by Casey Hays
I clutch my throat as reality speaks to me. Recently, I have made those choices, too. I have become what I didn’t want to be. A rebel breeder.
I climb to my feet and take hold of the bamboo bars. From the moment Kate began her ramblings about choice, I was convicted. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but it’s true. And the day she stood before the assembly and proclaimed her freedom was the day I believed it was a possibility. I was just too afraid to say so. Too afraid to take the risk and leave with her.
Always I’m too afraid.
I inhale and images seep in on a calm thread. Meg smiles at me encouragingly. Layla lifts her head and tosses me a bit of her confidence. Diana turns her back on the Village and sets her child free. And Kate... she bore the whip and the rope and the fist to save us all, and I didn’t see it. Not then.
I see it now as clearly as if Kate stands next to me and screams it into my ear. I see the courage of my friends as if in a mirror, and in its reflection, I see myself. And I break. I sink to my knees before the gate.
I am a coward.
I weep until my guts hurt and I am sick of myself. But in the dull silence after my tears are spent and I slink in exhaustion, I come up out of the fog I’ve been living in for all of my life, and I make a solid resolution.
I am finished with fear.
I am ready to embrace the spirit of my friends, and I will never let it go.
*
The cave becomes my home. My meals are delivered three times a day, I’m allowed to bathe once a week, and I hear no news from the Village. Soon, I determine that I will not die. Not by execution. No. This is where I will live out the rest of my days.
The baby grows and moves and with each kick, my courage plants itself more firmly. I don’t know why except that soon, I will be responsible for another life like I never have been before. For a time, it will rely on me for its every need, and because of this, for once, I find some value in myself. The thought makes me laugh because for the longest time, I fooled myself into thinking I already was valuable. I am a breeder. I was chosen to fulfill the most honored duty in the Village. But... the Moirai refuses to bless us with more males. And me? It took so long for me to conceive. What value was there in this?
The days are long and lonely, and they remind me of Chad. Ironically, I have taken his place. I stare at four blank walls. I watch the shadows of the bamboo bars stretch across the floor of the cave every day at sunset. I eat, I sleep, I sing—whatever I can think of to pass the time—and I think I am going mad. I miss my hogan. I miss the sound of voices. I even miss chores.
What I don’t miss is a full understanding of the stock’s life. I can’t endure it, and I’m ashamed that I ever tried to convince Chad to come back to this.
I lose track of days. I spend them pacing, screaming for a jailer, crying. I sit on the mat and rock, mumbling to the Moirai, to Scorpio, to any god who will hear me. I beg for release, beg for them to simply kill me. Anything but to spend another second in this place where hell is in my mind.
My greatest relief is sleep. In dreams, Chad is with me, and he loves me. I can lose myself in his eyes and disappear in the folds of his embrace, and there is my sanity. I am happy and safe until I wake to my nightmare.
The nights are cool, and often I wake shivering beneath the thin blanket. My misery is too miserable to name.
The clanging of the gate jolts me awake one rainy morning. I spring up on the mat as quickly as my growing body will allow and search the dim room with half-opened eyes. The shadow of a figure stands just inside the gate.
“Who’s there?” I croak, my voice hoarse from disuse.
The shadow doesn’t speak but instead moves closer. I adjust myself, raising my hands instinctively to ward off an assumed attack.
“Mia.”
I lower my arms, peer at the face from which the voice came.
“Leah?”
The councilwoman sits. Her warm hands swallow my cold fingers, and my face contorts with pained relief.
“Leah,” I repeat. “You came.”
“I can’t stay long,” she answers. “But I had to know how you’re managing.”
“I’m not.” I peer at her, tears welling. “I’m not managing at all. I’m... barely existing.”
Her eyes dart downward to my protruding belly. “The pregnancy appears healthy.”
I pin her with my eyes. “Yes.”
“Good,” she nods. “This with help your case.”
“My case?” My heartbeat thrums, frantic. “What is going to happen to me?”
“If all goes well, nothing. Once your punishment is complete, you will be allowed to return to your life.”
“And what is my punishment?” I dare to ask.
“This.” Leah nods with a glance around the cave. I crease my brow.
“For how long?”
She purses her lips a moment. “Until the child is weaned.”
This announcement hammers me like an avalanche of sharp rocks boring down on top of my head. I break away from her and scuttle to my feet.
“No, no, no, no!” I spin, hands pressed to my temples, and take her in with angry eyes. “You can’t let them do this to me, Leah. You can’t think to leave me here. I won’t survive this.” With a sob I fall to my knees before her and bury my face in her skirt. “Please, please, please. Anything but this.”
Her hand falls onto my head. She caresses my hair a moment while I hopelessly weep into her lap, before she twists her fist into my tresses and gently pulls my head upward. I focus on her through my tears.
“Enough,” she commands. Oddly, her voice carries a harsh tenderness that makes me hold my breath on a hiccup. “Count yourself lucky, Mia. If Mona were still in charge, she would have skinned you alive already for what you’ve done. You have been shown mercy. Be grateful for it.”
“Be grateful?” I yank free and stand, anger riddling me all the way to my bones. “And what is my crime? Have any one of you asked me what it is that I’ve done?” I wipe at my tears with the backs of my hands. “Everyone simply assumes, but no one cares to know the truth.”
“And what is the truth?”
She waits. I shake my head. It won’t matter what I say; she’ll see it as guilt.
“Where is Bridget?” I ask instead.
Leah wipes at the wet stain my tears left on her skirt and clasps her hands together over her knees before looking up at me.
“She has been freed already—for her willingness to answer every question the Council posed.”
I close my eyes.
“What did she tell you?”
“Enough to keep you here.”
I nod, not surprised. Blaer warned me.
“Bridget is a follower,” Leah continues. “She will be easily conformed. You, however? You, I worry about.”
I raise my head, a spark of that courage returning. Leah watches me with steadfast eyes. I am trapped in this hole, going insane. What do I have to lose by anything I say? The baby kicks—hard—and I smile.
“You should worry,” I whisper. “Much and often.”
My words hold no weight, not really, but they are enough to spark something in Leah. She straightens, her face a sheet of alarm, and her mouth drops open.
“I’ve been thinking about some things Kate said.” I cross my arms, take two steps across the floor. “You leave me in here, and I’ll think some more.”
“Mia—”
I cut her off, my tone flooding with anger.
“You said yourself that you saw reason in Kate’s words. And yet you do nothing about it.”
“I am a member of the Council. What I think must be surrendered to what I must do. I don’t like it, but I have no choice.”
“But see, you do,” I insist. “If Kate taught me nothing else, she taught me that regardless of the Moirai, we always have a choice. And we always have a consequence. The question is are we willing to suffer it?”
Leah starts to rise, but I move in, blocking her, and she sett
les back.
“We know some things, Leah. We know the Council has lied to us. We know at least one other village is out there somewhere. But mostly, we understand that there is such a thing as love. Do you know of it?”
I pause at this, and Leah visibly swallows.
“It’s unstoppable. So the Council can continue to harass us. It can beat us, it can manipulate us into submission, but it’s all very clear to me now.”
“What is?” Leah tenses, her voice filled with trepidation, and for a moment, I am fearless.
“That you can hang Meg. You can slit Layla’s throat. You can lock me in and toss away the key. One by one you can dispose of us, but there will always be a Kate or a Blaer... or another brave girl to replace us. Because the spirit is resilient, and love is courageous.” My hand falls over my baby. “I’m just beginning to understand this.”
I step aside, and Leah rises and moves for the gate where a jailer waits to let her out.
“You’re a coward, Leah,” I say quietly. She stops, glances back at me over her shoulder. “I would know. I’ve been one for a very long time.”
Leah refuses to look at me again. She stalks out, full of importance, and the gate rattles fiercely when the jailer slams it into place. I watch her through the bars as she pulls her shawl up over her head and disappears into the rain.
My bravery slides into the pit of my stomach and turns it sour. For all my words, I’m still here. And here I will stay. But in the fleeting bits of my courage, I make a silent promise: I refuse to let this place drive me mad.
Just outside the gate and slightly to the left, I see a small stone. Squatting, I stretch to my limit through the bars until the very tips of my fingers find it. A quick flick, and I manage to edge it closer. I clench it in my fist.
I estimate that I am roughly four months from my time. I take the stone and with it, I dig into the cave wall until a vertical mark appears. Mark one of seventeen months. I step back, satisfied. Keep track of the days to keep track of my mind.
I slip the stone into the pocket of my skirt and stretch out onto the mat to wait for the breakfast cart.
Chapter 16
I
have no other option but to adjust. I spend days memorizing the indentations on the ceiling. And after counting one hundred-thirty two times, I am certain there are nine hundred eighty-seven separate notches. The cave is ten of my steps from side wall to side wall and fifteen of my steps from the gate to the back. And not one of the ten bamboo bars are the same width around.
Sometimes, I draw pictures in the dirt, but mostly I sleep.
I talk to my baby. I tell him how the river sounds and what a bird looks like in flight. I whisper to him that he will be born under the sign of the Goat and that I promise to teach him how to read... once I learn myself. I describe Chad to him, but it makes me sad, so I only do this once.
I talk to myself, too, which helps with the loneliness. I imagine that someone is here with me, consoling me. Protecting me. There’s a peace in it, as if an unseen presence hovers, and I begin to wonder if there truly is someone here with me or if I’m finally going mad. Either way, I’m grateful for it. It makes my days shorter and my nights long and restful. It lessens my fear. And the marks on the wall accumulate, and I believe that I am sane.
The gate clangs every day at the same times, and a jailer deposits my tray. So I’m surprised one afternoon when the gate opens and Leah walks through carrying my lunch.
I rise to my feet and face her.
“Hello Mia.”
I nod without answering. She stands stiffly, the tray tight in her grip.
“Rabbit today,” she offers, dipping her chin toward the plate. Another awkward moment, and I take the tray from her.
“Why did you come?” I ask.
She weaves her fingers together and lowers her eyes. “I don’t like how things ended between us the last time I was here. And… there is trouble in the Village. I’m afraid we are once again losing control.”
I stare at her, not willing to show any kind of concern or comfort. She deserves nothing from me. We sit in silence until finally, she licks her lips, paces a few steps.
“We’ve had to secure several women in the Pit who have defied the Moirai. The others aren’t pleased.”
“I see.” I settle somewhat ungracefully onto my mat and lower the tray down beside me. “And why do you feel the need to share this with me?”
Another pause. I take that moment to tear a piece of meat from the bone. Leah faces the gate, hands on hips, and speaks with her back to me.
“Blaer has gone for Kate.” I stop chewing. Leah turns. “Do you think she will find her?”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t know. We don’t really know which way she’s gone.”
“Could they have gone.... east?” Leah asks hesitantly. When I nod, she closes her eyes. “Eden is east.”
I straighten. “You know of Eden?”
“Oh yes. And I’m certain that is where those boys will take Kate.”
“And you want her to come back?”
Leah paces again. “I’ve consulted with Anna Maria and a few of the others. We think it’s time. A majority of the women will never accept another leader—not when Kate’s name was in the box.”
I nod. “That’s why Blaer went after Kate.”
“We are sending scouts to find them all and bring them home.”
Her words flood me with a slight apprehension. “What will you do to them? To Blaer and Fallon and Gina? Will you punish them?”
Leah smiles. “If Kate is with them, it won’t be our sole decision to make. And no one hopes Kate is with them more than I.”
“Except for me,” I reply, and Leah laughs.
“I will not dispute that.” She sits. “Can you hold on a little longer, Mia?”
As much as the idea sickens me, I feel hope for the first time. I toss my eyes toward the marks on the wall.
“Yes,” I reply.
Leah reaches for my hand and squeezes.
*
I’m awakened by screams. They echo across the Pit in rounds. I lumber to my feet and press my face against the bars.
“Hello? Is anybody out there?”
The answer is another scream. It comes from the left, and when the next one hurls itself into the air, I know what it is. Someone is in labor.
This time, the scream is followed by thick sobs, and a murmuring voice far down the line of cells calls out: “Something is wrong! Help me, pleeeeeease… someone hel—”
Her pleading is stopped by another pain that sends her voice into another hurtling wail, and my heart begins to beat against my throat.
“Somebody!” I yell, my face squeezed between the bars. “Somebody help her! Please!”
The alternate screaming and sobbing continues through the night. I sit by the gate, clutching one bar in my fist, and long with her that the baby will come soon. I close my eyes, try to find the peace inside the presence, but tonight, the cave feels empty.
Just before the sun lifts its face above the mountains, the screaming subsides into deathly silence. I hear no baby’s cry, and I fear the worst.
When the breakfast cart appears, I still sit at the gate, but the jailer shoves into me when she opens it. I stand.
“There was a woman screaming all night a few cells over. I think you’d better check on her right away.”
The jailer peers at me, blinks once, and closes the gate. She leaves the cart and moves down the row, and I press my face into the bars, straining to see to no avail. Soon, her gruff voice calls out, and two more jailers come trudging past. They mumble among themselves in low voices—too low for me to hear what they say. But when one passes by again, I see the look in her eye plain enough. The breeder is dead… perhaps the child, too.
I sink onto the mat, numb, and I wrap my arms around myself. How could this happen? How could the Council have been so thoughtless as to lock away a breeder so close to her time and not keep watch over her?
> The other two jailers haul the bodies past my cell, a hulking heap wrapped in a bloody blanket, and nausea settles in my throat. I fight it back and turn my eyes away.
The anger comes on slow and deliberate at first, like a fire moving across a field of dry grass. Then a wind kicks up, the fire flares and spreads in a rush, and I am enraged. I spring to my feet, squeeze my fists into tight balls. I didn’t see who the girl was, but I’m sure I knew her. I know all the breeders. And what had she done to deserve imprisonment? What infraction did the Council hold against her? Was she also loyal to Kate? Or had she rescued her mate from this dungeon, too?
I clench my jaw, fight the angry tears that threaten. None of us have done anything that deserves this.
My breakfast is cold, and I eat only because I must. I can’t keep the image of the jailers hauling away the dead out of my mind. And I can’t help but think that the girl very well could have been me. When it is time for this baby to come, will I be alone with no one to aid me?
I shiver this thought away. These are the things that could drive me mad.
Just past dusk, Leah ducks into the cave and joins me on the edge of the mat. Her solemn eyes rest on me.
“Who was it?” I ask.
“Fern.”
I nod. Fern was a year older. This was her second child.
“Why did this happen? The midwife should have been on watch for her already.”
Leah shakes her head. “It wasn’t her time. The baby was three months early. Nobody expected this. And nothing could have been done for her.”
I gawk at her, unable to speak.
“I understand how upset you must be,” she continues. “You and Fern were the only ones in this section. The jailers claim they heard nothing.”
“They didn’t,” I whisper. Leah eases her hand toward mine.
“Don’t worry, Mia. I will make it my own personal agenda to see to it that you have a midwife on watch long before your time comes.”
