The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1)

by Marjorie Lindsey

  Red stubble topped her head. In one hand, she held a cigar; the other was hooked on her hip, exposing long fingernails. Pointed and red, except for the smallest whose rounded tip smeared a patch of white powder on her leg as she walked. When she came within reach, the Podmaster put his arm behind her, pulled her forward and rubbed his fleshy torso against hers. Several inches taller, she laughed and caressed his head as he buried his face in her cleavage.

  Their intimacy sickened me, but I didn’t turn away. I needed to understand the dynamics of this place and she was important to him.

  “Do you have my package, lover?” Her dull eyes focused on me, her raspy voice emphasized the endearment as if issuing a warning.

  “Yes, but I’ll keep it and we can enjoy ourselves later. I think you’ve had enough for now.”

  Her lips thinned and her hands curled into claws, then she shrugged and instead took two steps toward me.

  “A new prisoner?” She circled me as if assessing an opponent. “I hope she works out better than the last one. She’s skinny as a drowned rat.”

  “She’s a celebrity,” he sneered. “Councilor Bokk’s daughter. She’s all yours.” He slapped Ruby’s backside before strutting away.

  “Well then,” she mocked with a slight bow. “We’ll have to give her the best treatment.” She blew a mouthful of fetid smoke in my face. “Follow me, your highness.”

  As we neared the entrance to the laundry, the stench from the barge forced me to hold my nose and blink my stinging eyes. The group of nearby workers showed little awareness of the rank odor that permeated the docking area. The women sent me interested glances as I followed Ruby. Just as curious about them, I slowed and turned to watch them hauling clothes. It was a mistake.

  A booted foot shoved me from behind. I stumbled, landing face down, scraping my cheek on the cold wet floor. I scrambled to my feet and adjusted my hood to check for the hidden package. I started a low hum to ease the pain in my back and shoulder but stopped when I noticed the women were circling Ruby and me. All activity had halted.

  Physical violence opposed everything I’d learned from my mother. I was a healer, but I couldn’t stop the anger that flamed my tense muscles. My instinct to strike back was strong until I realized that’s what Ruby wanted—a fight.

  She threw her cigar to the floor, clenched her fists and folded her arms under her heavy breasts. Like a brawler, eager to attack, tensed in readiness, but waiting for their opponent to make the first move. “Afraid?” She sneered.

  “No. Just cold.” It was the truth, and besides, I didn’t need another physical confrontation that I was sure I’d lose.

  Several women snickered until a look from Ruby sent them scurrying back to work.

  She tilted her head as if considering whether to accept my response, then relaxed her stance. She extracted another cigar from her cleavage and lit it.

  “Quick on your feet.” She exhaled a stream of smoke. “You’ll need to be, in here.”

  She turned on one heel and swaggered into the dome.

  Relief came with the realization that I’d been lucky. At least today.

  The sound of machinery intensified as I followed Ruby. Inside the dome, I could see women talking to one another but hearing their conversation was impossible. The steady hum of the overhead drying equipment combined with the thud of the washing vats drowned other noise. I was conscious of many moving parts and wanted to watch the operation but didn’t relish another boot.

  The area reeked of chemicals and disinfectant. My nose dripped with moisture. It was like breathing through a wet rag, but for the first time in hours, I was warm.

  Across the dome, we entered a half-moon shaped chamber. The Bunker had been scratched on the door. Metal berths lined the straight wall. Thin mattresses and pillows lay neatly on each bunk. The curved wall contained open shelves with piles of clothing and numbered hooks. No lockers for personal items was a concern. Where would I hide the diary?

  Two long tables, worn and bare, bisected the area. Closest to the door, a dozen chairs clustered around a video screen. At the far end, I could see the bathroom area.

  I jerked when the door slammed behind me. Ruby stood barring the exit, her flexed arms crossed over her chest.

  “I’m in charge here. Whatever I tell you to do—you do it. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “You have ten minutes to shower, change, and then work. Get what you need from there.” She pointed to the shelves and yelled when I hesitated. “Move!’

  A hot shower sounded like heaven. I grabbed one item from each stack: towel, underwear, a pair of loose trousers and a short-sleeved tunic. There were no hoods on the tunics. I’d noticed that some women wore a headscarf while others wore nothing. I grabbed two scarves. One for my hair, at least for a while. I’d use the second to tie my bundle to my leg. Socks and boots I’d get after my shower.

  “One more thing.” Ruby walked to where I stood with my arms piled with clothing. “The podmaster is mine.”

  My first assignment was unloading the barge. I joined the line of women circling to and from the dock. The work was monotonous. The women chatted quietly as they worked but ignored me. I wasn’t expecting to make friends here. There was no Calia to pave my way—or undermine me. I was on my own.

  After a couple of hours, the barge was empty. Ruby reassigned everyone. I found myself in another line carrying wet clothes from the washing area to the dryers.

  Despite workouts at the recpod, my biceps and shoulders ached. The heavy armfuls pulled every muscle. I watched the others and copied them, shifting my loads from one hip to another, hoping to relieve the pain.

  I pushed my body through the next hour. I’d almost given up hope of a break when the line stopped. Grateful for a halt, I rubbed my neck and rolled my shoulders. Other workers dumped their loads and rushed to the opposite end of the laundry near the sewing area. I didn’t follow but stepped onto a low stool to see over the heads of those clustered across the room.

  A tight circle of jeering women enclosed two others. One was small and slender. The other, tattooed like Ruby, sleeves, neck and even head, was a bull of a woman. The smaller one, already bloodied, cringed against the crowd who pushed her inward. As the bully pulled back her fist waiting for the next strike, I imagined the impact on her victim.

  “Stop,” I cried, but my voice couldn’t penetrate the loud mechanical throb of machinery and the spectators’ shouts. I leaped from the stool and ran but reached the crowd too late.

  Silence fell like a curtain. I realized that the final hammering blow had landed.

  As I pushed forward, the women parted. Emotionless faces drifted past me. The tight circle dispersed revealing a battered, bloody body. There was no attempt by anyone to help the woman.

  Not knowing if she was still alive, I rushed to her side. I felt a weak pulse. I couldn’t tend her wounds without herbs. All I had was my voice. I hummed several notes hoping the machine noise would cover the sound. The rule against singing and the risk of being caught fought my instinct to help.

  Damn the rules. They probably couldn’t hear me above the clamor of the laundry.

  I chose the tones with care, remembering all I’d learned from my mother. Placing my hands gently on the woman’s torso, I sang softly and felt the vibrations quivering through her body. Her arms, legs, then head. I was so focused on my task that I didn’t immediately notice another worker kneeling across from me, holding one of the victim’s broken hands. Her long black hair fell in a thick braid over her shoulder.

  When she looked up, I was surprised to see emerald eyes moistened with tears. “Thank you,” she mouthed the words as I continued to chant healing tones.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spied black boots and a tapping foot two feet away. I defied the urge to jump to my feet.

  “What are you saying?” Ruby demanded, not realizing that I was singing.

  The beaten woman’s pu
lse returned to normal so I stopped and stood, as did the kneeling woman. Her expression turned icy as she faced the podmaster’s girlfriend.

  With her friend behind her, the bully returned to Ruby’s side. “She interfered in my business.” She pointed at me. “I demand satisfaction—according to the rules.”

  Ruby swiped her little finger into a leather pouch that hung around her waist. The digit came out white. She lifted the rounded fingernail to her nose and sniffed, filling her nostril with powder. Her eyes drifted shut. When they opened, they were wild and glassy.

  Mother had told me about the addictive nature of some substances. Whatever drug Ruby was taking wouldn’t bode well for me. Submit or show strength. Either way, I’d probably lose. I decided to go on the offense. “She beat this poor woman almost to death. Surely she should be punished.” I was on unfamiliar ground. The rules might be different here, but we were still in Hypor.

  “She’s interfered with my rights.” The tattooed offender stabbed a stubby finger toward me. “She has to forfeit. I demand battle.”

  I didn’t understand what rights she was referring to. “I demand to speak to the podmaster. This is ludicrous. Hypor City is a civilized society,” I ranted. “The laws must still be obeyed, even in the laundry.”

  The tattooed entourage laughed, others shifted nervously. Ruby even grinned but it quickly became a scowl.

  “What did I tell you?” She jabbed a pointed nail into my shoulder. “I’m in charge. Therefore, I make the rules. Right?” She scanned the faces around her but most avoided her gaze.

  I stayed silent, waiting.

  “Your rights will be upheld.” Ruby nodded to the challenger. “Bokk interrupted the fight. The dispute between you and Bokk will be settled. Now.”

  My opponent sneered and lifted her clenched right hand.

  I knew I’d never survive even one blow from that massive fist. Dazed at the prospect ahead, I didn’t notice the workers once again circling, defining the battleground.

  A small hand slipped into mine. I looked down into green eyes. As the hand pulled away, I felt a sharp prick. My fingers curled around a small knife. The comfort of having a weapon didn’t diminish the horror of wielding it against another person.

  “What’s going on here? Why aren’t you working?”

  All eyes turned as the questions boomed across the laundry. It was the only time I’d ever be grateful to hear the podmaster’s voice.

  My fingers were pried open and the knife removed. A quick smile and green eyes were gone.

  “Where’s Ruby?” He pushed the women apart.

  “Here, Lover.” She wiped her nose and sidled toward him. “I’m settling an argument.”

  “I don’t care. Get them back to work. Now!”

  “You heard the podmaster,” Ruby growled, then followed him to his office. As the workers dispersed, the tattooed woman and her friends blocked my way.

  I stood breathless, frozen, waiting for them to attack.

  Instead, they brushed by me.

  One of them shoved my shoulder and snarled. “This isn’t over.”

  18

  A New Friend

  Several hours later, nightfall darkened the overhead skylights.

  The machines stopped. Silence fell over the laundry like a shroud. The rhythmic slosh of water subsided. The throbbing whine of the dryers dwindled. There was no chatter, just the scuff of boots as weary women abandoned their duties. On the perimeter wall, the half dozen lanterns brushed light across bowed heads as we filed toward the bunker. I joined the line of shuffling feet, wary of the darkness.

  I felt less vulnerable as I entered the brightly lit bunker but remained cautious. The tight quarters would make avoiding the tattooed trio difficult.

  “Don’t worry, they don’t sleep here.” The small woman who had slipped me the knife spoke behind me. “They have their own room near Pig’s. I’m Leika. Thanks for helping my friend.”

  It was oddly formal the way she held out her hand, but I shook it without hesitation.

  “I’m Brynna. Who’s the pig? Ruby?”

  “The podmaster. Likes us to call him Podmaster D, but we prefer to call him Pig. Come and eat.”

  Leika and I joined a line. From a wall dispenser, we each took a loaded food tray. My stomach rumbled at the prospect of a good meal. At least I wouldn’t starve.

  We sat at one of the tables. Others lay on their beds or perched on benches that fronted the video screen. From time to time, the women glanced up at the clock. What were they waiting for?

  Two women joined our table. It took a moment before I realized they were twins. The only difference was their hair color. One had teal blue hair, the other lemon yellow.

  We ate in silence for a few moments, but I had so many questions. “Why aren’t there any guards here?”

  “There’s no need because there’s no way to escape unless you fancy a swim in the frigid ocean. Besides, Ruby’s always around,” said Leika

  “Tell me about her. Does she work for the podmaster?” I spoke quietly, but the twins heard me and snorted in unison.

  “You might call it work.” Blue sniffed then returned to eating.

  Leika grinned. “He uses Ruby for sex, but she’s a prisoner like the rest of us. She’s been here for three years. I don’t think he’ll ever let her leave.”

  “Is she in charge?”

  “Only when Pig isn’t around. He keeps her happy by giving her power over us.”

  “And drugs,” said Yellow.

  “And Steepchase,” added Blue.

  “She won’t be much good if she’s high,” said Leika. “She came second last year. I don’t think she has a hope in the upcoming games.”

  “How can she participate if she’s a prisoner?” I asked.

  “Pig is connected,” said Leika. “He has power.”

  “To the premier,” I answered.

  Her eyes widened. “Yes, how did you know?”

  “There’s a strong family resemblance and the droopy earlobes are the clincher.”

  The others grinned.

  “I’ve heard the Delios have similar appetites as well,” said Blue. “Particularly sexual.”

  “Yeah, that’s something you’ll have to watch out for. Pig has wandering hands.” Leika’s lips curled in disgust. “When he walks through the laundry, it’s best to get out of his way.”

  “Beware of Ruby as well.” Yellow thrust out her fist. “She punishes those that Delio favors. She’s a nasty piece of work and even more so when she’s jealous.”

  As if on cue, the three stood and took their trays to a wall receptacle. I did the same and joined them in the video area just as the screen flashed live. I was surprised when the nightly broadcast started. I hadn’t expected this privilege.

  I gasped when Carrot’s face filled the monitor. His lips moved but I couldn’t hear his words, only the echo of Stick’s parting words. See you soon, Brynna.

  “What’s wrong? You’re sweating.” Leika’s eyes roamed my face. “Are you sick?”

  “No, just surprised.” And relieved that Carrot hadn’t been punished for his outburst. The camera panned right and another man came into view. “I used to work with the one on the left.”

  The other presenter, tall and skinny like Stick, started to speak. I focused on his words when the women around me clapped and cheered.

  “…perpetrators of these wanton acts of vandalism have yet to be apprehended. The council is taking every step to locate the rebels who are a serious threat to our government. The increasing hostile actions will not go unpunished.”

  “Boooooo! Boooooo!”

  “Hyporians are encouraged to report any incidents of rebel activity. Bonuses will be awarded for information leading to the arrest of these criminals. Until then, citizens must comply with all curfews. We thank you for your cooperation.”

  More boos followed.

  Details about new curfews and restrictions continued, but nothing about the threat from CMEs. I
wanted to ask Leika if she knew about the danger but decided to wait until I knew her better. A bigger priority was to learn what I could about the laundry.

  When the screen went dark, the women dispersed to their bunks or hunched around the tables playing cards. I was surprised that my new friends stayed with me and then realized they also had questions.

  “So what did you do to get put in here?” Leika asked.

  “I was wrongly accused of theft—by the thief.” It sounded ludicrous even to my ears and I understood why the others laughed. “What about you three?”

  “We’re here because we wouldn’t follow orders and become domestic slaves,” said Leika.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re scientists.” Leika pointed to Blue. “She’s a hydrologist.” Then to Yellow. “She’s a physicist. I’m just stubborn.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed and surprised that you weren’t transported out of Hypor City. I heard that people who didn’t conform were sent away.”

  “The laundry was short of workers, so we hear. I guess we were lucky,” said Leika.

  “What about you? Where did you work?” Blue asked.

  “I work—or worked—in the media lab. I guess you could say I have an ability with languages.”

  “What’s happening on the outside?” Yellow asked. “We only get the stuff the council feeds us.”

  I hesitated. Premier Delio could have spies even in the laundry. “I heard there’s a threat from the sun, but Delio seems more concerned with the rebels.”

  “That’s about all we know as well,” the twins added in unison. The lights flickered.

  “Time for bed.” Blue yawned. Yellow did the same.

  The twins left but Leika lingered.

  “Besides languages, what else are you good at?” she asked.

  “Well, I used to think I might be good at the Steepchase events but having seen Ruby I’m not so sure. I don’t think I’d be able to compete with her. Especially since I can’t train at the recpod anymore.”

  She leaned toward me and spoke quietly. “And you’re a singer.”