by Faith Hunter
Gus turned on the room’s light. “They’re prepping C Building for her and her new boyfriend,” he laughed.
“We’ll have to come back to move her again at some point, but until the Darkness gets here, she’s to stay locked up.” Caden said. “You tell the others not to mess with her at all! She’s the most dangerous of our prisoners. And now that she knows she’s going to be breeding with a demon, she’ll be even more problematic.”
“Ugh! Just think of the ugly babies she’ll be making from here on out.”
After a few more minutes, the men exited the room and locked the door. As he passed Alaska’s window, Gus let out one last “Go back to bed,” but he didn’t stop. They headed up the hall, and she heard the door to the outside open and close.
Alaska pressed her head against the bars. Suarez was going to make that girl—that mage—breed with a Dark power. A wave of nausea struck her empty stomach, and something changed in her. Like a wave rolling back, her attitude to the camp just . . . changed. No more, she thought. No more.
The muffled sounds of the girl sobbing echoed down the hallway. They’d left her gagged in the room. “Hey, don’t worry over there,” Alaska whispered. “I’m not going to let him do that to you!”
She paced the room, banged her fists against the wall. There had to be a way to free the girl.
“Bones and stones,” she muttered, as she plopped herself on her cot to await the dawn.
The guards roused them before sunrise. They told the kids to gear up for the outdoors, and when they were ready, marched them single file into the assembly hall. There they were given hard, tasteless dried food bars, but after two days without food, anything was a feast. The mules were given six each to sustain their high metabolism. The humans got two. Alaska pushed one of hers into Jeep’s hands as the broad girl walked by.
“No need to do that,” Jeep whispered. “It’s all good. I’m still your girl.”
“Please take it. I am so very sorry.”
“No worries. They whipped like little boys,” she winked, “so it was nothin’.”
Alaska continued to press the food on the mule.
“If it’ll make you feel better, girl, sure thing. I am a bit hungry.”
“Line up in your squads!” one of the guards ordered, and the child soldiers shuffled into position, munching the food bars as they stood. “Attention!” he yelled when they were all against the wall.
Their right hands snapped to their heads in salute as Colonel Suarez sauntered in front of them, a long drill cane held under his arm. He didn’t return their salute, so they were forced to hold it.
He was dressed in his green day uniform, no winter gear. A very large, very dark mule, wide and standing about seven feet tall, followed two paces behind him. The two checked each soldier with a critical eye as they walked by. Alaska guessed Suarez was in a good mood for a change: He didn’t use the cane on any of them—he didn’t even stop to irritate her.
“You’ve got a new drill sergeant today,” he said, turning to face them, twirling the cane with an air of menace. “His name is Sergeant Hawkes,” he pointed the stick toward the sergeant. “It’s his first day here, so make him feel welcome and obey his every command.”
He glared at the kids, waiting to see if any of them would dare to even smirk.
“Since you all seem to have energy to spare to play with your food, Sergeant Hawkes here will help you burn off that excess energy with some outdoor exercise. Isn’t that right, Sergeant Hawkes?”
“I’ll absolutely strip every last ounce of that energy and more from them, Colonel,” said the mule.
“Those who fail to obey the sergeant will become food for the compound’s forthcoming illustrious guest, who may, in fact, arrive tonight. Those who don’t want to serve our master in his army will be served to the master. Understood?”
No one spoke, though a few gulped reflexively. They all remained against the wall, holding their salute for their despised Colonel.
“Good.” Suarez turned to Hawkes. “They’re all yours, Sergeant Hawkes. I want to hear all about their exciting day when I return in the morning.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
Suarez finally returned the salute, letting them rest their hands. “Play time is over, soldiers,” and then turned and strode out of the room.
They all released a held breath and relaxed a bit.
It didn’t last long.
Sergeant Hawkes stood tall and bellowed, “Head to the practice fields, you pieces of shit. I don’t care how hard you think you’ve trained before, you’ll be working twice as hard today. And no one . . . no one . . . better fall out. You will not have the energy to fight in the cafeteria when I’m done with you!”
No one argued. No one dared.
Before Jeremiah could pull on his gloves, Alaska saw that he wasn’t wearing bandages. She grabbed his hands, scanning them front and back. From wrists to his unusually long index fingers—a trait they shared—his hands were now smooth: no burns, no scars. She looked at him quizzically as they marched.
He shrugged. “Last night I had a dream that they’d healed. When the nurse checked them this morning, they had.”
“No talking. Move!” Hawkes yelled.
When they left the warmth of the assembly hall, the cold air hit their faces, forcing them to pull their face masks up and down to take bites. They ate. They marched, double time. No one talked.
In the field, they broke into their groups. “Mule Team 1, you are supposedly the best. But you are also the most undisciplined, I hear,” Sergeant Hawkes said. “We will work on that. If I have to beat each one of you down personally, I will. You will learn discipline. The rest of you watch.”
Hawkes blew a whistle, signaling the group to start the obstacle course. Hog and Jeep led the way. The mules took off howling, rushing into the snow, through the tires, over the high wall, jumped a pit, hurdled over low walls, and swung across the iced-covered river. At various points along the course squads of human soldiers made futile attempts to stop them, but the mules raced past, barely even slowing. Mule Team 1 completed the course in minutes. They made it look all easy.
While the others were cheering Mule Team 1, Alaska sidled up to Jeremiah and whispered in his ear. “Keep looking forward. Act natural. Don’t react. I’ve got something important to tell you. That girl I told you about. The nonexistent fantasy girl. They have her. They captured a neomage girl and brought her to the girls’ block last night.”
She saw Jeremiah stiffen, but he kept looking forward, feigning interest in Mule Team 1’s exploits.
“They want to breed her with their master, the one Suarez said was coming. It’s bad enough that we have to fight for this thing, but having babies with it? We’ve got to get her out of here.”
“What can we do about it? We’re only kids.”
“Kids with powers.”
“But they’ve brought in more mules to keep us in line. Plus, some of the kids want to be in Suarez’s army.”
“I know who we can trust. I can sense the ones who’ve already given over their hearts to Darkness. Harper’s one of theirs, unfortunately, and Zeke is leaning that way, as well, so say nothing to them.” She paused. “Did your fiery friend return during lockdown?”
“Yeah. I called it and it came to me.”
“Any chance it could help us?”
“Maybe.”
Hawkes yelled to the young mules, “Back Here! Run it again.” When the last member of Mule Team 1 arrived back at the start of the course, Sergeant Hawkes threw a quick punch to the boy’s gut and then swept a leg behind the mule, knocking him down.
He then turned to the nearest adult soldiers: “They need some opposition this time. Mules, replace the humans. Use whatever force necessary to bring them down. I don’t want them dead, but hurting is good. Our young friends have lessons to learn, and you will be their teachers.” The five adult mules grinned.
To the others, Hawkes ordered, “You heard the Colonel: P
lay time is over. Get the other teams running. Move it. Move it!”
The rest of the day was spent on the course. Hawkes continued to beat the slackers in each group, and he grew more brutal as the day progressed. Harper took the brunt of Hawkes’s beatings in Alaska’s squad, although she did take a jarring kick in the flank after the final run; fortunately, the massive mule held back some on the humans.
When the exhausted child soldiers were finally marched back to the dorms after dusk, they had to pause as a line of vehicles started coming through the gates. There were four Humvees, a flatbed truck with a large container on it, and four more Humvees. As the truck passed, Alaska felt her knees buckle as a wave of fear rolled over her.
“The Darkness, Jeremiah,” she whispered. “It’s here. There’s no time to waste. We’ve got to do something now!”
Jeremiah turned to her. “Get to the girls’ quarters and free the mage.” His face was stern, serious. “Let Jeep know the shit is about to hit.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to call a friend and see how well some things burn around here. Then I’m gonna make a lot of noise out by the vehicles’ gas tanks. I sure could use some backup from Hog, if he can get a weapon.”
Alaska grabbed his hand. “Stay safe,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I need you.” Jeremiah nodded in return.
As the convoy headed toward the building the guards had been preparing for the master’s arrival, a mule in the lead Humvee motioned for Sergeant Hawkes and his crew to follow them. Hawkes yelled to the remaining guards, “Get the soldiers indoors, feed them, and keep them quiet. Our master is here, and they will behave.” Then he and his men departed.
“Food!” Mule Team 1 yelled, as they took off running toward the cafeteria, jostling each other to be first in line. Alaska and Jeremiah split up, him hanging back while she double-timed it to stay close to the mules.
In the cafeteria food line, Alaska whispered at Jeep’s back, “Suarez’s men captured a neomage. They intend to breed her with his master—make some sort of half-Dark monsters. We’ve got to get her out of here. Get weapons off the guards. Guns too. Send Hog out back to help Jeremiah.”
“Holy hellhole,” Jeep muttered, and nodded her assent.
After eating half her meal, Alaska got up and shuffled to the guard blocking the doorway. He straightened from a slouch, his hand drifting to his baton. She held up her hands in surrender. As she spoke to him, she pushed with her mind against his. You will believe me. You will do as I ask. “Sir, would you take me to my dorm? I’m not feeling so good.” She grimaced, and rubbed her stomach. You will believe. You will believe. She thought it helped that she really was hurting.
He was silent and motionless. “Uh, okay,” he finally said, stepping aside to let her lead the way out of the cafeteria building and over to the girls’ dormitory. When they arrived in the dorm, Alaska preceded him down the dark hallway to the door to the imprisoned neomage’s room. She tried to transmit soothing calm through the barred window to the girl, but she couldn’t tell if it had any effect.
Turning to the guard, Alaska said, “Open this one, please. I’ll hold your baton for you while you do it.”
“Yes, hold this,” he said, handing her the weapon while he searched for the right key and then unlocked the door.
“Thank you. By the way, you’re looking a little sleepy,” Alaska said to him, sending some element of her own fatigue into his mind. “I think we should have you lie down in another room.” She pointed to an empty cell. “Let’s unlock that one, too, so you can rest.” After he did so, she said, “Give me the keys—oh and your coat and gloves. You won’t need them on while you’re sleeping.”
“Yes, so tired,” he yawned. “Gotta get some sleep,” he said, handing her the keys while he shrugged out of his coat. He yawned deeply again, shuffled through the door, and fell onto the cot. Within seconds, the sound of his snoring filled the corridor. Alaska shut the door and locked it.
Then she rushed into the neomage’s cell. The girl was tied to the bed, a gag in her mouth. Alaska removed the gag; the girl took a gasping breath. “Keep quiet,” Alaska shushed. “Your sperm donor has arrived, and we need to get you out of here before this becomes your wedding night.” Alaska released the girl’s bindings, and then helped her sit up. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” the girl rasped.
“Better yet, can you run?”
“They told me what they were going to do to me. I don’t want to meet that . . . thing! I’ll run myself to death first.”
Alaska took off her coat and gloves, handing them to the girl. Although the girl appeared to be a teenager, she was very thin and short for her age. “Put these on. I know they’re too big, but the guard’s clothes are even bigger.” Alaska put on the guard’s gear.
They started walking down the corridor. “That door leads to the vehicles. We wait for a loud boom, and then we run out the door. Hopefully, my friends will keep the guards occupied. Good?”
“Yes,” the dark-haired girl said, placing her arm on Alaska’s as they settled in the doorway. “I’m Marta. I’m very grateful you were here to help me.”
“Alaska. And we aren’t away yet,” Alaska replied to the smaller girl.
An explosion rocked the complex, and something banged against the side of the building. Smaller explosions followed, and they heard yelling, and then gunfire, and . . . singing.
“That’s our cue.” Alaska half-pulled Marta through the exterior door, which sounded an alarm. The buzzing noise was lost in the cacophony outside. Several vehicles were on fire, and guards were rushing about, weapons in hand. Some moved to fight the fires, while others, the elite mules, raced toward the center of the conflagration to where Jeremiah stood in the midst of the flames belting out a strange song about bullfrogs and joy, a Pre-Ap song he’d told Alaska that his grandmother used to sing to him.
The enemy mules stood confounded. Then more shots rang out. One of Suarez’s mules fell, bullets hitting him in the chest and neck. Hog was on a rooftop, taking aim at another. Alaska and Marta crept through the shadows, away from the burning and noise. Jeep met them around the corner of the building, and the three stopped to watch as an odd apparition appeared in the battle.
A ball of flickering orange flame separated itself from the burning vehicles and flew at the soldiers. It expanded, formed hands, and leaned over a group of them, looking like an attacking bear. Then a slim flame jutted out of its headlike feature and slid along the face of one like a tongue. The guard reflexively screamed when the flame-tongue swelled to cover his face, a scream that was cut short by the fire entering his mouth and plunging inside. The mule’s body exploded from within, and the flame ball reformed itself, bouncing up and down in what could almost be mistaken for excitement. Gleaming yellow spark-eyes appeared on the ball, and it turned in place looking for more fun, then darted off to somewhere out of Alaska’s line of sight.
With a shout, Hog launched himself from the roof at a handful of soldiers who’d been quietly setting up a firing position lined up on Alaska, Jeep, and Marta’s escape route. He speared the first man as if his rifle had held a bayonet, and then picked up another to use as a club against the others. All the while, Hog brayed and howled like a wild animal—like a bunch of wild animals—which attracted other soldiers armed with bigger weapons than mere billy clubs and rifles.
In the other direction, more screams. More gunfire. More singing.
Thinking him an easy target, a squad cornered Jeremiah. Transparent orange fire sprung up around him an instant before Suarez’s soldiers fired at him. The bullets hit the shimmering screen and fell harmlessly to the ground.
“Yes!” Jeremiah shouted, dancing behind the protective screen. “Can’t shoot me, you son-of-a-darkun’ scum!”
“Get out of there, Jeremiah!” Alaska yelled to him. “Come on!”
He turned his back on her and resumed his oddball song, seemingly oblivious to the troops coming
from all directions.
“Don’t be stupid! Come on!”
“We’ve got to go, Ala! You know he’s not comin’ with us. He and Hog are settin’ us free. Don’t waste their sacrifice.”
Jeep was right. Tears filled Alaska’s eyes as she took the semi-automatic weapon the mule handed her. She and the mage set off at a run toward the training grounds, Jeep bringing up the rear.
Years of familiarity allowed Alaska to navigate easily across the training fields in the dark. When they got to the edge of the forest on the far side, Jeep took point, scouting a path through the shadows and trees. Alaska looked back and saw Colin carrying his twin over his shoulder. Colin had multiple wounds. Davey’s head was drenched in blood. Still, Alaska could see by his aura that he was still alive.
Alaska turned to follow Jeep, but the neomage dropped her hand and faced back toward the open field. “Don’t stop now, Marta. We gotta get deep into the woods.”
“Something’s coming,” the mage said.
As Alaska looked behind them, she saw Sergeant Hawkes emerge from a building on the far side of the training fields. He saw them, growled, and moved with superhuman speed toward them, his muscular arms pumping up and down, his face a mask of rage. When he caught them, they would all be dead.
“Jeep! Jeep!” she screamed. “I need help here!” Alaska said to the mule who’d already reached the woods. Alaska turned and fired the handgun at the approaching soldier the way they’d trained her: two quick shots, reacquire target, two quick shots. Blood stained Hawkes’s tight green T-shirt, but he kept running, taking evasive action but still closing fast.
“Holy hellhole,” Jeep yelled from behind Alaska, bursting out of the woods seconds later, and making straight for the incoming tank of a man. “Hawkes, you hurt my friends, and I will rip out your eyes and feed them to your intestines! Pick on somebody your own size.”
Jeep raced into her field of fire and Alaska couldn’t shoot at Hawkes anymore. The two mules struck each other mere yards away from Alaska and the mage, Jeep diving headfirst into his chest. The move didn’t faze the bigger mule. He grabbed her legs and, with a twist, had her hanging upside down as he continued relentlessly advancing on the others. Taking advantage of her position, Jeep dug her fingers into the man’s bullet wounds and began twisting and tearing. Hawkes laughed.