“Leader,” she said, lifting her arm in the usual salute.
His lips rose in a thin smile that expressed equal parts impatience and disdain. “Why are you here, Nine?”
She lowered her arm, taking a deep breath. “I need to tell you something important.”
“About what?”
“It’s, uh, it’s about a boy in my subset.”
“I see.” A spark of interest glinted in the Leader’s eyes, and he retrieved a camera and miniature tripod from a desk drawer. “Sit down.”
Nine sat on the stool. The seat felt even more uncomfortable than it had earlier. She shifted around, then brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Anxiety ate away at her, tying her innards into knots. When she swallowed, she tasted her lunch, turned sharp and acidic with bile.
After the Leader had set up the camera, he pressed a button on the side of it and leaned back in his seat.
“Please, begin,” he said, folding his hands in a steeple in front of him. His voice was cool and commanding.
“Before I tell you, I need you to promise me that you won’t hurt Two,” she said, thinking about the numerous times she had watched other kids be thrashed in front of the entire mess hall for minor offenses. And this wasn’t minor at all.
“For the record, you mean Subject Two of Subset A?” the Leader asked, though the flatness of his voice made it clear that he already knew who she was referring to.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “What he did, what he wants to do, it’s all because of me. So, please, tell me you won’t hurt him.”
“If his behavior warrants disciplinary action, I will take your cooperation into consideration when determining his punishment.”
That wasn’t good enough. She had taken enough public speaking classes to recognize pandering. She needed a solid commitment.
“Promise me,” she said.
“I promise you that I will be lenient, Nine,” the Leader said quietly, with a calmness that she found reassuring. “At worst, he will receive a few taps of the switch. Gentle. He will not scar.”
She dreaded the thought of Two being thrashed, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Although he was normally a polite and dedicated subject, his arrogance could sometimes get the better of him. She remembered several instances where he had spoken back to his instructors and received a dozen hard blows as punishment. But he had never bled, and the welts faded, so why would this time be any different? A little pain was better than death.
She shifted in her seat, glancing around the room. She rehearsed the speech she had planned out so carefully. Indecision plagued her. What if she said something wrong? What if she made Two’s crime seem even worse than it actually was and, rather than helping him, condemned him instead?
Why had she decided to speak up? Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.
“Two’s upset that I’m going away,” she said at last. “He wants to leave with me. Tonight.”
“I see,” the Leader said, though he didn’t sound particularly surprised. “Desertion is a serious matter indeed. Go on.”
“He said he stole a gun from the armory,” Nine said and bit her lip. She combed a hand through her hair, then touched her earlobe, stroking it. It made her feel better to keep her hands in constant motion, distracting from the panicky urge to bolt from her seat and dash out of the room. “I don’t know exactly what he plans to do, but he has a plan, I think. He told me to meet him in front of the dumpsters after lights out.”
“Mmm.” The Leader reached into a desk drawer and took out a black paper box and a silver lighter. He removed a cigarette from the pack, propped it between his lips, and lit it. “Why did you bring this information to me?”
“I’m loyal.”
“Don’t sugarcoat the truth, Nine.”
“Two’s so stubborn sometimes,” she said, hanging her head. It felt like a betrayal, talking about him like this, even though it was true. “He doesn’t know his own limits, and he thinks he can beat everything like it’s a game. I don’t think he realizes what leaving means. He just sees it as a challenge he can conquer.”
“Thank you, Nine,” the Leader said. “I value your honesty.”
She didn’t feel honest. She felt like a traitor, and each second that passed, she became more certain that she had done something terrible.
“Your parents will be pleased.” He leaned back in his chair, regarding the smoke wafting from the tip of his cigarette.
The longer she stayed in the Leader’s presence, the more uncomfortable she became. She began to wonder if she had made a mistake. Maybe she never should have told Two about her departure in the first place. Then she could have come back for him later. If she had done that, he would be upset, true, but he wouldn’t be harboring such deadly ambitions.
“Can I go back to my barracks now?” she asked, wanting nothing more than to crawl under her cot’s covers like a turtle in hiding.
“Not yet,” the Leader said, smiling. “It’s important that we see if he follows through with his desertion attempt. Tonight, after lights out, you will wait for him by the dumpsters, just as planned. Do you understand?”
She swallowed hard. “I understand.”
She spent the remainder of the evening in the girls’ barracks. When a guard came by to call roll, the man gave her a small nod as he pressed his tally counter. Each time the device clicked, she thought about the sound a gun’s hammer made when cocked.
On his way out, the guard turned the lights off. He kept the door slightly ajar. For five minutes, she stared at the thin bar of light that entered from the hallway. Then she pulled back her blanket and sat up.
She retrieved her shoes from under her bed and slipped them on. As she tied the laces, questions ran through her head. What if they couldn’t disarm Two in time? What if he tried killing himself?
She never should have told the Leader.
Plagued with guilt, she rose to her feet and left the room. She shut the door quietly behind her and walked down the hall. The rubber soles of her sneakers squeaked on the tiles.
She stepped outside. It had been a cool afternoon, but the evening was outright chilly. She shivered, rubbing her arms as she hurried in the direction of the main building.
She was met at the kitchen exit by three guards. The Leader stood nearby. Even in moonlight, his short white hair glistened like a crown of frost.
They waited. She leaned against the dumpster, and the Leader stood in the alcove behind her, in the shadows.
One guard was positioned against the niche where the kitchen’s exit door was, while the other pair lurked nearby. Dressed all in black, in bulky tactical gear and helmets, they blended into the night.
Footsteps echoed from the other side of the building. The guard in the alcove tensed, reaching for his weapon.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. So many things could go wrong.
Nine loosened her clenched fists, forcing herself to take deep, steady breaths and act normal. She must get him to surrender peacefully. If he suspected something was amiss, he might turn violent.
Two appeared around the corner, moving at a quick but confident gait. His hands were empty. No sign of the gun, if he even had one.
The moment he saw her, he broke into a beaming smile. Then, instantly, his expression changed. His hand darted toward his side, and just as he pulled a gun from the holster against his waist, the guards tackled him.
She winced as he struck the ground. His breathless gasps tore away at her, and when one of the guards seized him by the hair and slammed his face into the mud, she couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Her gaze fell to the pistol he had dropped, then returned to him.
“I had to,” she said, swallowing hard. “Don’t you see, Two? I had to. They’d kill us both if I went with you.”
He didn’t answer. As soon as the man allowed him to lift his head, he just stared at her, panting. Mud streaked his chin and cheeks, dead leaves clung to his hair, and a
thin line of blood trickled from one nostril.
“I had to,” she repeated, her voice just a whisper now. “I did it because I love you.”
As the guards wrenched him to his feet, his shocked expression collapsed into a pained grimace. Hoarse breaths escaped his gritted teeth.
“I love you,” she said.
Two responded with silence as they dragged him past her. In the dull light, his eyes were the color of sooty water, not gas fire. Burnt out, and flooding with tears.
She knew then that he would never forgive her.
Case Notes 9: Subject Two of Subset A
As the guards pulled Two down the hall, he bucked against their hands, growling and struggling. He hadn’t wanted Nine to see his terror, but now he couldn’t hide it any longer. Adrenaline welled up inside him like an icy tide, taking control of his muscles and driving him to act.
He swung one leg back, catching a guard in the knee.
“You little brat!” the man snarled, letting go of his wrist to cradle his wounded leg.
Two took several steps forward before the second guard slammed him against the wall hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs.
The cuffs locking his wrists behind his back weren’t enough to tame him, but a Taser to his neck did the job. He lost control of his limbs as the electrical current tore through him and collapsed to the ground in wrenching convulsions, gasping for breath.
He had no sooner recovered from the first volt than the guard shocked him a second time, chuckling as he writhed uncontrollably on the floor.
“No more fighting now,” the man said, once the convulsions receded, and yanked him up by his arms.
They dragged him into the Leader’s office and shoved him onto a short metal stool. When he had visited this room before, he had always been impressed by its lavish decor. Now he viewed it through bitter eyes, seeing only confining walls and too many shadows. The ceiling loomed uncomfortably close, and seemed to lower by the second, pressing down on him. Even after he regained his breath, he felt crushed.
“Where did you get this gun?” the Leader asked from his tufted leather chair on the other side of the desk.
The pistol lay next to the key ring on the blotter pad in front of him, its magazine removed. Useless now. Just a piece of metal.
Staring at the weapon, Two realized why his plan had failed. He never should have trusted her. The only person he could rely on was himself.
It suddenly struck to him that he could have escaped on his own, days after Nine’s departure. He knew her new name and that the man she would be living with was a senator. He could have found her and forced her to go with him, whether she wanted to abandon her new family or not.
Why hadn’t that occurred to him until now? How could he be so stupid?
“I asked you where,” the Leader said.
He shrugged.
“Oh, Two.” The Leader sighed and retrieved a silver cigarette case and matching lighter from his pocket. He extracted a cigarette from the case and lit it. He took a thoughtful puff before he even looked at Two again. “This isn’t like you. I’ve been watching your progress for years, and you’ve never failed to impress me.”
He said nothing.
“We had such high hopes for you. I really thought that you would be the one to return America to its former splendor. A natural-born leader.”
Silence.
“Are you willing to throw away your future for a lost cause?” the Leader asked and, when he refused to answer, nodded toward the guards restraining him.
Suddenly he wasn’t sitting but slammed over the desk, his face pushed against the blotter pad. Fingers knotted in his short hair, immobilizing his head. Blood oozed from his split lip and down his chin, dripping on the coarse paper.
Flecks of hot ash singed the nape of his neck as the Leader leaned over him. From his position, all he could see was the first button of the man’s shirt and the tops of his legs. To avoid staring at his crotch, Two focused on the belt buckle—shiny silver, studded with black stones. The onyx circles were polished to a reflective gleam and reminded him of a spider’s clustered eyes. Watching him hungrily.
“Tell me where you got the gun and keys,” the Leader said. “I told Subject Nine that I would be lenient with you, but learning the truth takes precedence over any promises.”
He remained silent, breathing through gritted teeth. When the guard let go of his hair, he kept his head where it lay. Resting his cheek on the blotter, he stared at the pyrite cube next to the bronze lamp. He could see his reflection in the mineral’s shiny surface, distorted into a stranger’s face.
With a sigh, the Leader circled around the desk.
“Would you like to know something interesting, Two?” the Leader asked, pausing behind him.
Even though he didn’t see the man, he sensed the Leader’s presence. It was like a heaviness in the air. The weight of gravity. Inhuman and overbearing.
“You were going to leave the Academy soon. Your departure was scheduled for two weeks from today.”
No. That wasn’t possible. It was a lie. A way to break down his defenses and incite him into saying something he would regret.
As the Leader circled back around to the other side of the desk, Two lifted his head and regarded the man in calm silence. Begging for forgiveness would not change the Leader’s mind, not when D-12 had pleaded for his life and gotten shot anyway.
“One of our affiliated families was looking for a boy to foster,” the Leader said. “The father has ties to the Navy, and with that in mind, you were my top choice.”
He maintained his flat expression. Showing any sort of reaction would not help him. He had watched videos of numerous interrogations. Pleading was worthless. Mercy was dead here.
“Of course, that’s out of the question now,” the Leader said finally, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You have made it abundantly clear to me tonight that you are not leadership material. Such a shame. You have the potential for it. The raw charisma. But you don’t have the proper temperament.”
Just hours ago, those words would have stung like acid. Now, the Leader’s voice washed over him like the smoke wafting from the man’s lips, empty and transparent. Just animal sounds, no significance.
Who cared about being commander when it was all over?
“I see you’re determined to remain silent.” The Leader sighed, turning to the guards. “Take him to the mess hall and bring in the children. Let’s show them the price of disobedience.”
Case Notes 10: Subject Nine of Subset A
Nine stood in front of the punishment pole, sandwiched between two guards who were twice her size. One rested his hand on her shoulder, holding her still. His palm was moist through her shirt, and he smelled strongly of the spearmint gum he chewed.
All around her, subjects waited in quiet rows. Some whispered to each other. Others kept their heads bowed and shoulders hunched, perhaps thinking about their own transgressions and wondering if they were going to be called out on them.
The doors at the front of the room opened, and the Leader strode inside. He gripped a thin wooden rod in one hand.
Two followed, escorted by a second pair of guards. He walked with his head held high and his back ramrod straight, staring ahead. Even in filthy clothes, with dried blood crusted on his chin and a split lip, he exuded a cold, haughty demeanor.
He will not scar, she told herself over and over.
The guards chained him to the pole. He was tall enough that he did not require a stool to stand upon. He allowed his arms to dangle loosely above his head, his body relaxed.
She stared at him, but she didn’t think he saw her. His gaze was fixated on something high in the rafters. She glanced up at the ceiling. Nothing perched among the steel supports, just dust and shadows. What was he staring at? What thoughts drifted through his mind?
“Subject 2 of Subset A has committed the grave offense of attempted desertion,” the Leader announced, drawing her attention
back toward him. His blockish white face remained frozen in flat disinterest, a clear contrast to the expressions of shock that his words incited.
Gasps echoed through the crowd, and subjects turned to each other, whispering to themselves. They all knew the severity of that crime, though few had ever attempted it.
He will not scar.
Nine took a deep breath, feeling the guard’s grip on her shoulder tighten. It would begin any moment now and be over in a minute or two. What were a dozen lashes compared to freezing to death in the wilderness?
He will not scar.
The Leader nodded to one of the men who had brought Two in. The guard took a small utility knife from a pocket on his belt and lifted it to Two’s collar.
She winced at the sound of tearing fabric. She couldn’t see his back from where she stood, but she knew he would stare her down as he received his thrashing, and that would be her punishment. To have to look at him as he cried out in pain.
The torn folds of Two’s shirt fluttered to his sides like a pair of black, ragged wings. The guard pushed his sleeves down. As his shirt collar sagged forward, she caught a glimpse of milk-white skin and the delicate bow of his collarbone.
Just hours ago, he had seemed on the cusp of adulthood, confident and dangerous. Now, he looked so young and vulnerable, more like a weary child than a fifteen-year-old.
“This is what happens to deserters,” the Leader said, then brought the switch down across his bare back. Once, twice, three times—each blow was accompanied by a hard thwack.
Two never made a sound.
I’ve done something unforgivable.
His searing blue eyes landed on her, burning into her. You are dead to me, those eyes said, more clearly than if he had spoken it aloud. In that moment, she realized that she had become a part of his persecution theory. He would never view her the same way again.
He smiled as the switch came down again, and though the crack the stick made was louder than ever, he refused to cry out. Underneath his mocking grin, she saw smoldering hatred. All for her.
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