The Gender Fall

by Bella Forrest

  The screen switched back to Tabitha. “As soon as our scientists crack the code, we’ll be on our way to creating a new race of humans, far superior to what your kind has churned out for the last few generations.”

  “As you can see,” the king continued, “Princess Tabitha and her sister, Queen Elena, have been working on a plan to supplant us all with a new race of humans, capable of extraordinary feats of strength, speed, invulnerability. You see…”

  I turned my gaze away from the screen and looked out at the crowd as King Maxen began to explain the genetic experiments performed on Elena and her sisters, and later performed on the boys collected by the Matrian screening process. He didn’t touch on that for very long—Thomas had said this was, statistically, the least believable part of the situation—before he began discussing the Matrian bombing of the city, the slaughter at Ashabee manor, and the horrific death camps.

  “I myself saw,” his voice told the crowd, “Matrian wardens open fire on a room full of innocent women and children. I was there.” I felt a spike of fury at the sadness he affected, remembering the day he was referring to—how he had hidden like a shameless coward. I tried to set it aside.

  The crowd’s faces were too far away for me to make out their expressions, but all were locked on the screen, on King Maxen. A few were standing up, their shock propelling them into motion. It was a good sign. I imagined the crowds of Patrians gathered to watch the streaming in every other stadium right at this moment, having the same reaction.

  “All right,” I said, dragging my attention away from the presentation. “Jeff, tell Thomas to bring the ambulance around to the southern entrance.”

  Jeff nodded and began mouthing the orders, while I went over to Cruz. Pulling a knife from my boot, I cut the bonds securing him to the pipe, then removed the tape from his mouth. His gaze, too, was focused on the screen, his lips parted and his brows drawn tight.

  “Is this for real?” he gasped as I untied his shoelaces and helped him up from the ground.

  “As real as it gets,” I replied. Jeff rushed over to us, unclipping the subvocalizer from around his throat.

  “Here,” he said, thrusting it out to me and taking his handgun out of the holster cinched under his jacket. I wrapped the black swatch around my throat, the icy tingle freezing my vocal cords in place, while he moved to the door, pulling it open and joining Amber and Ms. Dale in the hall. We had no idea if or when the guards would be coming—in fact, we had planned for there to be guards pouring into the room about now—but we knew there was going to be a massive response to this, so we needed to get going.

  I tapped Cad on the shoulder. Let’s go, I subvocalized, knowing he’d hear me through his earbud.

  He was standing, staring out at the screen, his eyes drinking in the images. “All those images of Tabitha… they’re from the video Violet made?” He turned, looking at me, and I nodded. His mouth flattened, his grip on his pistol tightening. “Right. Let’s go.”

  Towing Cruz behind me with a firm grip under his arm, I followed Cad to the door. He pulled it open for me, and I cleared it out of habit before stepping out into the dimly lit hallway—apparently it was only dark inside the actual stadium. The security checkpoint nearest us was still eerily empty, although there was an ominous buzzing coming from a left-behind handheld, no doubt someone frantically trying to get a hold of the guards.

  Ms. Dale and Amber were waiting, waving me forward. Jeff stood on the opposite side of the hall, his handgun sighted down it. I pulled Cruz farther into the hall, glancing back over my shoulder just in time to see Amber and Cad following us. When the room’s door was closed, Ms. Dale stepped forward, slamming the butt of her gun into the black security clearance lock until it popped off the wall. Then she grabbed the box, jerking it away from the wires with an electric pop.

  “That’ll slow ‘em down,” she said with a satisfied little smirk, tucking the box into her pocket. She looked over at where Cruz stood, still stunned, but now staring at her as though he’d never seen a woman in his life.

  “Mr. Cruz?” I asked, disabling the subvocalizer. A part of me wanted to take a moment to bask in his shock, but we didn’t have time.

  “Y-Yes?”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to walk us out with our armed escort here.” I pointed to Ms. Dale and Amber. “If we run into security, you’ll do your best to convince them we are running behind schedule, hence why we are being escorted out. Once we get to our vehicle, you will be free to go. Do you understand?”

  His eyes sought out mine, and I raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded. “I understand.”

  I let him go, taking a step back. Popping the collar of my shirt up to try to disguise the subvocalizer, I slid my gun back into the hidden holster and tugged my jacket down, straightening it. Within moments, we were moving back toward the last checkpoint we’d passed. I could no longer hear King Maxen’s voice through the concrete that separated us from the main part of the stadium, but a quick glance at my watch told me it had been playing for over a minute. That left another two minutes before the message repeated. Why hadn’t anyone thought to check the projector box yet?

  We were moving quickly, but within moments, I heard the distinctive sound of footsteps coming up behind us at an alarming speed, probably guards coming to find out what had happened at the checkpoint we had gone through only minutes before. I pressed everyone forward, knowing they would be distracted by the control box for a minute or two.

  “Are there any checkpoints between here and the next set of stairs?” demanded Ms. Dale, her eyes narrowed at Cruz.

  The man gave her a confused look and then nodded. “One more,” he replied.

  “New plan,” she announced, pulling her gun. “Vivian and I are taking you downstairs after discovering you tied up.”

  We’re on our way, Thomas, I subvocalized. Meet us at the access road that goes around the back of the stadium, off the main road. Be prepared to drive around looking for us—I don’t know which exit we’ll be coming out of yet, but it will be one of the farther ones.

  Ms. Dale took point, Cad, Cruz, Jeff, and I holding down the middle of the party, with Amber bringing up the rear. The checkpoint was clear as we approached it, only a cursory guard standing there. She drew down on us as we approached, but Ms. Dale held up a hand and quietly explained the situation.

  “We have to get them downstairs and out of the building to question,” she said in a hushed and urgent tone. “We have no idea their role in all this.”

  “Our role is that we were taken by surprise!” Jeff cried primly, and Ms. Dale shot him a withering glance, disgust on her face.

  “Shut your mouth, you Patrian pig!” she snapped, before turning back to the warden. “Whoever is responsible is still in the control room. Radio the captain and inform her I will be taking these suspects downstairs.”

  Without waiting for the flummoxed woman to respond, she raised her hand and waved us forward. The woman’s mouth worked up and down a few times, as though part of her wanted to object, but she didn’t stop us as we moved past her, heading past the main stairs that would get us to the second level.

  As we reached the landing, I pulled off the subvocalizer. “How many checkpoints are between here and the stairs leading to exit C?”

  “Three,” Cruz replied. “But wouldn’t it be easier to keep heading down these stairs, and then—?”

  I shook my head. “Once the Patrians finish the video, this place is going to explode into mayhem. They’re all on the lower levels, so it’ll be better to move on this one to avoid the panic.”

  He nodded, his forehead crinkled, and then pointed down the hall. “This way,” he urged. “We’ve got about eighty feet to the next checkpoint.”

  We started moving, silence stretching between us. After a moment, I leaned in toward him. “Start talking. Like you have no idea what’s going on and you’re angry about this.”

  Cruz hesitated, and then began speaking. I didn’
t hear a word of it; my heart was beating so hard against my ribcage that it seemed to drown out his voice. I shot a glance over my shoulder, just to make sure we were all still together, and then turned my focus on the approaching checkpoint.

  A guard was waiting at the narrow gap in the sandbags, her rifle held loosely in her hands. Others rose to their feet, watching us approach, but the one at the sandbags was clearly in charge. As we approached, she held up her hand, and we drew to a stop. “Mr. Cruz, what are you doing here right now?” She flashed a curious gaze to Ms. Dale.

  “No need to talk to him,” Ms. Dale announced, her mouth set in a grim line. “We found them unconscious just outside the control room. Has the captain breeched the door yet?”

  The warden frowned, her eyes gazing at us with suspicion. “No, ma’am. The mechanism has been damaged.”

  “I see. Well, allow us to pass, so I can escort these potential traitors downstairs as I was ordered.”

  I had to give it to Ms. Dale: she exuded authority. By the time she was finished, the other woman had no reservations, and she stepped aside to allow us past her.

  “Take them down the next staircase,” the woman said with a nod as we moved by her. “The contingency plan is being authorized on this level.”

  “Now, really, madam! I must protest!” said Cruz, imbuing his tone with indignation. Ms. Dale’s eyes were hard as ice as she ignored him, her mask secure.

  We hurried away from the checkpoint, and I was hyperaware of the eyes watching us all, not just the main warden’s, but everyone who worked there. Sweat was collecting on my chest right now, making my shirt cling to my skin. I was grateful for the coat I was wearing, in spite of its constricting nature, as it hid the stains no doubt growing on my shirt.

  As soon as we were out of earshot, I grabbed Cruz, hauling him over to the doors leading to one of the VIP boxes. “What’s going on? What contingency plan?”

  “I have no idea,” he replied, his voice reflecting his confusion. “Clearly something is going on, some sort of response to your video. But beyond that, I don’t know.”

  Frowning, I looked at Ms. Dale, who shrugged her shoulders. “We have to keep going,” she said softly. “We can’t stop to question it now.”

  I took a deep breath, sticking my head out slightly to check the halls. “How far to the next checkpoint?”

  Cruz looked down the hall over my shoulder. “Maybe a hundred, a hundred and twenty feet.”

  “All right, then. Abigail, you and Kurtis take point, Vivian and Jeff, you’re in the rear. Get ready with some more security babble, and Cruz—get ready to be more and more irate about this whole situation.”

  We were halfway to the next checkpoint when we passed by another set of doors leading to a VIP booth, and the sound coming through it stopped me cold. I dropped from formation and dashed over to the door, my heart skipping a beat as I heard the screams of rising panic tearing through the walls—punctuated by the definitive sound of automatic gunfire.

  38

  Viggo

  “What’s happening?” Cad asked me. “What are we—?”

  “We gotta get as many people as we can out alive!” I said, my eyes meeting his.

  I snatched my gun from its holster, looking over my shoulder at Ms. Dale and Amber as the sounds of gunfire and shrill screaming ripped through the corridor. Ms. Dale’s face was grim, her mouth an angry slash across her face.

  “Do what you can here,” she barked. “Vivian, on me. Mr. Cruz, you’re still coming with us!” Then she turned back down the corridor the way we’d been going, breaking into a run.

  Amber nodded, taking off down the hall after Ms. Dale, her weapon at the ready. Cruz stared from them, to me, to them again, as if questioning.

  “I don’t have a weapon!” he began, but I overrode him, shouting, “Just go!”

  He went, and I paused at the door handle for just a moment. “Are you two ready?”

  “I’ve got your back,” said Jeff, dropping to a knee behind a metal trashcan, his gun coming out of the holster.

  “Good. Cad, with me.”

  The young man nodded, and I tore open the door, not wanting to waste any more time. The panic that had been muffled by the door exploded into our ears, and I moved down the carpeted steps into the VIP box we’d entered, my eyes scanning the second level before falling toward the ground. Wardens had encircled the crowd, blocking the exits, standing there and firing mercilessly into the crowd. It was a brutal scene, one that made my vision go red: the thousands of people trapped inside, diving this way and that, crawling around behind the seats for cover, using their neighbors as shields or trying to shield them… I had no way of knowing whether the same thing was happening in the other stadiums yet. Right now, all we could do was save as many witnesses as we could from this one.

  I moved quickly down the stairs, hardening myself, becoming mechanical and precise. I raised my handgun, sighting the wardens I had a good angle on and squeezing the trigger once, and then again. The woman on the left dropped immediately, but the second one grabbed her shoulder and sagged back against the door. I squeezed the trigger again, not letting in any emotion, save a grim sense of satisfaction.

  Amber had lied when she’d said I didn’t kill women. I would kill any human who had stooped to something like this.

  Cad rushed up to the wall next to me and began firing at the wardens covering another set of doors. I cursed and grabbed his shirt, hauling him back as someone looked up at him and began firing at us. Bullets whined as they flew by, and I pulled Cad down onto the ground as they impacted the walls overhead.

  Meeting my gaze, Cad’s eyes were tight and furious. As soon as the first round of bullets lulled, he rose to his knees and squeezed off a few more rounds. I followed suit, dropping two more wardens and losing four bullets in the process. Seven rounds down, four more to go.

  I ducked as another spattering of automatic gunfire hailed up at us, the bullets hitting the concrete wall and making shards and powder rain down. I gritted my teeth, then burst up, training my gun on our attacker. I squeezed the trigger, satisfied to see her drop.

  Movement on my left caught my eye, and I turned my head in time to see two wardens burst through the doors of a VIP box two doors away. “Left side,” I shouted to Cad, turning my gun toward them.

  Cad sat up, his eyes wide in alarm, and then ducked back down as one of the women swung her aim toward us. I compressed the trigger—two left—and then ducked, cursing when she didn’t go down. More bullets streaked overhead, and I had an intense, momentary debate with myself about whether I should change the clip before it was spent, when I heard the gunfire stop suddenly.

  I risked a glance and saw the woman fiddling with her rifle. Without hesitating, I pulled the trigger twice, and was up and moving the second she fell, racing past Cad and angling for the next box, hanging ten feet away.

  I planted my foot on the railing around the box and pushed off it hard. There wasn’t even enough time to feel like I was falling before I had breached the gap, my feet just missing the railing of the other box. I hit the ground, my ankles and knees absorbing an impact that made me grunt in pain, but I didn’t stop moving.

  Ejecting the clip while running took practice and experience, but it wasn’t a problem for me, not after all these years. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and I reached into my holster pocket and pulled out the first of my spare clips, slapping it into the gun just as I reached the second railing.

  The second guard’s gun was on me at this point, but I ignored it, my heart thudding hard as I raced toward the box where she stood, my breath coming in pants. I planted a foot on the railing, just like before, and leapt. My thumb released the slide, slipping it back in place, as I flew through the air.

  Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. The warden, standing next to the body of her dead comrade, pointed up at me as I came down, but I stretched out my arm, an angry yell tearing from my lungs. It was going to be one of us, possibly bo
th. I squeezed the trigger again and again as I fell, certain she would get a shot off even then.

  I landed hard in the VIP box, my breath hitching. The woman had fallen on her back, blood already beginning to pour from the three bullets I had put in her chest. I ran my hands over my body, certain she had struck me somewhere, and then exhaled when I realized I hadn’t been hit at all.

  There was no time for relief, however, as I heard Jeff’s shout ringing in from the hall, where the two women had left the door open. Scrambling up toward the doors of the VIP booth I was in, I heard the sound of gunfire coming from both sides. Figuring Amber and Ms. Dale would be okay, I headed for Jeff, racing down the curved hall.

  A volley of bullets ricocheted throughout it, and I was forced to slow, pressing my back against the wall. I heard Jeff shout, this time in alarm, and slid myself carefully forward, praying I would have enough time...

  I came around the curved edge, keeping myself low, and saw that Jeff was still kneeling behind the trashcan, his face red and his breathing ragged. More gunfire sounded, and then he was up, squeezing the trigger.

  “So sorry!” he shouted, before ducking back in.

  Creeping up behind him, I raised my gun and dropped the first warden kneeling in the middle of the hall farther down, her gun trained on Jeff’s position. Jeff looked back at me, alarmed by my sudden appearance, but I ignored him and moved forward.

  Another guard stood off to one side, busy changing her clip, and I leveled my gun at her just as she looked up. She barely had a chance to register what was happening when my shot caught her in the shoulder. Her gun fell loudly, clattering on the floor, and she screamed in pain as she fell back. I shot her in the other shoulder for good measure, but didn’t go for the kill shot.

  Jeff stood up, a bewildered expression on his face. “Are you okay?” I asked, and he nodded, blinking.

  I moved back through the doors of the first VIP box, relieved to see Cad still firing down at the wardens below. I could already see the remains of the crowd surging toward the openings we had given them, streaming in shouting, horrified disarray for the doors. As much as I hated it, we needed to go if we wanted to get out of here alive. Now the people could see to themselves.