by Coralee June
"What?" I asked with a shrug. "I like kids. I just feel like I'd love my own too much to subject them to all of this." I waved my hand around the room before placing it back in my lap.
"Have, uh, have you been, uh..." Maverick began, his cheeks turned red from obvious embarrassment.
"I left Galla before I could be sterilized, but I want to. It’s just one shot, right? Painless and simple," I said with a shrug. The sterilization law once seemed like such a burden for Walker women to endure. I remembered crying when the news bulletin was announced. Josiah said it was to prevent suffering and preserve resources. He said it was cruel to allow Walkers to bring children that would die from X into this world. It was easier this way. But now that I saw Lackley’s true colors, I saw the sterilization law as just another tool he used to control the population and breed only those he deemed worthy—the Elite.
"But also irreversible," Patrick interrupted while looking between us. "Maybe once this all blows over, you'll change your mind?"
"Maybe."
I stood and stretched. As I raised my hands above my head, my shirt rose up, revealing my stomach, and I felt Patrick's heated stare caress the exposed skin.
"Uh, Ash. Maybe we should try to find alternative solutions to prevent a baby until you're sure," Maverick said while watching me. I blushed. Despite my growing confidence in the physical aspects of our varying relationships, I knew what this would mean.
Allaire rolled his eyes and began ruffling through drawers of the lab until he found what he was looking for.
"Ah, here,” Allaire said, turning to me. “Cavil sends some of his personal Walker Companions to this lab for sterilization. I usually just give them this. I don't like how permanent the shot is," he said in a clinical tone while handing me a sheet of pink pills. "Take this. It’ll protect you for about six months, give or take. Once you menstruate again, you’ll need to take the next one. I've got about three year’s worth in this pack." He waltzed back to his work station before yelling, "You're welcome, assholes."
I looked down at the pills then back up. I knew what this meant. I also knew it would solidify the pace of our relationships. I've had heated moments with each of them, yet still craved that headfirst dive into our desires. This past week progressed us further into our feelings. I learned each of their pasts, their needs, and how they responded to chaos. There was something to be said about finding love on the cusp of destruction. You learn a lot about someone by seeing how they cope. Ultimately, there was no doubt or insecurities. I loved Huxley, Patrick, Cyler, Jacob, Maverick and Kemper, so why waste precious time?
With a boldness that seemed foreign to me, I maintained eye contact with Patrick as I popped one of the pills from its packaging and plopped it in my mouth. Its citrus flavor dissolved on my tongue, and once it was gone, I smiled triumphantly. "Easy enough."
Kemper groaned before walking over to me. Without looking back at Maverick’s, Patrick’s and Allaire's amused expressions, he guided me towards the entryway, hidden from their knowing smirks.
"I can't focus on fixing this fetter problem with you looking so kissable," he said before biting his fist and trailing his eyes down my body. "And lately, you seem so confident. It’s like you’re glowing. Whenever you're near, I physically can't stop looking at you." Kemper had a job to do, and I respected it, but I liked seeing how on edge I made him. I drank in his frazzled appearance and found it attractive and concerning. There was a lot riding on his ability to disable our fetters.
"So, what can I do to help?" I asked while adjusting the collar of his shirt.
"I can't decide if I need to feed my addiction or keep away. I know once I start kissing you, all I'll want is more," Kemper whispered. Patrick's laughter from the lab echoed off the walls and surrounded us.
"Ash...I'm getting a little reckless, lately. I've always been so private. But with you? I don't really care that they would hear your moans in the next room," he whispered and I let out a shocked gasp.
“I happen to like you reckless, Kemp,” I whispered back.
“Ash, you haven’t even seen my version of reckless. I’m a perfectionist. I lose control with purpose.” I sucked in a breath as Kemper leaned closer. I widened my stance so I could feel him proudly between my legs. He lifted my hand up and gazed at my fetter before kissing the skin around the dull metal.
Kemper then snaked my arm around his neck. He closed the remaining inches between us, and just as he was about to tug at my lip with his teeth, the front doors opened and collided with the wall, resulting in a loud bang. The sound ricocheted off the walls, startling us. Dominique and two soldiers who were straining under the weight of a stretcher, barged in. Kemper acted purely on instinct and moved me behind him.
"What’s going on?" Kemper asked in a stern tone, all hints of our banter from before completely gone.
"The cook started showing symptoms of the rejection, I-I didn't know what to do," Dominique stuttered while leading the two men carrying the cook inside. Allaire rounded the corner, practically colliding into them.
"Dominique? Are you okay?" he asked loudly while pressing his body against the side of the wall, allowing room for them to pass.
Dominique clutched her chest and walked over to him. "He's dying. Third one this week. It’s been almost a decade since he received the vaccine," she said in shock. Allaire's fingers twitched, as if he was aching to hold her, to comfort her. “I thought maybe you could use a test subject,” she then explained.
Allaire peered at the cook with concern. “We’re just now getting our findings to the testing stage. We can try, but I can’t make any promises.”
"Elites that started the rejection were given rooms at the main clinic, but he's just a Walker. At least his death can be put to good use." Her voice was a strange blend of methodical and concerned. She paced towards him with us following close behind. Maverick had already begun reading his vitals, and I backed away to give them space.
"How long?" Maverick asked.
"Six hours, maybe more. When he started showing symptoms, he wanted to go to his room, but I brought him here instead," Dominique explained while wiping the older man's brow of sweat. He moaned, and Maverick promptly began gathering his supplies for a blood draw and IV while Allaire secured his arms down with a belt.
"You know, I don't know his name? I've always called him Chef, and he's never corrected me. I've spent every day with him since Cavil bought me from Lackley," she whispered, and I snapped my head towards her in surprise. She once belonged to Lackley?
"I-I hope he’s of some use to you," she continued. Dominique kept creating verbal distance between her and the chef by saying he was nothing but a test subject, but the pain in her body language spoke differently. She wrapped her arms around her middle and bowed her head in defeat.
Maverick inspected the chef with a frown, and the hopelessness in his gaze made me sad.
"Dominique, the thing is..." Allaire began while coughing. I watched silently as he adjusted his collar and tried to breathe. "We aren’t nearly ready to test the cure, it could make his condition worse or cause him to experience more pain. We have at least three days of virtual trials to run. I don’t want to add to his turmoil." I remembered Josiah’s shaking frame in Lackley’s lab and shivered.
Dominique looked up at the ceiling then back down before putting her hands on her hips. "That seems to be a recurring theme—not being able to do anything," she said. Chef coughed and tried to sit up, but Maverick held him down.
"How long does he have, Mav?" I asked while taking another step back.
"I'm not sure. Could be hours, days. Everybody reacts to the mutation differently."
A slight hiss seeped out of chef’s mouth, and we all stared at his cracked, parted lips. Dominique leaned over to listen as he tried to whisper again. He pushed out the same hissing sound as Dominique strained to hear what he said.
"What did he say?" I asked, my loud voice breaking our intense observation of the chef and Dominique. I
shivered while fighting back memories of the clinic and the Stonewell basement. The rejection, like influenza X, was a cruel way to die.
Eventually, Dominique straightened and rolled her shoulders back. For a brief moment she stared at Allaire, but her eyes lacked warmth. She wore an expression of cold resignation. She then let out a loud exhale before brushing a hand over chef’s forehead. "I'm so sorry."
With slumped shoulders, she made her way over to one of the soldiers that helped bring him here and paused. She didn't look him in the eye when she spoke. She just stood there, her head level with his shoulders as she faced the wall. "Kill him," she whispered to the soldier, causing everyone to break out in frantic panic.
The soldier didn't blink at the request. In one singular fluid movement, he unholstered Heat from his belt, aimed it at the chef, and squeezed the two side levers, releasing its blast of concentrated electricity. I threw my hands up to cover my eyes as Kemper gripped my shoulders. Dust hit my skin as a bright light bled through my eyelids. I coughed out bits of dust that hit my tongue as yelling broke out. There, on the table, the chef was gone, and all that was left of him was a pile of carbon.
"Why did you kill him?" Patrick screamed while rushing over to me. He kept his eyes on the murderous soldier while brushing debris from my shoulders.
Dominique took her index finger and ran it along her lips before inspecting the cellular dust that gathered on it. "Because he asked me to," she said simply before nodding at the soldiers and heading towards the exit.
“Wait!” I called out, despite warning looks from Maverick, Kemper and Patrick. Dominique stopped in her tracks and slowly turned so that she was facing us. The soldiers ignored me and continued marching out.
“Yes?”
“When did you live with Lackley?” I asked. I knew she was in a vulnerable state but didn’t care. Maybe she knew something—anything—that could help us get through this.
“I lived there for a couple years, yes,” Dominique explained before turning to leave again.
“Did you ever see anything strange?” I pushed. I knew she was at the breaking point. I felt the stress at the tip of her tongue.
“Strange? No. Cruelty wasn’t out of the ordinary. I saw men beg for their lives at his feet. I saw leaders of the empire grovel like dogs as he hoarded the vaccine.”
I pushed past the others, stepping in dust as it billowed up beneath my feet. I tried not to think of what composition of body parts made up the powder coating my skin.
“How’d you end up here?”
Dominique looked around the room, and when she spotted a broom, she sauntered over and grasped it with her bony fingers before beginning to clean.
“Cavil and Lackley have always had a sort of competitiveness about them. Or at least, that's what I’ve been told. They’re distant cousins, you know. Both killed their way into power. Both have twisted views on how the empire should work.”
Dominique’s dress shifted as she swept, everyone seemed on the edge of their seat, hanging onto her every word. “It’s always been the same. Each of them has always struggled for power. Ethros had the monopoly on weapons. Galla, on the vaccine. Cavil has spent a lifetime determining Lackley’s weaknesses,” she said. Dominique paused for a moment to search for the dustpan, and resumed when Kemper graciously handed it to her.
“If you’re looking for some secret information or insider tip that might give you an advantage, you’re looking in the wrong place. Maybe I’m a cynic, but men like Cavil and Lackley don’t have any depth to their motives. Sometimes, they’re just power hungry bastards that’ll crush whatever comes between them and what they want,” she said while dropping the broom. Its metal handle landed with a thud. “Cavil’s been biding his time for years, and interrogating someone he uses up like an expendable resource isn’t going to give you the advantage you need. You’ll need an army, the cure, and zero morals—not a group of incompetent leaders from a forgotten providence,” she said forcefully while sweeping up the last of the dust. “You might have stumbled into some wealth with your mine in Dormas. But these men? They’ve been cultivating alliances and leverage for years.”
Maverick opened his mouth to speak but she turned to address me, cutting him off. “You want to know how I ended up here? Cavil thought I was pretty. He saw something inside me that he thought he could one day use against Lackley. That's it. I was a polished piece of property, given away to fuel the ego of a mad man. So while you selfishly bounce between your Holders, go ahead and pretend like you aren’t the same thing as me. You’re a Walker Companion who's convinced herself she’s free.”
Chapter Sixteen
"How is it that I spent years trapped in the Stonewell Manor but feel antsy after four days here?" I asked Cyler while plopping face-first onto the twin-sized bed in the upstairs loft of the lab. I missed Dormas. I missed the people and my mornings with Maverick. Days at the bakery. Nights at the Manor.
"I think we're all feeling a bit...antsy..." Cyler said with a cough before moving to the complete opposite side of the room. I turned my head to look at him, and smiled when I saw him run his hands through his dark hair.
"I guess sitting around and waiting does that to a person. I feel bad for pestering Kemper. I know he's trying, I just—"
"—want something to work in our favor," Cyler finished.
I rolled over so that I was on my back and stared up at the tiled ceiling. Normally being around the guys was comforting, but we were all on edge. Huxley seemed the most irritable. I was convinced that his eyes would get stuck in the back of his head from rolling so much. And even I found myself annoyed by Kemper’s constant talking to himself. He was working to make sense of the signal receptors for the fetter, but apparently it was too complex for his skill set and knowledge. Allaire and Maverick were too swamped with figuring out the last components of the cure mutation to help, but they provided insight when they could.
"How long do you think Cavil will be gone?" I asked for the third time. I knew the answer, but needed to talk about something. Cyler sighed and tapped his foot.
"You know I don't know the answer to that, Babe," he replied while leaning back in his chair and jetting his legs forward. The relaxed position made me swallow.
There was something I wanted to talk about. It had been on the tip of my tongue since Dominique left, but I hadn’t built up the courage to bring it up yet.
"Are you ever going to spit out what’s been on that pretty mind of yours?" Cyler asked and my eyes immediately zeroed in on his amused expression. I hated how well he could read me.
"I don't know. It’s about Dominique." I felt cautious with expressing my concerns. I knew I shouldn't have pressed her for information, but desperation made people do desperate things.
"Do you think I pushed her too hard?"
"Do you want an honest answer?" Cyler asked. The empathy in his eyes alluded that this would be a hard conversation to have, but I knew that Cyler never did anything unless it was for the greater good.
"Yes."
Cyler stood and walked over towards me. He plopped down on the bed, and I sat up. He then pulled me into his lap before speaking. "Babe, I think that in a short amount of time, you've lost your childhood best friend, moved to a strange new place, fallen in love with six overbearing leaders, were kidnapped, tortured, and held captive in yet another strange land. I think you're tired, a bit traumatized, and it’s a lot to expect you to handle every situation perfectly." Cyler gripped my hand and squeezed. "That being said, it probably wasn't the right time or place, but Dominique doesn't seem...stable? She's seen and done a lot. I think it’s hard for her to look at how your life has turned out compared to hers."
Cy was right. Dominique was forced to serve not just one, but two sadistic leaders. Selling every part of herself for their protection and a vaccine that no longer worked.
"I never realized how much Josiah protected me from all of this," I whispered while taking my free hand and rubbing the cool metal of my fetter
.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Babe," Cyler said in a gruff voice while pulling away. "I can't help but wonder if your life would be better at Stonewell’s. Look what has already happened since I brought you to Dormas. You—"
I placed a chaste kiss on Cyler's lips, tasting his cinnamon breath and enjoying the feel of his lips on mine. I wanted to stop him from listing off all the horrible things that have happened. There was only one thing that mattered.
"You rescued me, Cy. Don't you know?"
Cyler claimed my mouth with his, the force of his kiss pressed me back down towards the soft mattress. I moaned into his mouth as he settled between my legs. I took the fabric of his shirt and gathered it in my hands before pulling it over his head. The rough material of his jeans rubbed against the inside of my thighs, creating a tantric resistance that made me squirm while he pulled apart the buttons of my purple dress.
"I love it when you tell me what you want. Say it now, Babe." Cyler's husky voice was layered with lust, and tension washed over me.
"I want you," I replied in a breathy tone while I opened my legs wider so I could feel him more. I didn't stutter like back in the treehouse. That shy woman who felt conflicted by her wants was driven away by the recklessness of our situation. Cyler cupped my breast and massaged me.
He dipped his head and began sucking on my neck while I wrapped my arms around his broad back and pulled him closer. I wanted to feel every inch of his skin on mine. I looked over his shoulder and noticed the door was open.
"We should shut the door," I whispered.
"I think we should keep it open," Cyler replied and I felt his smile against my neck.
"Wh-what if someone walks up here? What about Ju—"
