared it carefully around the stitches, trying not to snag any of them. “Do you think he’ll ever wake up?”

  I heard Dr. Tierney’s footsteps approach, and I cast a look over my shoulder, watching as she approached the foot of the bed. She leaned on the bedframe using both hands and shook her head, not as a simple no, but in an expression of uncertainty.

  “I honestly don’t know, Violet. I’ve got him hooked up to everything I can think of to help him. Physically, his wounds were mostly superficial, except his eye. But the experience? For him?” She turned her gaze to me, her eyes dark. “Would you want to wake up after that?”

  I thought about it. I knew what it was like to be under Tabitha’s knife—but only to a minimal extent. My eyes traced the lines of Quinn’s stitches, the way they cut through the natural lines of his body. I thought of the nightmarish hallucinations I’d had of Tabitha, the flashbacks to that one stab, the flash of the knife…

  “Maybe not,” I admitted softly.

  “Don’t worry, Violet. He’s a young man, a vibrant one. I want nothing more than for him to come back to us, and I have hopes that he will. He just needs some time.”

  “Or some water,” came a soft rasp. I danced back from the bed, my reflexes kicking in.

  Dr. Tierney, on the other hand, moved forward, her eyes studying Quinn breathlessly. He coughed slightly, and then peeled open his single visible eye, shuddering slightly.

  “Dry,” he coughed, smacking his lips.

  Looking around, I spotted a pitcher of water and a cup on Dr. Tierney’s desk in the corner of this room, and I moved over to it, quickly pouring the liquid into the cup. Crossing the room, I returned to him. Dr. Tierney helped me by lifting his head up slightly, and I pressed the cup against his lips.

  “Just a sip,” Dr. Tierney ordered with a nod. I nodded and carefully tilted the glass up, letting some water splash over the boy’s mouth. He smacked his lips together as I pulled the glass away.

  “That’s a little better,” he rasped, his eye blinking slowly. He stared at my face, the corners of his lips tugging up just slightly. “Hey, Violet.”

  “Hey, Quinn,” I replied with a smile, clutching the cup to my chest. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty dry. And… something’s wrong with my eye. I’m… having a hard time seeing you.”

  I frowned, but it was Dr. Tierney who replied. “One of your eyes is damaged, Quinn. There’s a bandage on it.”

  His mouth worked open slightly, and then he expelled a shaky breath. “Gone?” he asked, his voice tremulous.

  Dr. Tierney’s mouth dipped in sympathy, but she met his gaze and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  Quinn’s face fell. I reached out, pressing a hand to his shoulder, and he looked at me silently, just one brown eye glistening with tears. My heart clenched. Quinn had been a full-fledged member of the Liberators, and I’d gone on more than one mission with him—but at times like these, it was easier to see the teenager he still was. Younger than me, even.

  “It’s going to be okay, Quinn,” I said.


  He sniffled, and then nodded halfheartedly. “Yeah. Maybe this means I can try out the pirate life.” I wanted to smile encouragingly at him, but I could see the haunted look in his eye, could hear the forced quality of his voice, brittle and raw. “Can I have more water?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but soon,” Dr. Tierney replied. “Just take it easy, okay?”

  He started to nod, and then paused. “Oh God, Amber! Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” I said. “She came and got me, and, well, we mounted a rescue.”

  “We?”

  “Amber, Jay, Thomas, me… and Tim.” I hesitated around Tim’s name, my throat constricting as I thought of my brother.

  “Everyone’s okay?”

  I hesitated again, and then shook my head, unable to stop my face from contorting, just a bit. “Tim’s missing,” I said hoarsely. Quinn’s mangled face twisted more, and I shook my head at him. “It’s not your fault,” I said, leaning over him. “It’s nobody’s fault. It just… it just happened. Besides, we will find him. Just focus on getting better.”

  Quinn managed a half nod, his eyes drifting closed, whether from physical pain or the weight of reality, I couldn’t tell. I shifted from leg to leg, and then accepted he wasn’t going to talk anymore. In fact, his breathing was already beginning to slow into the deep, even inhalations of sleep.

  It was good he’d woken up, if only for a few minutes, but still. His loss was horrific. He would need all the help we could offer him on his road to recovery.

  I moved over to the desk, returning the glass of water to it. “I’m going to go work on the bedding,” I mumbled to Dr. Tierney, turning toward the door. I was opening it when Quinn’s voice pulled me up short once more.

  “You look good with no hair.”

  Turning back to him, I saw his one eye staring at me from where he lay on the pillow, a crooked smile on his lips.

  “Thank you,” I replied, feeling a smile touch my own face. He nodded again, and then, seemingly satisfied, closed his eye and turned his head on the pillow. I watched him for a moment more, and then stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind me.

  Even though Quinn’s situation was grim, it was nice to see the sweet side of him was in there, still coming up to the surface. It helped make the stone in my gut feel less heavy.

  I moved into the kitchen, heading for the fire on the hearth, where a large cauldron of water hung over the flames. One of the men had helped me fill it, since buckets of water were a difficult thing for me to carry—much like everything else, really. A pile of bedding sat a few feet away on the floor, waiting to be cleaned.

  Checking on the water, I was pleased to see it steaming up nicely. I grabbed a tin filled with soap flakes and held it under my right arm. Using my left hand, I carefully pried off the lid and reached in to find the spoon inside, scooping several generous portions into the steaming water. Once the water had turned a milky color, I replaced the spoon and lid, returning the canister to the shelf.

  Doing the laundry was hard work without any form of machine to assist, but right now I enjoyed the labor. I was starting to realize why Viggo had spent so much of his time working in the days after Ian’s death: it had been a great distraction. For me, the work kept my mind off what was going on in the city without me. Helped me to cope with the fact that my brother was still missing after twelve days. If I didn’t keep busy, I’d probably just go crazy.

  I started transferring the cloth into the water. The bedding billowed, and I used a stick one of the refugee women had fashioned to push it beneath the surface before adding more to the pot. I had to be careful not to let the water get too high, or it would splash out and douse the fire.

  The task held me completely absorbed, so much so that I didn’t notice when someone came into the kitchen. Not until I accidently bumped into them. My confidence in my solitude had been so concrete that, when confronted with another body, I jumped back in alarm.

  Owen raised an eyebrow at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said.

  I recovered almost instantly. A smile broke out on my face, and I took a few steps forward and threw my arms around the blond man’s neck in a hug, ignoring my ribs’ protest.

  “Thomas said you’d be back, but I didn’t realize it would be so soon,” I said against his chest. His hand came up, patting me gently on the middle of my back. I pulled back, beaming up at him. “What happened? What made you change your mind?”

  “Oh, well—”

  “Was King Maxen driving you crazy?”

  Owen paused and then rolled his eyes. “He’s pretty demanding, that’s for sure. It takes a lot of patience not to deck him.”

  “Well, I don’t envy you that. But I’m happy to see you.” I took a step back, bending over to pick up a few more pieces of laundry.

  “Violet…”

  “Yes?” I said as I eased them into the pot.

  “I... Well, this is hard to say, but the reason I’m here is because… because we found your brother.”

  The sheets slipped from my hand, water slopping up around them and hissing in the fire. I blinked and turned around.

  “What? How? Where is he? Is he alive?”

  Owen held up his hands, and I fell silent. I was asking too much, too fast. Still, I chafed at the delay, at even that slight interruption, even as I knew he needed me to stop so he could answer me.

  “Thomas apparently stumbled over the information while they were in the city. He sent it to me. It’s not much, but there have been reports about a boy matching Tim’s description wandering the countryside. He disappears whenever anyone tries to draw near, but the locations have been pretty localized to a specific area.”

  “Really? Oh my God. We have to go and look for him!”

  Owen frowned, and I could see the indecision on his face. I knew what he was thinking—I wasn’t well, and he was worried for my health.

  “Look,” I told him, “I promise, if we run into any Matrian patrols, we will run. I won’t try to keep looking for him and risk us as well. I just… I need to see him. Need to make sure he’s okay, and get him home, where I know he’ll be safe.”

  “Well, I have a vehicle. Thomas warned me not to let you go off half-cocked, but I’ll be damned if I see another boy get hurt if I can avoid it. Especially not Tim.”

  I was already moving, heading upstairs to grab my bag. I opened the door to our makeshift hospital, and Dr. Tierney looked up at me in surprise.

  “We just got word about Tim,” I explained quickly. “Owen is here, and he’s going to take me out to go look for him. Can you handle things until I get back? Any problems, you can just get a hold of me on Owen’s handheld. No, better—I’ll bring an extra one just in case.”

  “All right,” Dr. Tierney said, standing up. “But, Violet, are you sure you’re feeling well enough to—”

  “It’s Tim, Doc,” I said. “I have to try.”

  Her mouth hardened as though she were holding in some comment, but she nodded. “Be careful, all right?”

  “I will be,” I promised, straightening up and closing the door. I moved down the hall toward the room Viggo and I had been sleeping in, where I grabbed my bag before heading back to the kitchen, where Owen was waiting.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  He looked me over, nodding. “Good. Let’s go.”

  37

  Viggo

  The darkness in the stadium held for five seconds, and then ten, and I shot a glance at Cad, who shrugged and began checking the wiring leading to the box the tech had brought. Little glittering lights from the console glowed against his face, so at least there was power moving through parts of the room… I turned, prepared to have Jeff get on the subvocalizer to Thomas, when the massive screens over the seats lit up, throwing a blue glow over the crowds below, and lighting up the faces of those who stood in the room with me.

  I moved over to the windows, watching as the symbol of the Matrian flag—a cur
ved grain of wheat—flashed across the screen. The image held, and then faded. Then words, blocky and white, appeared:

  Citizens of Patrus—you have been lied to.

  Tabitha’s face filled the screen, her face smug. “What’s done is done—Patrus had no idea what was happening, and now they’ll see us as their saviors.”

  It faded, followed by the words, King Maxen lives.

  King Maxen’s image filled the screen, his expression imperious. “Citizens of Patrus! I am alive and well, but hidden away from Elena’s forces. To prove this was not previously recorded, I should tell you what only the darkest rumors have alluded to: I was there when the palace fell.”

  Even I had a visceral reaction to his face on the screen, and I could tell, even from up here, the crowd below felt the same way. It had been a smart idea on Thomas’ part to include video of the king; his death was one of the biggest lies Elena had fed to the populace. No doubt she would try to spin it—but this would be hard to spin.

  “The king can be dealt with,” Tabitha sneered on the screen. “Perhaps he’ll go insane after being kidnapped by terrorists and have to spend the rest of his life taking his own drugs… Perhaps he’ll get in a fight with the Chancellor and fall down some stairs…”

  “In spite of the late Princess Tabitha’s claims, I have not been taken by terrorists,” said the king, his face returning to the screen. “But rather, patriots of humanity.” I smirked, knowing that last bit had been Violet’s idea. According to Ms. Dale, it had taken Maxen several takes before he could say it without a sneer. “They sheltered me, kept me safe… and many of them originally hail from Matrus. But they saw their government’s corruption, and chose to take a stand, to help us. While the ideological differences of the past have kept us apart, these individuals have chosen to overlook them in order to help free us from this tyranny.”