by Talis Jones
Maurene lies on the ground; sprawled on her side, one foot bare, with a growing halo of blood circling her lovely raven hair. My throat grows thick as I stare into those glassy blue eyes staring at nothing. Somewhere my mind registers that Katya has joined our shocked trio but I can’t look away from Maurene, even my senses have closed in on the scene.
My nose inhales the tang of fresh blood, my skin prickles with bumps from a chill that surely matches the cold seeping through the body on the ground, and my tongue tastes a hint of bile trying to climb up my throat. My ears keep replaying the sound of her addled rage.
If a demon lurked in her heart then it put up one hell of a fight and it won. Relief and guilt and confusion and shock coat my organs as I stand and stare. I stare and stare and I don’t think my eyes have blinked yet and I can’t understand what happened. What pushed her to the edge and what made her let go and the five W’s chase each other around my head demanding answers. Who? Maurene. What? Dead. Where? Here. When? Now. Why? I don’t…I don’t know.
A taloned grip jolts me out of my shock. “You did this!” Lizbeth’s face is twisted in agony and rage searching for some reason behind the tragic sight before her.
“N-no, I didn’t, she—” I try to form words but my tongue fails me. My tongue falls so heavy it’s like an anchor weighing my jaw down to the floor.
“Yes. You did this,” she hisses.
“Ma, Maurene is holding the gun,” Katya murmurs.
“Maybe she didn’t hold the gun herself but she as good as pulled the trigger!” she insists, her grief quickly distorting into anger. “You drove her to it. This is your fault!”
“Ma,” Katya begins again.
“No. I don’t want to hear it. Kody take her to her room and keep her there.” The ferocity on his mother’s cold white face convinces him to obey.
As he guides me back to the house in silence we hear Lizbeth collapse into tears and Katya murmuring soothing words. I hate the color red. I’m sure I told you that already.
I stay locked in my room for the rest of the day. When Hans and Miles return that afternoon sobs and shouting shake the wooden house but no one comes to see me. I lie on my small cot forgotten and glad to be such.
Connors arrived for dinner unaware of the day’s disturbing events but his even tones quickly comforted the ragged hysteria of the others.
I await my sentence eerily calm. Flat on my back, hands beneath my head, elbows out, eyes fixed on the low ceiling, and I let the rhythm of their voices drift over me. Night falls quickly and my eyes stare into blackness. Not until everyone has gone to sleep do I turn on my side and close my eyes.
The shock is gone. The sadness is gone. The horror is gone. I’ve seen red before and I’ve seen it drown people better than Maurene. Only a small tug of guilt clings stubbornly to my heart yet I ignore it. I only wonder what the morning will bring…
Dawn’s light leaks into my room poking my eyelids and the past 24-hours play back through my head. Dread clenches my gut.
A loud knock beats on my door. “Vizsla,” Hans calls.
I roll to my feet and slip on my glasses just as he opens the door. Clasping my hands calmly in front of me and with my eyes fixed upon my feet I ask, “Yes, Master Hans?”
“You’re leaving,” he grunts. I wait for him to say more but he merely tromps back down the steps.
I glance around my small room but there’s nothing to take so I lace up my boots and follow him down. The house creaks under my steps while the silence practically screams in my ears. Outside. They’re waiting for me outside. I keep my mind carefully blank, refusing to panic over what will come.
The early light washes over me and a trickle of sweat tickles the back of my neck. No one acknowledges my presence. A steady beat of hooves breaks the silence and Connors rides up on his glossy black horse, bags strapped to the saddle bulge with supplies but what raises my eyebrows is the sheer quantity of firepower there as well. Some are dull and dusty while others gleam not yet used.
Before I can guess as to what’s happening Hans is behind me lifting me up and dropping me behind Connors on the horse. Leaning close to whisper in my ear he says, “Lizbeth would have your blood spilled but you cost me too much to just throw away. Be grateful for my children’s mercy or I might have agreed with my wife despite your price tag. This’ll be your master now. Pray he treats you as kindly as we.”
CHAPTER 11
Connors takes off slow, nudging his horse into a trot. Twisting my neck I watch the grim faces behind me. Kody stands with an arm resting around Miles’ shoulders, Katya stands with her arms crossed, and Hans hugs his wife close. I can see how Lizbeth still quivers with anger, confusion, and grief. All stand their ground with tight lips and cold eyes. Unwrapping one arm I offer a very small brief two-fingered wave goodbye but only Katya nods in return.
Eyes shut I tighten my grip around Connors’ waist and feel the horse take off beneath us kicking up a trailing cloud of dust to bury the past. Moving on, just like Maurene always wanted to. Moving on, and leaving the automatons to wind down and stare motionless and glassy eyed in their tableaux as I turn to the next page of this life.
Once Hans’ homestead is an indiscernible blip on the horizon I dare scrape the dust from my tongue and inquire, “Where are we going?”
“A place without a map,” he answers.
“Don’t be too specific, my brain can’t handle all the details you’re throwing at me,” I joke surly.
“You came from a Corral,” he asks instead. Although it’s not so much a question as an observation.
I frown but won’t lie. “Tennessee.”
“You didn’t tell me about that,” he pushes gruffly.
“You didn’t ask and why would I tell you?” Challenge spikes in my tone. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions, Connors.”
“I think you do.” When I stay silent he continues. “For someone raised in a Corral their rules have got to be ingrained into your brain, your bones. It’s why you’ve got fire in your belly but it’s also why you keep your head down and your tongue chained.”
“Not with you though,” I point out rebelliously.
“No, not with me,” he nods.
“Why am I here?” my voice grows a bit sharp with my insistence.
“I bought you from Hans,” he explains easily. “Ownership has been transferred to me but—”
I don’t wait for what was coming after the “but” because a sudden boldness seizes my body and I hurl myself off the horse landing painfully onto the rocky dirt. Finally rolling to a stop I get to my feet ignoring the plethora of bruises I probably just acquired and start running. No thought fills my head except run.
“Vizlsa!” Connors shouts. “Vizsla, stop!”
But I don’t stop. Instead I run harder, faster, desperation and hope feeding my stride. Part of my mind begs me to turn around insisting that I have nowhere to go but I can’t. My feet run and run until suddenly the ground disappears. Twisting like an angry snake I try crazily to escape Connors’ grip on the back of my dress but he has the higher ground atop his horse and apparently the strength of Zeus in his arms.
“Let me go!” I yell panicking. “Let. Me. Go!”
“Calm down, kid,” he grunts before hauling me up in front of him with an almighty yank. Slumped over the saddle my heart pounds fiercely in my ears but I stop struggling. “You calm?”
I give a petulant nod.
In a swift twist Connors dismounts before pulling me down off the horse after him. Placing me firmly in front of him he holds me at arms length. Bending to meet my defeated glare he speaks in calming tones. “You can’t own a person, Vizsla. You may have been sold but you can never be owned.” His eyes search mine as I narrow my gaze searching for some trick or lie. “If you wanna go, then go. But between the gangs, roamers, and Rangers I’m not confident you’ll get far or that you’ll find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“What’s your offer then?” I ask sha
rply.
He smiles. “I’ll take you with me. We’ll find you a horse of your own. I’ll give you a gun and protect you until you can protect yourself. No tricks or betrayals, kid. The road is lonely and I’m going far. I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Part of me still yearns to run, screaming that freedom is just on the horizon. But that’s the thing with horizons, isn’t it? It’s a moving finish line. Besides, running off into the wilderness is a stupid idea especially after Connors just traded to save my life. In fact running with no food or supplies in hope of running into a township that won’t simply claim me for their own trade is such a stupid idea that my face ignites with a fierce blush of frustration. Even if Connors isn’t a monster I don’t have much of a choice but to stick around.
“Fine,” I snap. “But you’ve gotta tell me where we’re going.”
Grinning Connors walks back to his horse and climbs up settling into the seat like it’s a part of him. “I already told ya, it’s a place without a map.”
Grasping his arm as he helps pull me up behind him I huff out a sigh of frustration. “Well what’s this place called?”
With a glint in his eye he whispers, “Sanctuary.” And with that he leans forwards and kicks his horse into a smooth race towards the north, our path lit by the angry sun above. It doesn’t take long for the heat and monotonous landscape to lull me into a semi-conscious stupor.
CHAPTER 12
TWO YEARS AGO
Head leaned back against the wood-slated wall of my stall my thoughts circle back to my friends. I transferred to Skills maybe six months ago and yet still no one’s been able to replace them, although they do visit from time to time which is supremely good of them considering the loose definition of “friends” these days. The Corral makes you strong but it also makes you too broken to know it.
Rat and her minion became Soldiers. It’s not surprising given Rat’s less than desirable level of charm or appeal. Rufus was sold though, I worried about where he'd go until puberty hit. He became big as a football player and perfect for farm work. I kinda miss that pathetic dumpling of a boy that he used to be.
Shade also got a spot here working the Corral. I knew the boss would want to keep him. He’s too good at keeping tabs, very handy. Even his brother took a page from Shade’s book and became cold enough to survive. I shudder as memories of the Strength corral flash through my mind. Kids dying from hypothermia, hunger, beatings, their bodies just lying in the mud dull-eyed and rotting until someone is sent to drag them away. Once you disappear into the Skills it’s a toss-up whether you’ll be soldiered or sold.
There’s not a moment when I don’t wonder which fate I’d prefer. The sun is still low in the sky but soon we’ll be collected for lessons. Lessons are just an informal basic education. I’m alright in the reading/writing work, I surprisingly excel at cooking, but I can’t sew in a straight line to save my life without taking eons to do it or without sticking my finger with the needle a dozen times to boot. We also get some general lessons with animals like cows and horses and chickens. Like I said, it’s far from anything official or efficient. At least it gives my mind something to do, I actually miss learning and—
Sounds of a scuffle interrupt my meandering thoughts. Crawling towards the door of my stall I stand quietly and peek through the slit in the split-level door. I can make out Shade’s face but not whomever he’s talking to although there’s no mistaking their voices.
Angry hisses and murmured threats lash out of Rat but Shade stands tall and unyielding. Rat nods her head and her latest minion grabs Shade’s shoulder sinking a punch deep into his stomach dropping him to his knees. Even from this distance I flinch at the sight. Leaning forwards Rat whispers something into Shade’s ear and I see him finally nod. I wish I could hear what they were saying. Shade doesn’t back down easily.
Curled up on the ground I stare at the moon empty-minded through the small rotted hole in the ceiling.
“Flinch?”
I bolt upright and turn my head towards the door in surprise. “What?” I mutter back.
Slowly the top-half of the door creaks open and in its shadow I see Shade. He beckons me towards him and I scramble to my feet to obey. Once I’m mere inches away he pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to me. “This is for you.”
A pretty gold necklace with a locket pendant glints in my hand making me very aware of the dirt packed beneath my nails. Surprise tingles down my spine. Seven years I’ve lived in this hellhole and not once has Shade shown me this much kind attention. For a moment I wonder if my silly endless crush on him is no longer unrequited. I look up to thank him but there’s only empty darkness swollen with secrets and question marks.
Frowning at his disappearance I push the door closed in case a guard passes by. Only a fool would see the open door as an opportunity to escape. Curling back on my rump in the corner I examine the necklace more closely. It’s very pretty. Gingerly I wedge my thumbnail in the crack to pop open the locket wondering what picture or dried flower might rest inside, maybe nothing at all.
It opens with a small snick and my breath catches in my throat, the air turning viscous as panic pools in my lungs. I know one of the faces smiling at me and the sight makes the gold burn in my palm. Before I can process what to do boots stomp down the hall and I quickly loop the necklace around my neck tucking it beneath my shirt just as the boots stop in front of my stall. With one swift snap of the lock the doors swing open and there stands Rat flanked by henchman. Poppy, I think his name is.
Malice practically glows off her dark skin and she smiles an unnerving sweet smile. “Tonight’s your night, Flinch. You lucky dog.”
Poppy ushers me out and I walk between them, the necklace burning a hole of fear with every step. Rat leads me to an unfamiliar part of the Corral. We approach an enormous barn-like building and the bright lights blind me as I enter. Once my eyes have adjusted I take in what appears to be some sort of arena.
Silence falls like a hawk on the hunt.
I scan the space and see the faces of Soldiers, some more familiar than others, lining the walls in a crowd. More voices boom down from walkways higher up. From the empty sand pit center steps the boss himself welcoming me with extended arms.
“Welcome to the arena!” he brays. I’m too scared to do anything but stare bewildered. His dark eyes fix onto me but I keep mine trained on the ratty purple bandana around his throat. “Rat had elected you to be a Soldier upon completion of Skills but your cooking skills have attracted the attentions of a gunsmith. You’re here tonight to choose.”
So many thoughts and questions rush through me that I continue to stand there struck dumb. Choosing to stay means staying here forever but leaving means seeing new places, new faces. The desire to flee fills me to bursting but it drains at the thought of the many rumors I’ve heard about the lawless world around us. Better the enemy you know, I decide. Besides, I have friends here.
“I’ll stay,” I squeak once I’m able to unstick my throat. From the corner of my eye I see Rat smile and vaguely I wonder if she’s more of a friend than I’d always thought. I still don’t know what to make of Shade or the necklace. But they’re my friends. They’re all my friends. We’ve always stuck together even when the Corral made us mean.
Unease sloshes in my belly as the boss beams proudly at me. “Wonderful. Then all that’s left is a simple test to prove you’re worthy of such an honored position. Normally you’d wait until you turned fifteen but since you’re here…”
A floppy brown dog is led inside, guided by a thin rope. The man holding it bends down to slip it from around his neck and steps back. The dog just stands there unrushed and unbothered. Gray hairs pepper its caramel-colored fur and round milky eyes gaze up at me. Despite its age its face is distinctly lovable and I smile despite myself.
“Shoot him.”
My head snaps towards the boss in confusion that quickly melts into horror as I see the gun he holds extended towards me. With shakin
g hands I take the gun, its cold weight sinking in my palm as my fingers curl instinctually around the handle, one poised by the trigger. “Why?” I tremble.
“You’re already failing this test, Flinch.” His hard eyes pinch displeased. “Now you have to shoot him without flinching. If that’s even possible,” he smirks.
I look at the sweet dog standing blissfully unaware of its fate. I don’t want to shoot him. I can make new friends someplace else even if it turns out this hellhole is heaven compared to what waits beyond the fence. My moss green eyes fall deep into the milky chocolate of the dog’s eyes and I know that I don’t just not want to shoot him, I can’t shoot him.
With every fleeting ounce of bravery I can muster I face the boss. “I won’t shoot him.”
The boss lets out a slow lazy sigh of disappointment then quick as a flash whips a gun from his holster and shoots the dog right in the head. “That gun had blanks.” He frowns, “Your disobedience forfeits the dog’s life. And the job, obviously.”
I stand there stunned but hatred coils in my veins. “Bullshit,” I bite quietly.
The boss narrows his eyes taking a step closer towards me. “What did you say to me?”
“I said bullshit!” Confusion and hatred swirl in every cell of my body leaving all sense of reason and self-preservation behind. I take my disgust and forge them into daggers and I throw them at the boss’ face with my eyes one after the other until I’m left with nothing but raging fumes and invasive guilt.
Burly arms lock around me to drag me away but I buck and thrash with all the fire I’ve got screaming a slew of Momma-unapproved words all the while. Suddenly the boss’ eyes go wide and he aims his gun at my chest. The cage of arms lets me go and I stand there panting.
