"If you think I'm going to believe that you brought him to the hospital out of the goodness of your heart, then you must think I'm incredibly stupid."
The woman did the best she could to shrug as she lay on the floor. It was a pitiful movement that made Theda cringe when she saw the effort it cost.
"'Cause I don't have a heart, issat it?"
"Because you don't have any goodness in you," Theda said. "If you did--if you had one iota--one minuscule amount of goodness, the god would have taken you. He wouldn't have left you here. You wouldn't be fucked."
"Only the good get the goods."
"Seems so."
"You're still here."
Indeed she was. And so were at least one of a thousand others who were worth saving. This woman was not. She remembered the glee the general had taken in raping Ami. She remembered the tortured body of Henrik – the Beast's own son – as Kat had worked him over to get his confession, the one that had led Ezekiel to her in the first place. She remembered what it felt like to be discovered in that filthy closet back in the sanatorium when Ezekiel had opened the door and revealed the lanky, leather-clad figure that Theda would come to know as the Red General. The woman had been so eager to murder her in those moments, took such glee in hunting her down later when Ezekiel rescued her. Once again, she had to remind herself that a small thing like a past incarnation, pitiful as it might be, could not atone for all that foulness now.
"You once asked me what was going to happen to you," Theda said.
"Yeah?"
There was a hopeful tone in Kat's voice just beneath that of careful ambivalence, and Theda shifted deeper into her cot, touching her swollen cheek with a tender finger.
Theda rolled over to face the wall.
"You're going to die."
Hours must have passed before anyone came back to the door. This time, there were four of them, and they entered the cell like Roman soldiers, each of them holding a different weapon. A fifth horseman waited outside. The voice from the leader came through his helmet so muffled that he had to shout to project.
"The boss wants you to play nice."
Theda slid her gaze over to where Kat had managed to bunch herself against the wall between the two cots. She'd been there since Marty and his comrade – this man, apparently – had left. She'd made no sound since their discussion besides the wheezing inhalations and a few phlegmy coughs. It had suited Theda just fine, but now she wondered if the woman had been marshaling her strength for another attack.
"I don't think she's able to play much at all," Theda said, taking in the way two of them had begun fiddling with the switch on their Tasers. "Just leave her alone."
The leader addressed her without looking at her. "Catch Stockholm Syndrome, did you? She'll kill you piece by piece; you know that, right?"
"I caught human decency. Have you forgotten what that is?"
She could hear him suck the back of his teeth even through the helmet. He shoved his hand into a pocket on his sleeve and extracted three small squares of paper. He fanned them out in front of Kat.
Despite weeks of being clean, something squeezed into a knot within Theda's belly; her mouth flooded with water.
"You know what these are," he said to Kat but didn't wait for her answer before he continued. "Since you can't play nice, you're going to have to take these. All of them. And you're going to die nice and peacefully in your sleep, not painfully and violently by us."
He laid the three smears down one at a time on the tiles in front of Kat as though he were flipping cards onto a poker table. "That's the choice He gives you," he said.
When Kat said nothing, he sighed. "It's too late now to wish you'd just lain there. Marty is dead. And we can't just let you ruin the mung's face over and over again."
He leaned just a little closer, and for a second, Theda thought the woman would find a way to reach out and grab him. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for it.
"The boss--"
"Fuck the boss, Doug," Kat finally said, spitting a gob of mucus onto the floor. "Now give me the fucken things so I can get rid of this fucken pain."
The words were so well articulated, so clear, that Theda knew the woman was putting every bit of the energy she had marshaled over the last hours into speaking those words. It was so anticlimactic, that Theda realized she was still holding her breath and she only let it go when she noticed he seemed to be doing the same.
"Take them," he said. He pushed them one by one closer to her with his boot. Theda could tell he was being careful not to get too close.
A shaking hand slipped toward the first smear and pulled it back. It snaked out again and again.
"Good," he said.
"I want to die on the bed." Kat nodded toward Theda. "And get her the fuck outta here."
"Don't you think if there was another place to put her, we would?" he said. "Despite your penchant for torture, she's safest here."
Safe. Such a peculiar word under the circumstances. Especially when Theda had seen row upon row of cell doors. There must be room. Plenty of it. Unless they were all occupied. And if they were all occupied and she was safest here, then it must mean that the Beast needed the occupants to be safe from her. She squirmed on the bed.
"I want her out," Kat said.
"No can--"
A flash of movement came from the corner of Theda's eye, taking her and all of the horsemen by surprise. Just as she registered the movement, she felt the jolt of another body slamming into hers. Instinctively, her hands went to Kat's face, seeking the woman's eyes. The smell of her this close, the stink of pus and burned skin was something that Theda had to fight against as much as the woman's still-ferocious strength. She expected the woman to wrap her fingers around her throat, to try to wrench her neck sideways, to pummel a few more ribs, something. The blows never came. It was as though the woman just wanted to pin her down, let her hands roam, stuffing fingers into pockets, pushing up beneath her bra. It was all so fast that even as she was wondering at the strangeness, the horsemen came to her rescue. They wrenched Kat away, ready with Tasers and batons until Kat scrambled away into the corner behind her collapsed cot. She threw her hands up in surrender. Her chest was heaving and the rattling was more pronounced.
"You want me to die with her watching, issat it?" she heaved out. "Why can't I just die alone?"
There was such a queer note at the end of the question, and it was so uncharacteristic for the woman, that at first Theda didn't recognize the sound of a bitten off sob.
"I told you," Doug said patiently. "There's nowhere else to put her. Now take the smears." He pulled the lumpy mattress from the heap of metal on the floor and smoothed it out. Two men came forward to pull at the broken cot, and together they yanked it from the cell.
"There's your bed," he said.
Kat nodded submissively and moved to stretch out onto it. She crammed a wad of cellophane into her mouth and closed her eyes so peacefully that a knot built in Theda's throat.
She tried to tell herself that it was relief, vengeance served, but the stinging behind her eyes made her think she wasn't quite so sure.
Chapter 24
They came for her the next morning. Kat lay on her mattress curled into a fetal position and Theda thought she must have lain the same way all night. It had been a relief to know the woman was out completely. She didn't have to worry about Kat trying to smother her or bite her, and in the end except for worrying when she would be brought to perform her part on Promo, Theda slept better than she had in days.
There were five of them who came to get her. At first, only two entered the cell: Doug from the night before and another, rather timid-looking man. It didn't take long for Theda to realize why there were five. The other three were left to deal with Kat.
Doug obviously led the group. He threw her a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo.
"Is this some sort of joke?" she asked.
"Whether or not it's a joke, you might want to enjoy it.
I have a feeling it's going to be your last shower." A piece of white cloth was slung over his elbow and at first Theda thought it was a towel. She was divested of that notion when he threw that at her too.
She lifted the robe from the bed where it had landed and held it out in front of her. A neck hole and two armholes. Very reminiscent of the coarse-spun shift she had been forced to wear in the torture chamber with Councilman Prusser.
"He wants me to look like a martyr?"
"He wants everyone to look at your face. He wants them to know it's you."
"I'm not changing here," she said, taking in the eager eyes outside the narrow window.
Doug shrugged and then looked back over his shoulder. "Worth a try, guys."
"You're disgusting," she said.
"You sound as though it's an epiphany." He reached for her elbow and jerked her off the bed. She thought about going for his Taser or his baton, thinking perhaps in the end he might rough her up a little and postpone the inevitable, but she was so eager to get out of the cell that she thought anything might be an improvement. Besides: once she was out, there was no telling what opportunity would arise.
She had to step over Kat to follow him out the door, and as she did so, she thought she stepped on the tip of the woman's fingers. When she looked down, Kat's hand was tucked nicely beneath her rib cage.
As she and her two guards exited, the other three entered. They fanned out behind Theda across the doorway. Doug clapped one of them on the shoulder, and it was only then that Theda noticed he was carrying a hefty weapon. His back supported a weighty tank.
"If she expires, burn the body; if she wakes..."
"Burn the body?" the man said hopefully.
"Just pieces," he warned.
"Got it." The man squared his shoulders under the straps that held the tank.
"That's a flame thrower," Theda blurted, realizing it.
"Pretty smart for a mung," Doug said and pulled at her arm. She twisted away, trying to see over her shoulder.
"Not that I care what happens to the bitch," Theda said. "But why in Hell's name don't you just kill her?"
"Good question," he said.
"Well?"
"Shit if I know. He has reasons. He always does."
Theda expected to be escorted back to the Beast's apartment, but her guards took her in the opposite direction. She tried to peer into some windows as she was led past, but they walked her so fast she could only catch glimpses of the insides. In a couple of them, she could swear she saw the same isolation chambers as she and Ezekiel had been put into back in Sasha's boutique.
It was in one of those tanks that she had witnessed more of Ezekiel's life in this incarnation. With the help of Ami and Cain, she'd disguised herself as Kat in order to reenter the den and divest him from the Beast's clutches. But it had gone horribly wrong, and Ezekiel had gone nearly mad with fury when he'd believed she actually was Kat and that the Red General had executed her. The Beast had taken advantage of that confusion and locked them both in isolation chambers just like the ones she caught sight of as she was escorted down the corridor. Several of the guards caught her eye, and when she saw the accusatory looks within them, she decided to keep her gaze on the floor.
They had passed an elevator and were finally coming upon a break in the hall that led down a less guarded area, when Theda thought she heard a short yelp of pain. Her chest tightened uncomfortably when she realized that Kat had probably woken up. No doubt one of the lesser burned areas of her body was receiving a shot of flame.
Her first instinct was to turn to help, but Doug tightened his grip on her arm. "Can't do anything for her; it's what He wants."
"He's a sick motherfucker."
Doug said nothing, but he did tighten his grip.
They stopped in front of what Theda knew immediately to be a shower room. Doug left his partner at the door as he followed her in. He nodded discreetly toward the two stalls inside. "The one on the left has hot water."
"Thanks," she said. "Maybe you're not such a drag after all."
He shrugged. "If it's going to be your last one, you should at least enjoy it."
She watched him closely as he spoke, wondering if he felt any compassion, but if he did his face was a careful mask. Giving up, she sighed and pushed the door to the left shower open.
"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked. "It's not as though I can just disappear out of here."
She heard him harrumph from his side of the door.
The shower head might have been state-of-the-art at one time, but it had corroded in places. She doubted it would give her much more than a trickle. Still, it would feel good to be clean. She adjusted the curtain so that her towel wouldn't get wet and then she peeled off her shirt, lifting it up over her head and throwing it down on the bench. Her bra came next, and as she placed it delicately beneath the shirt, she noticed a small square of paper tucked into the cup.
She stared at it for several seconds before she even dared pick at it with her fingernail. A smear. Obviously jammed in there when Kat had tried to pin her down earlier. A thought occurred to her, and she ran her hands up her rib cage and brushed along her breasts. There, stuck to the underside of the right one, was a second smear.
She could feel her heart beating in her throat. What would be the chances that there would be a third? She ran her hands underneath her armpits, along her neck, even into the waistband of her leather Morrison pants where it touched her skin and found nothing. Of course, the woman had obviously taken the third one to stop the pain. It didn't explain why she'd secreted the other two into Theda's bra, however.
Doug banged on the door. "What's taking so long?"
She startled, nearly dropping the smear in surprise.
"Just trying to make sure my clothes don't get wet."
"Don't worry about it. You're wearing that white dress."
Theda's fingers went to the button of her pants as though he would suddenly barge in. "It's not a dress," she said of the coarse shift.
"Whatever the Hell it is, it doesn't matter if it gets wet."
She laid the godspit carefully alongside its partner and pushed her pants from her hips, all the while staring at the two smears sitting in her bra cup. Kat had no doubt taken the protective wrapping off the backs; these were the cellophane pieces she'd jammed in her mouth the night before. Which meant these smears might be useless, their blissful residue wasted on the sweat of Theda's skin. Even so, she had to find a way to keep them with her. She certainly couldn't put them in her mouth just in case there was some drug left on them. Now that she knew she had them, she didn't want to risk them falling out of her bra.
She stepped into the shower, telling herself that if they'd made it this far stuck to her breasts, then she'd just have to believe they'd travel the rest of the way in the same manner. It wasn't the best plan, but she simply didn't have the brainpower to figure out a better one.
She found she didn't have to adjust the stream to find the right temperature. What Doug had called hot was actually more tepid. Even so, it felt deliriously good. She closed her eyes as she ran the soap over her body, trying to shut out the reality of where she was, feeling the way the suds cushioned the contact between her hands and skin. She was even able to bring an image of Ezekiel to her mind as she ran the soap over her breasts and down to her navel. She couldn't help remembering the night he'd given her the first bath she'd enjoyed in months after the Apocalypse. He'd lain her in Bridget's tub fully clothed at first, gently washing away the filth of street life before he plucked away each bit of material covering her skin. With tremendous care and tenderness, he'd then built the soap into a lush foam that stripped away something more intangible than filth.
And then she'd stolen smears from his pocket and repaid Bridget's kindness with a raid that got her arrested. Absolutely everything had gone downhill after that. But that one memory of looking up into his face, seeing something behind those hooded eyelids that made her feel less abandoned, tha
t was the thing she would cling to as the Beast did his worst. It would be the last memory she enjoyed before she shoved both of those smears into her mouth.
The memory hurt as much as it helped. She felt such a longing for Ezekiel that she wasn't sure if the water running down her face was from the shower or from her tears. She'd built a pretty good dam all these weeks, but the pressure had to let go sometime. Remembering what it had been like seeing Ezekiel offer her a look at his own vulnerability was the siphon that let the pressure hiss out of her. She found herself sinking to the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, forehead crushed into the space between her breasts and legs. She let it go. She let it all go. The guilt, shame, fear.
When she stood on shaking legs she told herself it was only exhaustion making them tremble, the feeling of being absolutely spent, of being empty. It wasn't fear. There could be no fear if there was no threat of mortal pain. The godspit would take care of that if it was left intact. At least for today.
She shut off the shower head and pulled open the curtain. She told herself to be grateful for the plush towel that dried her skin, to be happy that Kat had ensured Ami's safety, that Cain was regenerating somewhere. Most of all, she told herself that Ezekiel understood what he was and that the Beast couldn't truly touch him again.
She snapped her bra in place and tucked one smear in each cup, just underneath each breast. She jiggled about, testing, and when they stuck to her skin instead of falling out, she let go a relieved exhale. Now for the robe. She was reaching for it when she caught sight of her pants on the bench.
Peeking out from the pocket was the corner of a small white piece of paper. The third smear. This one completely backed.
That meant Kat hadn't taken any. It meant the horsemen left to guard her with weapons and flamethrowers were guarding a woman who was not blissed out like they believed.
It might not change things for Theda, but it certainly did make her smile.
Chapter 25
Theta Waves Box Set: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3) (Theta Waves Trilogy) Page 53
