365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  Reena stopped in the doorway; her fingers picked at some dust along the jamb there, before flicking it away in sudden disgust.

  “What is it, Reena?” I asked. “Is there something else that you wanted to say?”

  She sighed—obviously conflicted.

  Her right hand stole down to her belly, gently caressing her bump. Looking over at me, Reena sighed once more. “I’m so sorry about Josh…Sophia must be heartbroken.”

  “She is,” I admitted. “But you know Sophia. She also believes Josh is in heaven, so that makes her feel better.”

  “Josh is in heaven,” Reena said. “Absolutely—without a doubt.”

  Yet—for a moment—Reena seemed to drift away, deep in thought. When she finally returned to the present, her eyes were moist with emotion. “Will you please tell Sophia that I forgive her for abandoning me? Tell her that I still love her. And let her know that I’m okay and I’m happy.”

  “Of course.”

  Before either of us could say anything else, a shadow fell across the room. We looked up to find Alice in the doorway, holding a pile of clothes in her arms as she peered into the bathroom.

  I quickly crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at her. “Like a little privacy would be good!”

  She completely ignored my words and entered the room, pushing past Reena. “I’ve got some clean clothes for you. Everything in your backpack stinks.”

  “You went through my backpack?!” I was not amused.

  “Like I said, it stank. It was either pull your clothes out for cleaning or throw the whole damn thing in the foul area out back.”

  She placed a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt on the sink counter, then plunked herself down onto a plushy chair in the corner. From that angle, I figured that she wouldn’t be able to see my naughty bits, and I relaxed—somewhat.

  “I guess I should be thanking you,” I muttered—slowly returning to cleaning myself.

  Alice distractedly waved that idea away. Reena, meanwhile, quietly excused herself from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Did you not catch that bit about privacy?” I muttered. “Like maybe I’d rather be bathing alone?”

  “Your guys are down in the kitchen eating,” Alice responded.

  “Good.” I poured a very generous amount of body wash onto a sponge, knowing that I was being wasteful, but feeling too ornery to care. “They deserve it.”

  Slowly, I began drawing the sponge up and down my arms. It felt sensuous, decadent. Even the fragrance of the body wash was enthralling to me; I sniffed at it, caught up in lilacs and lilies of the valley.

  Across the room, Alice suddenly snorted—definitely not happy.

  I sighed, dropping the sponge into the water—and looked over at her. “Something got your panties in a twist, Alice?”

  “What do you think?” she frowned, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Because I’m thinking that maybe I’m being played—except that I don’t know how or why.”

  “Who’s playing you?” I gave her my very best innocent look, which only served to irritate her even more.

  “So, this thing we have between us...” Alice began.

  “We have a thing?”

  She grunted in annoyance. “Between the Locals and the Stars! Look—the only way this thing is gonna’ work, is if we can trust each other. I think we both can agree on that.”

  “Makes sense…I agree.”

  Alice suddenly sat up straight, her eyes boring into mine—demanding an explanation. “Then, what’s going on, Kaylee? Like how come Erroll didn’t jump at training with my guys? And how come him and Nate change the subject every time I talk about the challenge?”

  If anything, Alice became even more irritated; she shook her head in frustration, thumping a fist on the side of her chair. “Is he scared…is that it? Does Erroll not think he can take Brandon and now he’s gonna’ wimp out?”

  Without a doubt—I did not want to get into this here.

  Naked…in a bathtub.

  But the truth was—Alice deserved an answer.

  * * * *

  “Erroll isn’t our challenger.”

  Alice’s eyes went wide. “You’re sending Nate in?!” She thought about that for a moment. “He’s small and wiry, so he might have a chance. But if there are bigger challengers there, I doubt Brandon would even choose Nate. And—even if Nate did get chosen—I mean, honestly…Brandon, well, he’d…he’d…”

  “Brandon would kill Nate.”

  She looked relieved that I understood. “Then, if it’s not Erroll and if it’s not Nate, is it someone else you’ve already got up here? I mean, I know you’ve sent up spies. Is it one of them?”

  When I didn’t answer right away, she became excited. “Is it Jacob?! Like if it’s Jacob, there’d be no doubt that he’d be chosen. Brandon’s been jonesing to fight with him for, like forever!”

  A pain lanced suddenly through my chest.

  I thought I had steeled myself against losing Jacob. Now—hearing his name again—it was as if my heart was breaking all over again.

  For a moment, I struggled with the thudding in my chest, the lonely ache in my belly, the deep hurt in my soul; then I forced myself to gain control over my emotions.

  If this was to work—I had to be strong.

  Because…

  “It’s me,” I told Alice. “I’m the Challenger.”

  * * * *

  There was something almost comical about the look on Alice’s face. She was like a confused dog—cocking her head first this way, then that—trying to understand what had just been spoken.

  “Um…um…” She couldn’t seem to form actual words.

  “Look,” I began—trying to sound logical, “there was basically no chance that Brandon would even pick Nate. Like you said, he’s too small, so it wouldn’t make for a good show—and Brandon’s all about the show. Now, Brandon might pick Erroll because he’s a big, ripped kid, but I can guarantee you that Erroll wouldn’t win. That type of fighting is not in his nature.”

  “But…um…like I thought Erroll fought alongside you on the Point?”

  “He did—and he was great, amazing,” I admitted. “But that wasn’t against Brandon. You and I both know that Brandon is a completely different animal. I mean, the kid is all steroided up, he’s got a brown belt in karate, and he’s as vicious as they come. If weapons were being used in the Arena, then maybe—maybe—Erroll would have a chance. But hand-to-hand…Brandon will rip him apart.”

  “So, what—you’ve suddenly, like become this karate expert?! Like you know for sure that Brandon will kill him?” Alice was sounding desperate; her voice was rising, her words coming fast. “This was our chance, Kaylee…maybe our only chance! If we don’t get a challenger into that Arena, we’re all probably gonna’ go down! You understand that, right?”

  “Of course, I understand that,” I said, becoming angry. “Why do you think I’ve left my home…my tribe…my husband?”

  “Well, right now, it looks like you left it for your ego. Because I’m sorry, Kaylee, but there is no frigging way that you’d ever be able to take Brandon in a fight. I don’t care what kind of training you’ve been doing. It just won’t happen.”

  “I agree,” I said, honestly.

  “Dammit!” Alice was suddenly furious. She shook an accusing finger at me. “I knew you were up to something! I could just feel it.” Then—just as suddenly—her anger deflated; she fell back in the chair, her hands to her face. “Oh god,” she moaned. “What are we gonna’ do? Who are we gonna’ send in now?”

  “The one person we know for certain Brandon will choose. We send in me.”

  Alice’s hands fell from her face; she looked up at me sadly. “Even if there was some magical way that you could beat Brandon in a fight, there’s no certainty that he’d pick you. Like he only fights guys, Kaylee…the bigger the better. And besides, you’ll be wearing a sheet, so…” She shrugged—beaten down, losing faith.

  I lea
ned forward, reaching for a nearby towel.

  “But think of it, Alice…what if I could do it? What if I had something that would make Brandon have to choose me?”

  Across from me, Alice’s eyes narrowed; she still didn’t believe in me, but I could see a small spark there—the beginning of hope.

  “They call me Mother down on the Point,” I said, carefully standing up—holding the towel in front of me. “But that’s not what they’re calling me up here…what Brandon himself has named me.”

  “The Fallen Angel,” Alice whispered.

  “The Fallen Angel,” I echoed—turning until she could see the angel wings tattooed across my back. “Now, tell me, Alice—do you think he’ll choose me? Do you think it’s a certainty?”

  When I heard no response, I looked over my shoulder; Alice was just standing there, gaping at my angel wings.

  “Um…Alice?”

  With some difficulty, she tore her gaze away from my back, lifting her eyes up to mine. “You’re insane!” she whispered.

  I shrugged. “Not like I haven’t heard that one before.”

  “But you’re also right,” she nodded. “Brandon will choose you.”

  “Because my wings fit right into that stupid story he’s been telling your people. So, if I’m there to fight, he won’t have any choice.”

  Alice nodded. “But Kaylee…I mean, the wings—they’re, like inspired…but it just doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t.”

  “Because you think that Brandon will kill me.”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, there’s no way you can take him…is there?”

  With a sigh, I shook my head. “Hand-to-hand…he’ll kill me.”

  “Then, why?” Alice looked utterly confused. “I mean, Kaylee…what’s the point?”

  I grinned. “The point is…I have a plan.”

  * * * *

  Horror…disbelief…

  Both emotions flitted across Alice’s face as I explained my plan; I had seen those emotions cross other faces before—Wyatt, Florenza, Nate, Erroll.

  Like the others before her, Alice listened closely as I talked. She asked few questions, which surprised me—simply waited for me to finish.

  “Well?” I asked, when I finally stopped speaking. “Do you see why I think it will work?”

  I waited with some trepidation for Alice to scoff at my grand scheme.

  Instead—she surprised me.

  “It’s crazy as frack,” Alice said. “But, dude—I think it could work.”

  * * * *

  Cherry showed up about an hour later.

  I had finished with my bath, had a light lunch, and was dead-asleep, when she banged on my door. For a moment, I had no idea where I was; I stumbled out of bed, my hands reaching for weapons that somehow weren’t where they were supposed to be.

  “Kaylee?”

  The fog in my brain cleared somewhat and I recognized Cherry’s voice. Staggering to the door, I pulled it open.

  “Was’ goin’ on?” I mumbled.

  “You crazy?!”

  Cherry pushed by me into the room. She was carrying a box of tattooing supplies which she dropped with a bang in the middle of the floor. “Like did I hear Alice right? Like you’re going to be the Challenger?!”

  I yawned. “Like—have you noticed how much we say like?”

  “Shaddup!” Cherry grabbed me by the arm and spun me around, lifting up my t-shirt, so that she could look at the tattoos on my back. I heard her gasp; then her cold fingers traced along the tattoos—first one and then the other.

  “Good work, huh?” I yawned, still not fully awake.

  She gave a low whistle. “Wyatt’s so freaking good with black and white. Much better than I could do.”

  “See the empty circle in the middle? The challenger number is supposed to go in there.”

  Cherry whacked me one across the back of my head. “I know where the hell the number is supposed to go!” Then, she spun me around and grabbed me again—this time hugging me. “Hey, Kaylee!”

  I hugged her back. “Hey, Cherry.”

  * * * *

  Because the light was so good in my assigned bedroom, Cherry decided to finish my tattoo right there. I laid on my belly on the hardwood floor, while Cherry sat on a pillow, thumping her stinging needles—up-down, up-down—into my back.

  “Where were you?” I grunted, hoping conversation would dull the pain. “You weren’t here when we arrived.”

  “Alice’s other house—the one in the Foxes’ compound,” Cherry explained. “I was just doing some reconnaissance for the day, you know—the challenge. We can see most of the Arena from the back windows.”

  “You mean the football field?’ I grumbled, flinching at a particularly nasty prick.

  Cherry immediately pulled up on the needles, giving me a moment to catch my breath. “Sorry.” Too short a while later, she started again—up-down, up-down. “So, Alice told me most of your plan.”

  “Yeah—what do you think of it?”

  Bending down slightly, Cherry looked directly into my eyes. “I think it’s just like all of your ridiculous plans…ridiculous!”

  “So, you think it might work?” I grinned.

  “Good a chance as any,” Cherry shrugged

  She returned to whacking away at my back. On the third whack, she must have hit a nerve, because I jumped, gasping. “Ow! Now, don’t even try to tell me that last one wasn’t on purpose.”

  “Oh, that was definitely on purpose,” Cherry admitted. “And, by the way…whether or not your stupid plan will work, I just don’t get how Jacob would let you do something like this.”

  “Because Jacob’s not the boss of me,” I sniffed, trying to keep the sudden irritation I was feeling out of my voice. “And because I’m not his slave and he’s not my master.”

  The pounding on my back ceased once more.

  “You know that’s not what I meant!” Cherry sounded hurt that I would make such an accusation. “But, seriously, Kaylee—Jacob’s your husband. So, what does he think about this plan of yours?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  For a moment, neither did Cherry.

  Then, she figured it out.

  “Ohmigod! You haven’t told Jacob! Why not? Wait…you don’t even have to answer that question, because I think I can figure out why not myself. It’s because, if Jacob knew what you were planning, he wouldn’t have any of it. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Once again—not his decision to make,” I said, quietly.

  “But he still would have tried to stop you—if you had told him.” She leaned over once again to confront me. “Or was there another reason why you didn’t tell him?”

  I frowned at her. “No offense, Cherry…but is it really any of your business?”

  In response, her needles began to move again, faster this time; the pain became intense—caught somewhere between stinging and burning.

  “Why didn’t you tell Jacob, Kaylee?” Cherry demanded. “Why?”

  The speed and pressure of the needles continued to increase; the skin on my back shuddered, rippling under each thump. With some effort, I placed my hands on the floor and pushed upwards—bumping Cherry away from me and onto her butt.

  Before she could recover, I sat up completely, turning to face her. “I’m doing what I have to,” I insisted. “What I think is right!”

  She shook her head at me, unhappy. “But it’s Brandon you’re going up against, Kaylee…Brandon!” Her voice rose steadily until she was practically yelling at me. “Like the dude’s a freaking killer and you’re going into the Arena with him…and unarmed!”

  “You don’t think I know that?! But I don’t have a choice!” I yelled back, equally unhappy. “I have to do this!”

  Suddenly, Cherry’s anger seemed to deflate. She pushed back along the floor until she was sitting against a wall. When she next spoke, her words were softer, almost confused. “But why, Kaylee…why does it have to be you?”

  I moved over
, sitting beside her, angling my back, so that its battered portion wasn’t touching anything.

  “It’s simple, really,” I began. “Brandon and the Foxes need to be stopped. What they’ve built up here in the Valley—a tribe of slaves and slave owners—is unconscionable. It’s inhuman. And I believe that the best way to stop all of them is to kill Brandon and take away the leadership of the tribe from him. I mean, it’s not like we can reason with him, right?”

  “So, you’re going to put yourself into the Arena against a kid with martial arts training, who is double your weight, and ten times as vicious…and who probably believes he is invincible.”

  “Which is exactly why I might have a chance, one that I don’t think he’d give a guy,” I explained. “Think about it—we know that Brandon and the Foxes have set up the Arena and the challenge as just another way to control the Crazies. Because it gives their people the belief that there’s actually a possibility of assuming the leadership if they can defeat Brandon. In a way—for the Crazies—it’s like their election, except that this election is fixed. Because there’s no way that anybody challenging Brandon could ever win. He’s simply too big and he’s too strong and he’s too well-trained.”

  “Plus, he won’t let anyone bring in weapons anymore.”

  “Exactly…so the Arena and the challenge have been designed to give people hope, but—at the same time—not to let them win. Instead, the challenge is really just another way of feeding Brandon’s ego—that he’s a big, strong, dangerous dude who gets to play with people’s lives. And each time he fights a guy in that Arena and wins, Brandon probably hears all those cheers and screams—the guys chanting his name—and he believes that he’s just a little more special…a little, more invincible. And that’s one of the main reasons I think he becomes even more dangerous.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because with every win, it’s not just Brandon believing it. The Crazies also believe it more and more—that Brandon can’t be killed, that he’s invincible. And if Brandon can’t be killed, then that means he really is a god or a demon or whatever—which also means that whatever he says must be absolute. That he must be obeyed.”