Calico Descending

by Keri Lake

  “Okay, I’m done with this conversation.” Clenching my eyes won’t erase the visuals of me trying to play with Valdys that way, and all I can imagine are those big palms grabbing me by the neck and slamming me against the wall for touching him. “Besides, we’re not supposed to touch them,” I add, as the fact comes to mind.

  “You weren’t supposed say his name, either, right? Maybe this one likes a girl who breaks the rules.”

  In the darkness, I mull over her words, and recall Doctor Ericsson telling me my meeting was the most successful, in spite of having broken a number of the rules. Maybe Roz is right. Maybe Valdys appreciates a rule-breaker. That’s why I’m assigned to him, after all. To keep him in line.

  “I’m still not touching his cock,” I whisper back.

  Chapter 7

  Four years ago

  * * *

  Something jostles me out of dreams, and I jolt upright on a gasp.

  Dina is standing over me, her finger pressed to her lips. “Shhh. Follow me.” She wakes Bryani up, as well, and the lingering darkness and chilly air reveals it’s the middle of the night.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You wanted a place to stay, right?” she whispers, nabbing a canteen that she straps across her chest.

  “I thought we were going to ask about staying here?”

  “They don’t want you here. Look, it’s nothing personal, kid. We just don’t have the resources. Two more mouths mean two less get fed.”

  The news leaves a sick churning in my stomach, and I can’t even look at Bryani right now. “So, where are you taking us?”

  “There’s a place. It’s safe. You’ll have food, water, shelter, everything you need.”

  “Where? And why do we have to leave in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s a half-day hike. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  She kept her sadistic boyfriend from feeding us to a mountain lion. Gave us her rations of meat. And let us sleep a few hours, by my estimates, in her own bed. We have no reason not to trust her. As disappointing as it is to leave, perhaps the next stop will have fewer creepy men staring at us. At the very least, fewer who would reap enjoyment from watching a lion tear us apart.

  I push up from the bed and follow after her, out of the tent.

  A half-day walk is comparably easier on a full belly. I tip the canteen back, taking a long swig of the water we collected from the tinaja before heading out. Dina returned our packs to us, so each one of us has water and small pieces of jerky Dina swindled from the food rations. I’ve hardly broken a sweat by the time we reach a shallow cavern in the side of the mountain, after just a few hours of hiking.

  Sloughing her pack onto the ground, Dina directs us to settle on the soft bed of cool sand inside the cavern.

  “This is the place?” I ask, frowning as I plop down onto the sand.

  “Wait here. I have to talk to the leader of the hive, first. I don’t want him to know you’re with me.”

  “Why?”

  “In case he’s squirly, at all. Just looking out for you, okay?”

  Tucking my knees up to my chest, I nod. “Okay.”

  With a smile, she exits the cavern, and I look over to Bryani, who draws in the sand with a small twig.

  “I didn’t want to stay at that place, anyway. I like Dina, but the other men were assholes.”

  “Bree!” I chuckle at the sound of her cursing. Though our mother cussed quite a bit, neither of us ever really slipped. Not that my mother would’ve cared if we did. It just felt disrespectful to swear in front of her.

  “Remember when Momma found the lizard in her sleepsack?”

  My body convulses with laughter at the memory of our mother hopping about, convinced it had crawled into her shirt. “I never heard a woman spew so many curse words in a matter of seconds.”

  Bree’s howls of laughter echo in the cavern, prompting more laughter from the both of us, until I’m bent over, weak with all the laughing, which eventually dies down to solemn smiles.

  “I’m gonna miss her.” Voice wobbly with tears, Bree wipes at her eyes and chuckles again. “Fastest cusslinger in the south.”

  Smiling wider, I nod. “I’ll miss her, too.”

  A hum and squeal outside of the cave sounds like a vehicle coming to a stop, and I set my finger to my lips, signaling Bryani to remain quiet. Movement at the mouth of the cave snags my attention, and I turn to see three men, dressed entirely in black. Masks hide their faces, and long black tubes make them look like some kind of monster. Unfriendly.

  Legion.

  I scramble over the sand toward my sister and push her behind me, as the men enter the cave toward us. “No! No!”

  Cornered. Yanking Bryani to the ground, I scamper on all fours toward a gap between the men, but one of them grabs hold of my hair, wrenching me backward. A splitting pain streaks across my scalp.

  Still, I fight, kicking and punching, and scratching whatever I can, because after the stories I’ve heard, I’d sooner have every strand of hair pulled from my scalp than be captured by Legion. “Let go of me! Let us go!”

  We’re dragged with ease out of the cave, toward a vehicle off in the distance. Dina stands to the side, where crates are stacked before her. Ammunition, cans of food, and medicine bottles, from what I can make out in a passing glimpse.

  I glare back at her with all the rage that seethes through my blood. “What have you done? What have you done!” Squirming and kicking is futile against my captor, whose grip is steel around my body. “What have you done!”

  “Hey, you guys … you don’t hurt ‘em, right?” she calls after the guard, who wrangles Bryani into the back of the truck.

  “Of course not. They’ll be treated very well.” Even a fool could pick up the lies in his tone.

  The back of the truck has bars across, like a cage. One forceful shove knocks me to the bed of it, the metal scraping against my knees and tearing the skin. With a wince, I push to a crawl, but the door slams in my face before I can reach it. Gripping the bars, I pull myself up, the tears in my eyes finally breaking free, as I stare back at the woman who betrayed us.

  “Hear that, kid?” If I didn’t know what a slimy person she was, I’d mistake the flickering frown on her face for remorse. “You’re gonna be okay. Calico is a safe place. A hospital. They’ll treat you good there.”

  Chapter 8

  Present day

  * * *

  The elevator opens onto the dark corridor, and once again, I’m staring straight into a nightmare. The walls pound and thunk as I pass, on my way to the door at the end of the hallway. The same as the day before.

  I stayed up half the night trying to imagine how I would approach Valdys today, how I might breach his walls. I’ll certainly not be taking any of Roz’s advice.

  My whole body is cold and shaking by the time Medusa steps in front of me to open the door.

  “After yesterday, I’ll assume you’re well versed in the rules.”

  The rules didn’t help me at all yesterday, but I answer, “Yes.”

  Setting her hand to the wall pops the lock, and as the door slides open to the shadowy room, my stomach sinks. The bruised band across my throat tingles when I step inside the mostly empty space that feels about ten degrees colder than the corridor. This time, I have nothing to offer him. Nothing to say after yesterday’s attack. And no idea what I’m expected to do, in order to make this beastly man want to keep from seeing me take his punishment.

  Five minutes pass in the span of what feels like thirty, before I finally park myself on the floor against the nearby wall. Pulling my knees up, I wade through the thoughts spinning around my head--topics of conversation that would come easy to me, if Roz were sitting across from me, instead of a six foot killing machine. I can’t even see him, where he sits in the shadows, to know if anyone’s really there, at all. It’s only the metallic scent on the air, watering my tongue, that lets me know he’s in the room.

  Seconds turn to minute
s, until the silence between us becomes easier than trying to strike up conversation that probably doesn’t matter to him anyway. In the quiet, flashes of the night before pop through my head, as I imagine the birdseye view of Roz trying to teach me how to stroke a cock. The image tugs a laugh, and I slap a hand over my mouth at the sound of shifting across the room. Lowering my gaze, I clear my throat of any other urges, snorting once, and clear it again.

  The room falls quiet again.

  More minutes pass.

  In a mindless gesture, I tap my finger against the concrete to the rhythm of a song my mother used to hum from back when she was young. Under Pressure, by someone named Bowie and Queen, or something. Da da da da-de da da. Da da da da da-de da da.

  Tipping my head back against the wall in boredom, I huff a sigh and close my eyes.

  A few minutes later, I hear the same tapping across the room, faint but recognizable. Same rhythm. It takes a number of facial muscles to keep from smiling, and I don’t dare open my eyes, for fear he’ll stop.

  As though catching himself echoing my boredom, he does stop, though, and once again, we’re sitting in awkward silence across from each other.

  More minutes pass this way, and the door finally clicks after what must be an hour, though it seems longer. The impassive expression on Medusa’s face is a clue that she’s not amused by my lack of effort this round. As we walk the hall back to the elevator, she huffs her frustration. “It’s important for you to engage him in these visits.”

  “Engage him, how? Get him to rape me? Is that what you’re looking for?”

  Slamming her finger against the button harder than necessary, she snarls back at me. “Watch your tone, girl.”

  Supper is stew meat and beans in water with bread. Same thing everyday, for all meals, only I’m lucky. Most of the subjects don’t get meat. This is a perk reserved only for girls who work in Alpha Project, along with the hair, but the others don’t complain.

  They feel sorry for us, mostly.

  I tip back my small bowl, until every last drop is gone, and clear my spot, before heading out to the yard. At the corners of our sectioned-off yard stand three guards, and beyond them, of course, are the Ragers, who ensure no one tries to skip off into the desert. A girl tried, a few years back, from the stories I’ve heard. She somehow made it past the Ragers, but according to the rumors, she perished beneath a Juniper tree, to where she was eventually tracked. Pools of blood led soldiers to believe Ragers had dragged her off somewhere, a thought that twists my guts. If ever I found myself caught in one of their nests, I’d much prefer to be eaten alive.

  Like my mother.

  Even after all these years, I still think about her. I still hear her screams from the night she threw herself to the monsters. Still see the brief flicker of clarity across her face when I told her I loved her. She’d have never survived in a place like this. Her personality was far too bold to be enslaved, a thought that shames me, sometimes. I’m certain she’d rather have faced death, than been told to entertain one of their killers.

  I miss Bryani, too. It’s been years since I’ve seen her. The updates I get are courtesy of Medusa, when she’s feeling exceptionally kind, but otherwise, I’m left to wonder how she’s holding up here. What she looks like at fourteen. Does she ever think about me?

  The sting at the rims of my eyes threaten tears, and I blink them away, clearing my throat. This place has no room for tears, that much I’ve come to learn.

  Across the yard, one of the second year girls pushes what appears to be a newcomer up against the fence. I don’t blame them for their animosity toward the new arrivals really, because even the ones half starving from the desert appear to be healthier than any of the girls stuck here for too long, but that’s the tragedy of this place. We all look like death, eventually.

  Second year slams her fist into the new girl’s face, sending a spray of blood into the air, and the onlookers goad her on. I could intervene. I should. If she dies, though, she’s better off. I’m fortunate to be asleep when most of the experiments are conducted on me, but there are some who suffer that pain while conscious. I’ve come to learn that some of the males undergo what are known as provocation tests, which are basically cruel torture tactics used to incite the Alpha gene from its dormant state. Some are quite extreme and often result in immediate death.

  Or murder, more like.

  There is nothing so just in this place as death.

  Before I make my way across the lawn, the fight is broken up by guards, and the second year girl is dragged away. That’s the other consequence. She won’t be back.

  Once they’re dragged away, they never come back.

  Chapter 9

  Four years ago

  * * *

  I peer through the bars of the cage, staring up at the enormous structure standing before me. Many of the buildings I’ve seen have fallen into disrepair, or crumbled with destruction. This is one of few that seems to harbor a purpose--one I’ve yet to determine. The door swings open to show a Legion soldier, who wears a gun strapped across his chest.

  I try to imagine what it would take to wrangle that gun away from him, as I allow him to help me down off the truck. Bryani follows, hopping to the dirt, which kicks up as dust around our feet. The scent on the air is a burnt, meaty smell that reminds me of the animal hanging from the spit back at the camp.

  I can’t think about that camp, because it’ll bring thoughts of Dina, and I’m guessing these soldiers don’t tolerate the kind of rage that would prompt me to lash out at something.

  I’m sure they’d shoot me dead for it.

  “Move!” The soldier’s muffled voice comes through loud and clear, and as if it wasn’t enough, he nudges me with his gun.

  As we make our way toward the building, the sound of clicks and chattering teeth stop me in my tracks. On instinct, my muscles clamp around my chest, as my mind prepares for flight, or fight. Another nudge from behind sends me forward, until we round a corner, and the source of the sound is confirmed, where Ragers stand lined against a fence, growling and reaching out for Bryani and me.

  I try to imagine why these soldiers would allow so many to gather so close, considering they have the weapons to kill them off.

  Upon entering the building, we’re met by a man not much taller than me, with smooth blond hair and a cleanshaven face, who smiles as though he’s happy to see the two of us. “Hello!”

  There’s a slimy nature to his voice that reminds me of the men who stumbled into our hive once, pretending to look for shelter. They were just as falsely friendly as this man, and it was only when my friend, Sienna, went missing that we determined they were actually marauders. From that moment on, no one was permitted into our hive again without being shot on sight.

  “Welcome to Calico,” the blond says, clasping his hands together. “You two must be exhausted after your journey. Come, we’ll get you cleaned up and clothed.” He spins around before we even reach him, leading us up a staircase.

  “What’s wrong with our clothes?” I ask, not bothering to follow after him. A sweep of the inside of the building shows tall ceilings with too bright lights, and the shiniest floors I’ve ever seen. So polished, I can see my reflection in them. Someone must work very hard to keep the floors this clean, and I’m curious to know why. “What is this place?”

  He rolls his shoulders, turning around, and there’s nothing genuine about the smile he extends. “Were you not briefed on the way here?” At the shake of my head, he glances toward one of the soldiers and continues, “This is a hospital. You’ve spent quite a bit of time out in the Deadlands, it seems.” His eyes give a sharp sweep, feet to face, and he raises a brow. “Children should be checked regularly for signs of disease. You also appear to be slightly dehydrated and malnourished.”

  “We feel just fine.”

  “Just the same, I’d like you to come with me.”

  “We’d rather just go.”

  The exaggerated blink of his eyes throug
h the next forced smile is a warning his patience is as thin as the mask he’s wearing. Lifting his gaze, he gives a nod, presumably to one of the soldiers standing behind me. Before I have a chance to swing around, something sharp stings my neck, and I slap a hand there, the weight of my arms heavy and weak.

  I turn to see one of the soldiers holding a needle at my sister’s neck. “Hey! Lea’her’lone!”

  Every word that comes out of my mouth is slurred, and when I lurch forward, the floor comes crashing toward my face.

  A piercing pain strikes my head, and I open my mouth for a scream that doesn’t make it past my lips. Only a sharp breath expels, and I blink my eyes open to more of that blinding light, with the sound of ringing in my ears. I lift my arm, which feels as if it’s fallen asleep, my fingertips cold and useless, flaccid as they flop against my ears. A tube hangs from my wrist, and I follow it’s path to a clear bag hanging off a metal pole beside me. Bringing my other hand up is equally challenging, and my attempt to remove the needle lodged into my wrist is thwarted by muscles too lax to grip anything, but I can see the dirt and grime that coated my skin has been washed clean away, and I sniff a sweet lavender scent in its place.

  A dryness worse than thirst clings to my throat, and I cough, trying to work up a small bit of saliva. Feels like the rough surface of a cat’s tongue. I’m lying on a white bed, with white sheets, in a white room, with white walls. Speckles of red look like blood splashed over its surface, but I can’t imagine where from.

  The curtain swings back, revealing a slim woman with dark skin, wearing a gray uniform. With her hair shaved down to her bald head, I only know she’s female based on her face, which doesn’t offer much of a smile, as she handles the bag dangling from the pole. And the breasts poking against her shirt. “Another five minutes and you should be good to go to the Commissary for supper.”