“He’s with a lottery winner right now, if you must know,” she says. “A very beautiful one.”
My mouth falls open and the tears instantly prick my eyes. “Why are you being like this?”
She gives a slight shake of her head. “Someone has to save you from yourself, darling. It looks like it’s up to me.”
I look around the room desperately, looking for my escape. Langley and Petite stand in the corner, watching my mother and me. My heart picks up its pace. I back away from her.
“What’s going on, Mother? Are you mixed up in something you shouldn’t be? I don’t trust Pandora,” I say between my clenched teeth. “And Laticus, they’re trying to…”
She clamps her hand over my mouth. “There are ears everywhere. Stop. Talking.”
Tears run down my cheeks. She drops her hand and dabs my tears with her lace-edged hankie. My mom has pretty linens for every occasion. She tucks it away in her pocket and looks at me with a concerned smile. I’m so confused.
“You need to leave,” she says.
I shake my head. “I need to talk to Laticus and I want to see Folsom. I’m not leaving until I see him.”
She frowns. “You have to—”
“Attention, everyone,” Petite says in a microphone. “This is such a special night. We have Laticus Donahue in our midst, his first night at a party, and he’s with us, the Red Region! We are so honored, Laticus,” she says, beaming at him. “And we have a surprise for all of you here…step up, ladies…” Three young girls move next to her, one of them being Charity, who is in the most elaborate dress of the room. All of them smile proudly.
My heart sinks.
“Let’s give a round of applause to our handsome, young Laticus. He has already successfully impregnated not one, not two, but three Red Regionals.”
The crowd goes crazy, cheering, clanging glasses together. No one looks more surprised than Laticus. He meets my gaze across the room and his shoulders sag for a moment.
If the inseminations are working again and they’ve already started using his sperm to impregnate the young ones, it’s only a matter of time before they send him out…with or without Folsom’s consent. It’s a well-documented fact that there’s a higher success rate with the one-on-ones, and the Society—and the Regions—won’t want to lose all the funding they get from the parties. The inseminations will help, but they won’t put an end to all this hoopla. I jerk away from my mother and run out of the hall. I start opening doors…it’s all offices and conference rooms. I have to find Folsom. I’ll deal with the awkwardness of what I might see when I get there. He has to know what they’re doing with Laticus. When the Black Region gets word of this, all hell will break loose. I hear steps scuffling behind me and turn around. Langley stands facing me, just the two of us in the room. She has something in her hand, but I’m too far to make out what it is. The look on her face terrifies me, though. She drops whatever it is and smoke billows around her.
“Fire,” she yells, glancing over her shoulder. “FIRE!”
I stare at her, bewildered, and she drops something else before taking off toward the auditorium. Flames quickly engulf the space between the two of us.
“Fire,” she yells into the room, turning once more to look at me, a smile on her face. “Security!”
I can hear screams in the main auditorium from where I’m standing. I run away from the fire, even though everything in me wants to run toward where I saw Laticus. I have to trust that the Region officials will see to him. For now, I have to protect my baby.
TWENTY-SEVEN
FOLSOM
I’ve been in a dark room most of the day, an IV in my arm, hopped up on whatever stimulant keeps me hard for days. It’s been years since they’ve done this to me. I’ve learned to be cooperative. The last punishment was three days.
The effects of the drugs are erotic and torturous all rolled into one. They stimulate my brain to make me think I’m having sex, but I’m connected to a machine, my semen being harvested into little glass vials. My heart beats angrily in my chest, overworked by the drug. They’ll use what they take to artificially inseminate women who are willing to pay for this second-rate service. It is considered a less prestigious route to pregnancy; the poor can afford it. My eyes are covered and my mouth is gagged. I hurt all over, and I’m hoarse from yelling at the guards, but my cock is working independently from my brain. In the early years, the men were given a choice: be harvested or fuck the way nature intended. They promised us every luxury, a life of extravagance. It was an easy choice. Our presence in society boosted morale, replaced panic with hope. The women had us as a solution to the problem, which stilled their panic. So the Society paraded us around, sold us in exchange for compliance and peace. Our compliance was not given any thought. We were the property of the Regions.
What would my mother say…my father?
The shame is a second skin. I don’t know where it ends and where I begin; I’ve been wearing it so long. Gwen. I can’t stand to think of her right now, when moans are grinding into my flesh like little pinpricks, but she’s all I see. Her pink pussy taking in my cock inch by inch. I groan and pump harder. If I can come quickly, maybe it will be over. My head rolls side to side. God, please. I hope the sperm are alive today.
TWENTY-EIGHT
GWEN
I’m coughing by the time I reach Sera. She looks relieved to see me.
“Hurry!” I choke out.
She speeds out of the parking lot, leaving the mayhem in the dust. The compound is quiet when she parks, and I walk briskly through the courtyard. A wind blows as I pass the fountain and I feel the fine mist kiss my face. I walk through each of the rooms looking for Folsom, calling his name and already knowing he isn’t here. And after searching most of the hall, I’m not sure he was there either. Hours pass and I stand in the upstairs window, watching the gate, one hand clutched around my belly, as if I’m trying to shield my baby from all of this. He hasn’t responded to any of my messages. Something is wrong.
Around one in the morning, when he still hasn’t come back, I find my Silverbook and start typing. By six, hundreds of people have responded and the outcry of a missing Folsom is growing with each minute. At eight, two police officers come for me, saying I have to go to the station. Sera, Robin, and Krystal stand in a cozy group, watching me go. They look relieved.
“Do you know where Folsom Donahue is?” I ask the officers repeatedly.
One of the officers finally speaks up when we pull up to an abandoned building. “This does not concern Mr. Donahue. Worry about yourself.”
“This isn’t the station. Where are you taking me?” I’m dragged into the dark building and taken to a sparse room that has a table, one chair, and a couch, and I’m left there to wait and wait and wait. I bang on the door to tell them I’m hungry and a guard gives me a banana muffin and sunflower seeds, which does nothing to abate the hunger. When the door is finally unlocked, my mother and Pandora walk in.
“Mother,” I say, standing up, relieved. “Why am I being held in here?”
She looks at me sadly and I feel the panic build.
“I never dreamed you’d do such a thing,” she says. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“What—what have I done?” I put my hand on her arm and she pulls away, moving closer to Pandora.
“We have a witness that says you started the fire at the hall last night,” Pandora says.
“No! It was Langley!” I yell. “I saw her do it.”
Pandora shakes her head. “Langley was with me all evening. I can testify to that when the time comes.”
I stare at her, wide-eyed. “You’re lying. Mother, she’s lying. You know I wouldn’t do something like this!”
“This…man—he’s changed you, Gwen. I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” Her eyes are ablaze. She doesn’t look like my mother. I glance at Pandora who stands back, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “You’ve become a zealot who is going against everything I’ve
raised you to believe,” my mother says. “I can’t stand by and watch you become this person.” She moves to the door and knocks twice.
“Don’t leave me in here, not with her!” I plead with her. “I want a lawyer…”
The door opens and she walks out. I’m left alone with the governor.
“I have the right to a lawyer,” I repeat. My heart is throbbing in my throat. I choke down my panic.
“No need for drama, you haven’t been arrested. Yet. Here’s what will happen,” she says, leaning against the wall with her feet crossed. “I’ve managed to talk the police into letting you stay at the mansion while they conduct their investigation. It’s an unfortunate thing, Gwen, that you can’t be trusted with that precious, precious gift you’ve been given.” She glances at my stomach, and my skin crawls. She scratches her hand and flakes of skin rain down like confetti. “But the second you start causing trouble again, charges of arson will be filed against you.”
I slam my fist on the table. “Someone else started that fire. Don’t you want to find the person who really did it?”
“Everyone thinks you set the fire in that ridiculous show of jealousy.” She tsks at me. My cheeks burn and I fist my hands under the table. “Honestly, Gwen,” she shakes her head, “—with your little schoolgirl crush. It’s pathetic.”
I want to jump to my feet and slap her in the face, but I know they’re watching me. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’m about to tell her so when she narrows her eyes, a cruel smile on her lips.
“Do you think that he loves you? He’s an End Man. It’s his job to charm women. You’re no different than the rest of the little whores he fucks. That’s what your measly followers will believe after word spreads about what you did…you’re nobody.” She taps on the door. “You’re free to go and collect some of your things. You’ll be expected at the mansion by this afternoon at two. If we have to come looking for you, you’ll be arrested.”
One of the officers drives me back, not saying a word during the drive. When we reach the compound, I walk into the bedroom I’ve shared with Folsom. I check the Silverbook and feel sick that he still hasn’t responded. I write a note explaining that I’m being forced to stay at Pandora’s and wish I could trust that he’ll get the message. I don’t bother going online to see what’s going on because I know the propaganda against me has probably already started. I’m beginning to see how it all operates. I wish I hadn’t been so blind before now. How long has my mom been this deceived? Krystal and Sera and several of the others are watching as I take my things to the car. No one offers to help. No one says a word. Any generosity exhibited to me during my stay was contingent on Folsom being around. Without him, I am—as Pandora so kindly put it—nobody.
A couple of hours before I’m due at the house, I drive out to Genome Y and am denied entrance.
“I work here,” I say to the guard. “You know me.”
She shakes her head, but not unkindly. “I’m afraid you don’t work here anymore. I can’t grant you access without clearance.”
Maybe they think stripping me of everything will shut me up. Maybe that would’ve worked on me a long time ago, but that girl is gone. My mom might have spoken the truth—I have changed. But it has nothing to do with a man and everything to do with fighting for what is right. I find a printing shop and make copies of the files I brought home from the lab yesterday and put the copies in a safe deposit box. After that, I drive straight to Governor Petite’s mansion and submit myself. It goes against everything inside me to cave to Petite’s demands, but I can’t be any help to Folsom if I’m in jail. And I’m convinced more than ever that he needs me.
I’m escorted into the house, and a small group stands in the foyer, presumably to make sure I won’t do a runner. When my mother sees me, she looks at me resignedly and backs out of the room. Governor Petite and Langley stand to my right, both smug. My eyes narrow on them and I hold myself as tall as I can. Why is Langley here? None of this feels right.
Sophia is given the task of leading me to my room. Always ready to play the big sister role. I remember following her when we were little girls, playing school and store and doctor and lawyer. Two years younger, I was the one who came up with the ideas, and she always played the most important role. I never minded so long as she was playing with me. I wanted to please her, but my very existence was an underlying aggravation for her. I learned early on that I would never be able to do things quite right for her, and eventually that need to please eased into independence. It seemed to annoy her further when we were in middle school and I no longer trailed behind, wanting her attention. By the time I went to high school, I stayed out of her way, and we’ve maintained a shaky peace for the past decade. That seems to be over. She’s blatant with her disdain today. I’m kind of glad to finally have it out in the open.
“You’ve embarrassed this family. Keep your head down, Gwen.”
“Which family?” I jump in. “Pandora’s or ours? Because it seems to me a lot of things have changed lately, including you and Mother.”
“You’re the one who’s changed,” she shoots back. “It’s like you care about those men more than the rest of us. The rest of everyone,” she emphasizes. “Don’t forget, Gwen, that these men you love so much are the ones responsible for this mess we’re in. They had control of this world for thousands of years and they didn’t do anything but take from us, use us, and suppress us. ‘The age of women,’ as you call it, is finally here. And most of us couldn’t be happier about it.”
“You can’t hold twelve men responsible for an entire gender, Sophia.” Our faces are close now, our eyes trying to kill each other, though our bodies remain composed.
“We are. All twelve Regions and the rest of the world. They will give back what they took from us. Every single one of them, your precious Folsom included.”
“What about my son? Your nephew?” I place a hand on my stomach to emphasize my point.
“You know this is the way it is. When the time comes, he will pay the price of being born a man.” She begins to walk to the door. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I hear they’re compensated quite nicely. Laticus has chosen black for his jet, just like his father’s.”
I stare at her, keeping the expression from my face. I don’t want her to know how much I care. They’ll use it against me.
“He will be taking over his father’s appointments, by the way. Since Folsom is non-compliant, they’ve had to strap him to that harvesting machine.”
I’m shaken. I feel like I need to sit, but I can’t move my feet. All I can hear are Sophia’s cruel words, meant to hurt me.
I stare around the room I’m to be a prisoner in, not really seeing anything. My mind is filled with Folsom. The machines, I’ve heard of the machines. They were experimental, used in the early days to check the remaining males for live sperm. They were deemed inhumane by all twelve Regions. I can’t bear to think of him strapped to one of those.
“Why do you hate me?” It’s meant as an honest question. Sophia stops, her hand on the door. I don’t expect her to answer me, but then she does and her answer gives me chills.
“Because everything comes so easily to you. It’s just not fair.”
The door clicks closed and I’m left in my prison. Me and my son.
TWENTY-NINE
GWEN
During the next three months my son saves my life. A tiny unborn savior. I eat because of him, I sleep because of him, I do not throw myself from the roof of the mansion because of him. My stomach has swollen to a small round bump, evidence that the last five months have not been a dream. The torment of not knowing where Folsom is, or if he’s okay, is almost too much to bear. I check the daily news reports for word of him, but they’ve restricted my Internet use so that I’m only able to view without commenting. Pandora wants me to see what people are saying about me after the fire. And some have said I’m guilty, they’ve called me all manner of names, and have accused me of being obsessed with
Folsom to the point of endangering my baby. But, there are others, others who suspect the Society and the President have framed me. Websites have popped up, blogs, where people are still talking about both me and the End Men, calling for change. Sometimes at dinner I catch Pandora staring at me, a thoughtful expression on her face, like she’s trying to figure out how to handle me. They thought that if they made me disappear, the uprising would disappear with me, but it has not.
I am treated as a prisoner, watched all hours of the day and night, if not by my sister and mother then by Langley, who clings to the walls of the Governor's Mansion like a house fly. I overhear my mother and Pandora talking about her as I pass the living room one evening, their voices thick from the wine they drank during dinner. Three glasses each by my count. Langley’s night with Folsom did not end in a pregnancy. Pandora recounts this to my mother with sadness in her voice and I don’t know if it’s real; she is whoever she’s expected to be. I feel sick when my mother tuts her sympathy. Langley is a snake; a baby increases her social standing. My relief that she’s not carrying Folsom’s baby whooshes out of me, and I shove a hand over my mouth, afraid they’ve heard. I’ve wondered at Pandora’s attachment to Langley for a long time.
“She could try again,” my mother says. “Now that they have a supply from him. The doctors might be more successful…”
Pandora doesn’t say anything. I imagine her nodding, taking a sip of her drink thoughtfully. My back pressed against the wall, knees bending, I clutch at my chest squeezing my eyes closed. If I knew where they had him…
What? I ask myself. What could you do?
It’s then that I remember the night in my bedroom; a stranger sitting on a chair at the foot of my bed. My mouth opens and I find myself nodding like someone has just suggested something to me. Kasper. The button. After the scare with the baby and then playing house with Folsom, I didn’t remember to give it to him, and I was so shaken the day I had to come to the mansion, I didn’t think about it then either. How could I forget? I’d left it among my things at the house. In a drawer or…under the mattress? It feels like a lifetime ago that he placed it in my palm. If I pressed it, would Kasper come? Would they do the same thing to him if he was caught helping Folsom? Pressing it would no doubt put him at risk. I have to be entirely sure it’s something I’m willing to do.
Folsom (The End of Men Book 1) Page 17