Talker 25 (9780062121929)

by McCune, Joshua

  The colonel stares at me for a while, then laughs. “I don’t know what they did to you topside, but I approve of it.”

  “I saw the Silver in the cage on my way in,” I say. “Can we keep her there?”

  “For the time being.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” I say.

  “Thank me by doing your job well,” he says, beckoning Lester. “She’s at the call center for the rest of the day.”

  The hint of a smirk plays on the sergeant’s lips.

  I don’t understand his amusement until we enter the call center. The voices echo around me, but one stands out above all else. He’s the talker leading the weekly tally board with twenty dragons located.

  26.

  James.

  33

  I go through the motions of locating dragons, but can’t focus because I’m trying to convince myself it’s not James I hear. Lester chastises me often. Harsh words, a CENSIR jolt here and there. Makes little difference. It takes me three hours to contact my first dragon (who hangs up on me within seconds), another hour to get an old Red to reveal his location.

  Numerous reprimands later, Major Alderson announces an end to the workday. It’s Tuesday, which means it’s the girls’ turn to leave the building first, but as we’re getting up, Major Alderson raises his hand.

  “Twenty-Five, you will remain here until you hit the minimum daily standard. Your barracks will be on heat reduction until you are successful. The rest of the girls are dismissed.

  “On a good note,” the major says as the girls file out, “Twenty-Six set a call center record with eighteen targets located in a single day. Weak links break chains . . . strong links hold them together. Twenty-Six, please stand.”

  He’s in a cube at the front. I can’t see his face.

  The major tosses him a bag of candy. “To further show our appreciation, I have decided to give all the boys tomorrow off, with provisional access to the rec center. You are dismissed.”

  The boys rise. Cheerful murmurs percolate through the group as they form their exit line. I expect James to be crazed like Claire or scattered like Twenty-One, but when he comes into view, he appears no different from the farmboy I remember.

  He doesn’t so much as glance my way as he passes.

  Perhaps he didn’t recognize me. I’m skinnier than the last time we saw each other, and my hair is blond. I see him whisper something to a soldier. Then he turns around and stalks toward me.

  He opens the bag of candy and tosses one at my feet.

  “You fed me in the cage,” he says. “I don’t want to be in the debt of a glowheart. We square?”

  I bite my lip, give him a curt nod.

  “Good. And try to do better, Twenty-Five. Weak links break chains.”

  That evening, when I finally return to the barracks, nobody’s watching Kissing Dragons. Nobody seems to mind the chill, either. They’re all too busy talking about him.

  Lorena wraps me in a blanket hug. “Welcome back.”

  Twenty-One tugs at me. “He’s your friend, right?”

  I swallow. “No.”

  “But I heard he gave you chocolate.”

  “Go count your stash, Allie,” Lorena says.

  Twenty-One sticks her tongue out. “Already done. I like him, yes, yes. He gave me some of his chocolate, too. Told me to keep up the good work. Can he come to our island?”

  “You bet,” I whisper.

  She points a finger gun at Evelyn. “We’ll have to kill her first, though.”

  “That’s enough, Allie,” Lorena says.

  Twenty-One sulks. “He gave her more than he gave me.”

  I can’t help myself. “He did?”

  “At dinner. He came over to our table. Said he wanted to share,” Lorena explains. She rolls her eyes. “‘With those who deserve it.’”

  “So much for no fraternizing, huh? That’s good,” I say. “They deserve each other.”

  Lorena shrugs. “Try not to think about it.”

  “You figure out what you want to put next to the carousel?” Twenty-One asks.

  Jesus. I force a smile. “Not yet. I will. Promise.”

  “Yes, yes. Maybe something for Twenty-Six. Like a basketball court. He can play with the monkeys.”

  He prefers soccer. Doesn’t matter anymore, I suppose.

  “Wakey, wakey, everyone.”

  I don’t know what day it is.

  I hear the excited whispers as we dress. Sometimes his name slithers over, snakes its way into my ears.

  I retreat to the bathroom and almost run into Evelyn, who’s soaping up her armpits, a stupid smile on her face. Not her fake, bullshit smile either. Well, not until she sees me.

  On the bus, the whispers are louder, the smiles wider.

  “Maybe we should do it,” Evelyn says.

  Seven laughs. “You’re crazy.”

  “James is fine.” She grins. “Mighty fine. Bet they’ve worked out the kinks.”

  I’m tempted to encourage her lunacy. Twenty-One may be addled beyond repair, but she’s not an emotional zombie who feeds on dragons. Sure, he may be perfect for Georgetown needs, but once they no longer need him, Twenty-Six will shrivel away and there won’t be anything left.

  I suddenly find it difficult to breathe.

  Twenty-One squeezes my hand. “You okay, Twenty-Five?”

  “I’m fine.” I don’t know why it hurts. I barely know him. Knew him.

  Eyes down, I enter the cafeteria, get my food, quickstep it to the girls’ table. I sit in the far corner with Lorena and Twenty-One, try to ignore the laughter that comes from the other end.

  I’m squashing peas into mash when I hear footsteps, then his voice. “Good morning, Sergeant.”

  The table goes quiet. Boys aren’t allowed over here.

  “Good morning, Twenty-Six,” Lester says. “Can I help you?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow Talker One to ask her about examination techniques.”

  “Of course,” the sergeant says without hesitation.

  I peek askance and see the whore rise. She looks like a dog ready to fetch a bone. He looks eager to throw it. I clench my fork. It snaps. Twenty-Six notices. “You want to join us, Glowheart? You could use some pointers.”

  Evelyn’s scowl almost makes me take him up on it, but I shake my head and return to stabbing peas with my shard of fork.

  My CENSIR shocks me. “Violent thoughts will not be tolerated, Twenty-Five,” Lester says.

  “Bet he’s got a pecker the size of a thimble,” Lorena says. I almost choke on my milk laughing. She scoops up some of my mash and stuffs it into her mouth. “Think about it, all that chocolate he’s giving Evelyn is gonna make her fat and ugly.”

  “One can hope.”

  Twenty-One pouts. “How come he doesn’t want to make me fat? I’m a better talker than she is, yes, yes. The best.”

  I ruffle her tangled hair. “Yes you are.”

  “They’re always talking, always talking.” She leans over conspiratorially. “We need to get rid of them. Talker One, too, yes, yes.”

  Lorena grins. “Maybe she’ll have a reconditioning accident.”

  I glance toward Evelyn’s minions, who cluster together in excited conversation. “If she ended up like Claire, you think they’d take care of her?”

  Lorena’s grin fades. “Claire used to be her best friend.”

  “Really? How come you were the one taking care of her, then?”

  “Somebody had to.”

  “You’d take care of Evelyn, too,” I say, more statement than question.

  She arches her eyebrows. “I don’t know. That’s a lot to ask.”

  “She’s got toothpick arms,” I point out. “Wouldn’t hit you as hard as Claire.”

  “Yeah, but she’s got that whiny-ass voice. And if she started screaming at the message board . . . have you ever heard her scream? Sounds like a dying whale.” She mock shudders.

  The chatter from the other end of the tabl
e stops. I glance over to dare them to say anything, but it’s not our conversation that drew their attention. Twenty-Six and Evelyn are on their way back. Behind them, the boy talkers are clearing their table. I pretend to watch them, pretend that I don’t care, but my eyes keep returning to Twenty-Six and Evelyn. They look so damn happy.

  I focus on my tray.

  “Dying whale,” Lorena whispers, then makes a little squeaky sound. I want to laugh, but I can’t seem to remember how.

  “Thank you, Sergeant, it was very helpful,” Twenty-Six says. Then, a smile entering his voice: “I’ll see you soon.”

  I look up. He’s gone. But Evelyn won’t stop talking about him. His name follows me out of the cafeteria onto the bus. James this. James that.

  James doesn’t exist anymore, I want to yell. James is gone!

  Why can’t he just be gone?

  “One, Seven, Thirteen, Twenty-Five,” Lester announces as we pull up beside the ER.

  “Kill the dragons, yes, yes.”

  “I think I’d be more useful in the call center, Sergeant,” I say.

  My CENSIR shocks me. “I’m tired of your attitude, Twenty-Five. We go where Major Alderson assigns us.”

  After putting on our filtration masks and goggles, my team heads for the Chemics station to finish off a tabun regimen on a now-wingless Green.

  A soldier retrieves a hatchet from the wall, points it across my face. “Looks like your boyfriend found somebody more to his liking.”

  “Good for him.” I avoid looking at the Electrics slab until the A-B’s attention is elsewhere. Twenty-Six is crouched in front of a flickering Red’s scorched snout. Evelyn lingers close, no doubt giving instructions he doesn’t need.

  “Pricklers are green for go,” Patch says from the Chemics control console. The mechanized syringe system extends from the wall and injects a needle of adrenaline into the Green’s back. Seconds later, its eyes pop open.

  “Proceed, Twenty-Five,” Patch says.

  My CENSIR loosens. I repeat the same question I asked a hundred times yesterday. “Velmar, where are the Diocletians?”

  “I do not know Diocletians,” he says. The subsequent growl that rumbles through my head comes out as harsh static from Patch’s speaker.

  A talon gets hatcheted off. Velmar’s growl deepens.

  “Velmar, where are the Diocletians?”

  “I do not know Diocletians.”

  A lie, at least according to the drone video Patch showed me. Velmar was shot down in a recent ambush by the Diocletians on a supply convoy traveling through the evacuated territories. The jagged scar of glowless flesh along Velmar’s back is unmistakable.

  After another talon amputation, Patch injects the Green with a high dosage of tabun. Velmar dims, the growl becomes a whine.

  “Velmar, where are the Diocletians?”

  “Open yourself to me, human, and I will show you the truth.”

  Not the first time I’ve heard that from him, either. Other Greens have said similar things. Creeps me out. I asked Lorena about it once. She acted like she didn’t know, but I think it had something to do with her father.

  “Do you know what he means?” I ask Patch as he ups the dosage.

  “It’s just trying to scare you. Don’t worry, Twenty-Five, it can’t hurt you.”

  I don’t know if he’s trying to be comforting or ironic. I assume the latter.

  The loudspeaker turns on. “Team Three, please proceed to Chemics. Team One, stand down and observe. You will remain after hours to account for the backlog.”

  “Dammit, Twenty-Five,” Patch says. “Stop making my life miserable.”

  “Feel free to transfer me at anytime,” I say, knowing very well that he can’t. He can, however, shock me.

  I stifle a groan, which has less to do with the pain from my CENSIR and more to do with Twenty-Six sauntering toward me. At least he’s alone.

  “Hey, weak link,” he says. “Can’t squeeze the juice out of this lime?”

  “I didn’t need any help with Vestia,” I say. “She was beautiful, you know?”

  I hope for a flinch, some sign of the farmboy I once knew, but his coldness remains steadfast. “Vestia was weak, with too much sentiment and not enough sense. Reminds me of a certain underperforming glowheart I know.”

  “Bite me, asshole.”

  “Control your emotions, Twenty-Five. They tend to get you in trouble.”

  The soldiers laugh.

  With another glare for me, Patch cedes control of the Chemics console to Team Three’s Mengele.

  “Watch and learn, Glowheart.” Twenty-Six turns to the dragon. “Velmar, where are the Diocletians?”

  Velmar’s words play from the console speaker. “Did I scare the girl away?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Too bad. She smelled delicious. You smell delicious, too.”

  “I’m sure I am. But have you ever tasted a human child?” Twenty-Six asks.

  Velmar groans through his bindings. A purr almost. “Often.”

  “Recently?” Twenty-Six asks.

  Velmar doesn’t answer.

  “The smell of their skin, the softness . . . ,” Twenty-Six says, as if describing a delicious delicacy.

  “Twenty-Six, what are you—” Patch starts, stops as Velmar brightens.

  “There is nothing so glorious as fresh flesh,” Velmar says.

  Whispered conversations end abruptly. Somebody gasps. Several A-Bs draw knives. A couple pull their sidearms.

  Twenty-Six waves them off. “Surely you took some of these fresh kills back to your lair.”

  “I surely did, but I will not tell you where.”

  “Are you a good little dog, protecting your pack?” Twenty-Six says.

  “I am no dog. I have no pack.”

  “Yes, but they know where you live, don’t they? That fresh flesh will be theirs. Your bounty.”

  Velmar pulses. “Mine.”

  “Show me where it is.”

  “Open yourself to me and I will.”

  “It is too late for that. You know how this ends, Velmar. Show me. The invisible monsters will bury your treasure in an avalanche, never to be shared.”

  “You can promise this?”

  “Yes, but you must hurry.”

  An image appears on the console computer screen. Some mountain range. Then another. Inside a cave. I look away too slowly to avoid the corpses. Little corpses.

  “That’s as close as we’re going to get,” Twenty-Six says to his Mengele. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to chop this bastard to pieces. I’m tired of looking at him.”

  A soldier hands him a hatchet. The other A-Bs join the impromptu dissection. For once, I don’t mind.

  After another long day in the call center, in which I came in last again and had to spend two extra hours to reach the new minimum daily standard—raised from two to four because of Twenty-Six’s successes—I return to the barracks to find my Kissing Dragons episode playing.

  The screen fades to the credits as I go apeshit with the sword on Old Man’s Blue head. Evelyn bounds to her feet. “Let’s put our hands together for Twenty-Five, who has turned the corner and helped make the world a better place. If only we were all lucky enough to be given the chance. How did it feel slaying that demon, Twenty-Five? Was it spectacular?”

  “You want to know how it felt?” I say, closing the distance between us in three quick strides. She senses my fury an instant too late to raise her hands. After the first punch, I expect my CENSIR to shock me silly, but nothing happens. Must be Whiskey Jim running Big Brother patrol tonight.

  I get in a couple more straight punches before Seven and Ten pull me off and shove me away. I glower at Evelyn. “That was spectacular.”

  She wipes blood from her nose. “You’re in trouble.”

  Lorena shakes her head. “Anybody asks, you fell.” She leans in, her voice little more than a whisper. “Otherwise, I’m going to let Allie know who took her Kit Kat the other night
.”

  “That wasn’t me,” Evelyn says.

  Lorena glances at Twenty-One, who’s huddled in the corner, grinning at us. “Who you think she’s going to believe?”

  “Thanks,” I say on the way back to our beds.

  “You need to get it together,” Lorena says, taking me by the arm. I cringe. Her fingers probe the bump on my tricep where Trish injected me. “You should see one of the doctors.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “It’s not getting better. What if she poisoned you?”

  I pull free. “Then you won’t have to worry about me anymore, will you?”

  “Sulk on your own time, Twenty-Five.”

  “Fuck you, Two. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ve got to stop being a weak link. They already hate you enough without this.”

  “This?”

  Lorena waves at the screen. “I didn’t tell anybody why you went off base. They thought you were in trouble. That made them happy. But now they see you were hanging with All-Blacks and killing dragons.”

  “You think I enjoyed it?”

  “You don’t get it. You could have gotten us days off, better food, anything. But all you cared about was that stupid baby dragon of yours.”

  “Be careful unless you want to get hurt, too.”

  She steps back, disgusted. “You need to do better.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll tell Allie who really took her chocolate. She won’t attack you like she would Evelyn, but she’ll hate you forever.”

  Twenty-One had been sleeping in her corner. I didn’t want to steal from her stash, but I’d missed dinner again. “I’m going to replace it.”

  “How you plan on doing that when you’re dragging your feet all the time?” She shakes her head. “You don’t have many friends, Melissa. Don’t throw us away over a boy who’s no longer here.”

  As much as I hate her right now, I know she’s right. Tonight, as with every night since Twenty-Six showed up, I go to bed hoping that when I wake in the morning, James will be left behind in my dreams. I’m not sure he exists anywhere else, and I need to stop looking for him.