And yet, not the entire Wall was designed strictly for defense. Stretches of the Wall between guard posts have been dedicated to sucking carbon out of the surrounding air and converting it into carbon neutral fuels, an energy source the military makes use of for many of its vehicles, guidance systems, and aircraft. Based on early twenty-first century technology, these unique sections of the Wall look more like giant stacks of cubes, each with an enormous fan inside it.34 Devon had the unique opportunity to work on the construction of one such carbon capture zone of the Northern Gate wall. Being a part of securing the nation from outside attack as well as helping to cleanse the air of pollutants gave the young lieutenant a real sense of purpose and national pride.
As he walks towards the general’s office to check in, Devon runs over his explanation for transferring once again. Although he has no viable reason for wanting to be at this particular gate, Devon had successfully convinced his preceding superior officer to release him. It’s the “Birtbastard” (General Birtwistle—referred to as such, not so fondly, by the soldiers under him) that has Devon worried. Rumor and report suggest the man is not one to be so easily fooled. He knows he won’t actually meet with the “Birtbastard,” but his staff will have been trained to his idiosyncrasies. Whoever cross-examines him will be speaking in the “Birtbastard’s voice.” Still, Devon reasons, there is nothing wrong with asking for a change. He sighs melancholically as he looks around him. Not much of a change, really, but I could claim this gate sees more action. Or, he considers, I could say I suffered from a serious breakup and needed to get away from my ex. Weak, but it is an excuse that has worked with others in the past, so it might just pass muster here.
Whether or not his story passes muster, Devon feels secure knowing his transfer was approved by Lieutenant-General Pauloosie. That won’t stop the “Birtbastard’s” staff from grilling me, Devon muses gloomily. Still, he needs to be here at the Midwest Gate. For some reason, a reason he can’t even explain to himself, he needs to be near Frank Hunter. He needs to look into the eyes of the man who killed Todd Middleton. Even though he had been hurt by Todd’s refusal to sleep with him, and claimed to be gleeful when Todd was exposed and sent away to reeducation camp, that never changed the fact that he had fallen deeply in love with Todd. Todd’s death had come as a blow to his heart, one so painful that he found it impossible to continue seeing Frank’s little brother, Roger. He tried not to blame Roger for what Frank did, but every time he looked at his young boyfriend, he saw Frank Hunter, and then the urge to kill began to well inside.
The last time Roger and Devon made love had ended in disaster—it ended their relationship. Devon knew he was being rough with the boy, but every time he looked into Roger’s eyes, he saw Frank Hunter. When Roger begged him to stop, Devon slapped him across the face and told him to shut up. When Devon was finished and had finally rolled off him, Roger started to weep, “You promised me—”
“I promised you nothing.” Now Devon cringes at the memory of his own insensitivity.
Roger bawling, muttered between sobs, “I said no S&M, and you said you’d never hurt me. You agreed. You promised me—”
Devon wouldn’t even apologize; instead, he ended it. “I guess we’re over then.” Without even looking Roger’s way, he ordered the young man to get dressed and go home.
“I hate you!” Roger cried. “You fucking Vibia bitch!”
These words still echo over and over in Devon’s mind. I wonder if he still hates me? He has every right to. Hadrian help me, he muses, I fucking hate myself. Hurting Roger like that when all I really wanted to do was hurt Frank—and myself. Is that why I’m here? he wonders. Just to hurt Frank?
As soon as he was conscripted into the army, Devon began following Frank’s career through the military’s data wave. Career, Devon muses. More like stagnation. It took Devon less than two years to rise from private recruit to second lieutenant while Frank Hunter is required by law to remain at the ranking of private recruit. As a result, Frank Hunter will always be a foot soldier. And yet, from everything Devon has read in the reports about the military’s first penal private, Frank has managed to garner respect from the highest levels, and even though he can never carry the rank officially, it is said the “Birtbastard” considers Frank Hunter an elite sniper. Some even claim to have seen the “Birtbastard” actually talking to Frank Hunter, apparently to ask the private recruit for advice. That has never been proven, though. Still, Devon considers it a distinct possibility, remembering how strong a leader Frank was when he co-cap’d the Pride Panthers b-ball team.
*****
The only way for someone to get close to Frank Hunter is to be assigned his guard or take up extreme running. Since becoming Frank’s shadow would mean a demotion in rank, Devon decides it is time to get back into shape. Frank Hunter’s legendary runs are common knowledge throughout Hadrian’s military. It didn’t take long for word of his incarceration and odd ways to reach the ears of nearly every soldier in Hadrian’s army. Being privy to this knowledge before arriving at the Midwest Gate, Devon had already added running to his workouts. Running is hard for Devon even though he and Todd Middleton ran a lot together the one summer they dated. Knowing he has to be in prime shape if he is to keep up with Frank, Devon forces himself to run anyway, struggling all the while to push aside painful memories. Regardless of the fact that Devon began training for this task months prior to even applying for his transfer, he still finds that keeping up with Frank Hunter is a monolithic task. The man has been doing his run up and down and back and forth along the three-mile stretch of the Wall he is contained to by his tactile tattoo restraint for almost four years now.
Unfortunately for Devon, Frank can tell when someone is shadowing him on his runs. This only encourages Frank to push himself even harder so Devon will not have the opportunity to catch up. Frank’s biggest fear is talking to anyone from his past, so when Frank runs, it is from his past. The last thing in Hadrian he will ever let catch up to him is his past, and Devon Rankin is a direct link to that past. To Todd Middleton. Even though it is common knowledge that no one can keep up with Frank on one of his runs, Devon is determined. Although he has never been successful as a long distance runner, Devon can sprint, so he determines shortly after arriving at the Southwest Gate, and after a few too many failed attempts at catching up to Frank, that he will catch Frank mid-run when he is on the ground running between stairwells. Devon lies in wait behind the central stairwell, the one leading up to the main gate guard tower. As soon as Frank lights off the stairs and begins running toward the next stairwell fifty meters away, Devon chases after him. The sprinting tactic works, but only momentarily. Devon knows he can’t keep up the pace, especially since Frank, clearly annoyed at his presence, begins to run faster. It isn’t long before Devon is left in Frank’s wake without even being able to utter hello. Devon knows that the only way he is ever going to have his “talk” with Frank Hunter will be after he tackles and pins the man to the ground.
Tackling and pinning Frank isn’t as easy as Devon thought. Although Frank never wrestled in high school, leaving Devon to think he has the edge, he was very quickly schooled in all the various maneuvers during hand-to-hand combat training. And Frank Hunter has always been a fast study. So, even though Devon tries to pin him face down by using the Double Leg Takedown maneuver, Frank, anticipating the move, is able to spin on his heels, press his hand down on Devon’s head, grab his right arm, twist him around, and then slam his back down onto the ground, winding him. Before Devon can even catch his breath, Frank leaps down on him like a hawk. Flipping Devon on his side, Frank quickly slips his right arm between Devon’s legs and his left arm under Devon’s head and neck to clasp one tightly with the other. Devon is rendered immobile and barely able to breathe, let alone speak. This doesn’t stop Frank from demanding, “What the fuck do you want from me?”
All Devon can muster in response is “I—want—you—”
“What? What?” Frank’s rage has incre
ased, his face reddening, his right arm painfully squishing against Devon’s groin while the crook of his left arm digs deep into Devon’s Adam’s apple. Devon can no longer respond to any of Frank’s queries. For a brief moment, their eyes meet. Devon’s eyes are watering from the pain and frustration; this uncomfortable position in Frank’s arms is oddly erotic, causing him to harden. Frank, feeling the sudden growth, squeezes Devon tighter for a millisecond before releasing him. Instantly, Frank grabs Devon’s face in his hands and kisses him.
It isn’t until much later, after the two men retreat to Frank’s quarters, that Devon finally gets an opportunity to talk to Frank. By now, though, all questions about Todd’s death seem moot. It is as if their lovemaking has cleared everything up for Devon. He isn’t sure why or even how; he just knows that Frank killed Todd because he loved him. Frank Hunter had loved Todd so deeply he was willing to take the young man’s life. Devon doesn’t even want to know why anymore; knowing that is enough.
Strangely, it is Frank who initiates the conversation. “Why did you come here, Rankin?” Devon, resting his head on his right arm, looks over at Frank. Hunter is lying on his side with his back to Devon, his face towards the barrack wall. Using his left hand, Devon feathers his fingers over the small of Frank’s back. Frank shivers. “Answer me, Rankin!”
“Call me ‘Devon,’” seems to be the only answer the young man can give for the moment. Never in his wildest dreams did Devon ever envision himself with Frank Hunter, and then he had always figured Frank would be the aggressor, penetrating whomever he pleased, not being the one launched into. And yet, that was the very method of lovemaking Frank had insisted upon. Devon came at him from behind, and Frank had gripped both of Devon’s hands tight against his throat. At one point, Devon felt as if Frank were trying to strangle himself with Devon’s hands. It was highly erotic, and he knew he had to make Frank come before he killed him. Successfully freeing one hand, he gripped Frank’s penis and brought the man to a climax. It was almost simultaneous, and Devon collapsed onto the small mattress with a satisfied groan. He didn’t even notice how Frank slowly lowered himself into the fetal position away from him.
“All right, Devon, why did you come here?” The dry emotionless quality of Frank’s voice and the sarcastic slur to his name causes Devon to pause. “It sure as Hadrian wasn’t just to fuck me, now was it?”
“No—I mean—”
“No bullshit!”
“I did come here to see you. And, no, it wasn’t to fuck you. I wanted to know—I—it doesn’t really matter anymore.”
“What?” Frank spits out derisively. “You think fucking heals all wounds?”
Even though Frank refuses to look at him, Devon shakes his head in response. “I guess I really came here because of those girls.”
“What girls?”
“You know, the ones who murdered that girl.” Devon doesn’t know that Frank has little to no contact with the wave, being prohibited from wearing a voc lens or using any wall screens unless supervised. Frank has never missed any of that. It all belongs to a world he has chosen to be devoid of.
“No, Devon, I don’t know.”
Devon shudders. “It was brutal. They raped and beat her first.” Shaking his head at the wonder of it, Devon adds, “Some folks think they’ll get off, you know, like you did. I mean, I know you didn’t get off—what I’m trying to say is there are those who think they should be sentenced like you.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they’ll get exile or henbane. If it’s exile, they’ll be leaving Hadrian here.”
“I’ll probably be on tower duty if they do.”
“Why do you figure that?”
“I’m always on tower duty.”
“You may have to be the one who has to—”
“Has to what? Shoot the bitches?” Cold and cynical Frank muses, “I suppose I will if they run back.”
“You really don’t know about what they did?”
“Nope. And I don’t give a shit either.”
“Wow.” Devon is stunned. “This is like the biggest news since—” Devon cuts himself off. What he avoids saying is exactly what is on Frank’s mind.
“Since my trial.”
“Sorry, Frank; I—” There is a long pause while Devon waits for Frank to chastise or apologize. He gets neither. “It’s just, well, their case is remarkably similar—No, that’s not right. They claimed their case was similar. You see, they raped and murdered some chick because she was strai, and then after killing her, they tried to use your case for precedence. They actually believed that they were right to kill her because she was straight. Can you believe it? And then they try to use you to get off. They actually thought they would get lifetime military service like you. I can’t fucking believe it. There is no way in Hadrian that defense would ever work. I mean, your cases are so radically different. First off, you weren’t the one actually to rape Todd; that was that…what was his name, the guy who ran the re-ed camp Todd was in?”
Frank’s mutter is barely audible. “Gideon Weller.”
“Yeah, yeah, that Weller dude; anyway, he was the one to rape Todd, so what you did was an act of mercy, an act of love. I can see that now. I couldn’t before, but I understand now. I really do, Frank.”
At this point in their conversation, Devon is leaning up on his left elbow, staring at the back of Frank’s head. Frank’s violent response so shatters Devon that he collapses back onto the bed in complete wonderment. And yet, Frank does not move. He just bellows from the depth of his belly. His voice ricochets off the wall, slamming into Devon’s head. “You don’t know anything! You don’t understand shit!”
Memories start banging around Devon’s mind; memories of that night Roger had him come over so Frank could show off his latest possession: Todd Middleton. They didn’t have sex like Frank had claimed. Todd had been broken, shattered, terrified, and completely complacent to Frank’s requests. Todd had been raped—and by Frank, by his best friend. “Oh, man. Oh, man, Frank.” Devon just lies there, shaking his head, no longer looking at Frank but at the wall opposite him. Frank emits a pitiful moan. “Hadrian’s Lover, Frank, how can you fucking live with yourself?”
Not his lover, Frank thinks ruefully, his rage. I’m Hadrian’s rage. But Devon never hears those words as Frank only shouts a command, “Shut up and fuck me.”
Devon, filled with anger and lust, wants to hurt Frank, and Frank, in self-loathing, wants desperately to be hurt. Roughly tossing Frank onto his back, Devon grips his throat with one hand and uses Frank’s penis like a saddle horn with the other. It is like riding a brahma bull, with Frank bucking Devon at every thrust.
*****
34 http://www.upworthy.com/meet-the-giant-air-
sucking-wall-that-might-help-combat-climate-change?c
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Hadrian’s Martyrs
Hadrian’s justice system is seldom cumbersome or overburdened. Only those few who contest the accusation laid against them find themselves inside a courtroom. Most are brought before Judge Julia Reznikoff after having confessed under interrogation while inside the temporary holding cells. Thus is the case with Angel Higgins and Grace Godoy. Neither girl denied her actions when informed that not only had the bartender seen them leave with Tara Fowler the night of her murder, but that a DNA match was found between that of Angel Higgins and the spit found on the victim. It was at this time that both girls admitted to the deed, but requested a trial by jury anyway. They had argued that their case was similar to that of Frank Hunter’s, the only other known case in Hadrian where the guilty party had confessed to his crime, but due to the influence of his fathers’ insistence that the act was assisted suicide and not murder, a trial had been granted. Angel Higgins also claimed assisted suicide and asked for their exile sentence to be converted into lifetime military service. Regardless of an outcry from the conservative right, causing their case to drag on through the summer months and we
ll into fall, the two women were denied. This decision came about after Hadrian’s head defense attorney held a brief interview with the young women.
*****
Inside the small government office set aside for small meetings, Faial Raboud sits in wait for the arrival of the two young women who murdered her daughter’s best friend in what was described to her as one of the most brutal forms of cruelty she has ever known to exist within Hadrian’s walls. Looking about her, she notes how the room is similar to the one she sat in while awaiting the arrival of Graham Sabine, Crystal Albright, and her two mothers. In fact, Faial muses, this is almost the same view. The only difference is that it is now early winter; a slight dusting of snow covers the mounds of dirt that were once blooming with flowers and vegetables, as well as a thin powder coating the skeletons of a few leafless trees. Even in its state of hibernation, Hadrian’s Central Government’s rooftop garden is strangely beautiful. It speaks of loss and promise. Faial is brought back into the moment by the door opening. A civilian peace officer enters, escorting the two women into the room. Their hands are bound with plastic ties. These items have been recycled from the numerous mounds of plastic fished out of the Hudson Bay by detritus fishermen. Angel is the first to speak.
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