Breeder: An Arrow's Flight Novel

by Casey Hays

  “Maybe someday, if I ever get out of here, I’ll let you hold a piece of ice. Then you’ll understand what I mean by ‘frozen.’”

  >--->

  Every day, Ian tells me more about his world: bicycles and fires blazing—inside houses! Of carpet and sinks where dishes are washed without having to dump and refill the water numerous times. I am especially curious about chocolate . . . far better than molasses, he concludes, and my mouth waters at the mere thought of something sweeter than molasses, sweeter than apples or plums.

  I share the “safe” things about my village, which consists of fire-pits and wash basins and roast duck on occasion. And I describe with fondness celebration nights, where Mia, Diana, and Layla dance with me under the stars. Compared to his information, I have very little to offer. He tells me about food I’ve never heard of and clothes I’ve never worn. I’m intrigued by this place called Eden.

  Every day, we eat, we sleep on the shared mat—divided down the middle by the rolled blanket, of course—and Ian fills my imagination with all sorts of foreign images. We laugh with each other. We learn from each other. And when the third day arrives, I believe him. He is not from the Village, and Eden is as real to me as if I’d been there myself.

  And Ian is no longer a stranger. He’s real, too. He’s a full-fledged personality. And I am in no way disappointed.

  But I am surprised to find that part of me is full of regret that I have to leave. One half of my heart can’t wait to sleep in my hogan, safe and familiar. I’m anxious to run through the grass in the brightest part of the day. I long to see Mia and hold Diana’s new baby. But this half is gravely overshadowed by the other, which dreads leaving Ian in this cave alone where I fear he may return to his gloomy misery. I close my eyes against the dreary image of the Ian I met three days ago. Looking at him now, one would think the first Ian had vanished like fleeing smoke.

  It took three days—three, interrupted only by sleep, and he is suddenly solid and essential. He wedges himself into my place of caring, and I allow it. I hardly know him, but he matters.

  He is not from the Village. He is not. And he isn’t content to stay in this cave in the depths of the Pit. He will dig at that bamboo until his fingers are bloodied raw if he has to. He longs for home, for his parents and his little sister, Ava, who is seven, and according to Ian, “a real pain in the butt, but I love her anyway.” And in three days, his longing aches in me as my own. And I vow to do something about it.

  But a vow only carries a person so far. The fulfillment is the true promise. And I am unequipped. I wouldn’t know how to begin such an escape.

  My heart thumps silently as I watch him lounging on his mat. He will not survive this cave much longer.

  >--->

  I’ve expected that close to evening on the third day, the jailer would simply open the gate and let me out. It is not what happens at all.

  Just as the sun begins to set, brushing the dusty, brown floor of the Pit with flames of orange, Mona’s broad, toned shadow appears in the doorway. I recognize her instantly, even in the dim light—so used to her looming shape ever stalking—and panic floods me. Will she know? Will she detect some insignificance in me that proves I have not mated?

  My thoughts sprint back in time, scrambling to remember hints of Mia or Diana or Layla’s first trip to the Pit. Did they seem different? Was I able to perceive that each of them had been with a male? I ferociously flip through the pages of my memory. Could I? Could I?

  No. No, I don’t think so.

  Mona motions for the jailer to unlock the cell, and I move close. I want to slip out—to keep a protective distance, as short as it is—between Mona and Ian to prevent him from hearing anything Mona has to say that might reveal the truth that I have managed to keep hidden these three days. Mona will have plenty to say. She is never at a loss for words.

  “Hello, Kate.”

  To my dismay, she steps inside, and the jailer slams the gate shut before I can move.

  “I hope your stay was . . . pleasurable.” Her green eyes flicker toward Ian, and she smiles. I read a kind of satisfaction in it. As if she’s extremely pleased with herself for once again being so clever. It turns my insides to stone. “I told you he was a fine match. Exactly suited for you.”

  “Yes.” I keep my eyes pinned on her, and even as my insides waver with tiny pinches of nervousness, I manage to keep my voice steady. “Your choice was . . . agreeable. Thank you. We’ve had a very nice time together, and I will not fight you on this subject anymore.”

  I don’t mean this, but Mona smiles and squeezes my arm tenderly, and I take a step closer to the gate. I only want to get out, and I’ll say anything to do so. To leave before she says something Ian doesn’t need to hear.

  “Good girl.” She makes no attempt to call the jailer. I cringe. “You have learned a valuable lesson. You are free to return to the Village.”

  I glance at Ian. He stands still, tall and stiff near his mat, eyes glaring in the fading light. And he’s listening, deliberately and precisely. I swallow, avoiding his eyes.

  “I am ready,” I say, taking another step toward the gate. But Mona doesn’t hear me. She focuses on Ian, and her shoulders straighten. Her expression turns hard.

  Don’t do it, Mona. Don’t say anything. Let’s go! Let’s just go.

  “As for you, dog . . .” She addresses Ian with a sense of superiority, as if he’s merely a bone dressed in leftover gristle to be tossed into the mulch pile. No regard for his feelings, no compassion, no sympathy. Only disgust. I wince at her words. “Your services are required no longer for the time being. Kate will come back within the next week.”

  She pauses dramatically, and the hint of a smile lights her lips.

  “You have earned your keep, however, and you will eat well from this day forth. You must keep your strength up for Kate’s return.” She whirls without another word and raps on the gate. “Come along, Kate. I’m sure you’ve had as much of this dump as you can stand. Next time, you won’t have to stay nearly as long.”

  She disappears through the open door, leaving me to face Ian in all of his raw shock. The scene around me blurs. The jailer waits, a large hand curled through the bars. The breeze whips up angrily throwing dust into my eyes. Ian’s face is a white sheet of complete alarm.

  “Dog?” His eyes crease, and the pain I see in them stabs at me relentlessly. “Why did she call me that? Who is she? And what is she talking about—my services?”

  His voice rises in anger, and his eyes spark even in the coming dark. The jailer steps forward, ready to ward him off, but I hold up a hand to stop her.

  “It’s fine. He’s fine. Will you give us a minute alone, please?”

  She doesn’t look amused, but she nods one hard jerk of her head and steps out and away from the entrance.

  “Kate?”

  I whirl swiftly back to face him.

  “Shhh!! Ian, please,” I raise a hand toward his lips to quiet him, but he knocks it away, and it’s as if he’s shoved my whole heart clear out the back side of me. It bleeds for him. For all the things he doesn’t understand about the Village and for all the things he’s destined to find out. Things that will infuriate him, and possibly, drown him in his own misery. And he will find out. I know this now. There is nothing I can do to stop it. He will soon know what he has become—what my people have made of him. It’s foolish for me to think I could have kept him in the dark. “I’ll explain everything. Next time I come, I will tell you everything.”

  “No, Kate.” He clenches angry fists. “You tell me now. Why am I here?”

  I check the gate. Mona will be waiting for me. I have to go before she suspects something and returns for me. Or before the jailer overhears and informs her. She can never know that her punishment—three days in this cave—has failed.

  “Next time, Ian.” I hurriedly move to the gate, heartbeat frantic. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  He can’t know, he can’t know, he can’t kno
w.

  My heart beats out the phrase. Mona calls my name in the distance.

  “I have to go now.”

  “Wait a minute, Kate. Just wait!”

  There’s a sob in his words, achy and hopeless. He grabs for me, but I turn and race through the gate, and it clanks shut just as Ian reaches the opening.

  “Kate!”

  The jailer eyes me suspiciously before sauntering heavily away. I stare through the thin bars, but they are a chasm, wide and rude between us. The pain in Ian’s eyes burns me hotter than a torch, accusing me of betrayal.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  And I spin, tears in my eyes, and run, widening the already gaping distance. I don’t look back.

  “KATE!”

  “I’ll come back soon,” I whisper, more to comfort myself. “Soon.”

  I catch up with Mona, who waits impatiently several yards from Ian’s cave, and we walk together the rest of the way to the ladder. I inconspicuously wipe at my tears.

  “He has quite an attachment to you, Kate. That’s good for now. It will make the breeding process much easier.”

  I nod, letting her believe what she will. I don’t look at her, afraid she’ll see the truth in my eyes. Mona is famous for unveiling truth, and she never hesitates to use all her resources to do so. If she wants to know what happened during my three-day stay, she will. And she doesn’t need my help.

  “You are free to come to the Pit anytime you like, but you must come at least once a week until you conceive.” Mona’s voice is full of a sweet tenderness, a rarity in her. It unsettles me. “Then you will be free to stay in the Village until the baby is born,” she continues. “You won’t have to worry yourself with that dog during those months.” Her voice is full of disdain at the word. “It will serve as a relief for you.”

  I hear Ian’s fading voice, screaming my name in the distance. It pricks me like sharp needles. You won’t have to worry yourself with the dog . . . .

  She stops at the bottom of the ladder and faces me.

  “I’m sorry it is necessary for you breeders to spend even a little time with these crude men. Believe me when I say I wish there was another way.” She shudders enough for me to detect it. It seems she remembers her own miserable time here as if it were yesterday. She sighs. “Well, it is a means to an end. Every breeder has had to do her part, despite the horror of it, including myself. I cannot make an exception for you, Kate.”

  I merely look at her in dejection. She smiles.

  “Think, Kate. In a month’s time, this misery will all be worth it. We will know if you are on your way to childbearing. What an honor it will be if you bear a girl. You will do us proud. And perhaps then, you will appreciate your role. Your contribution is vital to the survival of the Village.”

  She smiles again and steps onto the first rung of the ladder. I watch her a moment. In the distance, I hear my name, faint, yet full of anguish, and the desire to run back to him, to comfort him, to tell him everything he longs to know, consumes me for a second. I hesitantly look over my shoulder.

  “Kate?” Mona peers at me from the top of the ladder. Her voice, cool and demanding, chills me and succeeds in wiping out any intention of returning to Ian.

  I should have told him the truth.

  Slowly, I ascend. And with each rung I reach, the fear I felt on my birthday begins to creep in again. Only this time, it includes the safety of a boy who was nothing more than a distant nightmare three days ago.

  But he’s no nightmare. He’s a real live breathing flesh-and-bone human being with needs and hopes and dreams.

  And the Pit will kill him.

  Chapter 7

  “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible . . .” Ephesians 5:11-13

  The Village welcomes me with open arms and hushed whispers that tickle my nerves and send blood rushing to my face to paint it the color of shame. I don’t like what their expressions imply. I’ve been to the Pit. I’m a woman now—a breeder—skilled in the ways of seduction, full of insight that will benefit the Village. I’ve joined the productive ranks of the community, and soon, they will expect results.

  The other women—the farmers and seamstresses and cooks—bend their heads in a form of respect as I pass, not making eye contact with me. It is the custom. To be a breeder is an honor—one that many of the other woman might have longed for at one time or another. From this day forth, I will be held, as are all breeders, to a higher standard in both respect and duty. Breeders give life; there is no greater honor.

  But this matters not to me, and I have gained none of the wisdom these women hint at with their knowing looks and the tiny raises of their brows. The breeders toss me special signals with pensive eyes, and I lower my head, not wanting them to see how ignorant I still am. They count me among them, and I tremble over what would happen to me or to Ian if the truth were revealed: that I’ve hardly touched him except to hold his hand, that our time together was pure and sweet, and that it was nice to talk to someone interesting for a change.

  I bite my lip and scold myself for thinking such a thing. There are interesting women in the Village—intelligent too!—even if they all seem to be living in fear, afraid to say what’s on their minds. And Mona may not be many things, but she is definitely intelligent. She can read, and she knows much—more even than the oldest Council members. But Mona is not approachable. Mona does not engage in trivial conversation.

  But Ian? With him, conversation had come alive. It felt comfortable to share thoughts, to laugh and learn—so different than any of my conversations with Mia. He knows so much, and I want to hear about every bit of it. I want to soak up his knowledge like a sponge soaks up sudsy water in the basin. And he wanted to know about me, too. He cared about my life.

  I suppose I should give Mona the credit due to her. In this regard, she has made the right choice for my mate. Our minds are a fit, as if he’s been custom-tailored for me like the soiled, white sarong clinging to my thin body. And yet, I don’t want to concede to this. I narrow my eyes in defiance against such an idea even as it permeates everything in me.

  My mate. I scoff at the absurdity. He’s not my mate any more than the woman who brought me books in the night was my mother. Mostly, he is still a stranger.

  But when I allow myself to recall his forlorn screams filling the night with my name, my heart cringes as if I’ve known him all my life. I can’t explain it, but he’s managed to touch the very tip of my heart—which I’ve tried to harden against everything that is the Pit—and swell it with a keen compassion for his plight. The feeling confuses me, and I hurriedly push him—and it—out of my mind.

  I survive the knowing looks from the women and make my way through the Village alone. Soon, I’m climbing through the familiar bamboo leaves of my own doorway. Home. An involuntary sigh escapes me, and I long to sob for joy.

  Everything looks the same. The single-person mat, much thicker than Ian’s, if narrower, rests in the corner, clean and fresh. The washbasin, which I have missed dearly, is full of clean water. And my basket of clothes is a welcome sight.

  I peel the sarong from my body and fling it to the floor. The stench is obvious now, and I gag. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it until now. I wash every inch of myself, scrubbing with the rough pumice until my skin is red. I wash my hair, lathering it with the lilac shampoo Mia and I mixed the week before my birthday. I brush out my hair and pull fresh clothes over my clean body. Only then do I feel like myself again. I exhale, contented.

  My eyes roam the room. On the day I was dragged to the Pit, I expected to return a changed person, my body no longer my own, never to be the same again.

  Surprisingly, I was right.

  My trip to the Pit has changed me completely. Just not in the way I’d imagined.

  “Kate?”

  Mia’s voice rings out cheerf
ully as she steps into the hogan. Her eyes are bright and full of excitement, and I ready myself mentally for her certain stream of questions. I know Mia well. She will ask for details. And I know myself well, too. I will tell her the truth. I’ve never been able to keep secrets from her.

  “I missed you.” She wraps her arms around me in a hard squeeze, and it feels good. I cling to her for a long minute, and she takes her cue and hugs me closer. “I was so sorry for you being forced to spend three days out there. That must have been horrible! Mona allowed no one else to go to the Pit the whole time you were there. She didn’t want you to have any contact with the Village.”

  Mia’s eyes glint with the bitterness reflected in her voice. I untangle myself from her embrace and study the floor. I don’t want her to see my eyes because I know she will know. She will know instantly that my trip to the Pit was not the usual kind.

  “It was dreadful.” I shake my head. “In fact, I can’t believe the women haven’t complained about those conditions.”

  Mia’s brow knits in confusion. “Why would they, Kate? The women go for one reason only. They stay an hour, perhaps, and they leave.”

  “Oh.”

  I haven’t given this much thought. Of course the women never have to stay overnight. They’ve never relieved themselves in a hole in the ground as I did—and this only at night when I was certain that Ian was sound asleep. But still, there are justifiable complaints. None of us should have to endure the filthiness of the Pit, not even our mates.

  I cluck at Mia’s naïvete. She has no idea what life is like for the stock. Of course, Mia has never been very observant. We are trained not to care, and Mia is a loyal student. She is one of the most obedient people I know. She would never question authority. “The Council knows best,” she’s said time and again. “They only do what they do for our good.”

  I shouldn’t care, either, and this is what Mia would say if she could read my thoughts. But I’ve lived like one of the stock for three days. Experience has a way of changing one’s perspective.