The Gender Fall

by Bella Forrest

  “Head out of the tent and continue left,” she ordered.

  Owen was in motion ahead of me, pushing the tent flap aside and moving out soundlessly, his eyes wild. We jogged down the pathway between the tents, keeping our heads down and our footsteps as quiet as possible.

  “Turn right,” Violet’s voice ordered.

  As one, the two of us slipped off the beaten path and between two adjacent tents, moving down the narrow gap between them. We had to move slower here. Stakes and ropes jutted out of the ground, and we had to step over them carefully so as not to trip—or shake the tents and give away our position. Owen made sure to check each row for guards as we darted across, and I covered the rear, glancing over my shoulder, looking for any sign of pursuit.

  “Left again, for five tents, then right down another path like this one.”

  We moved around the tents into the wider path, and were halfway down when suddenly Violet shouted, “DUCK!”

  Without thinking, I grabbed Owen’s shoulder and pushed him roughly down as something whizzed by overhead, moving so fast my hair shifted from the breeze it stirred. Looking up toward where it had landed, I saw a shadowed blur skid to a stop and whirl. The figure was small—it had to be one of the boys. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a black mask obscuring his features. Except for his eyes, which stared blankly at me.

  I was keyed in for the mission, my emotions compacted into a tiny place somewhere in the back of my mind, cut off from my actions. Still, I knew what I had to do.

  I stood up slowly, raising my hands and letting my gun dangle from my fingers, one hand moving cautiously to my throat to turn off my subvocalizer. “Hey,” I said softly, trying to get the boy’s attention, my voice cracking as my vocal cords unfroze. “We’re not going to hurt you, buddy. I’m Viggo.”

  The boy’s eyes stared at me. No, they stared through me, still vacant, devoid of anything resembling emotion. After a pause, he cocked his head, as if listening to something.

  “Affirmative,” he replied, confirming my suspicions. He was receiving orders from somewhere.

  So sudden was his movement that I had no time to react. One second he was staring at me, his eyes empty of anything resembling a personality—the next he was in motion. I had a moment to brace myself, preparing for impact, when suddenly the blur before me became an uncontrolled tumble. Owen’s hands pushed me hard, and I slid right as the boy flew between the two of us, hitting the ground and sliding into a tent. I heard the thump as he hit the ground inside, taking a set of stakes and poles with him, and as he whirled with a grunt, the tent collapsed around him.

  “What just happened?” I growled at Owen, so shocked that I let my words slip out loud.

  He gave me a chagrined look as I switched my subvocalizer back on. I threw my gun at him, he replied, glancing at the tent. I didn’t even have time to think—I think it tripped him.

  I blinked once. I could explore how much luck we had expended with that one later. For now, we needed to get moving.

  “Viggo, another one is drawing close,” Violet gasped through the earbud.

  Owen was already a few steps ahead of me, a knife glinting in his hand, and I started to follow… then turned back, staring at the collapsed tent, the fabric billowing where the boy thrashed and rolled silently around. I wondered if he was upsetting bodies in that tent, too. I heard Owen hissing my name through the subvocalizer, but I ignored it, taking a tentative step back toward the tent.

  “Viggo,” Violet’s voice said tightly.

  I couldn’t leave the boy behind. Not only was it possible we might get important information from him… but more than that, I couldn’t let Desmond and Elena continue to use him like this.

  “What are you doing, Viggo? You guys need to get out of there!”

  Trust me, I replied to Violet’s anxious voice, working as fast as I could.

  I reached forward and yanked at the tent, pulling at the collapsed material until I uncovered the boy tangled in a lumpy pile of canvas and bodies, grunting as he tried to shift the objects off him, his mask askew. Hesitating for only a heartbeat, I reached out with my left hand and snatched at his mask, keeping my gun trained on him just in case. The boy’s hands reached up from among the wreckage, and he grabbed my hand in a grip that felt too weak to be that of an enhanced human, but he was too late. The mask was off.

  I froze, my heart stopping for a moment as I recognized Cody, one of the boys who had been in the first group I had trained. Once he had taken a swing at me, but I had taken him down to prove a point. As I looked at him, I felt deep anger rising up in my chest. Cody wasn’t some dead-eyed drone; he had been precocious and challenging. And he was only eleven. Elena was not only using genetically modified teenagers, but children in her disgusting war.

  Cody didn’t even seem to register that I’d removed the mask. His eyes still vacant, he let go of my arm, panting with exertion as he pushed at a dead man who had flopped out over his legs. I took a chance and holstered my gun, then quickly plucked the earbud from his ear and slipped it into my pocket, wondering if it might be useful.

  Immediately Cody’s movements stilled, and he gazed at me, his face blank, his mouth hanging slightly open. As gently as I could, I grabbed his shirt and then carefully leveled a blow at his jaw, wincing as it impacted. He immediately went limp. Feeling sick, I carefully dragged the unconscious boy out of the tent and into my arms, taking a few more of our precious moments to check his pulse. I hated having to hit him, but even little Cody was too dangerous to take with us while he was conscious—I had no idea what he would do awake, how deep his loyalty to Desmond truly ran.

  I heard fidgeting behind me and was suddenly grateful he hadn’t made a fuss over the detour. Viggo, Owen said, his voice low. There are guards coming back. I can hear them. Let’s go.

  Take my gun, I replied. Try not to throw this one.

  At the same time, Violet’s voice rang through my ears. “Viggo, I’m not sure what you’re doing down there, but they are closing in on you. Go straight through the tents ahead. Cut your way out if you have to.” From the hard edge in her voice, I could sense our luck was running out.

  Got it. I nodded to Owen, who immediately went for the tent in front of us. I stepped up behind him, waiting, breathing through my teeth as he cut a hole in the fabric and then stepped aside for me. I raced for the next tent, and Owen followed, repeating the action. We were at the fourth one when Violet spoke again.

  “The other boy is close. You need to move.”

  Owen’s response was to rip another hole, his hand jerking on the knife, and motion me through. I stepped through, and, outside the door of the last tent. I finally saw the trodden-down empty space between the fence and the rows of death tents. There was still that thirty feet of open land between us and the hole we had made in the chain link. I felt a sinking in my stomach, despite all my preparations. We weren’t going to make it.

  I had opened my mouth to tell Violet as much when her voice crackled in my ear, so loud it was practically a shout. “I’m going to create a diversion for you. Go NOW!”

  I had no time to ask what that diversion would be before my ears picked up something whizzing lightly by overhead. I caught a glance of Violet’s drone as it headed toward the trailers. The humming of the motors died away as it moved out of earshot, and then an explosion rocked through the night.

  All the lights that had illuminated the camp fell dark at once, and shouts erupted behind us, the guards’ voices farther than I would have expected, and—thank God—getting farther away still. Owen and I took that as our cue, breaking into a run as a fireball rose up from the spot where Violet had crashed the drone.

  Owen reached our escape hole before me and yanked the fence aside, letting me go first. I turned sideways and slipped through it, taking care not to catch Cody’s dragging limbs on one of the jagged ends of the wire. After a few seconds, we were both through, racing toward where we had parked the car.

  Our footsteps th
udding through the darkness, we made it through the tree line and to the car without alarms ringing out or bullets flying after us. Owen opened the back door first, and I deposited Cody’s limp body into the backseat; then, as Owen climbed in shotgun, I raced around the car and practically dove into the driver’s seat. Jamming the key into the ignition, I slammed the car into gear and took off, not even bothering to check what direction we were going. In the review mirror, I saw Owen peering back at the darkened camp behind us, clearly checking whether we were being followed.

  I clenched the wheel tighter and pressed the accelerator, too tense to feel any form of relief.

  23

  Violet

  We made it to the car, Viggo announced over the radio, breaking the tense silence that had stretched out between us. I exhaled sharply, leaning back against my chair as a wave of relief hit me hard, making my muscles sag on my bones. Around the room, the rest of the group was visibly relieved as well. Ms. Dale had one hand on her hip, the other braced on the table, which looked to be the only thing holding her up, and even Thomas seemed shaken.

  “What was that?” I asked Viggo. “What took you so long?” I’d been monitoring the area around Viggo and Owen, watching the guards and the person—it must have been the boy—who was racing around the camp at impossible speeds, his body fiery colors. As desperately as I’d wanted to hover over Viggo and Owen, watching their every move, I hadn’t had time to stop my surveillance and really see what was going on where they were located.

  We took one of the boys, Viggo told me solemnly. It doesn’t look like we’re being pursued, but we need advice on how to proceed.

  I turned back to my controls, prepared to use the drone to give them some information about the area, only to remember, as I saw the black screen buzzing with static in front of me, that I had crashed the drone into the generators. I slid my hand out of the metal tubes, almost sadly. Beside me, Thomas’ fingers were flying over his keyboard as he spoke.

  “Do not come back here,” he said into his mic. “We don’t know who’s tracking those boys, or how. I’m researching an area remote enough to direct you to. What direction are you heading now?”

  I frowned and cocked my head, shooting a glance at Ms. Dale, who was bobbing her head in agreement with Thomas. I stood and moved over to her, shakily stretching my limbs. Seeming to catch the question in my eyes, the old spy told me in a soft voice, “Thomas is right. We could lead them right back here, and we can’t compromise the integrity of this base. Especially since we don’t have a fallback location ready yet.”

  I bit my lip and nodded, feeling slow for not recognizing that earlier. “Of course,” I said. “That’s smart.”

  Ms. Dale gave me a conciliatory smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you would’ve puzzled that out for yourself soon enough. You did really well tonight.”

  I ran a hand down my face. “I appreciate you saying that, but I’m not so sure. I mean, I should’ve used the thermal scanning on the tents. Then we would’ve known it was a trap, and none of this would be happening.”

  “No.” Ms. Dale’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and she shook her head emphatically, her hair, in a tight braid, jerking over her shoulder. “There were three people in this room, and we all missed that. Yes, it was a dumb oversight, but you aren’t to blame. If anything, I am—I should’ve asked you to do it, but to be honest, I was more concerned about those trailers than the tents as well.”

  Her words made me feel a little better, but still… “We need to be better next time,” I said stiffly.

  Ms. Dale grinned at me. “We’re always going to need to do better,” she replied. “It’s just part of being in charge. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  I nodded and then turned to see Thomas looking at us expectantly.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked, bringing my mind back to the task at hand: getting Viggo, Owen, and the captured—hopefully, now rescued—boy safely back here.

  “Not a lot of good options in the area. That death camp was practically at the foot of one of the mountains. I have them heading south now, trying to buy a little time, but there aren’t a lot of roads for them to use.”

  “Roads would be a bad call anyway,” replied Ms. Dale, toying with her braid with one hand. Her gaze was thoughtful as she considered the problem. “The guards at that camp will have already notified their higher-ups, and, seeing as the camp was bait, I would be surprised if they didn’t have troops nearby, ready to do a sweep. No—we need to do something a bit more unexpected to buy us some time.”

  I frowned and crossed my arms. “Thomas, do you think you could look at the map and theorize where they might’ve hidden their troops, if they have any? Best guess is better than nothing.”

  Thomas’ fingers flew over his computer, and I looked at the screen connected to it, watching as a 3D topographical map appeared. Thomas began clicking on areas, placing a few red hexagonal markers. I watched closely, noting the location of the base and the direction Thomas had advised Viggo and Owen to go.

  “Where should Viggo and Owen be now?” I asked him, and he nodded. A few more clicks on the keyboard, and a blue triangle appeared on the map.

  Ms. Dale came up beside me and watched intently as well. “That’s good, Violet. Thomas, eliminate all but four or five of the proposed troop locations. I can’t imagine they would commit any more than that, and even that might be a bit excessive.”

  I watched as several of the red hexagons disappeared from the map, only a handful remaining. “Of course, this is only conjecture,” said Thomas. “But if I were them, that’s where I would be.”

  Ms. Dale took a step back, nodding. “You were right to send them south,” she said. “We can find a spot to cover the heloship while we check the boy for trackers so we can airlift them out of the area. Can you show me what the area is like forty to fifty miles away?”

  The map on the screen shifted left, revealing more of the geography beyond the camp, the lines moving in wavy ovals and circles that grew wider or closer together, depending on the elevation. Thomas continued to scroll until Ms. Dale’s hand shot out, pointing at a spot.

  “There,” she said, tapping the screen. It was a low valley, surrounded by four hills. “We can bring the heloship in here.” Her gaze was steady on the map, and she pointed to a spot less than a mile away. “Have them meet us there.”

  Thomas frowned, his eyes studying the screen from behind his spectacles. “It’s bad terrain,” he announced. “It’ll take them at least two hours to get there.”

  Ms. Dale turned and nodded solemnly. “It is really bad terrain,” she agreed, sounding almost pleased. “But it’s equally bad for the enemy. They’re going to be tracking them using the boy. But it’s the best shot we have at getting them out before anybody catches up with them.”

  “Dr. Arlan will need to go,” I said. Ms. Dale and Thomas looked at me as I worked the plan out in my head. “Someone has to cut the tracker out, assuming the boy has one, and Dr. Tierney is busy caring for Quinn and Henrik, so…”

  “You’re right,” said Ms. Dale. “And good idea—the rest of us won’t have to dig around in him blindly looking for it.”

  A thought occurred to me, and I frowned. “Thomas, do you know anything about trackers that are put into gels or liquids?”

  He cocked his head at me, frowning. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

  “When I was working with Lee, Desmond’s son, he had trackers you could put into someone’s drink. It would stay in their system for two weeks, and then get flushed out. I was just wondering, just in case—”

  “In case the boy doesn’t have one surgically implanted,” Thomas concluded for me. “No, I don’t have any experience with them. They may be new and rare Matrian technology, or maybe it was something Lee developed on his own.”

  I glanced at Ms. Dale, noting her look of dismay. “So even if the boy doesn’t have anything implanted under the skin, he still might be tagged?” she said. “That’s
disconcerting.”

  Looking down at the table, I sighed. “I agree. We might have to consider leaving him behind.” I hated the way those words sounded in the air, but I couldn’t leave a single option unexamined, not with our entire camp in the balance. My cousin’s children flashed before my eyes, reminding me what was at stake. As much as I hated it, I knew in my heart that just because we couldn’t find a tracker under his skin didn’t mean we could bring the boy back with us.

  “I might be able to whip up a scanner of sorts,” Thomas announced abruptly. His head was tilted up toward the ceiling, exposing the folds of his neck. He spun slightly in his chair, his legs kicking a little. “Even trackers use some sort of power source. I can scan the boy to see if he is emitting any sort of abnormal frequency.”

  “Do you think it’ll work?” I asked, taking a step forward, relief surging through me.

  He looked at me, and straightened. “Yes. Barring equipment complications, if he has them, I can find them. If he comes up clear, then we can bring him back. If not…”

  Hey, guys? I’m still waiting on a plan here. Viggo’s voice buzzed in my earpiece. We had been so absorbed in how to proceed, I realized we hadn’t been communicating to him.

  “Viggo,” I said, “we’re going to meet you in sector thirty-seven C, two miles from sector D, and four miles from sector thirty-six C. We can direct you as needed. Be careful of potential Matrian troops in the area. Keep heading south until you hit a ravine, and then turn east. We’ll be waiting for you in the heloship.”

  Copy that, came his reply.

  I turned again, tugging my headset off, trying not to upset the soft cap I still wore. “I’ll go get Amber,” I said. “Since we’ll be flying.”

  Taking a step forward, I felt a strange sensation, not unlike falling, and the room started to tilt to the left. No—I was falling. My hand shot out to grab at the table, and I felt my knuckles rap sharply against the wood as I half tumbled into it, breaking my own fall.