Jackal

by Tarryn Fisher

“I am Gwen Allison. The Society stole my baby from me and gave him to another woman.”

  The view changes, and now Tahira is sitting on the stool, her hands pressed together between her knees. The camera has stripped her of the brash cockiness, and she looks younger.

  “I am Tahira.” She glances past the camera to the person holding it and then looks away, biting her lip. “The Society stole my baby and gave him to a different family.”

  Again, the person switches. A girl, with light hair and dark eyes. “I am Chevelle. When my baby was three weeks old, the Society broke into my home and took her….”

  Unlike the first two, Chevelle holds up a photo of a tiny infant. Her eyes are heavy with tears, and before the view switches to a new face, the tears spill down her cheeks. She drops so that you can no longer see her face, shoulders convulsing as she sobs.

  It goes on and on like this as girl after girl sits on the stool, telling their stories, the scuffed white wall behind them. They say their names and the names of their stolen babies, some holding up photos, while others stare hollow-eyed at the camera. It continues like this through at least thirty girls, until Gwen’s face is in front of the camera again. The lens is zoomed in on her face.

  “My name is Gwen Allison,” she says again. “The Society took my baby and gave him to a woman named Langley Starter.”

  The camera pans out and Gwen is sitting on the stool, this time with something in her arms.

  “But I took him back.”

  As if on cue, Rebel’s arm breaks free from the blanket and he raises one tiny fist into the air. The smile on Gwen’s face is unmistakable.

  “We’re here to tell you that we won’t let you have our children. Not anymore. When you steal our babies, we won’t stop until we find them and take them back.”

  The screen suddenly goes black. The video is over. I lean back in my seat blinking hard. Gwen had help putting it together, her plan to expose the Society for kidnapping now being watched by every household across the Regions. Whether she makes good on her threat or not is to be seen, but I know one thing for sure—they are scared of her. The bounty on her head has increased; the Statehead is now offering a million for her capture.

  I grip my bottom lip between my teeth and shake my head. Gwen, Folsom, Phoenix—me—we’ve started something, and the Regions will no doubt be in a complete uproar.

  THIRTY-TWO

  JACKAL

  Fennec foxes are faithful and live with their families.

  I arrive at the house to find the front door wide open, and a strange car is in the driveway. My stomach clenches as I run through the door calling Phoenix’s name.

  “I’m here! I’m fine!” she calls from the kitchen. I find her on her knees, rooting through a cabinet. She pulls out an old coffee tin and flips off the lid. Inside I see wads of money, a few gold trinkets I can’t make out because she shuts it quickly and looks up at me like she’s been caught.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m in trouble,” she says.

  “What do you mean? What kind of trouble?”

  She’s on her feet jamming the coffee tin into an open bag on the kitchen table.

  “The authorities are coming here.”

  “Whoa! Whoa!” I say, grabbing her by the arm. “Come here.” I wrap my arms around her and she lets me but only for a second. “I’ve missed you. What are you talking about?”

  It’s the middle of the night, the only time I thought I might get away with seeing her. After the video of Gwen, I had to see her. Nordice tracks me all day long, like a hound following a scent, but “we” had a few drinks tonight and she was sleeping soundly when I got out of there.

  Phoenix’s eyes are wild when she looks at me. “They’re questioning everyone from the party. It’s only a matter of time before they come to the house.”

  “Gwen’s gone?”

  She nods. “She wanted to tell you goodbye, but…”

  I swallow hard, my heart heavy. “I wish I’d seen her…all three of them, actually. I’m glad she got out of here, but Foley will have my ass for not knowing where she went. As long as she’s safe. The police can’t prove anything. We’ll just clean the place up; they’ll never know—”

  “It’s not the police, Jackal. It’s the SI.”

  “What? Why would the Statehead Investigators be coming here?”

  She looks at me, mouth open, but nothing comes out.

  “Shit,” I say. “Are you for real?” I run a hand through my hair.

  She nods.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “They’re at their other place.”

  “Okay,” I say. “That’s good. Who told you?”

  She looks away. “Sean.”

  Goddamn that piece of shit. I’m going to smash his fucking head in.

  “He’s trying to scare you,” I tell her.

  “He wouldn’t do that. Sean cares about me.”

  “If he cares about you, why didn’t he cover for you?”

  She pauses, her fingers caressing a photo frame. “He would have,” she says. “But I wouldn’t agree to his terms.” She shoves the frame into the bag and moves to a drawer, yanking it open.

  “And what exactly were his terms?” I ask.

  “Just forget about it, Jackal.”

  I grab her by the shoulders and spin her around to see tears streaming down her face.

  “Tell me,” I say firmly. “Phoenix Moyo, tell me, goddamnit.”

  “He wants me to be with him,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “He’d offer me protection if we could be together.”

  I grind my teeth, the urge to punch something so strong I squeeze her too hard and she yelps.

  “That self-serving son of a bitch.”

  Phoenix shrugs. “It is what it is. The SI will be here soon,” she says softly. “I need to get the rest of my things.”

  I step aside to allow her access, watching helplessly as she packs up the home she loves.

  “If you leave now, while they’re wanting to question you, they’re going to put a bounty on your head.”

  “I know,” she says. “Gwen is headed west. To the Green. I’m going after her.”

  “You’re going to give up everything? Everything you’ve worked for, to follow a band of outlaws? What about your career, your mothers?” I want to ask—what about me?

  She stops what she’s doing and cups my cheek with her hand. Her skin is cool and I close my eyes when she touches me.

  “None of it means anything to me, Jackal. My mothers have always been their own unit; they’ll be fine. I understand them more than I ever have, which I’m grateful for...it helps. But Gwen, Rebel, all the other babies—they mean something. The people who can’t help themselves, they mean something to me. I have to do this. This is who I want to be, not some timed-out ballerina with an eating disorder.” She drops her hand from my face and lifts the bag to her shoulder.

  “If the SI comes here, they’ll be able to look at their satellite footage and see everything that’s happened in the house,” I say. “Including the conversation we just had about Gwen and where you’re going.”

  “I know that,” she says quietly.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I'll be careful.” She turns to me and leans her forehead on my chest. I wrap my arms around her head and lean my nose into her hair.

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I’m not—”

  “Phoenix...I love you,” I cut in. My voice is gruffer than I intended and I want to swallow the words back up, but they’re out there now, and I mean them.

  She leans back and grins. “I know.”

  “Say you love me, little thief.” When she doesn’t answer, I glare at her. “Say it.”

  “I’ll wait. It’ll give us a good reason to find each other again.”

  I lean down and kiss her neck softly. “Okay,” I say. “I can live with that.”

  We stand j
ust outside of the front door, holding hands. In my free hand, I hold the empty gas container. I watch as Phoenix lights a match and bends down to touch it to the gas. The trail we made ignites into a sudden burst of flames, catching the trail and speeding toward the house in a hot-tongued frenzy. The curtains catch first and then the furniture. We watch in silence as the flames lap over the beautiful wood floors and head for the stairs. Phoenix doesn’t close her eyes, not even once. I wouldn’t have been able to watch something I love burn to the ground, but she stands there—shoulders squared, chin up—and takes it all in with boldfaced resolution.

  “Phoenix,” I say, unable to tear my eyes away from her. “I’m sorry.”

  I hear her sigh before her head swivels to look at me. “Don’t be. My grandfather would agree with what I’m doing. He’d sacrifice a thousand houses to do the right thing.”

  “We have to get out of here,” I say. It hurts me to say it because getting out of here means I have to say goodbye to Phoenix, goodbye with no idea of whether we’ll ever have another hello.

  She throws her arms around my neck, and I clutch her against me hard.

  “Come with me,” she says.

  “You’re someone of interest to them, Phoenix. I’m someone they own. If I leave with you, they’ll launch a Regionwide search. We’ll be caught before we get out of the Blue. They won’t let another End Man slip from their grasp that easily.”

  She nods, biting back tears. “I know,” she says. “I just…”

  “—This will end one day. I’ll get to you. Wait for me.”

  She smiles, shaking her head, her ponytail bouncing from side to side. “I’ll try. I have a real solid thing for Aries.”

  I scowl at her and she grips my face between her palms.

  “I love you,” she says, kissing me. “You’re the reason.”

  “The reason for what?” I ask when she lets go and starts to back up.

  She smiles at me mischievously.

  “The reason for what, Phoenix? Why do you do that?”

  She lifts a hand in a little wave and darts toward the car.

  It should make me feel like the luckiest man alive because that’s what I am if Phoenix Moyo loves me, but instead, it fills me with such dread, I stagger back as she pulls out of the driveway. When I see the taillights moving down the street, I bend over and get sick in the grass.

  Phoenix and Gwen aren’t the only ones who have work to do. Maybe they’re rubbing off on me, maybe I’m bored, but Kasper, Marcus, Foley, and Selfice are still missing. I have my own problem: there hasn't been a pregnancy in the Blue in six weeks. No doubt they’re coming for me next. I know that I can’t sit back and do nothing while everyone I love is doing something.

  I get in the car and the engine hums to life. I rub a hand across my chest, wondering what I last ate. I have terrible heartburn; the ache in my chest is almost unbearable. I can hear Phoenix’s voice in my head: That’s not heartburn, you idiot, that’s sadness…

  THIRTY-THREE

  JACKAL

  Female hyenas have a clitoris that’s so long it’s sometimes mistaken for a penis.

  When I get back to the compound, extra cars are parked in the side lot. I nearly turn around and go anywhere else...this can’t be good. I decide to be a man and face this—if anything, maybe I can be a distraction again for Phoenix. The longer they focus on me, the less they can focus on her. I climb out of the car, my shoes crunching on the gravel.

  Betsy is standing just inside the gate and rushes to me, taking me by the elbow.

  “There you are,” her words spill out. “We have guests. Where have you been?” She scolds me, as her eyes flit nervously around us.

  “Who’s inside?”

  “Well, Milly, for one.”

  My blood goes cold. I purse my lips, nodding slowly. “So they sent in the cavalry…”

  “Doctor Hildenburg is here too,” she whispers.

  Fuck me.

  “All right, Bets,” I say. “Get those chocolate cookies out. Milly double fists those.”

  It’s time to put on full Jackal. So help me, I will play the part of my lifetime.

  We step inside and I hear Nordice’s shrill voice. Surprise, surprise—she’s falling all over herself to attend to Milly and the doc.

  “Jackal,” Milly looks relieved to see me. She moves toward me, her shrewd eyes assessing.

  “Ladies! No one told me we were having a party today.” I lean in and give Milly a kiss on each cheek and turn to the doctor. “Doctor Hilly, you look luscious.” I level my eyes at her chest.

  I shrug out of my jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. The doctor’s color is wan, her cheeks thinner than usual. She rolls her eyes but looks like she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. It helps me breathe easier...until I look at Milly again.

  “The chef has prepared something for us,” Nordice says, leading us to the table.

  She makes to sit down next to me and Milly levels her with a look.

  “That will be all, Nordice. Thank you so much.”

  Nordice withers away and I decide to grant Milly a smile for that one.

  “So ladies…” I pick up my fork when a plate of salad is set in front of me. “Thank you.” I nod at yet another new face. “I’m actually really glad you’re here. As you know, I’ve been trying to have a conversation about all the new staffing going on around here.” My words come faster, as I fight to keep my voice from shaking. “I miss Selfice, something I never thought I’d say. Where is she anyway?”

  Milly’s lips disappear as she pinches them together. “Selfice has decided to retire from her handler position. Her time is up, I’m sad to say. But we have more important things to discuss, Jackal...such as, how have you been feeling lately? Have you made significant changes to your lifestyle recently? Drinking too much? Doctor Hildenburg and I need to go through your diet and lifestyle regimen to determine the problem.”

  “The problem?” I ask, eyes wide.

  “Your numbers have significantly dropped. Surely you recognize that. If this continues, we’ll have to admit you to one of the Genome Y labs…”

  “Is that where Marcus and Kasper have disappeared to?”

  Milly’s fork clatters next to her plate and we all stare at it for a moment, the room coming to a holy hush. When she glances back up, she gives me a tight smile that looks like it hurts.

  “Your job is to focus on you and your production level. Not to think about Marcus or Kasper or anyone else. Just you.”

  “That’s kind of hard to do when my friends are dropping right and left,” I tell her—the first honest thing I’ve said since I came in the room. It feels damn good. I decide to shed the act and go for the throat.

  Doctor Hildenburg jumps in. “I’d like to take your vitals and get a sperm sample while we’re here. Maybe I can assess something from that, without you having to go anywhere.”

  “You know...I’d rather not.” I push my plate back and lean my forearms on the table. “Here’s how it’s going to be. You assure me that Marcus and Kasper are safe and healthy, and I’ll keep the Regions happy. I’ve always been your best party guy, and I can continue playing my part. If not…” I lean forward and look Milly square in the eye. “Maybe it’s time we renegotiate.”

  She swallows and looks slightly shaken. She quickly reins it in and comes back with a snap to her words. “You don’t call the shots, Mr. Emerson. We do. And look how well it’s worked out for you all these years. We’re not leaving today without an evaluation...or I could always schedule time with the harvester, get the results that way.”

  “You have End Men dropping like flies. You think you’re still in control?” I laugh and her cheeks get splotchy with anger.

  She takes a deep breath and when she speaks, she sounds like she’s attempting to keep her voice even as well. “I must say, I’m disappointed with the turn this visit has taken. You’ve always been very...accommodating.” Her eyes sharpen. “My guess is this
is Mr. Donahue’s influence. Have you had contact with him? Can you tell us where he is?”

  “I haven’t had contact with Folsom, and if I did, you’d be the last people I’d tell.” I glance at my Silverbook. “I have an appointment to get to, ladies. Should I get to it, or should I make a little video of my own for the Regions?”

  “You’re testing my patience, Jackal,” she begins, when Nordice comes barreling into the room.

  “We have company,” she says, out of breath. “I tried to stop—”

  Milly stands up, looking flustered herself.

  Sean strolls in, hands in pockets, looking every bit the smug politician he is. What the fuck. I should have knocked him out when I had the chance.

  “Ms. Oppenheimer,” he says, shaking Milly’s hand. “And Doctor Hildenburg...so nice to have you in our Region. Welcome.” He steps forward and leans across the table, holding his hand out to me. “And there you are, Favorite End Man of the Blue…”

  I take his hand tentatively and shake it. “It’s a day full of surprises,” I say.

  “Indeed, it is. I hope I’m not interrupting, but it’s even better with you all here,” Sean says. “I have news that you’ll appreciate.”

  He squeezes Milly’s shoulder and she folds her napkin and sets it in her lap. Sean turns to me.

  “The Blue Region has decided to erect a statue in your honor, Mr. Emerson. For giving us joy in these oppressive times, and for being a constant source of hope and goodwill in the midst of the unrest our Regions are experiencing.” He looks at Milly again. “He’s probably too humble to tell you, but when I say he has kept the Blue Region together since he’s been here, I would not be exaggerating.”

  Milly’s head tilts as she listens, her bewilderment growing. Along with mine. I don’t know where the hell he’s going with this.

  “At your earliest convenience, we need you to sit for the artist.” His smile grows when he looks at me and then he puts his hand to his mouth. “Well, after your appointments, that is. I suppose since I’m the governor, I can give some leeway there, right?” He laughs at himself and we all stare at him.