“Why is she scared?” Lorena asks, as if she’s talking to a kindergartener. She shoots me a warning look.
Twenty-One waits until we’re past the guard at the front of the bus. “Because they’re moving her.”
“Tell her not to worry,” Lorena says. “Melissa’s doing everything she can to protect her.” Another pointed look. “And we trust Melissa, don’t we?”
“She’s one of the good ones, yes, yes,” she says, plopping into her seat. She pulls out her dragon brooch, waves it through the air, hums the Kissing Dragons theme song with a jovial “burn, burn, burn” thrown in here and there.
Watching her, I realize Lorena’s right. It’s one thing for me to hope and scheme, another to involve Twenty-One. I only risk endangering her.
When we enter the barracks, I pull Twenty-One aside. “So I was thinking we could discuss more decorations for our island tonight.”
“For the dragons?”
I shake my head. “If they come, fine, but right now it’s just you and me.”
She nods, shrugs out of her winter clothes, then races to the far corner.
I toss my jacket into a box and slump onto the bed beside Lorena. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”
“That’s not what I’m sorry for.”
“I know.” She smiles. “We all have our moments.”
“Hurry it up, ladies,” Lester says from the doorway.
I’m pulling off my boots, extra slow because of the blisters on my hands, when Twenty-One starts bawling.
“Control your emotions, Twenty-One.” Lester shocks her, which only gets her crying harder.
“Leave her alone,” I say, hurrying over. “Twenty-One, what’s—”
She slaps me hard across the face with the brooch.
“You’re not a good one, no, no!” I stumble back, half in pain, half in shock. She hurls herself at me with a mournful wail, fists flying. I hug her tight, get punched in the nose, kneed in the thigh. Lester jolts her again and again.
“Leave her alone!” I say.
“You’re supposed to protect her!” Twenty-One cries, then goes limp in my arms.
“Give her here, Twenty-Five,” Lester says as I check her breathing. Alive.
Lorena steps between us. “Sergeant, we can take care of her. She gets like this sometimes. When she wakes up, she won’t even remember it.”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Lorena settles her hand on his wrist. “There’s nothing we can do, Sergeant?”
I try to mimic her seductive smile. “Anything?”
Lester pushes Lorena’s arm away. His face hardens. “Twenty-Five, the girl.”
“Do what the sergeant wants, Melissa,” Lorena says.
I kiss Twenty-One’s forehead, whisper “Remember the island,” and give her up.
When they leave the barracks, I collapse onto my bed. A rerun of Kissing Dragons plays, followed by propaganda that shows a trio of Reds bombarding London. Evelyn finally returns and her girls go gaga over her new look.
“Don’t any of you people care?” I shout, rising to my feet. “She was one of us, and we just let them take her because she had a bad moment. We’ve all had our issues.”
“Yeah, like killing Claire?” someone says.
“Slut.”
“Hate me all you want, but she’s a child who needed our help,” I say. And I didn’t do anything either. Just handed her over like a sack of grain.
Lorena hugs me. I weep into her shoulder. “She’s not coming back, is she?”
“You won’t recognize her. . . . I still can’t figure out what set her off.”
I feel at the bruise on my face where she hit me with the dragon brooch. The silver dragon brooch. “You’re supposed to protect her,” I mumble, then let out a bitter laugh.
“What is it?” Lorena asks.
“It’s Baby.”
37
The next morning, I request a meeting with Colonel Hanks. Lester happily obliges.
“We had a deal,” I say when I enter the colonel’s office. But it’s not Colonel Hanks sitting behind the desk.
Major Alderson looks up from his tablet. “Can I help you, Twenty-Five?”
“Where’s Colonel Hanks?”
“On leave. While he is away, I am in charge.”
My heart sinks. “You can’t execute the Silver.”
“Found out about that, huh?” He shrugs. “The thing just wouldn’t die out there in that cage. Then this show of yours comes along and throws a big wrench into my ER. And when I met with Hector the other night, I learned that if things go right, he and his crew will be back for the long term, causing logjams and distracting my men. I needed a solution that would satisfy everybody.”
“I had a deal with Colonel Hanks.”
“I’m not Colonel Hanks. You don’t have a deal with me.”
“I won’t kill her,” I say. “And you can’t do the show without me.”
He nods with feigned concern. “That could be a panty twister.” He raises a finger, makes a phone call, puts it on speaker mode. “Hector, I’ve got Twenty-Five here with me, and she says she doesn’t want to do your show anymore. Is that a problem?”
Hector doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d prefer for Melissa to do it, of course, but if I do long shots and some CGI touchup, Evelyn will work fine.”
Evelyn. The grave of my hope. And I have nobody to blame for digging it but myself. “She can’t do the preexecution stuff,” I say, knowing I’m grasping at invisible straws.
“We can do those scenes when you’re in a better frame of mind,” Hector says.
“I’ll never be in a better frame of mind, asshole!”
My CENSIR jolts me. “Control yourself, Twenty-Five,” Major Alderson says. “Melissa will no longer participate in the show. Can Evelyn replace her for the other scenes, too?”
“I’ll need some time,” Hector says. “Is the Silver in place for this afternoon’s shoot?”
The major checks his tablet. “That’s an affirmative.”
“Let’s run that now. It’ll give me some wiggle room, particularly since my writers are still tweaking the front end.”
“Works for my schedule.” The major hangs up. “Well, looks like we’re all settled up here. Sergeant, please conduct Twenty-Five to the ER for the Silver’s execution. Need to remind her who’s in charge around here. Can’t have the inmates running the asylum, can we?”
Soldiers and scientists assemble around the slaughter slab. Excited murmurs follow Lester and me as we push our way toward the silver glow. I wish I had a gun with an endless supply of bullets. Bet their smiles wouldn’t be so broad if they had blood leaking from holes—
My CENSIR shocks me. “Control your emotions, Twenty-Five.”
When we get to the front and I see Baby surrounded by the lights and cameras, thoughts of retribution vanish. For a moment, maybe ten, my mind, my lungs, my heart seem to stop working. There’s so much fear in her eyes.
“Baby!” She brightens. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna—” My CENSIR shocks me. “Be okay—” Another shock.
“Control your emotions, Twenty-Five.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong.”
My CENSIR shocks me.
Evelyn saunters to Baby’s side. She waves to the cheering crowd before turning her eager gaze on Twenty-Six, who seems fixated on the sword in his hands.
Baby deserves a better end than this.
“Hector!” I shout.
The director gets out from behind the camera. “If you cannot control her, Sergeant—”
“Let me do the execution,” I say.
“Evelyn will do fine.”
“Yeah, she’s a good kisser.” I snort. “But I don’t think that’s what you want right now.”
He glances toward Evelyn, then his eyes narrow on me. “Why? I was told this creature was your friend.”
“She is,” I say. “If you knew your friend wa
s going to be executed, would you want somebody who hates her to do it? Or would you rather suck it up and do it yourself because you know you’d make it as painless as you could?”
“That would be scene appropriate.” Hector beckons a production assistant and a makeup artist. “Get her outfit. You, cover that welt on her cheek. Otherwise, keep it minimal.”
While I’m getting my face done, he waves for Evelyn. “Take five. Melissa’s gonna do the scene.”
“What?” Twenty-Six looks up from the sword, as if he just noticed I was here. “She’ll screw it up.”
Evelyn storms over. “She’s only doing this because she wants to say good-bye to her precious little Silver.”
“I don’t want to do it with her,” Twenty-Six says as Evelyn and I glare at each other. “She’s unreliable.”
“Just bring me the sword, Blackheart. I’ll do the rest.”
Goose bumps prickling every inch of my body, I change behind the wardrobe screen set up behind the slab.
Hector gives me an earpiece. “One miscue, and you’re off my set.”
When I get close to Baby, I can hear her mewling through the bindings around her snout. I run my hand along her icy head, which calms her a bit.
“It’ll be over soon,” I say.
“Let’s roll!”
Twenty-Six begins a slow death march. With every step he takes, my heart seems to beat faster, louder.
“You’re more sad than happy,” Hector whispers through the earpiece. “This is the dragon you grew up with. A friend—look at her—but she’s too dangerous to let live. You know that now. With her death, you will be free of attachment to dragons and you will be redeemed. Feel free to cry. That would be appropriate at this time.”
It requires all my willpower not to chuck the earpiece. I chew hard at my lip. I will not cry. I need my strength to make this as painless for Baby as I can, and I will not give Twenty-Six or Evelyn or any of these bastards the pleasure of seeing how much this hurts.
Baby’s staring at me, her eyes full of question. I mustn’t cry.
I smile at her, hoping that when her life flashes before her eyes, it ends with the memory of us soaring over the mountaintops without a care in the world. A slice of dragon heaven before everything went to—
“Don’t smile,” Hector says. “You’re sad.”
I clench my fists. Why is Twenty-Six taking so long? I look up. He’s only halfway to me, all solemn faced. He doesn’t notice the camera cable and trips over it. The sword goes clattering and the crowd snickers.
“Cut! What’s going on, James? You’re a zombie out there.”
“Hurry it up,” I say. “I’m getting cold.” As if that matters.
Twenty-Six glances at me, shakes his head, and returns to his mark.
This time, there are no mistakes, though he still takes an eternity getting here. But now that he’s actually on the other side of Baby’s head, offering me the sword hilt, I wish he’d taken longer.
“You meant so much to me, but the world will be safer without you,” Hector says to me. “Then lean down and kiss her.”
I repeat the line to perfection. Safer, but not better. I touch my lips to her head, squeeze back the tears. “I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know if I’m supposed to take the sword now, but if I have to wait any longer, I won’t be able to do it.
As I grab the hilt from Twenty-Six, he stumbles toward me. I’m not sure whether momentum carries him into the sword, or if I push the sword into him because I’m trembling so much. Either way, the blade slides into his stomach.
He doesn’t retreat and I don’t pull back. I feel drunk, like my body’s acting a second faster than my brain and everything’s happening sideways.
All I can think about as I watch the blade disappear into him is that human skin’s a lot softer than dragon scale. And then my hand reaches his stomach, and there’s no more blade left, except for what’s sticking out his back.
He grunts something, then goes quiet.
For a moment, I wonder if I killed him. I imagine I should be happy, but for the most part, I’m confused. I don’t think I started out stabbing him, but I definitely didn’t try to stop.
In the next moment, I spot soldiers running toward us, hear shouting and screaming. At gunpoint, Lester orders me to release the sword. I didn’t realize I was still holding it. When I let go, he taps his tablet, and pain detonates behind my eyes.
I blink once and see Twenty-Six lying beside me with a sword sticking out of him. When I blink again, I’m in complete blackness, surrounded on all sides by the wails of dying people and the roars of furious dragons.
A nightmare. But I’m not asleep. My reconditioning has begun.
38
A dragon screeches somewhere to my left. I can’t see it. But I hear it—I hear everything, every damn thing. Behind and above me, the crackle of impending dragonfire blisters my ears, the reek of char clogs my nostrils, so I crawl through trampled brush and moist leaves, toward the whimpers of a woman. To my right, a man orders people to a dragon shelter.
In waves, they shriek their deaths. The reek intensifies. Suddenly, blinding images flash all around. A snarling Green to my left, fire bursting from its throat; a scorched man to my right; three women aflame in front of me.
I tell myself they’re not real, yell it sometimes, but each image takes longer to go away than the last. They stick in my vision, specters of death that follow me as I turn and flee.
The ghosts finally vanish. The blackness returns. But the roars and screams continue, the scent of death lingers. I crawl into a swale. The brush dwindles; the ground hardens to asphalt.
Whenever I shut my eyes too long, my CENSIR jolts me. Whenever I cover my ears, my CENSIR jolts me. Whenever I attempt to stand, whenever I stop crawling to rest my knees and hands—
My CENSIR jolts me.
Asphalt becomes gravel. Pebbles dig into my palms. Every few seconds, I extend a hand in front of me or to my side to protect myself from the obstacles they’ve put in my path. I skirt mounds of rubble, the metal frame of a car, something that I think is a roadblock.
I never find a boundary to my prison, though. They make sure of that. This time, I’m maneuvering across uneven concrete when my CENSIR shocks me in fast succession, jerking me to a halt.
I must change course. Left, right, backward, it doesn’t matter. The dragons chase me wherever I go.
Sometimes it rains. Not water. Too salty. Like Gatorade, except thicker. Early on, I thought it was liquefied dragon meat mixed with water, but I’m beginning to think it might be blood. From dragons . . . from victims?
Best not to think about it. I get so very thirsty.
Whenever it stops, a strong gust of hot air envelops me. In those minutes, as my scrubs dry and stiffen, as the liquid clinging to my skin evaporates, the clamor of murderous dragons and dying humans subsides.
And that’s when I hear the girl. Weeping, moaning, or screaming. Unlike the other noises, she seems far away. Or maybe it’s my own torment echoing back at me. Before I can ever decide, the dryer’s hum shuts off and the reconditioning cycle starts over.
My knees and hands ache, my head throbs, my eyes burn. I crawl on. The rain comes and goes. The dragons roar longer. The people die louder. Bodies pile up around me.
Always screaming.
They’re everywhere.
A dozen Reds burst forth. I turn away, attempt to stand, crash back to my knees. Skyscrapers burn all around. I scurry around a burned-out minivan. A businessman leaps from a window. He gets swallowed halfway down.
“Not real!” I shout, can hardly hear myself over the din.
My knees scrape against asphalt as frenzied footsteps surround me. A townhome collapses. I crash into a pile of rubble, jam my finger.
A flash to my left. An All-Black exhorts me to hurry, waves me toward a public dragon shelter. I adjust course, accelerate. The heat intensifies. Sweat drenches me. Flames roil in. People melt. I beg them to get dow
n, but they never listen. A Red decapitates the soldier. His headless body bleeds out beside me, wetness seeps through my clothes, splatters my face.
The corpses dissolve, the screams fade, but the stench and wetness remain.
It’s raining.
I can hear it. The pitter-patter. I stop crawling. No shock. I fall to my back, drink as I pick away gravel embedded in my palms. Are they done? No . . . I don’t hate dragons yet. A glitch?
I need to sleep. I curl up—
Wait. A girl’s sobbing. I dab at my eyes. Not me. A hallucination? Or maybe this is phase two. This girl could be the daughter of someone from Montego Bay, of someone Baby iced. Listen to the child, Melissa. Alone, helpless. That’s the dragons’ fault. That’s your fault.
I cover my ears. Silence.
I pull my hands away. The girl’s gone. A trick of my captors, my mind?
I sleep. It seems that I’ve barely closed my eyes when my CENSIR jolts me awake.
A round later, I hear the girl again. She needs to shut up so I can rest. I try to tell her so in various ways, but whenever I open my mouth to speak, my CENSIR shocks me.
I start toward her cries. My CENSIR jolts me. I grit my teeth and try again. Another jolt, sharper. My arms give out, and I collapse onto asphalt. On my third attempt, I almost pass out from the shock wave that ripples through my head.
And I scream, in a voice I barely recognize as my own. Whoever’s controlling my CENSIR does nothing to stop me. Lying there on my back, legs and arms twitching, I listen, but the girl’s no longer crying. Maybe she’s on the other side of this place. Maybe she’s trying to talk, but they’ve got her CENSIRed—
Twenty-One.
I flip onto my stomach, put one arm down, then the next. My entire body trembles as I push myself up. I slide a knee forward. I wait, but nothing happens, so I keep crawling. On a couple of occasions, when I’m reaching out, hoping that my hand finds hers, my CENSIR fires in quick staccato bursts until I change course.
They will never let me find her. Nonetheless, I crawl on.
Eventually I fade into a dreamless sleep cut short by a pandemonium of roars.
Behind the dragons, there’s a low rumble. A gravel road appears. APCs with red crosses painted on their sides maneuver through a mountain pass. My CENSIR shocks me. I start right, it shocks me again. I go left, up a small rise through the wild grass that skirts the road. It tickles my nose.
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