by Keri Lake
I can almost see Ivan’s face, red with embarrassment as he stands beside his father.
“Where is she?” Doctor Ericsson asks.
“My assistant? Hiding below the table.”
A dizzying nausea strikes my gut, and I snap my head up to watch his face for any sign that I should run now.
“Your son assaulted him earlier. He’s scared out of his wits.”
“She! I’m telling you, Father, Dani is a she!”
“And how would you know for certain, Ivan?” Doctor F crosses his arms, and I study him harder, trying to decide if I can trust him, the way I trusted my father to come up with a plan when bad things happened.
“She … because she bared herself to me. Crazy little bitch tried to seduce me!”
My hands ball into tight fists, the urge to swing out and punch him in the face taunting my muscles.
Bastard!
“It seems there’s only one way to confirm, Josef.”
Doctor Ericsson’s words rain over me, and suddenly I’m weary. Of surviving. Of worrying.
I’ve no choice. If they know Doctor F protected a girl, they’ll kill him. Of that, I’m certain.
Still crouched below the table, I close my eyes and push to a stand, opening them to find Doctor Ericsson and Ivan flanked by two Legion soldiers.
“Drop your trousers, Dani.” Doctor Ericsson’s lips almost seem to stretch to a smile at the request.
Lips trembling, stomach tight, I step in front of Doctor Falkenrath and feel a cold grip of my arm.
“This is absurd! Does my word mean nothing? I’ll not have you turning my lab into some peepshow!”
“In that case, you leave me no choice. You send her to the incinerators, or to be fed alive to the Ragers. Your only other option is to prove that she is, in fact, male.”
“You’ve no right. Dani is my charge. My assistant.”
“And I’m the medical officer in charge of this facility. It’s my duty to investigate violations that could cost us.”
“Cost us how?”
“What, exactly, do you think would happen to a young girl amongst a camp full of angry adolescent boys?”
“Why don’t you ask your son?”
Ericsson’s eye flinches with the shifting of his jaw. “Make your choice.”
“And what will the consequences be for me, afterward?”
“Nothing. No harm done. She’ll be disposed, and you’ll go back to your work. I’m not interested in losing your talents over something so petty as a misunderstanding.”
“In that case, I choose to have her sent to the Ragers.”
“What?” The air leaps from my lungs, my muscles cold with paralysis. “Doctor! Doctor, please! What are you doing?”
Casting his gaze from mine, Doctor Falkenrath shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dani.”
Chapter 22
Wren
The fatty piece of meat I’m frying sizzles and pops in the pan, as Six strolls into the kitchen.
His hair has grown out about an inch from his head, still tidy from Papa’s trim, and his skin carries a bronze glow from working in the fields the day before. He wears a bright blue T-shirt I picked up for him at the market that, set against his dark chestnut hair, makes his eyes pop. The shadows behind them seem to have disappeared, and he sleeps much more peacefully in my bed as of late.
Papa sits at the table, reading one of his medical journals, while I try not to stare too long at Six, though by the way he’s staring back at me, he doesn’t seem all too concerned about catching the old man’s attention.
With each passing day, he somehow grows more attractive. Or maybe I’m just falling more and more for him. Deeper.
Coming up behind me, he reaches into the cupboard for a glass, setting his other hand against my hip. If not for Papa, he’d undoubtedly bend forward to kiss my nape, as he often does.
After plating the meat and eggs from the pan, I twist around and set out breakfast for all three of us.
Papa closes the book and sips his coffee. “I need you to run an errand for me, today, Wren. One of the Shaw boys cut his leg while jumping off the canyons. It’s a pretty nasty gash. I need you to drop off a poultice for his mother. I’ve something else to attend to this morning.”
“Sure, Papa.” A feeling of dread sinks in my stomach, though. I can’t stand the Shaw boys, or their friends. And the girls who fawn over them are worse, always whispering about me. Born to the politicians and military leaders for the community, they’re all the haughty kids who’d never survive beyond the wall.
“It’s best if Six stays here. We don’t want anyone to recognize him. It’ll be good for the two of you to spend a few hours apart.”
The frustration rises to my mouth faster than I can stop it, and I blurt out, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve missed lessons twice in the last two weeks, while off on your explorations.”
“I’ve been teaching Six to write some words, Papa. He can write sentences now.”
“I very much doubt such skills would be of use for him here.”
There are times his coldness cuts deep, and other times it makes a shallow slice to remind me that happiness is short-lived.
“The Shaw boys don’t deserve your help, Papa. They’re nothing but a bunch of punks.” I don’t bother to tell him that they call him crazy and useless behind his back.
“What they are doesn’t concern me. You’ll deliver that poultice this morning, is that clear?”
With a huff, I jab my fork into the eggs that no longer appeal to me. “Yes.”
Once breakfast is cleared, Papa heads out to wherever it is he goes every day. I still don’t know, and I’ve learned to avoid asking the questions that trigger his defenses. Instead, it remains inside the ever-growing vacuous void inside my head.
Arms scoop me up from behind, and I wrap tight to his neck, as Six carries me up the stairs to my bedroom. He sets me gently on the bed and removes his shirt. Ordinarily, we’d wait until after chores to mess around, but he seems anxious this morning. Driven. His eyes hold no humor as he peels the clothes from my body. Shorts. Shirt.
“Six, what’s gotten into you?”
His face is unreadable while he shoves his pants to the floor, springing his hard length free. The mattress slides across my back as he yanks my legs to the edge of the bed. He lines his tip to my entrance, and his jaw tenses with one rough thrust inside that arches my back, my fingers curled tight to the sheets.
Instead of the slow and steady motions, his movements are quick and furious, as if looking for a fast release. Sweat breaks out over his skin, and the grunting in my ear holds determination, as he swells inside of me, his hardness pushing against my walls.
I tip my head back, unable to resist the fullness as he slams his hips into mine, and on a strained groan, he pulls out of me, directing warm jets of his release onto my stomach. Across my breasts, over my belly, down to my engorged sex that burns with the ache of no climax. He reaches out and spreads it over my nipples and up to my neck.
The corner of his lips lifts with a snarl as he stares down at me, and it’s then the reason for his behaviors come to light.
“You’re jealous.” I glance down at the glistening across my skin and back to him. “You’re mad that I’m not taking you with me.”
As if calling him out strikes some chord of remorse, his brows pinch together, and he strides off toward the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth.
He wipes his hot fluids away before tossing the cloth onto the nightstand beside the bed, then he exits the room, leaving me naked and thoroughly unsatisfied.
After hanging out the laundry and preparing a cut of meat for dinner, I reluctantly head out to fulfill the dreaded errand.
Six is shoveling dirt when I approach from behind, his muscles shining with sweat, flexing with his toil as he digs a trench for more irrigation.
As I watch him work, the lack of climax gnaws at my core.
He pauses, s
lamming the shovel into the dirt, and strides toward me. Wrapping his arms around me, he presses his lips to mine, and I can feel the apology in his kiss.
“I’ll be home soon.” I hold onto his biceps, rising up on tiptoes to give one more kiss, and step back, sliding the satchel that holds the poultice over my head.
The Shaws live closer to the north side of the wall, near the entrance in the newer Phase Three homes. Papa could’ve lived there, or in the Villas on the West end of the community, if he wanted, but he refused, and I’m grateful every day for that. I hate the Shaws. Particularly Damian.
It’ll take me over an hour on foot to walk there, and with the air as wickedly hot and dry as it is today, it’ll feel longer. Particularly as I have to walk it without Six to keep me company.
Strange that two months ago, I did everything on my own.
I pass Mrs. Johnston, who waves from her front porch, where she’s potting flowers beneath her wide-brimmed hat.
A visual passes through my mind, of that hat spattered in blood, as a Rager tears away her gullet, and I flinch, raising my hand to wave back.
There’s an oily falsehood behind this wall. Like a dream that fails to acknowledge the dark clouds of a nightmare on the other side. We’d never survive out there in the Deadlands—that much became clear to me the day we gathered the prickly pears for her. She’d be the first to go. A roly-poly woman, who bakes cookies for the weekly community meetings, and attends church as if the world hasn’t changed, at all.
I’ve never asked the woman if she lost anyone in the outbreak. Some talk about their lives before the wall, but others avoid it, choosing to stay locked in this pseudo existence.
Papa’s words echo through my mind. Safety is an illusion.
It’s true. Except with Six, I really do feel safe. Even in the Deadlands.
I finally reach the Shaw house, a much larger version of the three-story properties that surround it on either side. A complete waste of resources, and a total drain on the electricity, as far as I’m concerned. I hear the Villas are even bigger, mansions, but Papa won’t allow me to explore that part of the community. Not that I’d go there, anyway, with all the privileged assholes who live there.
Stood on the front porch, I ring the doorbell and step back to pull the poultice wrapped in cheesecloth from my satchel. The door swings open, to Damian Shaw. Of the three brothers I cannot stand, he’s the worst. Two months ago, he threw an overripe tomato that exploded down the front of my T-shirt, as I traded some of Papa’s herbal tea at the market. I’ve hated him ever since.
With a greeting scowl, I hold the poultice out to him, which he snatches from my hand, twisting it around to examine it.
“It’s for your brother.”
“Thanks, freak.” He slams the door in my face, and within seconds, the errand that ruined my morning is done.
I blow out an exasperated sigh and turn around, making my way down the steps toward the sidewalk.
A hum draws my attention to the left of me, where Albert Ericsson and two other boys pace my steps in their fancy electric car that reminds me of a missing roller-skate. Seeing them piled inside of it is almost comical.
Not surprisingly, Albert lives in the Villas. I only see him on the rare occasions he decides to slum it by coming to the east side. For the most part, he sticks to his side of the tracks, like all the Villa folk do, except when he’s spoiling for trouble.
“Where you going, freak?” he shouts over the low buzz. All the electric-run vehicles here make the same sound.
“Leave me alone.”
“Want a ride?”
“No.”
The other boys snicker and laugh, the tension winding tightly through my muscles.
“It’s hot out. Why’n’t you hop in? We’ll all give you a ride.”
“No, thanks.”
I round the street corner, past Mrs. Johnston, whose eyes track me and the boys that refuse to leave me alone.
Once out of her sight, I forego the main street and head toward a copse of trees ahead. The car pulls to a stop, and I expel the held breath, happy they’ve finally relented. Kicking my pace up to a jog, I slip into the forest, out of sight.
A force hits me from behind, knocking the wind from me so it blasts from my mouth, captured into the hand that slams across my face. My body is lifted up off the ground, and one of the three boys nabs hold of my feet, as I kick to get free.
The muffled bellow of screams ripping from my chest beat against the salty skin across my lips, but fail to breach the barrier. Something thumps the back of my head, radiating a shock of pain across my skull, and I’m dragged into the backseat of the car. The door hits the bottom of my boots as it’s slammed shut.
“I was accepted into The Legion, Wren. I leave next week.” Albert’s voice against my ear oozes down my spine. “Thought you might want to celebrate with me.”
“Fuck you!” My stifled scream only serves to sprout a smile across his face.
“I just wanted to give you a ride. Why do you have to be such an ornery bitch all the time?” His hand snakes down my belly until he’s cupping me between my thighs. “Is it because you’re a freak? Huh? Maybe you need some dick to set you straight.”
He squeezes between the apex of my thighs, and I manage to get a piece of his skin between my teeth, biting down as hard as I can, until he releases my mouth.
“Ouch! Fuck!” He knocks me upside the head, and I sit up in the seat. “I wasn’t going to touch you anyway. I don’t fuck freaks.”
I reach across the other boy for the door, and as he squeezes my breast, I elbow him in the chest. “Assholes!”
Before I can reach the door ahead of me, the one behind me flies open, and Albert is dragged from the seat.
Scrambling out of the car, I round the back, to find Six has pinned him to the driver’s door, keeping the other boy in the front from getting out. His fingers dig into Albert’s flesh as he throttles him, and the widening of his pupils cast cold spikes of terror through my veins. Six is bigger than all three of the boys and comparatively stronger—perhaps than all of them put together.
“Stop!” I shout, setting my hand on his arm, and in the next breath, he snaps out of it. Albert’s body falls to the ground in a slump, and the little prick grabs his throat, sputtering a cough.
The boy from the backseat points at Six, backing away, his eyes wide. “You’re him. You’re the one Legion is after! You’re the one who escaped!”
I can hardly suck in a breath as I push at Six, urging him to run. “Hurry! Go!”
He stumbles back, obviously reluctant to leave, but at my insistence, he twists on his heel, and we dart through the woods. Wind burns my lungs as I push my legs, running as fast I can with Six close behind.
Perhaps it takes only minutes to reach the house, but it feels like so much longer, and my whole body is trembling, my mind scrambling for a plan.
“They’re going to come after you, Six. They’re going to take you back to that place!” I break into a sob, pacing back and forth in my bedroom, my chest heaving from the run.
Six sits on the bed, catching his breath.
“We have to get you out of here. We have to hide you!”
By now the boys have likely returned home. It’s only a matter of time before they alert the guards, who will then alert the Legion soldiers. They’ll search day and night for him, now that they know he’s inside the wall. No corner of the community will be safe for Six. And if he’s as important as Papa says, I won’t be safe, either.
With my satchel still crossed over my body, I race down the stairs, and upon reaching the kitchen, I throw back the cupboards, filling the bag with cans of food and bottles of water. Six follows behind me, and when I spin to him, I have to force myself not to look into his eyes. I gulp back the tears, doing my best to stay in a mode of determination. The beginnings of a plan pop into my head, but with so many unknowns and holes, my mind can’t stay ahead of it.
“There’s a truck that go
es out tonight, to guard the solar panels and relieve the other guards. I’m going to distract the ones at the gate. Arty. I’ll ask him if he knows where to find Papa. I’ll tell him there’s an emergency at home. You climb into the back of the truck. The panels aren’t far from the Juniper tree Papa showed us a while back. Do you remember it?”
Six nods, the conflict clear on his face.
“I want you to go there. Hide in the Juniper tree, just like Papa said. I’ll come for you.”
He shakes his head, the shine of tears glittering in his eyes.
“Six, you have to go. They’ll take you back to that place. I won’t let them do that. I won’t let them turn you into a weapon. I won’t let you die!”
In spite of the tears streaming down my cheeks, I push away from him and make my way toward the front door. “We have to go. Now!”
Hand on the knob, I peer through the window, but freeze on seeing a convoy of cars rolling to a stop in front of the house. Spinning around, I run the other way, pushing Six toward the back door.
Hand in hand, we race across the garden, taking shelter behind the pole barn. From around the corner of the building, I watch as Legion soldiers pour out of the back door, like a mound of fire ants.
Keeping out of sight, I lead Six through the adjacent woods, along a well-known path that runs parallel to the cul-de-sac. My heart feels as if it might punch through my ribs, by the time we reach the main road through town, but Six and I stay off the shoulder, racing through the backyards of the other houses.
A large gray building sits on the edge of the road before the wall, a guard station that houses offices and holding cells. Six and I tuck ourselves into the back corner of the building, behind a wall of shrubs, with a clear view of the guard posts.
I slide down the wall, expelling a long breath. “We’ll wait here until dusk. The truck carries supplies and tools out to the station. You can hop in the back and stay low.”
I’ve seen the truck before, getting loaded with materials to take out. Papa once had me deliver medicine for one of the guards, who burned himself on the panels.