by Sean Grigsby
Taylor hollered as well, stomping and pacing and mumbling to herself. “Take her over there to rest,” she told another two dwellers. They helped the injured OC limp to a chair.
Lena put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “Like herding cats.”
“I hate cats.”
“How are your blueprints coming?”
“Grindy was the better designer,” Taylor said. “All my sketches look like refrigerator art.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Lena said. “Keep it up.”
Lena walked away before she would say what she really thought. These bitches were moving too fucking slow. She knew it wasn’t Taylor’s fault, or Ava’s. But she wanted to blame someone and she was honest enough to know she wouldn’t point the finger in her own direction. Was all this just some pointless attempt to prolong their inevitable end?
Her beliefs had always been contradictions – she believed in destiny, but she also believed she could choke the fuck out of fate to make the bitch do what she wanted. Better keep her hands around that throat a little while longer.
Shamika sat on a manna box couch, lifting Rory above her and making stupid faces. The baby stared at her with the cutest what-the-fuck face. Lowering Rory, Shamika turned to Lena and raised an eyebrow.
Lena guessed she’d been gawking again, but hell, she couldn’t help it.
“You got a problem?” Shamika asked.
Lena swallowed her pride. It tasted like weakness. “No,” she said. “I was just going to ask if you could come help me gather laser cutters.”
“I’m busy,” Shamika said, and promptly returned to playing with Rory.
Oh! She was such a… Lena could kill her! If only she didn’t need her help in getting off Oubliette, she’d skewer the pus-filled twat’s eyeballs with her own fingers. Lena focused on breathing through her nose and stomped over to where Dipity was stacking glass.
“Something wrong?” Dipity asked.
“No.”
“OK, then.”
“I just want this to go smoothly.”
“You have a Plan B?”
The question hit her like an unseen rock. “Like what?”
“Say we can’t get through the Veil, even if we can get a ship built and flying.”
“I try to stay positive, Dipity. There is no backup plan.”
Dipity snorted. “So no going out the easy way?” She put a finger to her head and mock-fired.
“Don’t even play like that.”
“I’m just saying. If the end looks definite…”
“I’ll claw and scratch until I’m ripped from this life. You can bet your ass on that.”
“Well, since we’re still in this, me and Hurley Girly were talking about taking the Core. It would kill the Veil and be all the power we’d need to fly out of here. It’s not like we’ll need the Core much longer anyway.”
Lena groaned and rubbed the spot between her eyes. “Don’t you think it’ll suck when all the air and gravity gets turned off and we all get sent flying into space?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dipity said. “Sorry, Lena. I haven’t gotten much sleep. But we can still drain the Core enough to where the Veil is still up.”
“No. No point in killing the goose that’s still shitting gold,” Lena said. “We still need clean water, and light to see what we’re building. And besides, I’m not going to leave the ones who stay behind without the Core.”
“Oh, you were serious about that?”
“We’re coming back to get them.”
Dipity shrugged and walked away to retrieve more glass. She passed Sarah, who was pushing around a frizzy-haired dweller in a wheelchair. Sarah made whooshing sounds as the woman laughed and held on for the ride.
What the hell? This isn’t the time to be giggling like a bunch of assholes.
“Pao,” Lena snapped.
Her gang’s ass halted, still smiling. “Selene wanted to pretend she was riding a cyclone.”
“I couldn’t give a fuck. There’s work to do. Get over there and help with the laser cutters.”
Tears filled the eyes of the dweller. A flash of anger crossed Sarah’s face, but then it dwindled into a sad hanging of her head, her blue hair dingy from the last few nights. Lena wasn’t sure how much of it was from blood. After wheeling Selene over to a dweller, Sarah began sorting tools.
So this is what a piece of shit feels like, Lena thought.
What was wrong with her? These sheilas were trying to grasp the smallest amount of happiness in these last days, and she was destroying it.
But all of them had only this one shot. If she had to be the bad guy to save their asses, then so be it. They’d thank her later, and if they didn’t, oh-fucking-well. She’d know she’d done the right thing, even if they hated her for doing it.
She spotted a cyclone engine and headed off to carry it. There was a lot more to be done in so little time. A lot more.
Chapter 45
Tanks arrived at the shipper port. Beckles laughed, nearly choking on the tiny pretzels she’d popped into her mouth. Dolfuse had been given a pinch off a manna loaf she’d steadily been squishing between her fingers. How could she eat when she’d been sated on thoughts of every wrong move she’d made?
Spangler, I’m so sorry.
The guards beside her ate nothing. They’d exchanged their stun sticks for rifles.
They all sat once more in the gloom of Beckles’ office, watching a screen that showed several tanks approaching. One of the iron beasts even traveled on the railing usually reserved for the monorail. Then, they began firing.
Dolfuse flinched at every hit against the port. The shots sent heavy vibrations throughout the building, but after the smoke had cleared the entrances were still sealed and intact, and the port stood as erect as ever.
“You shits are going to have to do a lot better than that!” Beckles screamed at the screen, spitting pretzel crumbs onto her chest.
“They’ll get in eventually.” Dolfuse cleared her throat. “Don’t you think?”
Beckles turned with an annoyed curl of her lips. “This port is made of Gareth fiber. Same material used–”
“Used in the enviroshields,” Dolfuse snapped. “Yes, I know.”
Beckles squinted an eye at her. “Are you not enjoying your stay with us?”
“I just want to know what the hell you plan on doing with me. The wait and anticipation are what’s killing me. Whatever it is, just get on with it.”
“Do you not see what I’m trying to do here?”
Dolfuse dropped her piece of manna to the floor. “The only things I can comment on are the facts. You killed my best friend and sealed us in with your own private army. Forgive me if I can’t see any merit in any of that.”
“Spangler was disloyal and dishonest,” Beckles said. “I couldn’t have any further dealings with someone like that. As for the shippees, I’m giving them something in return for their service.”
“The benefit of staying a few minutes on Earth, just to be blown away by some tank shell?”
“We’ve already talked about this, senator.” Beckles wagged a finger. “Those bastards won’t be able to get in here.”
Dolfuse wasn’t so sure. And it scared her, seeing that they’d have to resort to destroying everyone inside the port. But maybe there was a way to get on Beckles’ good side, find a weakness, exploit it.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do…” Dolfuse began.
Beckles raised her brow and put a finger to her lips.
“I don’t believe in all this shipping either,” said Dolfuse. “But there’s a more diplomatic way of doing this.”
“Don’t try to pump me up with sentiments. If anyone could have helped end shipping, you were it.”
There goes that plan, Dolfuse thought.
For some reason she could understand if Beckles was a psychotic, someone who just wanted to take over and be the one with all the power. It was more difficult wrapping her brain aro
und someone who thought they were fighting a righteous crusade.
“But let me get this straight,” Beckles said. “You say you’re against shipping, but you sent your infant daughter to a place where you had no idea what went on, and knew you would never see her again. Senator, you may see me as crazy or reprehensible, but even I would never stoop to the levels you have.”
“That’s not my daughter. I had nothing to…” Could it be?
The guards beside Dolfuse chuckled under their breath. Dolfuse bit her lip and let the wave of revulsion pass over her.
“Hm.” Beckles scratched her chin. “We’ll see if that’s true when this is all over. But you certainly are an anomaly.”
“Choice,” Dolfuse said harshly, like lightning striking the desert.
“What?”
“You’re giving these women no choice. They’re going to fight for you, because the alternative is too terrible. Their mothers were given all the power in deciding to send them away, but no one gave them a choice. No one cared to hear their voices, or cared whether they lived or died. So who gets the right to choose and who doesn’t?”
“I’m the one who gets to choose from now on,” Beckles said.
“I see now,” Dolfuse said to herself.
“You will see,” Beckles said. “I think I’ve decided what to do with you, senator. At least for now.” Beckles pointed to the two guards. “Show her what shippees have to go through when they arrive at our door.”
“The whole process?” one of the guards asked.
“Cell and all,” Beckles said.
“You’re not going to get away with this!” Dolfuse screamed as the guards dragged her from the office.
Beckles turned back to the screen and watched the tanks continue their pointless barrage.
The guards threw Dolfuse into a large shower room where a single large hose lay near a rust-stained drain in the center. They stripped her. Of course, she fought them, but struggling just seemed to make it easier for them to get her clothes off. When she was naked and crouching in a corner, they threw bleach powder on her. That’s when one of them grabbed the big hose and smiled wide.
The water stream was like a punch to the gut. The other guard grabbed a brush and began scrubbing at her with the rough strands at the end of the pole. Scratching, scratching, like she wouldn’t have any skin left. She screamed and cried, even though she promised herself she wouldn’t. Soon, the water and sandpaper scrubbing stopped.
They hauled her to an enclosed room with a single bench. A folded white uniform had been placed on top, along with shoes and a note attached to a necklace of ID tags.
I’ll take these back when you’re done, the note said.
Dolfuse would be glad to return them to Warden Beckles – down her throat.
“Put them on,” one of the guards said. “Shoes, too.”
Dolfuse trembled from the water cooling on her skin, and her still-slick body made clothing herself difficult. She felt like she’d be covered in mildew soon.
Through the white halls she went again, no longer fighting the guards’ pull. They’d already done their worst. They led her to the main holding cells where shippee conversations buzzed loudly. A hive. That’s what the shipper port was now – and Beckles their sadistic queen. Down metal stairs the guards pushed her, and the shippees dropped their talk as she passed, watching her.
“This is where you’ll stay tonight,” one of the guards said, extending an arm to an open cell.
Inside, a girl with a metal prosthetic arm cleaned her rifle. She looked up and the ponytail of her red hair fell from her shoulder. Dolfuse turned to see if the guards were going to force her to do anything else, but they’d left.
“I was wondering why they moved Clarissa out of here,” the girl said. “It’s not like they let us have a cell to ourselves. I haven’t seen you before.”
“No,” Dolfuse said, looking around the room. A toilet stood against the back of the wall with a half-used roll of paper and a book sitting in a recessed shelf. “I’m new.”
“I thought they locked the port down. No more shippees coming in.”
“They did. I’m a special visitor. They’re giving me the advanced tour.”
“That makes sense,” the girl said.
Dolfuse gave her a confused look.
“You know. Because you’re old.”
“Huh.”
“Well, you’re a lot older than the average shippee.” The girl smiled, and Dolfuse couldn’t help but return it. “I’m Rebecca.” She put aside her rifle and extended her robotic arm. Dolfuse looked at it, noticing the twitching mechanical innards that made the fingers open and close.
Slowly, Dolfuse took Rebecca’s hand. It was warm. She’d been expecting cold metal, but it was almost human – at least to the touch.
“I’m… Linda,” Dolfuse said. No reason to go around telling bloodthirsty shippees, angry at the establishment, that a continental senator hid among them.
“You can have the top bunk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Rebecca returned to her seat on the bottom bed. “When the war starts I want to be the first one out the door.”
A child eager to kill and die. Dolfuse thought it was the worst thing she’d seen all day. And there was a lot of competition for that spot.
“How old are you?” Dolfuse asked.
“I’ll be eleven next month,” she said, proudly. “What about you?”
“I just turned thirty-seven.”
“Whoa!”
“You can count that high, right?” Dolfuse said with a weak smile.
Rebecca laughed. “Math was my best subject before I got sent away.” Her happy attitude died with the last part. “My parents didn’t wait a second into my tenth birthday before waking me up in the middle of the night and having these scary people in white uniforms put me in the back of a truck. Didn’t like having a daughter born with one arm, I guess.”
“But you have a prosthetic. That’s the only reason they shipped you?”
“I got this new arm here at the port, so I could shoot a rifle. My parents never got me anything. They just thought everyone whispered about the family with the one-armed girl. Doctors didn’t catch it while I was in my mom’s belly, and then they were stuck with me. They told me so. Every few months they’d give me a countdown of how many more days they had to put up with me. ‘Two years and three months more, Rebecca.’ Thought they’d look good, for being so ‘brave.’ For making a tough decision. That’s OK. I’ve made a decision, too. And after we take over, I’ll pay Mom and Dad a visit.” She clamped her robotic fingers into a fist that made a deadly clink.
Dolfuse shivered. “You know the warden doesn’t really care about you, right?”
Rebecca flicked her green eyes to Dolfuse, still holding her metallic fist in front of her.
Dolfuse never thought she’d be afraid of an eleven year-old, but this girl had been fed pain on a daily basis and recently given the means to release it on others with the pull of a trigger. Still, Dolfuse dared to say, “She’s just using all of you for her own reasons.”
Rebecca shrugged. “If I fight, I get to stay. If I don’t, I die or get shipped out eventually. That’s what all of us decided.”
“I can’t argue with you there,” Dolfuse said.
“I’m going to go play some cards, you want to come with me?” Rebecca walked to the cell’s entrance and turned back to Dolfuse.
“No,” Dolfuse said. “Thank you. I think I’m going to sleep for a few hours. But wake me if anything happens.”
Rebecca nodded and waved goodbye with her robotic digits.
Dolfuse woke in darkness. The blast of a tank shell ripped her from a dreamless sleep, but the tanks continued their assault without a peep from the shippees scattered throughout the holding room. The shippees’ silence was eerier than the tanks waiting just beyond the walls, especially compared to the bustle that had been outside her new cell just hours… well, she didn’t kn
ow how long ago. A quick snore came from below her and Rebecca shifted in her sleep.
Dolfuse didn’t blame the shippees for doing anything to avoid going to that hell in space. It was much worse than they knew. She wondered if Martin had seen the drone’s video yet. Seen what Oubliette had become. Seen the baby. Maybe that’s why the tanks had come. They were bringing that injustice to light.
Dolfuse tried to roll to her side and fall back asleep, but she couldn’t. Thoughts of Bobby and Spangler flooded her mind and she breathed faster and shook with pent-up energy. She had to stretch her legs. Get her mind right. Find some way out of the predicament she’d put herself in.
She followed the few dim lights and walked the circle of cells on her level. She heard a rustling from within a cell and saw a large shape underneath a sheet – too large to be just one shippee tumbling around under there.
Farther down, she rested against the railing and looked to the bottom. It was a good twenty feet, enough to kill you if you landed properly. The rail cooled her palms at the touch and she found a little comfort in it. Her eyes began to adjust and she could see the bottom of the holding floor, like a faint moon. It looked welcoming. It wouldn’t take but a quick shift in gravity.
No. Someone had to stop this madness. She was the only person in this nuthouse that could. She could grab Rebecca’s rifle, shoot her way to Beckles’ office and end this coup before it even got out of the port.
Her legs carried her as she rationalized it. Her father had taught her to shoot. It wasn’t that long ago. And besides, what was the skill in it, you just pointed and squeezed. She could do this.
She stood feet from her and Rebecca’s cell when the ceiling caved in. Fire and chunks of Gareth fiber exploded into the holding room, sending Dolfuse onto her stomach. The air filled with smoke. Dolfuse salivated uncontrollably and had to spit out the plastic taste that had latched to her tongue. Shippees flooded from their cells as an electric chirping, like a gigantic alien cricket, filled the room.
