Live in Infamy

by Caroline Tung Richmond

  Soon Ren discovered why.

  The curtain parted slightly and out stepped Major Endo. Ren tried to run, even though he knew how useless that would be. Within seconds, the guards had thrown him back into the chair and that’s where Major Endo joined them. She punched Ren in the cheekbone, and Ren went flying backward. Then she hit him again, this time with an elbow to his windpipe.

  Ren gasped for air, but it wouldn’t come. He clawed at his throat and managed to choke down a breath before Endo was on top of him, yanking his hair back until their gazes clashed.

  “What did you do to Aiko?” she said, her voice surprisingly soft. “Is she alive?”

  Ren couldn’t speak even if he wanted to spill all of his secrets. The truth was, he didn’t know what was happening to Aiko, but Major Endo seemed convinced that Ren knew the princess’s exact location.

  “Who are your accomplices?” she breathed into his face. Their noses were inches apart, and he could smell her mint gum. It was a jarring scent. “Tell us.”

  Ren shook his head. He wouldn’t give up Marty or Tessa, and he’d never give up his dad, even if it had been years since his father had been in the Resistance.

  And the cycle began again.

  Major Endo tossed him around the room, hitting Ren with her fists and her feet, with her head, and even with her fingers. Ren had never thought that a thumb could inflict so much pain, but as she dug a fingernail against his stitches and then into the gunshot wound in his side, he almost blacked out.

  But he wouldn’t say his family’s names, and he wouldn’t reveal Tessa’s, either.

  Ren lay curled on the floor, his cheek pressed against the concrete, his whole body on fire. Blood poured out of his stitches, hot and sticky against his skin. He didn’t even have the strength to close his eyes. He was focused only on the next punch, the next blow, the next surge of agony.

  It didn’t come.

  The curtain parted again, and the strike of boots hit the concrete. Soon, one of those boots nudged him from his side onto his back. Ren’s chest heaved as he stared at the man standing over him.

  It was Crown Prince Katsura.

  He looked down at Ren. The spotlight lit him from behind, haloing his body and giving him an ethereal look, which only made Ren grimace.

  “Where is my daughter?” said Crown Prince Katsura. He wasn’t wearing his usual gold-framed glasses. Maybe they had gotten broken on the night of the ball. “Is she alive?”

  A trickle of blood dribbled from Ren’s mouth as he blinked at the crown prince. He looked different from his on-camera self. He lacked his caked-on makeup and his hair looked unwashed. There were also frown lines tugging at his mouth, making him look older — and ordinary. The crown prince was just a man, after all, a mere mortal made of muscle and bone.

  In any other situation, Ren might have laughed. This situation was so absurd, how one human being could inflict so much suffering on another. Wasn’t Ren made of muscle and bone, too? And yet in the WAT, the crown prince’s life was considered far more important and precious than Ren’s. This idea would have made for a thought-provoking essay, but Ren doubted he would ever get a chance to write it.

  Crown Prince Katsura held up a yellow envelope that Major Endo handed to him, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he took a seat on Ren’s folding chair. “You won’t believe me, but I don’t like causing pain.”

  Ren coughed out. Obviously, he saw things differently. Maybe the crown prince had meant that he didn’t like witnessing the pain he had inflicted. How uncomfortable it must have made him.

  “I’ve tried to help your people: I’ve built schools. I’ve erected clinics. I’ve paved new roads. The Empire has paid for all of these amenities.” The crown prince started to tick the items off on his fingers. “But it’s never enough. Rebels like you have only upped your attacks. You’ve killed innocent civilians, sometimes your fellow Americans who’ve gotten caught in the cross fire, the very people you say you fight for.” He shook his head. “And you call your cause just.”

  Ren spat out blood where one of his teeth had shaken loose. He could pick apart the crown prince’s reasoning so easily — he could’ve written whole essays about it. Crown Prince Katsura may have viewed himself as a reformer, but he had never believed in real change. He had built schools and roads to “benefit” his subjects, but mostly they benefited the Empire itself. He may have thought that he cared for the American people, but only if they gladly worked for pennies and humbly accepted their downcast lives. As soon as they called for higher wages or organized strikes, the crown prince had been quick to open more internment camps. And when the Viper had gotten underneath the crown prince’s skin, he had used the same scare tactics as his predecessors. New curfews. More patrols. Executions on the cliff.

  “It’s obvious that inflicting pain has yet to work on you.” Crown Prince Katsura took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to clean the blood droplets that had sprayed his cheeks. “My men would advise me to keep questioning you until you’re ready to kiss the imperial flag, but I’m a practical man and I want to locate my daughter. She’s … she’s very important to me.” His voice thickened, and Ren wondered what he had meant by “important.” Did he truly love Aiko? Or did he want her back to marry her off? Perhaps it was both. The crown prince’s mouth twisted and he spat out, “Rebels like you killed her mother and brother.”

  The crown prince may have called himself practical, but his grief over his dead wife and son won out in the end. With a murmur to Endo, she began the beatings again. She kicked Ren in the shoulder, then smashed her boot against his back. Ren didn’t know how long it lasted. He was too delirious to even whimper.

  When Major Endo was finished, Crown Prince Katsura approached Ren’s shuddering body and sighed. “Like I mentioned, physical pain seems to have little effect on you,” the crown prince said, which was the most ridiculous thing Ren had ever heard. “But perhaps emotional manipulation will.” Finally, he opened the yellow envelope and emptied its contents into his open palm, catching several black-and-white photos.

  “This picture was taken shortly after your mother arrived in Alcatraz,” Crown Prince Katsura began. He held aloft the first photo, dangling it in front of Ren’s swollen eyes. In it, a woman lay unconscious on a hospital cot, with her abdomen bandaged and a tube down her throat. Her head had been shaved, but Ren would recognize that face anywhere.

  “Mom,” he whispered before he could stop himself. He tried to lift his fingers to take the photo, but Crown Prince Katsura snatched his hand away.

  “Her body was supposed to be tossed into the ocean after her execution, like all other traitors,” the crown prince explained, “but she survived her ordeal, so she was sent to Alcatraz. If she was hearty enough to live through a sword in the stomach, then her body could likely take on more.”

  Fury spiked through Ren. He hated how he hung on every one of the crown prince’s words, desperate to learn more about his mother’s fate. He hated, too, how the crown prince spoke of her, like she was a sturdy mule ready to serve the Empire. It made him want to explode.

  But all Ren could do was cough up blood and try not pass out, and doing that was a feat.

  Crown Prince Katsura showed the next photo to Ren, this one displaying his mother in a jail cell like the ones he had walked past earlier. She was sitting on her mattress with her arms lying limply at her sides, while a doctor and nurse checked her over.

  “Where is she?” Ren rasped.

  The crown prince replied by holding up the last photo of the bunch. This one was blurred and showed a close-up of Jenny Tsai. Her skin looked too pale and stretched too tautly over her cheekbones. Her lips were pressed shut, as if she was hiding something in her mouth. A web of dark veins fanned across her forehead, which didn’t look natural.

  “Where is she?” repeated Ren. “What did you do to her?”

  The crown prince didn’t acknowledge Ren’s questions. “What matters is that your mother is alive. As you can see,
that photo was dated four days ago.”

  Photographs could easily be doctored. Ren wasn’t buying it. “Let me see her.”

  Crown Prince Katsura leaned in toward Ren. “If you’d like to be reunited with your mother, then I want to know what happened to my daughter.”

  So that’s what the crown prince had meant by “emotional manipulation.” For a few seconds, Ren was tempted in his bleeding and haggard state. He wanted to see his mom as much as he needed air. But Ren clung onto his last scraps of rationality. He couldn’t give in.

  “Give me your intelligence,” the crown prince pressed, dangling the photograph of Ren’s mother in front of Ren. “I want names of Resistance leaders. Coordinates to your safe houses. Once your information is verified, I’ll bring you to your mother.”

  “I’m supposed to trust your word?” Ren said through swollen lips and broken teeth. He had to buy himself a little time. It was hard enough to keep breathing, much less formulate a full thought in his head, but he had to play this game somehow. He wanted to save his mother and the other prisoners, but to do that the Resistance needed access to Alcatraz. And to accomplish that, Ren would have to pass the island’s authorization codes on to Marty.

  But maybe there was another option. What if Ren could convince the crown prince to willingly turn off Alcatraz’s defensive perimeter? It sounded crazy, but the idea glowed bright in Ren’s dizzy head.

  “Look around you,” said Crown Prince Katsura, motioning to the solid walls and the prison guards. “You don’t have much of a choice but to take me at my word.” His lips twitched with irritation. “I’m not a patient man. Should I order Major Endo to do what she does best?”

  “No,” Ren said, far too quickly. Think, think, he told himself. What would make the crown prince lower Alcatraz’s defenses? Aiko, maybe? He seemed desperate enough to find her.

  Ren tried to piece together a strategy, using the few neurons he had left. The crown prince had dangled Ren’s mother to manipulate Ren. Now Ren would have to dangle something in front of him.

  Ren started talking. “Offer the Resistance a prisoner exchange.”

  The crown prince frowned. “That isn’t —”

  “If you want to see your daughter again, then listen. It would be a two-to-one exchange. Aiko for my mother and me,” Ren said quickly.

  “You expect me to believe that your Resistance would trade for you and your mother?”

  “No, they’d never do that for Ren Cabot.” Ren’s pulse was fluttering so quickly that he became light-headed. Doubt hounded him. Did he really want to do this? If he did, there would be no going back. And he would have to confront every consequence that would come with this decision. But Ren had to go all in — with every single one of his chips, even though he was holding a pair of sixes. He had to hope that the crown prince wouldn’t call his bluff.

  “But they would trade for the Viper.”

  Ren heard an intake of breath. The crown prince’s face shifted quickly with emotion, from bafflement to realization to plain shock.

  “You can’t be saying …,” the crown prince murmured. He squinted at Ren.

  “I have proof. You want to know where I do my work? Go to 4890 Cliffside Lane, north of White Crescent Bay.” Ren couldn’t believe he was giving away his identity, but he was probably going to die anyway. He might as well use everything in his arsenal. So many lives depended on it. “Send your soldiers to the gardening shed out back. There’s a room hidden below it. You’ll find a printing press there.”

  The crown prince fell silent, and Ren grew worried. This was his main concern about revealing his identity — that the crown prince would rather keep the Viper in his clutches than give Ren up.

  “If you want to see your daughter again — alive — then you’ll offer a prisoner exchange,” Ren continued, hoping this would remind the crown prince what was at stake. “We’ll rendezvous here at Alcatraz. The Resistance will hand over Her Imperial Highness, and you’ll let my mother and me go.” And then the Resistance will launch a larger attack to free the rest of the prisoners, Ren thought. That was his delirious plan anyway.

  Crown Prince Katusra said nothing. His face had closed, unreadable, and he stood to speak to Major Endo. They whispered to each other, and soon Major Endo snapped orders to the guards to get a boat readied. Ren’s heart thumped.

  Before the crown prince departed, however, he stopped and stood over Ren. Then he glanced again at Major Endo.

  “I don’t believe the two of you have been properly introduced. Ren, this is Major Endo. Major, this boy claims to be the Viper.”

  Major Endo took two steps forward, and Ren’s stomach took a deep dive. Fear forced his voice higher.

  “The Resistance will want me alive!” Ren coughed out desperately.

  “Noted,” replied the crown prince. He turned to leave but said over his shoulder, “Make sure that he stays alive, Major.” Then he was gone, leaving Ren alone again with one of the most deadly Ronin Elite in the Empire.

  Rolling her neck, Major Endo approached Ren slowly to draw out his anxiety, circling him twice before kneeling at his side.

  “No,” Ren whimpered. “Please.”

  She placed her fingertips on his scalp.

  “No!” Ren screamed. “I’m not the Viper — I’m not the Viper!” He hated the sounds coming out of his mouth. They were the words of a coward, but as he felt his blood heating up, he began to beg Major Endo for mercy.

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t listen.

  By the time Major Endo was dismissed, Ren couldn’t remember his last name. All he knew was pain. It gnawed through every limb, every muscle; it throbbed down to the last cell. Even breathing hurt. Blinking hurt. Simply existing hurt.

  Ren didn’t know how long the torture had lasted. Hours, probably, although it had felt like weeks. He couldn’t recall when it had stopped, either, only that one minute he was screaming and the next he was hauled out of the interrogation room and shoved into a prison cell and left there, utterly broken.

  Bloodied and bone-weary, Ren had lacked the strength to even pull himself onto the cot. So he lay on the dirty floor and waited for the darkness to come.

  When he woke up, the pain greeted him once again. Ren looked down at himself. Someone had moved him from the floor and onto his cot when he was unconscious. Probably a nurse, judging by the new bandages crisscrossing his body. There were too many wounds to count — his old gunshot injuries, his tender ribs, the cuts and gashes and bruises that Endo had left in her wake. She was the artist, and Ren had been her canvas. He was sure that he would wear her scars on his body and inside his mind for years, if he lived that long.

  Ren tried to sit up, hoping to find a cup of water, but his head went dizzy and bile rose in his throat. He moaned and shivered instead. He was naked from the waist up, and the prison was damp and chilly. He hadn’t been given a blanket, so he gingerly wrapped his arms around himself, not that they offered him much warmth. He used his tongue to probe the two empty sockets where he had lost teeth.

  He didn’t think he could sink much lower.

  But then he remembered what he had told the crown prince.

  He had revealed his deepest secret, and now he thought about if he had made a mistake. Would the crown prince make Ren rot inside Alcatraz for the rest of his life? Would he get pumped full of injections or wheeled into experimental surgery? Or would he get marched across the cliffs and made an example of? That would have been a good punishment for the Viper, Ren thought bitterly.

  Footsteps shuffled toward the cell, and fear rose fast in Ren’s chest. He couldn’t face Endo again. But thankfully, Endo didn’t walk into Ren’s view. It was Bluefin and another nurse, pushing a cart that held water and food and medical kits. A prison guard joined them, keeping a sharp eye on the prisoners while the nurses fanned out to care for their charges.

  Unlocking Ren’s cell, Bluefin shuffled inside with a medical bag in tow. Their gazes locked, and Ren saw the shock in her eyes. He k
new how he must have looked. Busted lip. Swollen face. Crusted blood under his nose and at the corners of his lips. But maybe she had seen worse, considering that she worked at Alcatraz.

  “Can you open your mouth?” she said. She slid a thermometer through Ren’s lips, treating him as gingerly as possible, and waited for the prison guard to pace away from the cell before she pushed a note into Ren’s palm. While he opened the paper she continued his checkup, marking his temperature and pulse, flashing a light up his nose and into his ears.

  The crown prince is arranging a prisoner exchange. Aiko for you and your mother. No time or date set. Is it true that you’re the Viper?

  Ren lifted his eyes and nodded at Bluefin before he continued reading.

  Your mother is being held in the room where you were interrogated. Behind the curtain.

  “Thank you,” Ren mouthed to her, realizing he would never be able to repay her. Because of her, the Resistance had learned about what was happening at Alcatraz; and because of her intel, Marty had discovered that Ren’s mom might still be alive. And now Ren knew where Jenny Tsai was being kept. His mom was so close, just steps beyond where he was interrogated. And maybe, if his plan worked, then he could still get his mother off this island.

  But if Ren wanted to make that a reality, he had preparations to make.

  “I need your help,” he whispered to Bluefin. “I’ve come up with —”

  She silenced him by pushing a cup of water at him. “We can’t talk. Too risky,” she whispered, sliding a glance over her shoulder. She ladled Ren another round of rice gruel, gestured for him to swallow her note, and surreptiously slid him a pencil and palm-size piece of paper from the medical kit.