The Line Book Two: Walled

by Anne Tibbets

  “It’s been two hours!” Ric fumed. “What the hell was I supposed to think, waking up and finding you gone? I thought they took you!”

  “I told the soldier at the door to tell you where I’d gone.”

  “And I was supposed to believe him?”

  He had me there. I should have known Ric wouldn’t trust them. I hardly did myself.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so tired.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and growled with frustration. “Jesus. You scared the shit out of me.” His eyes shone brightly, wet and red-rimmed. I could tell he’d been crying.

  I wanted desperately to tell him everything I had seen, the playground. The happiness. The freedom.

  No slaves.

  But he was so distraught, so full of anger and fear, that I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me.

  I went to him, taking him in my arms and leaning my cheek against his neck.

  He tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let him. “Stop it,” he said, backing up.

  I held tight, moving with him.

  He put his hands on my shoulders and tried to pry me away, but I kissed the skin on his neck and he must have changed his mind because he stopped pushing and sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m right here. I’m safe. I can’t wait to show you what it’s like out there. It’s amazing.”

  I felt his body relaxing. “Damn it,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry.” I kissed his neck again, and he trembled under my lips. Leaning back and up, I pecked his chin, his jaw, then when he lowered his face, I covered his mouth with mine. He tasted delicious. He’d been eating the oranges.

  He broke the kiss abruptly. Backing up, he hit the kitchen counter. “I don’t think this is...”

  I wanted more.

  I took his face in my hands and kissed him again, deeper, opening my mouth. He moaned, then parted his lips. Tasting me, he intertwined my tongue with his.

  My hands ran through his hair, and I pulled him closer. I pressed my body against him. His arms shot straight out to his sides and into the air, as though he was afraid to touch me.

  After slipping off my jacket, I reached down, grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up and over my head. I dropped it to the floor and went for the edge of his shirt, but he grabbed my wrists.

  Despite the fact that his face was tight with desire, he asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Practice,” I whispered, covering his mouth again with mine. I tasted his tongue and he kissed me back, gingerly. Carefully. Timidly.

  He let go of my hands and slid his palms up my arms, but then snapped them back as if he’d been stung. He gripped the counter, his fingertips turning white with tension.

  “It’s okay,” I said gently. “I promise.”

  My fingers went to work, removing his shirt and exploring his body in ways that had previously scared me. He trembled under my touch but barely moved from his position against the counter. Then, finally, his moan morphed into a growl as his hands left the counter and hovered next to my body, just beside my hips. He was reaching, but not quite touching.

  I found this encouraging. I lowered my hands and undid my bra. My breasts chilled in the air and my skin rippled with excitement. Then I pulled at his belt. Soon his pants and boxers were around his ankles.

  His gaze found mine. He took my face in his hands. “Are you sure about this?”

  I nodded. “Oh, yes.”

  He stepped out of his pants and, pulling him by the shoulders, I ushered him out of the kitchen and onto the sofa in the living room. He looked uncertain, but I could see he was ready for me. At least, his body was ready, even if he was hesitant about what might happen.

  I gently pushed him down. With only the slightest bit of force he sat on the sofa, watching me with eyes so wide that I stroked his cheek to reassure him. “I’m okay. I am.”

  He was about to say something, but I put my fingers to his mouth and then I slid my pants and panties off. I watched as he swallowed thickly, his mouth slightly ajar.

  Keeping him sitting on the sofa, I straddled him and gripped the sofa on either side of his shoulders.

  He breathed heavily. His eyes grew hungry. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Then, sliding down, I took him inside me without hesitation. Pushing my body deeper, I pressed him within until he filled me.

  We both gasped. His hands went to my hips and squeezed.

  I sat still for a moment, feeling him inside. He was motionless, his fingers gripping me as if he would slip and fall off a cliff.

  Then, closing my eyes to savor the sensation of him, I rocked my pelvis and the sensations multiplied, becoming twice as strong. Each time I repeated the motion, the power of it amplified.

  Ric moaned with pleasure. His hands pushed me down again, bringing himself in deeper. I shuddered at the power of it, moving back and forth, a little faster, so I could feel him again and again, filling me up.

  It was marvelous.

  Something was different. I couldn’t tell what, but this time every inch of my body was my own to do with what I pleased. And it was. Maybe I’d just realized that. Maybe for the first time, my body was mine. And so was his.

  I quickened my pace, moving my hips faster still, adding to the intensity. Ric moaned again, and I broke into a sweat. A slick ran down my shoulder blades and I tipped my head back, letting my hair dip down my body.

  “Oh, my God,” Ric whispered. His hands left my hips and grasped the contours of my ass, kneading my skin.

  I groaned with pleasure. Maintaining the rhythm for several minutes, I varied the speed and intensity as it pleased me. I experimented with what felt good, and what was even better. It was empowering.

  Ric let me control the pace. He writhed under me and his face contorted as if he was in pain. He clasped my breasts, squeezing them in his fingers. His thumbs ran across my nipples, back and forth, and they hardened in his hands. Then he leaned forward and sucked on them, nipping with his teeth. My body clenched against him.

  An energy pulsed. Someplace deep inside me, like molten lava, a pressure swelled. It pulsed so strongly, so powerfully and so intoxicatingly, it surged through the top of my body and down, pushing its way out. I cried out as I exploded.

  “Oh, God!”

  The pulse ricocheted around my body like a fireball, making every nerve in my body beg for more. I grabbed hold of Ric for dear life.

  He grunted, then pushed his feet into the floor, lifting his hips off the sofa. I rocked forward and dug my hands into his hair. His lips sucked at my collarbone then bit me lightly on the neck. His tongue glided up and swooped into my mouth.

  I greedily tasted him as I shook with pleasure and shock.

  More!

  I couldn’t stop. My body took over my mind.

  As Ric gripped my hair and sucked on my breasts, his hands explored every inch of me. I kept going—pulsing like I never had in my life. The overpowering sensation pushed through me, curling my toes. For a few moments I held my breath, grasping on to him as if I might die but unwilling to let the feeling stop. Then he arched his hips underneath me and cried out as he burst.

  I let out my breath, as did he, and then we relaxed onto the sofa cushions and each other, silent, panting. I laid my forehead against his shoulder, and he reached up and stroked my face. We remained that way, gasping for air.

  When we were finally able to speak, he kissed the top of my head. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Jesus Christ, Naya.”

  I nodded. “I know.” I looked up, into his eyes. They glistened like emeralds and shot wide with shock and amusement when I spoke next. “Let’s do it again.”

  Chapter Nineteen

 
At first, I couldn’t place exactly what it was that felt so different. We lay in bed together after an hour of bodily exploration—me, wrapped in Ric’s arms, and him, snoring louder than a bulldozer. I stared at the ceiling and tried to pinpoint the moment when I’d become someone else.

  Fresh.

  A newer version of me.

  The only thing I could think of was the playground. Something about those happy kids had changed me.

  Forever.

  We weren’t in Auberge anymore; that was obvious. Somehow the sight of pure joy had made me into someone else. It had showed me a possibility I’d never known existed.

  But then again, it just as easily could have been the banquet with Marc’s mother. Or maybe, thinking further back, it had been in the forest outside Auberge.

  All I knew was that inside those walls, I was a girl from the Line, and I was tainted, not only with the stigma that came with where and how I was sold, but also what I did when I was there.

  But in Flora, I was none of those things.

  If my first impressions were correct, in Flora, my time on the Line was considered honorable. As if I’d spent time unjustly imprisoned by the enemy, a prisoner of war. I was to be revered for my bravery and endurance of spirit, not condemned for being unwanted and sold.

  I wanted to believe that.

  Through the windows of the bedroom, I saw the sun, high. Watching. It beamed in the sky, and I tried to feel worthy of its light. There was no need to hide in the shadows here.

  It wasn’t perfect liberty, but it was closer than I’d ever known.

  If only the girls, and Shirel, could be in the light too.

  I sighed and rolled over, pulling my foot out from under the covers and letting it sit, exposed to the bright, cool air.

  In Flora, my daughters would have names. Actual legal identities. Lives. They could go to school, like normal children. They could play outside, have friends. They could live in a world that wasn’t overrun with garbage and they wouldn’t be at risk of getting kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder.

  I wanted that for them so badly I felt my throat close.

  As my eyelids grew heavy, I concentrated on what I’d say to Premier in a few hours. There had to be a way to convince her to retrieve the girls. I wasn’t sure what that something was, but I knew I was willing to do just about anything so that they could feel what I was feeling.

  Light.

  * * *

  A few hours later, showered, fed and wearing fresh Flora clothing, Marc escorted us from the apartment and deposited us inside a van beside Trev. As we zoomed smoothly along the boulevards and avenues, Trev fed us information about Flora in his usual chipper and friendly manner.

  According to him, the territory had been purchased by the Flora Corporation around the same time as Auberge and was ruled by an elected premier. However, instead of maintaining direct control over the economy, as Auberge had done, Flora quickly established a carefully monitored capitalistic society, complete with a Parliament, Premier and a Military Command.

  We drove by a busy railway station, he pointed out, along with two art museums and the main production offices of the ‘net, which produced the newsfeeds and reported on world events.

  “What?” Ric gaped. He’d been mostly quiet while Trev went on and on about the virtues of Flora, but at the mention of world news he’d sat bolt upright on the bench. “You mean, you have communication with the rest of the planet?”

  Trev blinked at this. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’d always heard Auberge was cut off from us, but it never occurred to me you were also closed off from the rest of the world too. What would you like to know first?”

  We sat with our mouths open for a moment. The scope of our ignorance was so vast, I didn’t think either of us knew where to begin. “How many corporations are there?” I asked.

  Trev pursed his lips and his eyes shot to the ceiling as though he was mentally calculating. “In the world? Too many to list. But in this hemisphere, we have fourteen sovereign corporations. All at peace, and have been since they began. Although, Blankenship Corp purchased Telegroup in what some would have called a hostile takeover, but that was half a century ago and it’s been quiet ever since. So there used to be fifteen, but now, just the fourteen. Anyway, it’s really the corporations in the desert regions that are always fighting and reestablishing borders. It’s a bit tiresome really.”

  “What type of corporation is Flora?” Ric asked.

  “Well, it used to be a trading company, stocks and bonds and currency and what have you. That was back before the governmental economic crashes, though. But I guess you could say the same about it now. Flora City is the trading capitol of the hemisphere, to tell the truth. And I’m not just saying that because I live here.”

  “So, you’re investors and bankers,” Ric said.

  “Yes, but we also have a flourishing mining zone and a couple of farming zones. The farming zone out in Vania grows killer cocoa, and there’s one of the major universities here in Flora too. Out in Chusettes. Known worldwide. See, the major difference you’re going to have to get used to is that there’s no wall. Sure, you need documentation in order to travel to another corporation, but there’s nothing stopping you from going. The corporations are run more like the countries of ancient Europe. Different currencies, and some speak other languages, but we’re all part of the same continent, so we might as well trade what we have with each other, and travel, and cross-educate. In fact, after university I spent a summer in General Equipment Company, out to the west, studying special weaponry. And we have lots of people who come to Flora City for the annual art exhibition at those two museums I showed you back there. Anyway, Auberge was really the only corporation that didn’t want anything to do with anybody else.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I still don’t get why they did that.”

  Trev shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But now you can see why there’s been such a worldwide outcry after news of Auberge’s biological weapon was discovered. I mean, the rest of us get along just fine. But if Auberge really tried, they could wipe out the whole planet with that weapon. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And why? What did we ever do to them?”

  This was unsettling. “The whole world knows what Auberge is planning?” If they’d known, why hadn’t they done something to stop them?

  Trev nodded. “Yeah, they had a peace summit last spring to discuss how Flora is going to handle it.”

  Ric turned a bit pale. “And how are they going to handle it?”

  Trev wagged his eyebrows. “That’s why you’re meeting Premier.”

  “Trev,” I said, feeling anxious about what I was about to ask. “If Flora knew about the bio-toxin, they knew about the slaves too, didn’t they? And the conditions inside Auberge? Did the whole world know what was happening inside and do nothing to help us?”

  Trev’s face contorted as he struggled to find words. He shrugged, then opened his mouth and quickly shut it. Finally he said, “Yeah. We knew. At one point Flora offered to take ownership over the territory, but Auberge wouldn’t agree to a settlement.”

  Ric’s face flushed and I looked away, out the window.

  It always came down to credits, didn’t it? Over twenty million souls left to wallow in a crumbling trash heap, all because Auberge couldn’t agree on a sale price.

  I couldn’t decide who to be more angry with—Auberge, or Flora.

  Petty squabbles over money, and an entire land left to suffer.

  The van arrived at a domed building. The Capitol. Trev stood and opened the door for us. He led us to an open courtyard with a large water fountain, then through a grand hall with polished metal floors and large painted works of art hanging on the walls in boxy black metal frames.

  Through that grand hall, we followed him across a
meeting area and then to two large wooden doors that opened by themselves as we approached.

  Inside was an office with a large window, posh furnishings and an emblem on the carpet on a sleek black, metallic floor.

  The emblem was a gigantic backward F. I assumed it was the Flora logo.

  Sitting behind the desk was a woman.

  Trev saluted, tapped his fist against his heart, then turned on his heels and left Ric and me standing on the giant F. The doors closed behind him.

  The woman stood, surveying us. Gently placing her fingers on the richly stained desktop, her fingernails turned white as she pressed down. She had light brown skin and when she straightened, we saw long dark hair pulled into a tight, low bun. Her mouth was smiling as she came toward us, her hand extended. But the smile didn’t reach her dark eyes.

  “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. I hope your stay in Flora has been comfortable thus far?” She shook my hand, then grinned and shook Ric’s too. “Dr. Bennett, a pleasure.”

  Ric nodded and grinned back. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” she said, leading us to a yellow upholstered sofa in a sitting area beside her desk.

  We sat.

  Ric took my hand.

  “Now, how has your stay been so far? Is your security detail providing adequate protection for you?” The woman sat across from us in a high-backed padded chair and crossed her hands over her knees like our personal safety was of the utmost importance to her, but the movement felt forced. Scripted, even. Her smile was too wide and her eyes were too bright.

  I got the sense she was performing. It made me even more uneasy.

  Ric squeezed my hand.

  “Everybody’s been great,” I said finally. “Thank you.”

  She nodded as if it was exactly what she expected me to say. “Great. Great.”

  Just then, a plump woman wearing a blue business suit entered. She carried a large tablet under her arm. “Premier,” the woman said, raising the tablet. “When you’re ready.”