I pat myself dry, wincing each time I touch one of the wounds on my back. I scavenge through the cupboards in the bathroom and find some cotton wool and bandages. It takes a lot of teeth gritting and quiet cursing to press the cotton wool against my back and then wrap the bandage around it. It’s awkward, because I try to wrap the bandage without moving my branded arm, for it stings horribly, and without tilting my whirling head too much. Eventually, I sit down on the lip of the tub, knowing if I stay standing I’m going to collapse. Poor Whil did very well to sit motionless while I bandaged his head all of those times. But even his head wound wasn’t this deep. At least I have the chance to keep this clean and avoid infection.
I slip into the clean clothes, revelling at the feeling of soft, clean fabric against my skin. The clothes consist of a pair of white underpants, a plain white sports bra, a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans.
White! Why is everything white? Isn’t white meant to be the colour of purity? How can they use innocent white and yet promote murder and rape at the same time?
Scoffing, I leave my bloody clothes in a pile in the bathroom. The lunatics who run this place can have the pleasure of washing them and seeing what they put Whil and me through. A horrible pang shoots through my heart each time I think of Whil. Has he been branded? Has he been introduced to his new “family”? I leave the bathroom quietly and go back to bedroom three, where I fall face first onto the bed and begin to cry.
The tears come thick and heavy and hot. I can’t control them. I thought I would be out of tears by now, but the thought of the horrible branding man hovering over me is fresh in my mind. My body has never endured such excruciating pain. Not to mention, the idea of Whil surrounded by women hankering for his attention sends ripples of both anger and sadness through my heart. Why couldn’t Warden just leave us together? Even Seiger could see that would have been easiest!
Isobelle doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t try to comfort me either. She just lets me cry into my pillow until the cushion is wet with tears. After ten minutes of bawling, the tears do run dry, and I lie sniffling. I must look like hell. I’m almost glad Whil isn’t here to see my downfall.
Lying on my belly, I bury my head into the pillows and gather the blankets around me like a soft, cushiony fort. I’m so physically and mentally worn out that my eyes slide closed and I’m just about to fall asleep when the loudspeaker in the top corner of our room starts blaring.
“Breakfast is ready. Miss Warden will be coming to talk to those living in Facility One in twenty minutes. Be assembled in the common room.”
Isobelle snorts. “Chin up, Freya. Don’t let ‘em see you been crying.”
I groan and sit up. Is it really breakfast? I forgot Seiger had captured us just last night. It feels so long ago. Drying my eyes and taking a stabilising breath, I try to put on a brave face.
Getting out of bed, Isobelle and I walk to the door and open it. A delicious array of scents wafts through the air and my eyes land on the marble kitchen counter. A feast sits waiting for us prisoners. There is a complete smorgasbord of foods: scrambled eggs in a metal pan, bacon and sausages piled high on a plate, sourdough toast slotted in a metal rack. There are glass jugs brimming with orange, apple, and tropical juice with drinking cups stacked beside them. The dishes stretch up the whole table and plates, knives and forks are set in front of each chair. Most of my fellow prisoners are sitting down already and have started eating. Isobelle and I head towards the end of the table and sit down at the only two empty seats. There is an auburn-haired woman with the face of an angel, who can only be a few years older than me, between Isobelle and me, and a man who is probably in his late twenties across from me.
“Hey new girl,” the beautiful woman says. “You’re looking a little beaten up.”
“No joke,” I mutter, helping myself to some toast and scrambled eggs. I fought against Warden, I fought against the branding man, I cried my heart out and now I am ravenous and deprived of energy. And I’m in no mood for playtime with the locals. I shovel food into my mouth, unconcerned by the surprised, almost disgusted looks I receive from those around me.
“Don’t be like that,” the auburn-haired girl says, pouring me a glass of apple juice and pushing it towards me with a kind smile. “I’m Madison. This here is Jacob.”
Ah! So this is the couple Warden was talking about—the ones who weren’t doing their job properly. I stab a rasher of bacon with my fork and look between the pair with growing interest, sure that if they aren’t following Warden’s orders they must be friends, not foes.
The man Jacob holds his hand out towards me, and I gingerly reach out and shake it. He is a reasonably attractive man but plain-looking at the same time; there are no features that would make him stand out to me in a crowd. He looks like he might have been in the army, judging by his close-shaven head and the muscles bulging in his arms. Madison, on the other hand, is anything but plain. She is very slender and her long red-brown hair is flecked with strands that look like pure sunlight. She has fair, flawless skin and big, bright green eyes. She looks like she could have been a model when commercialism had still existed.
“I’m Freya,” I tell the pair through a mouthful. I swallow and manage a small smile.
“I’m sure Isobelle’s given you a bit of a rundown,” Madison says, touching my young roommate on the shoulder fondly. “But let me make it simple for you. Everyone here is okay except for Felix, over there.”
Discretely, she nods towards the opposite end of the table where a tall, lanky, yet obviously powerful man sits. He has mousy brown hair and very dark, almost black, eyes. His lean arms are folded over his chest and a hard, steely expression on his pointed, rat-like face. Two women sit beside him and look at him with big, gooey eyes like he is some sort of God. I cannot imagine anyone less Godly than the gangly, haughty man I see.
As if he feels me watching, his shadowy eyes dart to mine and a chill steals over my body. We hold one another’s gaze for a long time and I feel understanding course between us. Not the comforting understanding Whil and I had while in the Alps together; when we knew we were both trapped and needed one another. This understanding I have with Felix is a completely different sensation and it frightens me. I know instantly to stay away from him and his glassy stare says, watch your back. I look down at my food, feeling a rash of goosebumps course over my body. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so immediately intimidated by someone.
“Stay away from him, Freya. The two girls sitting beside him aren’t friendly, but they won’t hurt you. Felix will. He’s exactly what these people want in a B. Aggressive and forceful. We haven’t seen him do anything bad yet but he will when he gets,” she shrugs, unable to say the words, “you know.”
“Hmm,” I say, unimpressed. “He’d be in prison if we lived in our old world.”
“Better get used to it,” Madison says with a shrug. “Jacob here protects us but there is only so much he will be able to do eventually.”
“I thought there would be more men here. You’d think they would have higher adrenalin levels than females,” I say.
Madison purses her lips. “There were more. There were too many. They don’t want people pairing up into couples so they chose a select few males with particular traits: muscles, strength, energy, a sharp mind, and a keen eye. The others got sent to the As. Men can’t birth children and so they aren’t as useful as women in a facility like this.”
Jacob looks grave as we finish breakfast. He doesn’t talk while Madison, Isobelle and I discuss what our lives were once like. He seems very shy, not at all how I expected a male B to behave. My suspicions were spot-on: Madison was a model and she tells me Jacob was in the army. They had been dating and although separated when chosen for the Bs, they were both reunited in Facility One just a week ago. Isobelle doesn’t say much about her experiences in her arena, she just adds little comments here and there, so she isn’t forgotten in the conversation.
“So why did you get here so la
te?” Madison asks me, offering me some more bacon and helping herself to some. “The rest of us got here nearly a week ago.”
“I got out of my survival ring,” I admit. “The guards had to track me down. Plus, it sounds like you guys had rings that were close by your hometowns. Mine took a couple of days to travel to.”
“You got out?” Isobelle squeaks. “That’s amazin’.”
“Wasn’t hard,” I say dismissively but if it weren’t for Whil I would have remained in the ring. For some reason, I don’t want to mention Whil to these people just yet. “So, where are we anyway? Where is this Bs compound located?”
“We don’t know. We don’t get told those sorts of things,” Madison admits.
“The air is dry. We must be inland. A desert, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Madison says with a shrug, and I quickly realise she has little intention of escaping the compound. I want to know where we are and what my chances of survival are outside.
The food tastes so good and makes my stomach gurgle noisily. Even though I could eat twice as much, I eat only enough to fill my stomach and then stop, unlike the other people around the table who have a three-course breakfast. How can the managers of this facility set out such huge portions of food when people in my old town are dying of starvation? Didn’t the people at this table have people in their community dying from malnourishment too? Why do they just scoff down the food like it’s endless when others die because they have nothing to eat?
Ten minutes later, when everyone has finished, some people dressed in grey clothes come in and begin clearing the dishes away. I watch them carefully. They’re all armed but really unable to use their pistols because they each wheel around an aluminium bench to stack the dirty dishes on. When they disperse, leaving a perfectly clean kitchen, Warden enters the room and stands by the door.
17.
My back gives a blister of pain when I see her, as if my body is sending me a reminder to not get in her way. Everyone moves away from the kitchen counter and lines up in front of her like soldiers. I hang back, unable to bring myself to bow to her authority despite all she has done to train me to do otherwise. Yes, perhaps she got me out of the branding room before that brutish man could do anything horrendous to me, but she was the one who put me there in the first place, knowing the man was twisted in the head. She isn’t my master. I’m not her dog.
If she’s miffed by my lack of discipline, she doesn’t show it. Her attractive but pinched face is stern, and she takes a stance where her legs are set wide apart. I’m sure the men in this facility, minus Jacob who lingers beside Madison at every moment, are all wishing Warden were one of the Bs too. With all of the people lined up neatly, I see what a mixture we have. Isobelle is the youngest by far, and I’m probably the next eldest. Then there is a motley group of people, ranging from Madison’s mid-twenties to Felix, who can be no older than thirty-five. No one looks over forty, probably because the younger you are the better you conceive.
Now that I really look at my inmates, I notice they are extremely different in appearance but all have that same flare in their eyes that I see in my own: as if the colours within their iris’ are alive and flaming. We are the people of the country who would once have been successful and brilliant, always fighting to succeed and change the world; most of us for the better, but the swirling charcoal black in Felix’ eyes makes me think he would have changed it for the worst. I’m saddened to think that we’ve all been gathered and locked up when with our combined drive and passion, we could be a brilliant team.
Sneering, I sit at the table, chewing on the crust of my remaining toast as I wait for Warden to speak. I’d like to go back to bed and sleep away the events of the past twenty-four hours. But I think wandering off and locking myself in room three would get me in trouble. Warden has proved herself someone not worth defying. Not openly anyway.
“So, my Bs,” she says, clapping her hands together in delight. “Our final additions arrived this morning.”
Madison, Jacob, and Isobelle all turn to look at me with confused expression. The last additions arrived today. They’re wondering who the other B is if I am alone. I try to hide the hurt on my face and look into my empty juice glass. It feels like Warden said it specifically to upset me.
“Now that we are all here, I see no reason for hesitation. If we don’t start getting results within the next week, and we will know if we are getting results or not, there will be trouble. We have given you a beautiful facility with the freedom to do as you please…”
Yes, freedom so long as we stay inside the walls and do exactly as we are told.
“…So we expect you to help us in return. You all know why you are here. You are here to breed and to create a new race of human beings who can survive on their own in the wild, who are both cunning and wild just as nature intended. We’ve given you the choice to do this naturally, but if it doesn’t begin to happen soon, we have other means of doing so. We have the technology and facilities here to do artificial insemination, and we will do that by the month’s end if you lot aren’t trying to conceive. I suggest you find someone you get along with and get it out of the way. Put your relationships aside,” Warden casts a look between Madison and Jacob, and then her eyes land on me, “Forget about your old loves. You’re here for one purpose only. I’ve told those here before that Isobelle Chasing is not to be touched by any man yet. She is too young, and she is here simply so she bond with you and learns your ways. When she’s had her first blood, then she will be ready. Any questions?”
Every hand in the room goes up, including mine. Warden scowls. “Madison?”
“How long are we expected to do this?” she asks. “To stay locked up here and have children?”
“Well, that depends on you and how quickly you get started. Obviously AI or test tube babies would be a much faster and, in some ways, more pleasant for all of you, but it defeats the purpose of having infants that are natural and wild. We can’t claim to have children that are of nature if they were produced thanks to lab equipment and technology. We require at least one hundred healthy human babies. If each woman in this facility and each woman in Facility Two have five children each, we will have one hundred and twenty. We expect around ten percent will be unsuitable: stillborn, or born with undesirable illnesses or disabilities, so that will give us one hundred and eight useable infants. With some extra numbers, we can take our pick of which we want. So to answer your question, Madison, five babies. Have five children and you can leave.”
“Five?” Madison shouts in disbelief.
My jaw drops open too, but due to a different form of disbelief. I had honestly expected to be locked up in this place until I was a sixty-year-old woman who could no longer reproduce. I could have five children in five years and be free, but Madison seems appalled by the figure. Of course, being forced to give birth and then having to leave those children behind is beyond cruel, but something inside me says if I were to have a child in this facility, sired by a man I hardly know, I would care very little for the youngster. I would happily walk free after rearing baby number five. I glance at those around me and they are murmuring and exchanging dark looks, but they don’t look particularly unhappy. Perhaps they think birthing five children is reasonable compared to our assumed thirty or forty.
“Five children to each woman?” Madison demands. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Be grateful, Madison! Five isn’t many at all. We would have had more if we could but the compound doctor feels it would be too much of a strain on the mothers to have more than that, and we do want you to be able to leave and continue spreading your genes throughout the As population as well. Next question!” Warden orders over Madison’s shouts of disapproval.
“What happens to us when we’re done here?” someone else asks.
“You’ll go to the A settlements around the country. To your families, if you wish. Where you can procreate with whomever you want. Next?”
“What’re the A settlements?” Is
obelle asks in her tiny, piping voice.
“They are settlements where all of the As have been placed. Families are generally placed together. Every family is given a job to do based on their skills. Most people in the As were farmers or blacksmiths, people with useful jobs.
“Others who were perhaps doctors will be the settlement doctors but will use only natural medicines to fix patients. Anyone who wasn’t useful was obviously in D.” At this point, I wrinkle my nose and feel a horrible pang in my chest, as if someone has plucked a tendon of my heart. Does everyone here know what happened to the Ds—all of those innocent people who unfortunately had the wrong job, or faith in a deity, or were simply different to other human beings? Judging by the way everyone’s faces fall into grimaces of pain, they do know what became of the Ds, and they all had a loved someone who they were not able to protect. Just like me.
“The settlements will have their populations controlled,” Warden continues. “Selective people in the settlements have had a birth control shot that will prevent them from reproducing for some time. We have eradicated half of the country’s people and have the population at a good, world friendly level so we don’t need more than a minimal number of As being born. Questions?”
Most people’s hands have gone down now, their questions answered in Warden’s responses. Mine remains up.
“Walker?” Warden snorts.
“What are you going to do with the children we have?”
I don’t know why I care. If I’m going to be forced to have a child of a man I don’t even love, I don’t particularly want to keep it, but Warden looks as if this is a question she would rather have avoided.
“Well, we are going to take them, raise them, and train them in the arenas you were all tested in. There they will be trained to be the leaders of the settlements. They will teach people to be properly wild, without settlements, houses, or livestock. People will become hunters and foragers like they were meant to be.
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