by Jill Cooper
He couldn’t stand her whining and complaining. To side with the humans, the ones who had trapped them like animals, and brainwashed them to make them forget who they were? That they, the glistenings’, were greater than the humans. Weren’t they more powerful, the next evolutionary step toward perfection?
Victor could no longer abide Meghan and her rants. Then let her be the martyr, let her die if she wouldn’t pledge allegiance.
Growing so angry, he shook; Victor gripped Meghan’s face. She struggled from the pain as he forced her mouth open and tilted her head, arching her back.
Then, he poured; the red stream of blood, like a river down her throat. Victor’s eyes twitched with satisfaction as Meghan chocked, her throat convulsing to keep up with the steady flow of liquid. He poured too much, too fast and it flooded her mouth, and then began covering her face and clothes.
“Take that to your maker.” Victor pushed her back and the chains swayed, rattling together.
With a valiant struggle, Meghan lifted her head up and sprayed blood from her mouth onto Victor. “Burn in hell.”
Victor snatched her throat in his hand. “Who else did Jake send? Who else is here, working against me?”
Meghan stared straight ahead at the wall and Victor threw the glass jar. It slammed against the brick floor and shattered. There was a tremble in her breathing, which delighted him, so he put his other hand around her throat and started to squeeze.
“Who is it? Answer me!”
“You will . . .” Meghan gasped for breath, “never . . . make me . . .”
His face red, he squeezed tighter, his stance widening for power, he grabbed and twisted, forcing his thumbs against the soft tissue of her neck.
Meghan’s complexion went blue as her body began the glistening transformation. Her feet dug into the floor while she fought against his act of murder and her body thrashed. “ . . . Answer.”
Victor kept squeezing. The life drained out of Meghan the harder he squeezed. He could practically see her body giving up. It excited him. His heart pounded and the electricity flowing through his body jolted him with adrenaline watching Meghan die. Why had she thought she was so powerful or that she could fool him?
Victor would show them all.
A deep breath filled his lungs and Victor let Meghan go. Her lifeless body slumped forward and in that moment, Victor needed Liz; needed to find her, see her. This new energy was pumping through his body and the only way to release it, to relieve it, yes . . .
It had to be Liz.
****
Travis was down for his nap and Liz paced until she reached the window. Outside the snow was slowing, but it had accumulated a few inches. Earlier that day the sky had been bright, but now with the sun setting, Liz’s stomach set with it. Tomorrow was her wedding and she hadn’t seen the signal.
She sighed and gripped her stomach, feeling tight and nervous inside. Meghan was in trouble; Liz knew that even if no one had told her. The woman had been like a mother to her and Liz was helpless to rush to her aid. Liz didn’t know where Meghan was, what happened, and where it would lead.
But she was running out of time. She needed to strike Victor before he figured her out. Before he realized Liz was only there to get close to him.
Liz sighed and tried to clear her head. She turned off the lamp and prepared to retire to bed, when she heard voices outside her room.
“Leave us.”
Her stomach sank. It was Victor, but coming here, and so late? Liz had hoped not to see him again until the wedding and now he was dismissing her guards? This couldn’t be good. This didn’t bode well at all.
She swallowed hard as the door whipped open. Victor walked in with long strides and Liz backed up against the wall. “Victor?”
He grabbed her face and forced his tongue inside her mouth, void of passion, void of love. Victor was hopped up on something, stronger than before. Liz pushed against him, but his strength over powered her. He forced her arms down by her side.
“What’s gotten into you?” Liz’s chest heaved for air when he broke the kiss off, but something was different in his eyes. She saw only impatience and anger. “The wedding is tomorrow, you’re not supposed to see the bride—.”
Liz was unprepared for Victor to backhand her across the face. She gasped as pain shot up her nose where his ring trailed across her flesh like a tire grinding against mud. Victor tossed her over and Liz’s chest slammed into the top of the desk.
“I need you, sweetheart.” There was no sweetness to his words. Victor wanted to conquer her. Wanted her to submit?
Liz gripped the top of the desk with her fingertips as Victor pulled her dress up high, ripping her panties off with a hand. His other hand pressed into her lower back to keep her in place. To prepare, to take what was about to happen to her, Liz rolled her head to the side and that’s when she saw it.
The night sky was a blanket of dark, but in the center of it all, was flame.
Dragon flame.
The signal was given. A battalion of glistenings were swooping in to challenge Victor’s authority. The aggression would be met strongly. Liz would need to do her part.
Her heart filled with hope even as Victor grunted, grabbing her hips roughly to thrash inside of her.
With a pretend moan of pleasure, Liz slid the drawer open and found the dagger she had taped under the desk. She squeezed the silver handle hard and without thinking, pivoted on her feet. Like a dancer, she twirled, her palm extended up and she pushed the blade under the softness of Victor’s jaw. The blade broke through the skin of his under palate and extended deep into his mouth.
He gurgled and lost his balance, his eye wide; he stumbled.
“Take that, you son-of-a-bitch.” Liz pushed him so he’d fall clear out the window. Her jaw tense, she couldn’t afford to watch his landing. If Liz was going to do what needed to be done, she needed to move fast.
Running, Liz grabbed a sleeping Travis out of his crib in the next room. He barely stirred, his head on her shoulder, Travis sucked on his thumb. Liz made it to the living room and tore open the door.
She couldn’t afford to move slow, but she made a quick check to make sure the coast was clear before she ran down the hall toward where the other woman slept. Quickly, she knocked on their door. “Jacqueline! Mary!” She hissed and glanced over her shoulder.
Jacqueline was in her nightgown when she answered and Liz didn’t have much time to explain. She transferred Travis to her. Jacqueline’s eyes widened. “Miss—.”
“Listen to me.” Liz huffed and glanced over her shoulder again. “You have to get him to Jane, do you understand? Victor is dead and his followers are going to come for him and for Jane. Get to Jane and get them out of here. You’re the only one who can get her out. You’ve been in to bring her supplies. The glistenings won’t question it. Please!”
She was desperate and boy, did she sound it.
“What about you?” Jacqueline asked.
“Later,” Liz whispered. “Tell the guards I killed Victor. They’ll leave their post assuredly and come after me. Get Jane out!” They were her last words. Liz feared it would also be her last order as she turned on her heel, running down the hall. She almost made it to the door of the oval office when two glistenings stepped in front of her.
“You should be in your room.”
“We’re under attack!” Liz screamed. “Victor, Victor’s hurt. He’s in my room. You have to help me!” Liz made a show of hyperventilating so much that the glistening took her by the arm and escorted her into the oval office.
In front of her was the desk that the president used to sit at, before Victor had him killed and she saw a radio.
But did it still work? Would someone on the other side be listening?
“Wait here. Someone get you when it’s safe.”
Liz nodded that she would. As soon as the door closed behind the guards, she sprinted into action. She picked up the receiver. Taking a deep breath, she prayed that someone w
ould hear her. That someone would answer.
“This is DC, is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me, over?”
“We read you loud and clear, over.”
“The tide is turning. We’re fighting against Victor and his glistenings, but we need help.”
“Who is this?” The voice demanded to know.
“I stand with Jake Monroe and the resistance. My name is Elizabeth and if you want to see the US restored to what it once was, you’ll send help. Victor’s dead and his glistenings are going to be vulnerable, but we don’t know for how long. We need help, please!”
****
Outside, a fight between three glistenings and Victor’s guards raged. Most had already taken flight for New Haven 57 and the guards left were a skeleton crew, making it easier for Jake’s faithful warriors to pick off Victor’s men; one by one.
The White House shook from the attack and Liz ran. In the chaos, no one stopped to ask her where she was going. When she saw the front door, she ran outside in her nightgown and her foot hit the snow. Her skin shivered and she ran through it in wide steps, trying to make it across the snow covered terrain toward the fence.
Someone had to get word. Someone had to let the people know it was ending soon. Up above fire raged and dragon against dragon, wings flapped and talons pierced skin. As they fell, spinning toward the Earth, Liz screamed. She covered her head and ducked down low to avoid being hit.
Off in the distance, Jacqueline and Mary ran. Liz was sure she saw a woman with them with red hair. Maybe even a baby if she wasn’t imagining it, but to her horror, Liz saw guards chasing after them with guns. One of them was in mid-glistening transformation and if something didn’t stop them, Travis would be brought back to the compound.
Liz needed to do something.
“Stop!” Liz screamed and ran after them. “I did it! I let the other glistenings in.” When her words weren’t enough to slow their movements toward Jane and Travis, Liz screamed out. “I killed Victor!”
That caught their attention and Liz did an about face, running through the streets of DC. Her feet slipped on ice beneath the snow and the charred ruins of what was once a great city seemed to mock her. Skyscrapers had fallen roofs, broken glass. Telephone poles knocked over.
Not far off, Liz saw a large, wire fence—the encampment center.
Liz glanced behind her. She didn’t know if she could make it in time before the glistenings reached her, but if she could warn the encampment center, tell them to hold on a little bit longer, maybe her death could at least bring hope.
Her death had to mean something. Liz had to know that Victor and is glistenings would be defeated. She was going to give her life for this cause; it had to mean something.
“This is for you Mom and Dad,” Liz whispered and started running again, even when she could feel the whoosh of wind behind her back.
A glistening was coming. It wouldn’t give up until it had her.
Chapter Twenty Chase
Encampment Center
The “Machine”
It was the worst of places and now Chase called it home. A bakery refitted with death, like a mousetrap with cheese. Only here, humans were the mice and instead of being released in the wild, their bodies were punctured dozens of times and drained of blood—their life essence.
Chase wore overalls and stared at the conveyer belt as the man in the hardhat and goggles explained how the belt was turned on and off—how the lever was pressed down once the victim was in place.
“Then you take this pin and inject them right at the base of the skull. They go numb and fall asleep.” The guy shrugged and offered Chase the needle. “It’s easy, really.”
“And you’ve done this? You’ve done this to other people?” Chase had met some unsavory people before, but the guy in front of him could’ve been a schoolteacher, someone’s clergy—an everyman. How could someone like that . . .?
The man’s face was angular and withdrawn. “If we don’t we have to go back out there. Judge me if you will, but I’m old. I won’t survive the winter.”
Chase glanced at the door that led outside. Those who ‘won’ the lottery were forming a line outside.
“You look green, son. You won’t last it here a day.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Chase admitted. “If I did . . .”
“It’s the same for all of us.” The man’s face went pale as he spoke. “I did it for my sister. Keep her safe for a while longer. I know it’s a long shot, but this has to end sometime, right?”
The man was wrong. It wasn’t going to end and if it did, it wasn’t going to end the way they wanted. Now they were nothing more than cattle—a food source that the glistenings found an easy way to control, extract nutrition from.
The man nodded his head and led Chase away toward the rear of a conveying machine. Out the back, was a chute, where what was left of the human carcasses were tossed, once they had been bled clean. The floor under the chute was caked in a pool of blood so thick, it looked black. Lying on top of it were rolls of skin looking more like plastic wrap than anything. Shards of bone, stuck in the teeth of the conveyer belt, also littered the floor.
Chase gagged and covered his mouth. Turning his head, a broom handle was forced into his hand.
“Clean up duty for the new guy.” The man sighed and wrote something down on his clipboard. “Too bad we need to find someone else to work the machine.”
“How can you?” Chase asked him, wiping the spit collecting at the corner of his mouth. His anger rolled over his tongue. “How can you be so by the book about this? These people could’ve been our friends, our family—and you’re acting like you’re teaching me how to use the damn microwave?”
But the man only checked something off his sheet and walked away.
Chase didn’t understand it. He couldn’t accept it, but he had no choice but to sweep, no choice but to accept it. To do anything else would mean Ginny’s death.
Nonetheless, he was frozen in place, didn’t think he could move or do it.
****
“She won’t eat.”
Sally sighed and pushed herself up from the desk. In addition to her tall boots, she wore a long, winter overcoat, warm, and cozy. It was everything no one else at the concentration camp was allowed to have. “She hasn’t eaten a thing?”
“No, Ma’am.” Bray shook his head. “She’s refused everything we’ve given her since you brokered the deal.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Sally walked through her office and out the hall. It was lined with a few doors, leading to the confinement rooms. They were small, but they had heat, thanks to the generators; beds and blankets too, so how could the few chosen residents complain?
Sally pushed open the door to Ginny’s room without knocking. The girl’s small frame was huddled on her bed wrapped in a blanket, and on the floor in front of her, were metal trays with two day’s worth of food and drink—not the regular chicken soup and bread either, but the gourmet stuff reserved for the glistenings and their staff.
Ginny didn’t look up, but when Sally slammed the door, Ginny’s body jarred. Her chin was tucked on her knees and her arms pulled her legs in tighter, but she wouldn’t look at Sally. Her jaw set tight, she knew Sally was there all right.
“How long are you going to keep up with starvation? You won’t survive much longer without water. You have to know that. Stupidity isn’t among your many flaws, though I’m thinking you’re more stubborn than Chase.”
Still, she was silent.
Sally sauntered in front of her and knelt down. “It’s not going to be easy. You’ll get weak, dizzy, and probably start to hallucinate before you go. Your heartbeat will be erratic.” Sally paused to study Ginny’s stone face. No flash of emotion, no reaction to indicate Sally was reaching her at all.
Ginny was just a kid and not very tough. She never seemed resourceful, so where was all this inner strength coming from?
Sally stared at her a few minutes longer, growing irat
e that her words hadn’t rattled Ginny at all. Her will was like a steel cage. “Fine,” she spat out the words and stood back up.
“Do you think I care?” Sally’s nostrils flared. “I’d rather see you dead. Chase though, will be responsible for your death. He’ll carry that with him until the end of his days, however long that lasts.” Sally shrugged.
Ginny’s mouth parted and Sally, for a brief moment, felt the pride of victory. “Take the trays with you.” Ginny’s eyes met hers and Sally saw the depth of her defiance. “I’m not going to need them.”
“Fool,” Sally hissed out. “You’d rather die than have Chase work in the factory? What’s that going to get you?”
“I’m dead either way, eventually. This way, at least I can stop waiting.”
Sally stacked the trays and carried them out of the room. When the door swung shut behind her, she slammed the metal trays down on a cart outside the rooms and screamed. That little brat; Sally was going to teach her a lesson. She reached for Ginny’s doorknob once again, as someone grabbed her arm.
“Bray,” Sally requested, while Ginny’s eyes widened. “Bring me the glistening prod. We have work to do. We’ll crack this little brat if it’s the last thing we do.”
“Ma’am,” he sighed. “In the factory . . .”
What was it now? Sally sighed.
“Chase refuses to work and he’s not allowing anyone else to work, either. He isn’t honoring his end of the deal.”
Sally’s lips twisted into a snarl. “He won’t? We’ll see about that, won’t we?” She stormed off, her arms swinging back and forth. It seemed Ginny was granted a brief reprieve, but it wouldn’t last. Oh no, it wouldn’t last at all . . .
****
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Chase turned when he saw Sally, his hand gripping the broom tightly. Great, she was here. Guess that meant his deal was revoked. He tried, gave it the old college effort, but Chase couldn’t go through with it; no matter what happened to Ginny or anyone else. He just couldn’t hook people up to the blasted machine—and to wipe away what was left of them when the machine was done . . .