The Gender End

by Bella Forrest

  “As you can see, it’s quite close, but there’s no sign that it hit, which is good. None of the organs were damaged either, so once the swelling goes down, I’m hoping to get in there, remove the bullet, and then we’ll know for sure how bad it’s going to be. But surgery carries risks, and there’s a chance that by doing this, I could actually make it worse. He could lose function in one, if not both, of his legs, if he hasn’t lost it already. Now, if you’re satisfied, may I please examine you and your arm?”

  I smiled, realizing that Violet had refused to let Dr. Tierney examine her until she knew the details about Jay. Violet nodded, and Dr. Tierney quickly ran her scanner over her, examining the results.

  I watched as her face turned from stern, to mystified, to curious and shocked. “The break is fully healed,” she exclaimed in awe. “I’ve… I’ve never seen anything like this!”

  “The doctors at the…” Violet trailed off, and I could see her trying to decide how much to tell Dr. Tierney now. “Well, it’s a very weird story, but some doctors that I met—you’ll be briefed later—used this,” said Violet, holding up the slightly crumpled plastic sheet in her hand. “There’s some sort of liquid inside that gets injected into you—although I never felt anything, except my arm feeling a thousand times better.”

  Dr. Tierney examined the plastic, prodding it a few times. Grabbing a tray off the nightstand, she spread the plastic out and then used a scalpel to carefully cut out a few of the hexagonal shapes and drop them into a petri dish lying nearby.

  “I’ll see if we can’t scrounge up something to do an analysis,” she said, placing the lid over it. “In the meantime, do you have any more questions?”

  “Only if you’ve had a chance to look at Solomon. The same group, they put this kind of goop in his wounds, and it looked like it was becoming skin tissue. It might be too late for you to get a sample of what it is, but if we could replicate that, it would be…”

  Dr. Tierney’s eyes went wide, her normally sharp voice rising a bit in intensity. “A medical miracle. I’m on it. Just shout if you need anything else, and… I’m glad to see that you’re all okay.” She embraced Violet tightly, and then stood, cradling the tray in her hands. “I’ll go check on Solomon now and do a small biopsy.”

  “Thanks. Also… how are you keeping him? I don’t want him to wake up tied down, if he doesn’t have to.”

  Dr. Tierney hesitated, and then frowned. “I’ve got some of the Benuxupane we took off of Cody when Viggo first brought him back. Before you get upset, Dr. Arlan has been toying with it, and I think a small dose might be able to help him be more… level-headed. It’s not great, but it’ll hopefully keep him from flying off the handle and hurting anyone unintentionally. Would you like me to try it?”

  Violet hesitated, and I couldn’t blame her. It was a difficult call to make. On the one hand, Solomon was violent, but he’d been showing improvements according to Violet. Yet this was Benuxupane—a drug designed to take away the ability to feel, then modified to also make the taker compliant to all commands, and none of us liked putting a fellow human into that kind of state.

  “Can we move him to a more isolated room and just see how he reacts when he gets up?” Violet asked, her eyes wide. “I’d hate to do that to him for no reason, and I’m sure he’s getting better. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt without resorting to that.”

  Dr. Tierney didn’t react other than to nod, and then she walked away, heading for a door leading off to the side that served as the bathroom. Likely she had set up a surgical unit inside, as it would be the easiest place to clean quickly.

  “Hey, Viggo, Violet,” said a soft voice to the right of Jay, and I turned and saw Quinn in the next bed over, a patch over his eye and pink scars crisscrossing his face. “I heard you had quite an adventure! Tell me about The Outlands—being injured sucks so bad, and there’s barely anyone to talk to while you all are away.” He paused, the hesitant smile on his face flickering in and out. “You have been running around so much, it’s hard to even know what’s been going on.”

  “Oh Quinn,” said Violet, reaching across the narrow gap to gently take his hand. “I’m sorry, and I understand how it feels to be left out of everything. I’m just glad you’re healing up so quickly, and soon you’ll get out of here.”

  He gave her a crooked smile, but it was clear he didn’t believe her. Or rather, he knew it was true, but wasn’t very excited about the prospect. Not that I could blame him. He had suffered devastatingly under Tabitha’s blade, and she had taken so much from him. It was impossible for me not to feel angry with her.

  Or wish her back to life so that I could have the pleasure of killing her myself.

  Suddenly the door slammed open, and I looked up in time to see an older woman with brown hair, streaked handsomely at each temple, stalk in. She wore a modest dress, collared and long-sleeved, with a skirt that ran down below her knees—the very model of a Patrian female, except for the stubborn glint in her eyes and tilt of her head that said that she would control every room she walked into.

  Scanning the room, her hazel eyes lit on Alejandro, and she began to march—not walk, but march—over to him, her arms pumping as she strode. “Alejandro Enrique Simmons, what fool thing did you go off and do now?”

  Her voice was stern and filled with irritation, and I couldn’t help but smile as I took in Jennifer Wallens-Simmons, Alejandro’s wife of three decades. She slowed when she saw me and Mags, a soft, gentle smile wiping away the irritation that Alejandro had borne the brunt of for many years in his marriage.

  “Viggo,” she exclaimed breathlessly, turning in her trajectory and coming over to me in a few short steps, her hands coming up to pat my shoulders and then cup my cheeks. “My dear boy, we were so worried for you—you barely come by to see us anymore!”

  “I’m sorry, Jenny,” I said, gently pulling her hands from my face. “I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “Completely understandable, all things considered.” She looked me over, her eyes narrowing, and she crossed her hands below her chest, a displeased look coming to her face. “You’ve lost weight. Have you not been eating enough?”

  “I haven’t, ma’am, but there’s been a lot going on.”

  She harrumphed, and then turned to Mags, who had come up beside her, her eyes lit up. She embraced the young woman, clearly taking pains not to hurt her. “You could do with some rest, darling. No one wants bags they could practically use to fill a dam under their eyes!”

  “Ouch!” Mags said dramatically, but there was a broad smile on her face. “I know, Tía. I’m gonna grab a catnap before the meeting we’re having. Let me know how it goes with Tío!”

  She excused herself and began walking to the door, a yawn splitting her mouth wide open.

  “Dr. Tierney said you needed to stay in bed!” I called.

  “She didn’t say where I had to stay in bed, did she?” she shot back over her shoulder as she made for the door.

  Jenny and I watched her leave, and then Jenny turned, giving me her full and undivided attention. “How bad is his hand?” she asked, fidgeting nervously.

  I hesitated, surprised she would be asking me this, but I realized she was trying to prepare herself for the worst. “It’s not good,” I supplied. “Dr. Tierney can explain it better, but he needs surgery—sooner rather than later—and he’s being exceptionally stubborn about it.”

  She tsked, her eyes drifting over to where Alejandro was feigning sleep on the bed. I could tell he was faking it because periodically one blue eye would open just a slit before slamming closed, the muscles of his face going completely slack.

  “That kooky old man will be the death of me yet,” she muttered before stomping over to the bed, intent on giving her husband a piece of her mind.

  “That was Jenny?” Violet asked after she left, and I nodded.

  Ms. Dale, who had been leaning quietly against the wall the entire time, stood upright and smiled. “I like her,” she said. “But ma
ybe we don’t want to be here to witness whatever fight they’re about to have. Your room is only a few doors down; why don’t you get washed up and take a few minutes of rest yourself, and then meet us in the main conference room. I assume you know where that is?”

  “I do,” I said. “We’ll see you there.”

  She nodded and left, following Mags. “You guys should go,” said Quinn. “The drugs they’re giving Jay are enough to knock him out for hours, and you look exhausted. Tim and I can keep watch on him, and as soon as he’s up, we’ll let you know.”

  Violet flashed a grateful smile to him, and leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, Quinn,” she breathed. “I’m glad to see that the stitches are out.”

  “Me too—those things itched like hell,” Quinn replied dryly, and, having been on the receiving end of stitches before, Violet and I both shared a chuckle with him.

  Then I helped her up. We said our goodbyes to Quinn and Tim, and together moved down the hall to go seek out a shower before the meeting.

  OceanofPDF.com

  16

  OceanofPDF.com

  VIGGO

  I showered slowly. I knew I shouldn’t have, but the hot water felt too good to rush away from as I let it soak into my tired and aching muscles. My time savoring the soothing warmth came to a whopping fifteen minutes, and by the time I made it back to the locker room outside the communal showers, Violet was there, getting into some clean clothes Ms. Dale had given her in the hall.

  I averted my eyes as she drew a shirt over her head, and kept walking past her to the adjacent row of lockers, using them to obscure my view of her. I had meant what I said when I told her I was going to respect the sanctity of our future wedding night. It didn’t matter to me that I had seen almost all of her body when she was sick; it had been impossible to appreciate in that moment when she was in such pain. I couldn’t look at an injured woman, especially one I loved, and feel anything but concern and worry and fear.

  Dressing quickly, I was just shoving my feet into my boots when Violet knocked on one of the lockers at the end of the row and then poked her head around.

  “Boooooooooooo,” she jeered with a smile when she saw I was fully dressed. Her teasing brought a smile to my own lips as I drew the lacings of my boots tight and tied them.

  “The towel wasn’t enough for you?” I teased back, and she smirked as she leaned a shoulder against the locker.

  “Never,” she said unabashedly. “But it’ll have to do for now.”

  “That’s my girl—taking what she can get.” She snorted in response, and I stood up, throwing my bag over my shoulder. “Super fun meeting time.”

  “And then to bed,” she said as I moved past her, pausing long enough to slip her arm around mine. I led her back through the second barracks designed for the cadets—several people were already sleeping in the bunks—and back out into the main hall, two doors down from the room serving as the hospital.

  Leading her back up to the main entrance, I went past the office where the guards sat and turned the corner, almost slamming into King Maxen as he came down the stairs. He nearly fell, I startled him that much, and I reached out on impulse to grab his shoulder and stabilize him.

  Jerking away from my hand, he huffed and straightened, smoothing down the front of the simple black jacket he was wearing.

  He’d shaved recently, his goatee now trimmed and closer to perfect than I’d seen it since we’d kidnapped/rescued him.

  “Maxen,” I said, refusing to put the proper “King” in front of it. I couldn’t. I’d seen the man use unarmed men, women, and children as human shields.

  “Croft,” he replied, just as bitterly. “I see you were invited to a meeting, while I was not.”

  I exchanged looks with Violet and shrugged. “You have been in the dark for some time, Maxen. I’m sure it would take too much precious time to catch you up at this point.”

  “No, this is a blatant attempt to further wrest control from me!” he exclaimed, his voice dangerously low. “By keeping me out of the command structure, you are only further undermining my position as the rightful leader here. I allowed you to sequester me out of the need to keep me safe, but this is an outrage! I deserve to be there, to make my case before that little witch attempts to have her way and oust me!”

  I frowned over the “little witch” comment, taking a moment to figure out who he meant before recalling the conference we’d had with Magdelena before we’d raided the city last night. Sweet Lord—had that really all happened last night?

  Violet caught on as well and took a step up the stairs.

  “Number one: that ‘little witch’ has a name—Magdalena,” she breathed angrily. “Number two, she fought like a Valkyrie for this country and its people, so you will at least show her a modicum of respect.”

  A growl trickled from Maxen’s throat, and instead of responding, he pushed in between us and stalked around the corner, muttering under his breath. I watched him go, knowing that letting him roam free was a bad idea, but one we had to put up with until the imminent danger had passed—especially with five Patrian wardens now counted among our allies, relying on our connection with the king to prove we were on the right side—or we really would look like the kidnappers we probably were. But it was clear that Maxen was not taking the idea of his power evaporating very well.

  Whatever. For all of his bluster, the man was ultimately a coward, and I doubted anyone within these walls would help him. Not with so many rebels around.

  “What a piece of work,” Violet muttered as I led us upstairs into the main command room. In addition to training the cadets, this facility usually received and dispatched all the calls to the wardens on duty and nearby. It was a great learning opportunity, as many of the second-year cadets wound up working in this very room, learning just as much from watching as they did from doing.

  It hadn’t changed much in all those years, either, but it felt different walking into it, partially because the control center was half-functioning. This was a room that had once had eyes on the whole of the city, and now it was partially—mostly—dark. The workstations where techs would scrub images in search of criminals were intact, but abandoned, as though waiting for someone to return. It was clear the building hadn’t suffered any damage during the three-day riot that had ensued after the stadium video, and I was at least grateful for that. This place was familiar, and whole, even if it wasn’t fully functional at the moment. It had been a long time since I had felt the small comfort of familiar facilities.

  Henrik was standing by the large conference table toward the front of the room, where all the large screens sat, speaking with three men, two of whom I didn’t recognize but one I did.

  “Mark?” I said, moving closer. I was interrupting, but I could tell they were wrapping things up from the way Henrik was shaking hands and patting shoulders. “Mark Travers?”

  A slim man of about five foot eight turned, a broad smile breaking across his face when he saw me. “Viggo Croft!” he exclaimed, taking a step over to me, his hand extended. “I haven’t seen you since you brought those so-called prisoners through that checkpoint!”

  I laughed, surprised he remembered, and then sobered when I realized why he had. That was the night Elena’s plan had really kicked off, and my “prisoners” and I had made off with Maxen. Yup, there was a convoluted history to be sure, but I was just happy to see him okay.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I said ruefully. “I wish I could’ve explained, but I couldn’t trust you would believe me, and we had to get to the king before Elena had him killed.”

  Mark gave a good-natured shrug. “I get it, man. From what I’ve heard, you and your girlfriend have been up to a lot trying to stop this madness. I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

  “You too. Were you one of the wardens to secure this place after the video?”

  He nodded, his smile fading some. “We were at the Alberton Memorial Stadium when the video hit. There we
re about three hundred people in there when we went in, but only ninety-seven got out. After that, with all the chaos, I came here and waited, wanting to see what the Matrians would do. When they bugged out, I got a few of the other guys who hadn’t been selected for those work programs and got in here to lock it down. Seemed like the best idea at the time, one that gave us time to think about what we could do—which turned out to be not a lot. There were only five of us, not exactly a force for change.”

  “I’m sure you did the best you could under the circumstances. And it’s just great we have a place to set up shop. Thank you for that.”

  “Well, I didn’t do it for you, and to be honest, we should be thanking you. You helped rescue the king and have been trying to put an end to all of this.”

  I felt a frown cross my face at the mention of Maxen and let it evaporate quickly. Mark was a good man, but he was fairly simple, which meant he supported the power structure in Patrus without question. Chances were that if the vote Mags wanted was held tomorrow—the one deciding whether or not Maxen should be in charge anymore—Mark would definitely vote to keep Maxen in place. And this meant that he and I were going to have to disagree at some point.

  “It’s the least we could do,” said Violet modestly from beside me, and I realized I had gotten lost in my thoughts. I looked around, trying to center myself, and saw Ms. Dale enter with Morgan and Amber right behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Mark, “we’re a part of this meeting. Can we pick this up later?”

  “Of course, of course! I’ll see you then.”

  With that, he and the other two men departed, and Violet and I headed over to seat ourselves at the wide conference table. Morgan met my gaze, giving me a fleeting smile. She looked nervous, and I couldn’t blame her… although I was pretty certain her actions were going to speak more to the group than the fact that she was also an enhanced Matrian princess. They certainly had for Violet and me.

  I had opened my mouth to reassure her, when the door leading to the server room clanged open and Thomas emerged, carrying a bundle of wires in one hand and flipping through some notes in his notebook with the other. He dropped the length of cable to the floor and then jacked the end of it into the television, turning it on. Pulling out his modified handheld, he clicked a few buttons, and the screen lit up into the familiar display of the handheld screen.