The December Protocol

by Devin Hanson

  Angeline squinted against the stabbing brightness and saw Anton and the jailer enter the room. They were dragging another man between them. His face looked battered, and he was naked except for a pair of shorts. He was Chinese, with the height and muscle mass of a first-generation Martian or Earthborn, and his pale skin and white hair identified him as a wujin.

  Anton and the jailer dragged the new arrival into one of the cages on the wall across from Angeline and dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. Anton gave him a last kick and let the jailer lock the cage.

  “Be seeing you in the morning, fuckhead. Don’t go nowhere.” Anton laughed and left the room. The jailer followed, flicking the lights out and shutting the door.

  Silence followed, broken by the slight liquid wheeze of the unconscious man.

  “Who is he?” Adora whispered.

  Angeline hugged her knees. “I don’t know.”

  It took a long time before Angeline was able to fall asleep again, and the man’s broken breathing haunted her dreams.

  Angeline woke up again in the morning. The lights were on and the man was pacing the tight confines of his cage, giving the mesh exploratory rattles every now and then.

  “We tried that,” Adora called out.

  Angeline sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes. In her dreams, she had thought herself free, running naked with the man over the surface of Mars. It had been a dream with oddly clashing senses of giddy exhilaration and knowledge of impending doom. Waking brought reality back, stripping away the joy but leaving her with the nagging feeling of time draining away.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Min Yang,” the man answered. “You are Angeline. And you are Adora.”

  “What?” Angeline asked stupidly. Her mind was still half caught up in the dream and she felt sluggish and drained.

  “You’re the marshal,” Adora realized. “You’re the one who was supposed to save us.”

  Min sat down at the rear of his cage and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

  Adora surged to her feet and slammed her hands against the mesh. “Then what are you doing here!?” she screamed. “You can’t save us trapped in a cage!”

  Min winced and opened his eyes. His irises were pink, his skin pale, his hair white. He stared at Adora, his gaze sad and gentle. The fury drained out of Adora and her shoulders slumped.

  “Damn you,” she whispered. “Damn you and all wujin like you.”

  Angeline curled up on her cot. She didn’t have the drive to get out of bed. What was the point? The only person who had been looking for her sat across the room in a cage. She was doomed now. She would live out her last days in this cage until she finally had her period, then that cruel male doctor would cut her open and steal her ovaries.

  The marshal, for his part, lay down in his cot and seemed to go to sleep. Angeline watched him. She had never had the opportunity to stare at a wujin for any length of time before. What she saw disturbed her. Marshal Yang was a handsome man despite his albinism, his features strong and his shoulders broad. She could see the muscles in his chest and arms, strange to her eyes. Under the low gravity of Mars, muscle mass drained away over generations; even those who were Earth-born or recently descended tended to be skinny, as there wasn’t enough gravity to fight against to maintain their physiques. Adora had spent long hours exercising, but her muscle mass was lean and stringy. In comparison, Min seemed to bulge with muscles, evidence of long hours spent working out with very heavy weights.

  That wasn’t what disturbed her, though. The marshal was a wujin, an immortal that lived off the life of other humans. He was a parasite. He and others like him were the reason why she was trapped in this cage, slated for harvest and slaughter. She thought she should hate him, revile him as Adora did.

  But she couldn’t. As much as she tried, all she saw was another human being. Trapped. Alone. She still saw the way he had looked at Adora, the weary gaze of a man who cared, but was unable to do anything about it. The marshal might be wujin, but he had done everything in his power to find them and rescue them. That he had ultimately failed didn’t make him a bad man. At least he had tried.

  Footsteps outside the room brought Min swinging to his feet. Angeline could see the strength behind his movements, the ease with which he came to his feet. He wore only a pair of shorts, and she could see the muscles ripple in his stomach, the bulge of his thighs and the gather in his shoulders. She stared at him, unabashed, wondering what it would feel like to run her hands over his chest.

  The door swung open and Angeline tore her gaze away from the marshal. Her stomach rumbled on cue as the jailer pushed his cart into the room. The marshal paced inside his cage, eying the jailer.

  The jailer ignored the marshal and went through the motions of swapping out the used pails for the girls before turning to leave.

  “I need food,” Min said. “Or water. You can’t just leave me here. I’m a marshal!”

  The jailer smiled at Min, acknowledging his presence for the first time. “I know who you are, Min Yang. Anton’s got a surprise for you. But orders are no food or water.”

  Min nodded and went to sit back down again.

  That was it? Angeline stared at him incredulously. He didn’t threaten the jailer, or shout, or even get angry. He just went back to his cot meekly. No, Angeline saw, not meekly. She could see the tightly controlled emotion in his face before it smoothed out again. He wasn’t meek. He was simply conserving his strength, waiting patiently until a time came when he could take action.

  Angeline ate her breakfast portion. Adora had already finished hers and was starting up her exercises again, going through stretching before starting her workout. Angeline watched her, debating with herself about mimicking the other girl’s actions. She glanced over at the marshal, but he was lying down, his eyes closed.

  With a sigh, Angeline got to her feet and joined Adora in stretching. After a few motions, she felt her muscles starting to loosen up again. She still felt sore from her first exercise session, but it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Adora dropped to the ground to begin her pushups and Angeline followed. To her surprise, the pushups were easy at first. She was already stronger than she had been the first time. Angeline remembered the corded muscle on the marshal and wondered how much she would have to exercise in order to get like that, if it were even biologically possible.

  Adora switched to crunches and Angeline followed suit, proud of herself for being able to keep up so far. She was doing her pushups on her knees, but at least she had been able to finish the set. Doggedly, she followed Adora through the routine. Pushups, crunches, squats, burpees, lunges, and back to pushups again.

  On the third set, Angeline noticed Min watching her and fumbled her burpee. Her face burned with embarrassment, but she continued with the exercise, ignoring her screaming muscles. She stuck with it through the end of the third set then collapsed on the ground, panting and dripping sweat. Adora glanced over at her and started back at the beginning again for a fourth set, her face set in determination.

  Angeline considered rolling over and starting with pushups again, but she just couldn’t do it. She didn’t know how Adora forced herself to push on, set after set. Her muscles were trembling, but it felt good.

  “Why do you exercise?”

  Angeline tilted her head back until she could make out Min, standing at the front of his cage. The concrete floor was cold against her back, and she was suddenly aware of how her baggy shirt clung to her sweaty body. She flushed again and forced herself up to sit on the edge of her cot. If she leaned forward, the fall of the fabric concealed her body the most. She thought of Jasmine, of her easy sexuality and rounded breasts. Angeline wished again that she could have Jasmine’s body.

  “I don’t know,” Angeline lied. To be strong and fight back, she thought, but she wasn’t ready to share that with the marshal just yet.

  “It’s a good idea. If you can exercise hard enough, it might delay your period, ev
en make you miss it completely.”

  Angeline looked over at Adora, who was grinning through gritted teeth as she levered herself up at the waist again.

  “I didn’t know that,” Angeline said.

  “Your friend does.”

  Angeline watched Adora, her stomach muscles aching in sympathy as the girl executed crunch after crunch. Adora had the same general physique as Angeline, though epicanthic folds hinted at mixed Chinese heritage. She was just as flat-chested as Angeline was, but she somehow managed to look mature anyway. She was sixteen, two years older than Angeline, but she looked like a woman.

  “I’m sorry about Jasmine,” Min said after a long pause.

  “I’m not,” Adora gritted out between breaths.

  Min raised an eyebrow at Angeline. Angeline shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was tell the marshal how Jasmine had betrayed Eva and had acted so selfishly up until the end. The truth was, Angeline admitted to herself, Jasmine didn’t deserve to be rescued. And here the marshal was, trapped because of them.

  “Your parents miss you, Angeline,” Min said. “I promised them I’d get you back safely.”

  “You’re not doing a very good job of it,” Adora said. She had finished her set and was pacing her cage, flapping her shirt to cool herself down.

  Angeline ducked her head, sudden tears burning in her eyes. She hadn’t thought of her family in days. Homesickness washed through her and she struggled to keep from breaking out in sobs.

  Min smiled. “I agree. But they won’t kill me.”

  “Why not?” Adora asked.

  “People know where I was looking for the kidnappers. If I disappear or show up dead, they’ll assume I was looking in the right spot. The marshals won’t let me die without response, even if some of them are dirty. This cluster would be swept from top to bottom and those responsible would be punished for my death.” Min shrugged. “The kidnappers know this. So I am trapped, but it won’t be forever.”

  “Yeah, they could just wait a month,” Adora rolled her eyes.

  Min nodded. “Only another day, actually. My next treatment is scheduled soon.”

  “But… then you’ll die!” Angeline exclaimed.

  “Yes.” Min gave her a sad smile. “I have lived a long time. If this is my time, so be it.”

  “Just like that,” Adora scoffed. “You’ll just give up and die?”

  “Oh no,” Min smiled again, and this time it was hungry, with no humor in it. “I won’t give up until the very end.”

  Min went back to his cot and settled down on it, crossing his hands behind his head. Angeline lay down as well. She wanted to ask the marshal more questions, but she felt embarrassed and didn’t want to disturb him. She closed her eyes. With nothing to do, she let her body relax, savoring the pleasant ache of her muscles. She thought of her family, of the happy bustle right before dinner, of her mother’s smile and the way her father hugged her.

  The door to the room opened with a bang, startling Angeline out of her sleep. Her shirt was still damp in places, so she couldn’t have slept long. She sat up in her cot, clutching her blanket around her shoulders.

  Anton entered the room with three other men that Angeline recognized from the Redstone Lounge. Behind them came the jailer, wheeling a heavy poly crate on a cart.

  “Okay, Marshal,” Anton sneered. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to get in that crate. If you don’t, we’ll beat you unconscious then put you in it anyway. Understand?”

  Angeline looked wide-eyed at Min. He was standing already, and he looked relaxed.

  “Sure,” he said, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Just open the door.”

  It quickly became obvious to Angeline that Anton had a problem. There was no way from them to get the crate into the cage without opening the door. It was five men on one, but even all but naked, the marshal looked like a wolf among sheep.

  “You heard the man,” Anton waved at the jailer. “Open the door.”

  “Are you sure?” the jailer asked doubtfully. “This is what Esteres said to do?”

  “I’m solving Esteres’ problem,” Anton said. “The marshal is here. We can’t kill him, we can’t let him go. I’ve got the perfect solution. So just open the fucking door like I said. There’s five of us and one of him. Where are your cajones, man?”

  The jailer fumbled out his stunrod and snapped it to full length. The tip sparked and snapped angrily at full charge. “I’m opening the door, Marshal,” he said. “But if you try anything funny, I’ll let you have it.”

  Min spread his hands. “You’re the boss.”

  The jailer stepped forward to the electronic lock. It was the first time Angeline had had a chance to watch him open it. Because he was operating the keypad at arm’s length, she was able to read the combination as the jailer pushed the buttons. 795, and the fourth number was obscured by his hand. Was it a 3? She couldn’t tell.

  The door beeped and swung open. Anton snapped out his own stunrod. “Come on out, Marshal.”

  Min pushed the door open and the jailer flinched backward, holding his rod out. Min feinted at him and the jailer leaped away, stumbling and rolling to the ground. The marshal laughed and strode from the cage. Immediately, he was surrounded by four men holding stunrods.

  Angeline gulped, her fists clenched white-knuckled around a fold of her blanket. For a long, drawn-out moment, nothing happened. Min met the gazes of Anton and his men and held them back, daring them to come and force him into the crate. Then one of Anton’s men lunged forward.

  The marshal moved, fast as lightning but smoothly as flowing silk. Somehow he evaded the snapping end of the stunrod and did something to the man’s arm. The man shrieked as cartilage crunched then Min was spinning away. Angeline gasped as the man staggered backward, his forearm swinging limply off his elbow.

  The jailer found his feet, his face twisted and ugly with hate. Min’s back was to him, and the jailer gathered himself to attack Min from behind.

  “Behind you, Marshal!” Adora cried.

  Min turned just in time to dance away from the tip of the stunrod. The jailer swung once, twice, then on the third swing Min darted inside the arc of his arm. Angeline couldn’t follow the blows as Min struck the jailer repeatedly, ending with a final kick that knocked the jailer staggering back.

  Angeline jumped as the jailer crashed into her cage. He stared at her through the mesh, his mouth working soundlessly. There was something terribly wrong with his throat. Angeline watched in horror as the man clung to the mesh, his eyes pleading at her. Gradually his strength drained away and he slid to the ground, his stunrod loose in nerveless fingers.

  The melee was continuing outside. For the moment, Min was holding his own against the remaining three men. They had stopped attacking him one at a time, and were slowly working Min back into a corner. Nobody was paying attention to Angeline, except the jailer.

  Angeline crept forward. The jailer’s lips were turning blue, his eyes rolling madly as he struggled for breath. She felt sick. She wanted to scream, to cry, to cower in the far corner of her cage as far from the violence as she could. Instead she forced herself forward until she was inches away from the jailer. He didn’t seem to be aware of her.

  With a last glance around the room to make sure nobody was looking at her, Angeline pushed her hand through the cage mesh and grabbed the handle of the stunrod. It seemed to hum in her hand, the grip made of heavy, plasticized metal. She pulled at it and the jailer’s hand moved toward her. She almost cried out before realizing the stunrod had a strap that was around the jailer’s wrist. Working feverishly, she got the strap off the man’s wrist and pulled the stunrod through the mesh into the cage with her.

  The tip of the stunrod brushed the cage, sparking when it came in contact with the mesh. The current ran through the jailer, making his muscles jerk wildly for a moment. With fumbling fingers, Angeline found the switch and killed the juice. She moved to her cot and hid the rod beneath her blanket.

&n
bsp; Her pulse was pounding and sweat beaded her forehead. She felt like stealing the stunrod had taken long minutes, but Min was still fighting. Anton and his two remaining men had backed Min all the way into a corner. One of the marshal’s arms was hanging limp and blood ran down his face from a split eyebrow, but he wasn’t giving up.

  Angeline found herself at the front of her cage, her hands painfully tight about the mesh. Her heart was in her throat as she watched the marshal fight. Every fiber of her pleaded for the marshal to win.

  One of Anton’s men broke formation and darted in. Min snapped out a punch into the side of his head that dropped him senseless, but not before the stunrod connected with Min’s knee. Angeline saw the muscle spasm shoot up and down Min’s side. It only lasted for a moment, but it was all Anton needed.

  Anton brought his stunrod down onto Min’s shoulder, smashing him to his knees. The marshal jerked wildly as Anton and his last remaining man rained down blows upon him.

  “Stop!” Angeline cried. Tears were running down her face. “Please stop, you’ll kill him!”

  Anton stepped back and caught the shoulder of the other man with his free hand. “Ease up, Mateo. We can’t kill him here.”

  Mateo kicked Min one last time then let himself be pulled back. “What a fucking mess,” he said surveying the room.

  “Whatever. The marshal’s down. Help me get him into the crate.”

  Together they wrestled Min into the crate, kicking his limbs into place and latching the top down. “There, that wasn’t so bad. Check on the others, make sure they’re alright.”

  “Pretty sure Vito’s not alright.”

  “He’s just got a broken arm. He’ll be fine.” Anton knelt down over the man Min had knocked out and slapped his face a few times. “Vasco! Hey, snap out of it. He didn’t hit you that hard.”

  Vasco groaned and pushed Anton’s arm away. “Fuck my head hurts. Stop hitting me, asshole.”

  Anton laughed and stood up. “Mateo, check on Miguel.”