The Renegades (The Superiors)

by Lena Hillbrand

  The receptionist set her nail file on the edge of the desk. “Wait, so you want a room without anyone in it?”

  “Yes, and I want privacy. No interruptions, all day. No matter what.”

  The woman looked at Cali and then Draven. “A’right. That might cost you extra.”

  “No, I want it for half price. Give the sap in the room to someone else, charge them for the other half of my room. Someone will pay for double play.”

  “Regular rate.”

  “A fool’s not among them,” Draven said. “I know how this works. I’ve done it enough.”

  “A’right, half price.” The woman reached for Draven’s hand but he pulled back.

  “An old fashioned key,” he said.

  The woman gave him a sullen look. He stared her down, his eyes steady and his jaw set. Not even a legal Superior would check into a room like that with his ID scan. As an Illegal, it would sign his arrest warrant. “As I said…A fool’s not among them.”

  The woman looked like she’d say something, but instead, she reached under the counter and brought out a clear card with the metal coding showing through. Draven caught it from her hand before she’d set it on the counter. She gave him a little sneer and looked at Cali in disgust.

  “I’ll pay in the evening,” Draven said. He grabbed Cali’s arm and dragged her down the hall.

  “Ouch, that hurts,” she said, pulling at her arm. “Let go.”

  He slid the key into the slot and thrust the door open with his foot, pushing Cali into the room so quickly she stumbled against the door. Closing the door behind him, he caught the insolent look on her face. She stood rubbing her arm and glaring at him. “You hurt me.”

  “It had to be convincing.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I could have, but it would not have been as convincing.”

  “You’re mean.”

  Draven laughed. “Look, you have a shower, and a real bed, and a…cold…room for the day. Clean yourself and take some rest.”

  “Okay…I’m going to shower, I guess,” Cali said. She entered the bathroom and slid the door as far as it would close—halfway. Draven removed the gun and the stake from his pockets, pulled the sliding tray from the wall and set his things on it. He sat, avoiding the dried blood smeared on the bed’s threadbare spread. The room, large enough only to contain the bed and a space beside it allowing one to enter, reeked as if it had not been cleaned in quite some time. But it was free, and would give Cali a temporary reprieve. At times he quite forgot that she hadn’t had the year and a half to grow accustomed to living as he did, exposed to the elements, transient, never certain if a meal, a roof, or sleep could be found at all, let alone the type she longed for.

  When he heard the shower running, Draven glanced at the bathroom and then away quickly. No shower curtain.

  A knock sounded at the door, and, relieved for the distraction, he snatched up the gun and strode the few steps to the door and heaved it open. It slid into the wall reluctantly, rattling on its track. He leaned against the doorframe, the gun dangling from his fingers, just above his head.

  “Yeah?” he said, forcing a note of casual belligerence into his voice as he imagined befit someone in his position. “I thought I said we didn’t want any bother.”

  “Yeah, well, we got procedure here,” the receptionist said, scorn dripping from every syllable. “You gotta pay upfront. It’s the rules.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, scratching his head with the gun. “Well, I’m an Enforcer, and I like to keep things discreet, so I’d appreciate some privacy. But if you won’t work with me, I’m sure I’ll find a place that will. One that will still be here if I want to come back next week.”

  The girl gave him a dirty look but backed away. “Don’t you skip out,” she said. “And don’t tell nobody else, or they’ll all wanna do it.”

  “Our little secret.” Draven smiled at her before closing the door. When he turned back, Cali stood in the bathroom doorway, clad in her jumpsuit once more.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “No one,” he said, replacing the gun on the tray. “How was your shower?”

  “Cold.” She looked at him and then at the bed. “I think the towel got me as dirty as before I got in the shower, but…” She shrugged and hugged herself, shivering as she eyed the bed once more.

  “Go on,” he said. “Get in the bed.”

  She hesitated only a moment before following his advice. After switching off the light, Draven stripped to his undershorts and slipped into the bed beside her. Once, he’d had her sleep on the floor. The memory struck him as ludicrous. Back then, she’d been simply a sap with a tantalizing aroma, hardly more than an animal.

  “So tell me about the pretty Superiors on the street,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The ladies on the street back there. And the men, too.”

  “The mistresses?”

  “Yeah, them. They were all so pretty, and their clothes were so heaven.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “You said you’d tell me.”

  “What arouses your curiosity? They are only people.”

  “I wanna know about them. They were all so different, but every one of them thought you looked awfully good. Does everyone treat you that way when you walk down the street?”

  He laughed softly in the darkness. “By no means.”

  “Don’t laugh at me. How would I know? We don’t have anything like that. And I’ve never really seen you with other Superiors. I’ve never seen any Superiors acting that nice, for sure.”

  “It’s just that. Acting.”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “They are women and men who are paid to have sex. That’s all.”

  “Do you pay them?”

  “Not personally.”

  “So why do other Superiors?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean? How can you not know?”

  He sighed. “Alright. You know we don’t change, yes? We look the same always.”

  “So?”

  Before he could answer, quiet voices sounded in the next room. Draven eyed Cali in the dark, but he could not determine if she heard or not. The sounds began to change into something more primal, with less words. His breath caught and held as he waited for Cali to ask about it, as she asked after everything. But she remained silent. The silence stretched thinner and thinner in the room, punctuated with sounds that could be nothing other than what they were. When he could bear it no longer, Draven began to speak, drowning the noises and accompanying thoughts with his words.

  “Some are not satisfied with the way they look,” he said, “And they want someone who places little importance on whether they fit the ideal. For some, it is difficult to find someone to satisfy their cravings. Some want what their partners won’t provide, or they don’t want a companion for more than a few hours, or they simply want something convenient without having to talk or bother with the chance they won’t succeed in the end, so they pay for a service.”

  “I can’t imagine. Why wouldn’t you want to talk to someone, if you’d want to mate with them?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t explain well. Sometimes, a connection is too involved, too time-consuming and exhausting. You only want something simple and pleasant, such as a lovely woman to pay attention to you.”

  “That’s silly. People—I mean, humans—we don’t much care what a person looks like. We want the connection, the involvement. If you don’t have that, you don’t want him to pay attention to you. It doesn’t matter how he looks.”

  “I suppose you have more primitive concerns, more primitive desires. If those were fulfilled, you’d find other things to value.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You think of things such as survival, yes? We no longer have to think of that, so we find other things to concern ourselves with, such as vanity.”

&nbs
p; “Is that good?”

  “It’s only an observation, not a question of worth.”

  “Oh.” Cali lay silent a few moments, only her quiet breath disturbing the silence in their room. In the next room, Draven could hear the onslaught continuing. “So, you’re saying you only care what a person looks like? Because then you should really like those pretty ladies.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “For humans, mating serves the purpose of procreation, getting bred and carrying on the species. And some of you still marry. We don’t marry, and we don’t have offspring, so…sex has a different purpose, a different meaning.”

  “So what’s the meaning?”

  “It has none.”

  “Then it shouldn’t matter what she looks like.”

  “That’s the only thing that matters. Not compatibility or the desire for a family. With little to base the decision on, most base it on appearance.”

  “What decision?”

  “Whether to lie with someone.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly from across the bed. Then, after a moment, “But why do people buy it, if it doesn’t mean anything?”

  Draven considered not answering, but in the room beside them, the noises approached a crescendo, so he hurried to explain further. “Because it is…enjoyable. Like getting a massage, or a haircut. If you can’t do it yourself, you pay someone to do it for you.”

  “Really? You pay someone to cut your hair?”

  “Not often, but…yes.”

  “That’s so strange,” Cali said, her voice full of wonderment. He watched her smile at the ceiling in the dark. “Do those women cut your hair, too?”

  Draven laughed. “No, you go to someone else for that. Although I imagine they would do just about anything if you paid for it.”

  “So they know how to do lots of things?”

  “I imagine they do.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Perhaps a bit.”

  “Why?” Cali asked, pushing up on one elbow.

  “No reason,” he said.

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  “You amuse me. Why are you so interested?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just new and interesting. And those girls were…I just wish you’d let me talk to them more.”

  “I’m sure they’d only spoil your…your innocence.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. That quality you have.”

  “What quality?” she asked, caution and hope mixing in her voice.

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  She laughed, but it was a sound more frustrated than amused. “You have to tell me! It’s about me. What’s the quality of inn-o-sense?”

  Draven moved restlessly under the reeking spread, pushing the scratchy edge away from his chin. “It’s the way you want to know about everything.”

  “Ohhh. You mean curiosity?” She pronounced the word as if quite proud of her vocabulary.

  He considered explanation but decided against it. “Yes, like that.”

  She relaxed on the bed and pulled the blanket up around her chin. Its rough edge fell against Draven’s neck again. Cali sighed. “Still. I wish I looked like that.”

  “Why?” Draven asked.

  “How could I not want to? Even though they were all awfully different, every single one of them was perfect.”

  “But you’d look like a mistress. People would treat you like one.”

  “Don’t people treat them good? I mean, they’re so nice, and their clothes are so pretty and shiny and bright. Why would anyone not like them?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not sure you quite understand. And I’m quite certain you would look better than any of them in those clothes.” He caught himself just as the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t imagine where the thought came from. Perhaps only from the need to drown out the excruciating sounds assaulting him from through the wall.

  “Not that you would ever have occasion to wear them,” he said quickly. “But if you did…what I mean is that those women aren’t real. They’re plastics.”

  “They’re made of plastic?”

  “Yes, most of them.” A whimpering cry sounded from the next room, and then a silence so thick as to be painful. Draven hurried to speak before Cali could ask. “As I said, we never change. Many people are not satisfied with the way they look, they want to fit the ideal. Especially the mistresses, because they make more money if they are attractive. So they pay for plastic surgery, sometimes extensive, so they can look as they like.”

  “You can have surgery to pick how you look?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have it to look how you do?”

  “No,” he said, smiling at her though he knew she could not see him in the dark. “Our bodies heal, so it is difficult to change them. If you change something and you look the ideal way, it soon changes back, and you have to return and have it done again and again. I always imagined the pain and price outweighed the benefit.”

  “I guess you don’t really need it. You look okay now.”

  He chuckled. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

  “What?” she asked defensively. “I can’t say that? Those girls all said you looked good.”

  “They are supposed to say that. They want me to give them money.”

  “Well, I still think you look okay, and you don’t have to give me any money.”

  “Good to know.”

  “So could I get that plastics surgery, and it wouldn’t change back on me, since I don’t heal fast?”

  “Why would you want to? You’re lovely as you are.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes,” he said, rolling over and pulling her to him. “And you taste incredible. Let me…just for a moment. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

  He pushed up on one elbow and slid his arm around her. He buried his hand in her hair and drew her head back and lowered his mouth to her throat. Fear tinged her scent, but he kept his nose against her skin for some time, until she had calmed and her breathing returned to normal. Still Draven lingered, inhaling her scent until he grew dizzy with it. Then he found a vein and slid in. He counted off one ration and closed her slowly, pressing his tongue against her until it had healed her skin so completely no sign of his entry remained. If given a choice, he’d have remained for all time just as he was, with the throb of her sap against his lips, the scent and the subtle sound of it rushing under her skin. But after another moment, he lay back, still holding her against him, closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re so warm,” he murmured.

  “You’re so cold.”

  “That’s why I need you. To warm me and bring me back to life.”

  He slept the sleep of the dead, and if she told him what she needed, he missed it.

  Chapter 39

  Draven awakened with a start and sat bolt upright. With his first inhalation, the thick odors in the room threatened to suffocate him—the stale stench of all the saps with their diseases and drugs and illness who had passed through this room. At first, he could not identify the source of his disquiet. Something had awakened him, but the scents momentarily washed all else from his mind, though he felt something of importance had brought him to such sudden consciousness. Then he heard a grinding crash, something unmistakable and menacing.

  For a second, he sat paralyzed with fear, hoping with an intensity bordering on insanity that his planned misdeeds had caused his paranoia. Then he heard their voices, electronic and sharp, the commanding voice of raiding Enforcers.

  He threw the blanket off and sprang from the bed, sweeping the gun from the wall tray and shoving it into the waistband of his trousers. He grabbed Cali and wrenched her arm to awaken her. Her eyes flew open and she let out a small cry.

  “Be silent,” he growled, scooping her from the bed. He tripped in the blankets and cursed under his breath. His eyes scanned the ceiling. Another crash sounded in the hallway, this one louder,
closer.

  “What was that?” Cali whispered, twisting in his arms towards the door. In the dark, her eyes were wide and blind.

  “Silence,” Draven commanded, knowing the Enforcers could not hear her over the commotion they had created, but not wanting her to draw their attention nonetheless. He tried to think, but started when loud pounding began on the door of the room next to theirs. He scanned the walls desperately with his eyes. The place had probably been a hotel back when humans ran things. That or temporary army housing during the War. Cold drafts blew in through cracks in the walls, and in the corner near the ceiling, the plaster peeled away to reveal foam insulation.

  For a moment, he considered trying to break through the wall. From the room next door, he heard a shriek, and Enforcers commanding someone to stop. Draven leapt onto the bed and thrust his palm against the ceiling. The block of stained plaster shot upwards, surprising him with its unsecured weight. He had imagined it would hold fast.

  Next door, a burst of footsteps sounded, and a surprised yell came from the hallway. Draven heaved Cali through the opening, fully expecting her to plummet through the next section of plaster, where someone had drawn an obscenely graphic portrayal of bestiality directly over the bed. Besides making more sound than he’d have liked, Cali did nothing wrong. She tumbled into the space between the ceiling and the roof, and Draven flung himself up after her just as a loud thudding began on the door to their room.

  “This is a raid,” an electronic voice blared. “By the Enforcers of the government of North America. Open the door or it will be opened by force.”

  Draven dropped the open section of the ceiling back into place, where it settled as it had. Ignoring a few disturbing remnants that past visitors had stashed in the ceiling, he began to move quickly, tucking Cali against his chest as he crawled through the dusty passageway, sure that the next moment the ceiling would collapse under their weight or burst upwards with an Enforcer’s blow.

  Below, another rush of footsteps, this one followed by an order to stop. The sounds of pursuit followed closely, and the thud of a takedown. Draven scrambled forwards, thankful for the noises of the scuffle below, aching with the fervent desire for escape, for freedom. In another part of the building, the electronic voice announced itself again. He could no longer determine if it came from the room he had vacated only seconds before.