by L. S. O'Dea
“How are they going to do that?” Her mom was a healer. There were no miracle cures for malformed bones.
Mirabelle’s tone was excited yet hushed. “I don’t know exactly. I was worried that no one would want me, you know, because of my leg but J.R. assured me that once they were done with me, no one would even know that I had a deformity. Can you believe that?”
No, she couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. Even with a platform in the shoe there would still be a gait issue. “It doesn’t sound right to me.”
“Well, you don’t know everything. J.R. said...”
“Who is this J.R.?”
“He’s the Lead Guard here and he’s really nice,” said Mirabelle.
She’d never met a nice Guard before, but she’d never really spoken to one. Kim said that Jackson was nice, but she was an Almighty. The hairless Guard never went out of his way to talk to the Producers at home. She shook her head. This wasn’t making sense. “Mirabelle, I’m confused. Start from the beginning. What did J.R. say happens to us at the Warehouse District?”
Mirabelle sighed. “We’re taken there in a big group and then we’re split up. Some of us are sent to restaurants, some of us to grocery stores, some to hotels and some are sent directly to the homes of the wealthiest Almightys.”
Her dad had said that House Servants worked at those places. “I don’t understand. Why—”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad. I didn’t know what those words meant either. J.R. explained it to us. They’re all places that Almightys visit for different reasons. A restaurant is...”
“I know what those words mean. What I don’t understand is why they would want Producers there?”
“To do the work.” Mirabelle’s voice held a hint of exasperation.
Gaar was right. Something was off here. “They have House Servants for that. Why would they need Producers?”
“What is a House Servant?”
She grimaced. Why had she said that? She shouldn’t know anything about House Servants, but it was too late now. “They’re a different class that works in the homes and the businesses of the Almightys.”
“How do you know that?”
She absolutely could not mention her father. “My friend.”
“Well, your friend is either wrong, or they want Producers to do the work that these House Servants can’t.” Mirabelle’s tone was disgusted. “You’re asking too many questions just like Travis. You need to stop doing that. They don’t like it.”
“You’ve seen Travis? Where is he?” Why hadn’t Mirabelle told her that earlier when she’d asked?
“Well, I’m not positive that he’s still there. They took him to the other building a long time ago.”
She exhaled slowly. Travis was still here, safe, not with the Forest Witch and not in the belly of a Cold Creeper. “Which building?”
“The one where they put the trouble makers.” Mirabelle paused. “But you can’t go there. It isn’t allowed.”
There was no way she wasn’t going. “Tell me which building.” She softened her tone. “I need to see him. Please.”
“You’ll be sorry if you’re caught.”
That was an understatement. “Please, Mirabelle.”
“It’s the one right next to ours. Not the two closer to the Guards’ house, but the other one.”
Her heart beat faster. She’d found Travis. “Goodbye, and thank you.” She turned and left the building.
Outside, Gaar motioned to her that all was clear. She nodded and raced to the other building, slipping inside. Once again cold darkness surrounded her, but this time it was accompanied by the overwhelming stench of feces. She fought the urge to gag as she pressed back against the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the limited light from cracks in the building’s mortar. The shuffling of feet echoed in the stillness. She tensed, prepared to run if whatever was moving came closer, but it didn’t. After several moments, she stepped out of the doorway and into the main room.
Rows of cages sat in the center of the room, some empty but most encasing a lone Producer. A metal rail, suspended a few feet in front of each row, ran the length of the building. The Producers stood in their own feces, the cages too small for them to sit or turn around. Some shifted their feet, causing the shuffling noise that she’d heard, but most remained still and silent, their chained hands extended through the bars. A metal contraption encircled their heads and necks, inhibiting most movement.
Her heart thudded in her ears. Gaar was right. She could never allow herself to end up here. She had to go home and warn the others, but she was not staying. She’d known that the Almightys could be cruel, but this went beyond any punishment that she could have imagined. Her instincts told her to run, leave this place, but Travis was here. She had to find him. She forced herself to creep closer. As she passed each enclosure, the Producers remained immobile, either not hearing or not caring that someone approached. When she was about halfway through the first row a female raised her head.
“Who are you?” whispered the girl in a dry, raspy voice.
She should help her. No. She would help her, but first things first. “I’m looking for Travis.”
A male in the next cage raised his head. “Run. Get away if you can.”
Oh, how I wish I could. “I will. As soon as I find Travis.”
“There’s a Travis down there.” The female Producer tipped her head a little to the right. “But Jeremiah is right. Don’t let them catch you here.”
“I won’t. Thanks.” She moved on, peering in each cage as she passed. She stopped at the second to the last one. This Producer was taller and heavier than Travis, but there was something familiar about him. Long, greasy hair covered his face, so she cocked her head to get a better look. “Travis, is that you? It’s me, Trinity.”
He raised his head, cracking open his eyes. Greenish pus clung to his lashes. He licked his dry, chapped lips. “Trinity?” His voice was gruff from disuse.
What did they do to him? The friend she’d known was strong and energetic. This creature hung limp and florid. She touched his face. He was burning with fever. “Oh, Travis.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. It would make it worse somehow. She took her water bottle out of her backpack and tipped it to his lips.
He jerked away the best that he could, but the head restraint made it impossible for him to move far.
“It’s water. Drink.” She put the bottle back to his lips and poured. A little made it into his mouth; the rest ran down his chin and onto the concrete floor. She pulled on the chains around his hands. They were locked. She examined the cage door. It was unlocked but with his hands in chains and his head in that contraption opening the door meant nothing.
“No escape,” he said.
She felt the metal around his head, trying to find a way to unlatch it. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
Some of the other Producers turned in their direction at her statement.
“Stop,” he said weakly. “You need to leave before they catch you. Go back to your building. Don’t fight them. Do whatever they tell you. Don’t end up here.” He dropped his head.
She lifted his face and wiped his eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t have a building. I escaped into the forest. I have friends with me. They can help.” She cringed internally at the promise, not sure that Gaar and Mirra would be willing to help. At the sound of a machine revving overhead, she jumped back, away from his cage.
“Leave now,” he said. “Forget about me.”
Some of the Producers began to fight at their restraints. Others stared straight ahead and opened their mouths.
“What’s happening?”
“Go,” he snapped. “Please.” The outburst seemed to sap the little strength he had and his body sagged, suspended by his head and neck.
The engine grew louder. It was coming closer. She couldn’t fight a machine. She gave one last desperate pull on the chains around his han
ds and then ran to the exit. She had to get out of there, away from the darkness and the smell. She yanked open the door and stopped. The light and fresh air beckoned, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t save him, but maybe, she could help in some small way. She glanced back. Travis was staring in her direction, but probably couldn’t see her in the dim light. She let the door fall shut and squeezed into the corner, hiding in the shadows. After a few moments, he dropped his head.
The metal rail in front of the cages began to shake. A machine emerged from a cabinet on the side of the building and rolled along the rail. It stopped in front of the first Producer; he stared straight ahead, jaws wide open. A long metal pipe extended out of the machine and slid into his mouth. The device shook and he swallowed convulsively. The pipe retracted and the machine moved on to the next Producer. It was Travis.
He tried to turn away, but the contraption around his head locked him into position. The pipe jutted out of the machine, pressing on his lips. The muscles in his cheeks clenched as he fought to keep his mouth closed. A gruel-like substance spilled out of the pipe and down his face. Soon, the pressure from the pipe pried his teeth apart and he swallowed violently as the food was forced down his throat. After several minutes, the metal bar retracted and the device moved on to the next Producer. Travis collapsed in his restraints, his body shaking with silent sobs.
She bit her hand to stop her scream. She was powerless. Useless. There was nothing she could do to help him. She had to get out of there. Hand trembling, she quietly opened the door and pushed outside, stumbling into the fresh air and sunlight. She ran, needing to get as far away as possible. She staggered to a halt. She’d forgotten to look for Gaar’s signal. She glanced at the tree, but he wasn’t there. She wrinkled her nose as the stench of unwashed body drifted toward her on the breeze. She turned around, sniffing the air.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” yelled a burly Guard by the Guards’ building.
CHAPTER 16
TRINITY GLANCED BACK TOWARD THE TREE, scanning the surrounding area for Gaar. Had he left? He was concerned that attacking the Almightys’ Guards would cause trouble for him and Mirra.
“Hey, J.R., one of them escaped,” yelled the burly Guard.
“Don’t be joking now, Pat,” said J.R. as he stepped into the yard. “Well, I’ll be. You ain’t kidding. Boys, we got a loose one.”
Six other Guards shoved out of the building. They were all short. Most were fat but a few were solid muscle. None of them looked fast, but they did seem bigger than they had when she’d been observing them from the safety of the brush.
“There, there, now. No reason to be afraid.” Pat stepped forward, slowly.
“Hold on,” said J.R, leering at her. “If she comes nicely, we don’t get to have no fun.”
“What do ya mean?” asked Pat.
J.R. looked at the other Guards. They nodded, but their eyes never left her.
The hair stood on the back of her neck. She could not let them catch her. She’d worry about Gaar later. Right now, she had to focus on the immediate danger. Even if the Guards were really slow, she’d never make it under the fence without getting caught. Her only option was the gap in the barbed wire on the gate. Unfortunately, the Guards stood between her and that exit.
“Yeah, Pat. You’re new here. This don’t happen often. Every now and then, one escapes and we get to bring it back,” explained an older Guard who was missing a front canine.
“Escapes,” scoffed one of the other Guards. “You mean we let it go so that we can chase it. I ain’t never seen one get out on its own before.”
“Let’s not quibble over the details,” said J.R. “The point is we get to catch it.”
“I could use some exercise.” Pat grinned at her as his eyes traveled up and down her body.
She took an involuntary step backward. As a group, they moved a step forward. Her heart pounded. She was going to have to lead them away from the gate and circle back around but which way should she go?
“I never saw one just stand there before,” said the Guard with the missing tooth.
“This ain’t gonna be no fun if she don’t run,” said Pat.
“Oh, she’ll run.” Without warning, J.R. raced toward her.
The rest of the Guards followed, hooting and howling. She said a quick prayer that they were slow, at least slower than her and bolted in the opposite direction. She tripped over her feet, staggering forward a few steps and then took off running. Of the eight, three were fast, too fast. She headed around the buildings. Their yelps of joy snapped at her heels as they gained on her.
She raced by where Travis was being held and was almost past Mirabelle’s building when a Guard burst from the alleyway, blocking her path. They had her surrounded. She couldn’t turn around. The other Guards were too close. She had no choice. She had to get past the lone Guard in front of her, but she’d have to be fast. The backpack was weighing her down. It had to go. As she continued running, she reached around, pulling it off her shoulders. The Guard leapt forward, clasping the back of her shirt. Without thinking she raised her arm and flung the backpack, hitting him in the face. His head wobbled and he fell to his knees, dropping his hold on her. I’ll never complain about Gaar’s bread again. She ran past the next building and ducked down the alleyway. She emerged in the yard. It was empty, but two of the faster Guards were still right behind her. She shifted her angle, heading directly toward the gate.
“We got her now, boys,” yelled J.R. “She thinks she’s getting through the fence.”
She glanced back. The slower group of Guards was closer now that she’d circled back toward them. The Guard that she’d hit passed the others, rage fueling his speed. He wanted to kill her; it was in his eyes. She had to get out of there. She launched herself on the fence and began climbing. It was easier than a tree.
“Ain’t never seen one do that before,” shouted a Guard. “Get over here, J.R. We need the keys.”
“I ain’t waiting,” shouted another Guard.
Someone hit the fence. It was too easy. The Guards could climb it too. She flung herself over the top, sliding down a few feet and then letting go. She hit the ground and rolled, her legs vibrating from the impact. There was a thud. She clamored to her feet and ran. Footsteps close behind her. Hot breath wafted over the back of her neck. She ran faster. She had to reach the safety of the forest. A hand skimmed over her shoulder. She shoved her chest forward to avoid his grasp. The trees were right there, only a little farther. Someone screamed.
Her head snapped backward and her feet flew out from under her as the Guard grabbed her hair. She landed, hard, on her back. The Guard pounced on her, knocking the breath from her lungs. It was the guy who she’d hit and he was beyond angry. She gasped for air as she struggled to get out from under him, but he was too heavy. She pried one arm loose and brought her hand up in a fast jab to his nose. His body jerked back from the blow, giving her space to wiggle free.
She flipped over. There were two Guards on the ground. Neither was moving. Spears stuck out of their bodies. Gaar was fighting hand-to-hand with the other five Guards. Relief washed through her. He hadn’t left her, but could he defeat all the Guards? She pulled herself up and something hit her in the center of her back, knocking her forward, her face hitting the ground. Her teeth bit into her lip and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
“I’ll tear you apart,” snarled the Guard as he straddled her hips. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. He lowered his mouth to her neck.
He was going to kill her. Maybe, hitting him hadn’t been such a good idea. She tried to break free but her arms were pinned at her side. She struggled and was able to wiggle her right hand. She grasped the handle of her knife but couldn’t move enough to unsheathe it. She tried again but it was no use. This was it, the end. She’d failed. Travis and her mother would die because of her. Her body tensed as his teeth grazed her neck.
“I want to see your face as I tear you
r throat out,” he growled as he lifted himself a couple of inches, loosening his hold, and flipping her over.
She pulled up her arm. He bared his sharp, yellow teeth and leaned forward. She shoved upward with her knife. Hot, thick blood poured over her hand as the blade slid into his gut. His eyes, once gleaming in anticipation, showed surprise. He looked down at his stomach. His face contorted with fury. She twisted her wrist. Die already. His eyes burned into hers and he lowered his face to her neck. Suddenly, his head shot back. There was a glint of silver and then blood sprayed from his throat. He was yanked backward; his body tossed to the ground.
Gaar grabbed her by the arms, pulling her to her feet. “Are you okay?”
He was covered in blood. His beard and clothes were no longer gray but red. The eight Guards lay scattered around. All dead. Some by spears, some by knife and, she swallowed back bile, some torn apart.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, shaking her gently.
She nodded. “Yeah.” She used her arm to wipe the Guard’s blood off her face. “It’s not my blood.”
He released his breath in a slow sigh of relief and then grinned. “You didn’t look for my signal.”
She shook her head, unable to stop staring at the Guards. It was her fault that they were dead. “No. I...I’m sorry.” Her hand trembled as she sheathed her knife.
He laughed and slapped her on the back, knocking her forward. He quickly grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Sorry. I get a bit excited after battle.” He glanced at the Guards, licking his lips.
She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away. The building where Travis was being held loomed in her view. “Why are they doing this to them? It’s a punishment, I know, but it doesn’t make sense. Why not just kill them? Why keep them locked in that building? Chained in cages. Forcing food down their throats?”
“You still don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.” Right now, she didn’t know anything except that she was confused and scared and...glad to be alive.
He patted her on the shoulder. “Let’s leave this place. You’ve seen what they do to your kind. That’s what I promised.”
