Carmine: Rise of the Warrior Queen

by Alan Janney

  “Don’t be afraid. I am Carmine.” I extend my hands so they can touch me. “Follow me. To your new home.”

  Part Three

  November, 2019

  I sleep, but my heart is awake; It is the voice of my beloved!

  He knocks, saying, “Open for me, my love,

  my dove, my perfect one.”

  - Song of Solomon 5:2

  - One -

  The following morning, the Priest bursts into my apartment. My Devotee doesn’t like him so he pushes him back with thick hands.

  “Carmine!” he snarls. “I just heard. You can not meet with him.”

  I’m bone tired, sitting crisscross on my bed and reading old Teresa Triplett articles about the Outlaw. Doing my homework.

  Homework! I’ve been neglecting school. I’m so behind on my papers. Ugh.

  Teresa Triplett met with the Outlaw on several occasions. At the time she didn’t know he was a boy in high school. The nighttime interviews are fascinating; she was clearly crushing on him, and the reports are anything but objective and balanced.

  “Carmine! Are you listening to me??”

  Teresa will request permission to attend today’s meeting. She probably has valuable insight into the Outlaw. I stare hard at her words, vainly trying to focus, to slow my pulse. He’s just a boy. Relax.

  Kayla enters the apartment. Her humming stops when she sees the Priest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m being treated like a second-class citizen, that’s what.” I hear the sneer in his voice. “She can’t go.”

  His voice compounds my headache. I drop the articles into my lap, rub my eyes, and say, “Let him in, Kayla.” Then maybe he’ll go away. They both walk in, followed by Kayla’s Devotee carrying two armloads of clothing. I groan, “What is that?”

  Kayla flourishes her hands like a model on the old Price is Right gameshow. “Just the first load. Two more on the way. I raided every boutique within ten miles.”

  “I’m not dressing up. You’re wasting your time.”

  The Priest looks like he spent two hours getting ready this morning. He’s so manicured he’s almost effeminate, and I can’t imagine what the women see in him. Right now he’s red in the face and seething. “Carmine—”

  I interrupt him, “Kayla, would you call Teresa Triplett? I want her advice.”

  “She’s waiting outside. So are General Brown and the Governess. Just arrived.”

  “Carmine!” the Priest snaps. “I’ve dealt with him before. Listen to me. He’s a heretic. A madman. But a powerful one. I forbid this encounter. He is after you.”

  “I’m not going alone, Priest.” My voice is cold. If he wasn’t so respected by the people this would be the day I terminate his employment within our Kingdom. Don’t want the ripples yet. Can’t upset the balance. “We all are.”

  “He’ll seduce you.” The Priest is spitting his words, pacing back and forth. “He’s been gifted by some evil power, bent on blasphemy. A freak. An arrogant, law-breaking freak.”

  “I will not be seduced. Calm yourself.”

  “He has no respect for authority. He wants attention and power, and he’ll usurp your control over the mutants. You cannot go. I cannot allow it.”

  Kayla wrinkles her nose at him. “You’re not nice. And you spit.”

  “Be quiet, silly girl. Leave the talking to the grownups. If we need a pretty picture, I’ll call.”

  “You are dismissed, Priest.” I signal my Devotee and the Priest is bodily hauled from the room against his outrage and protests. In his place comes Teresa Triplett the reporter, the Governess, and General Brown. The three of us are rarely in the same room, because for a while the American military was spying on us with satellites and we worried they might drop a missile on the triumvirate. “Did everyone get my note? You approve?”

  The Governess offers a snap nod. “Decisive and simple. I have set the Overseers to scampering. All should be prepared.”

  General Brown sits in my chair and picks lint from his pressed pants. “Seems like a straight-forward operation. We convene, the man gets to say his piece, and I’ll escort him back to the boundary.”

  “You’ll have snipers in place, General?”

  “I will not,” he replies and I’m surprised. “They’d be useless. Besides, Ms. Carmine, if there is one man on earth we don’t need to fear it’s him.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t share your confidence. From what I’ve read he’s going to have a strong affect on the Guardians. What if he uses them?”

  “He won’t.” Teresa Triplett is in the corner, typing notes as fast as she can. The details of this meeting won’t be published unless the triumvirate approves, which we won’t. “It’s not them you should worry about, Queen.”

  Kayla selects tops and dresses from her collection of clothing and holds them up beside me. She squints and shakes her head and tosses them into a discard pile.

  “What do you mean?” I ask Teresa. “You know the Outlaw. You anticipate this meeting derailing?”

  “No. I anticipate you derailing.”

  I growl in frustration and scrub a hand through my hair. “Why does everyone assume he’s going to seduce me? That I can’t control myself? Maybe he’ll seduce Kayla.”

  “He’s not in love with me,” Kayla responds, and I smack the red dress out of her hand.

  “I have no interest in this man.”

  “Good,” the Governess says. She’s a woman used to wearing authority and she speaks loudly with strength and conviction. “Because I agree with Kayla. You cannot fall in love with this man.”

  “I’m not! What…why is everyone so concerned with my love life?” I’m shouting. I try to lower my voice but I cannot. “I’m not Katie Lopez! The Outlaw will have to find someone else. Besides, what would be so wrong about dating him? Why do you all care?”

  General Brown answers in a calm voice, “The heart is a deep ocean, Miss Carmine. Hard to predict. Hard to control. I watched both my daughters fall in love. My oldest dropped out of college to chase her minor league outfielder around the east coast. My youngest is pregnant in Alabama with my third grandchild. What I’m saying is, the best-laid plans are wrecked by romance. We’re at war, and our most powerful ally is in love with you. You can understand our concern.”

  “No. I cannot. You’re married, General. What’s the difference?”

  He and the Governess share a look and slight smile. Infuriating. “The difference is I’m no longer young.”

  “So?”

  “We’re all wild in our youth, Carmine,” he says. “That’s what it’s for; learning from mistakes. And getting involved with him would be a mistake.”

  “What would be so bad about me dating him?” I’m just being surly now. The Outlaw and I have no future, but I’m chafing against their intrusions.

  The Governess throws up her hands in exasperation. General Brown says, “Do you realize what we’ve sacrificed to follow you? Everything. We threw our lives and careers away because we believe in your vision to build a refuge for the Variants, who are the real victims of the Chemist. You’re the leader. So much depends on you, and we believe in you. But you’re about to tangle with a dangerous man.”

  “But isn’t he good?”

  Kayla mutters, “Good looking.”

  “My first two husbands were good,” the Governess scoffs. “Doesn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.”

  Teresa Triplett, Kayla, General Brown and the Governess are all staring at me. Might as well have hands on their hips like four protective parents.

  “Like I said before,” I say through clenched teeth, “Katie Lopez is dead. We’re going to meet the Outlaw as a professional courtesy and send him on his way.”

  With that they let the matter drop and we discuss details for ten more minutes. Then all but Kayla leave. I stand at the edge of the broken wall and stare north for a few minutes. “No harm in arriving early. Should we go?”

  In response, Kayla holds up a mirror. My heart
sinks at my reflection. I look awful. Like an exhausted zombie. My clothes are dirty and there’s an actual twig in my hair. “Queen Carmine, sweetie, when was your last shower?”

  I screw up my eyes in thought. I’ve forgotten what month it is. “I can’t remember. I swam in the ocean a few weeks ago. Does that count?”

  “Wow. Okay, never mind. My goodness. What I meant to say is, get your beautiful butt in the shower. I have soap and shampoo and a razor.”

  My filth requires forty-five minutes to eradicate entirely. Three cycles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash under a tepid spray. Got to admit, the stuff she selected smells great. I emerge refreshed in a towel and find Kayla has assembled an entire makeup workshop. I say, “No.”

  “Carmine-”

  “No.”

  “But-”

  “No!”

  “Compromise!” she shouts back, and her words sink straight into my muscles. She’s using her gift of persuasion, hitting me full force with her eyes like a Cheshire cat. Its effective even when I know she’s doing it.

  “What compromise?”

  “Just rouge, lipstick, eye-liner, blush-”

  “No deal.”

  “Fine! Honestly, Carmine. I’ll highlight your cheekbones. And use mascara on your lashes. That’s it. Deal?”

  I sit on the chair and she hovers over me, doing stuff to my face. The Outlaw probably doesn’t have to go through this facade before meetings. This close, her breath smells like sugar. While she works I notice the outfits she’s picked out.

  “I’m not wearing a dress.”

  “You’re a Queen.”

  “My jeans and jacket are fine.”

  Her hand falters at my eye. “You can’t.”

  “Yes. I can.”

  “I threw them out the window.”

  I slump back in the chair. She’s probably lying but I’m too stressed to search the apartment. “Meddlesome.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what it’ll say on your tombstone. After I hurl you off the tower. You died because you’re too meddlesome.”

  “You say the most ghastly things, Carmine. But good news, I’m done!”

  “Kayla. Here’s the deal. I’m exhausted. And worried about this meeting. I don’t know why but I’m feeling antsy. And I’d feel a lot better if I wore my favorite jacket.”

  “Aw! You have first date jitters!”

  “You said I couldn’t date him!”

  “You can’t! And stop shouting at me. You’re going on this date to break his heart. It’s not even a date. We just want him to want you. Make sense?”

  “It absolutely does not. This is a meeting of allies. I’m not wearing any of this crap.” Clutching the towel with one hand, I toss the pile of clothes onto the floor one piece at a time. “Too girly. Too pink. Too fluffy. Too see-through. Too stupid. Too girly. Too small.” My hand stops at a pretty green top.

  Kayla gasps. “Do you like that one? It’s darling! It’s an off-the-shoulder, silk Armani tunic. Loose fitting and sheer, so you’d need to wear something underneath. Unless you really want to get his attention…”

  “Can I wear jeans with it?”

  “Of course! I brought several. And I have the perfect leather booties to pair with them.”

  Kayla’s exuberance wins the day. She dresses me, pokes and tugs and examines and finally announces it perfect. I inspect her handiwork in the mirror and am startled by the stranger within.

  Oh! It’s me! There I am.

  Katie is pleased. I’m amazed. My cheekbones look great and my eyes are bigger and I wouldn’t mind wearing this outfit again. I didn’t know I could look pretty.

  “Can you find this tunic in other colors? I don’t hate it.” I walk out of the bathroom and she’s waiting for me with a small, glittering, and jeweled gizmo.

  “You’re a queen.” Her voice sounds hesitant. “And I found this crown…”

  - Two -

  We arrive at the baseball field ten minutes before the Outlaw. Dodgers Stadium has a capacity of fifty-five thousand and the blue and gray seats are stuffed with Guardians and Workers. As Dalton, Kayla, and I walk onto the field the crowd erupts and cheers, an overwhelming avalanche of sound.

  I’m not wearing Kayla’s crown. I broke it in half. She told me it cost half a million dollars. We settled on dainty silver hair clips, barely visible but Kayla insisted they’d catch the sunlight. Will he notice? And why do I care?

  I feel like we’re at the bottom of a funnel, walled in by spectators and noise. Not a cloud in the sky so the angels can watch this circus.

  “We scheduled this meeting last night,” I growl. “How on earth are fifty-thousand people here?”

  Dalton, wearing a red t-shirt and furious scowl, shakes his head. “Security’s gone to hell in this place. A tactical nightmare.” Law Keepers and soldiers line the walls, but according to the General they’ll be useless.

  We ascend the raised platform placed over second base. The Outlaw wants to meet with me? Fine, but it’ll be on my terms. He’ll have to look up, giving me the height advantage. The platform is wide but crowded with the three of us, the Governess, General Brown, Teresa Triplett, and the Priest. No need for the Priest to be here, but he’d never miss an opportunity to be in the spotlight. I can feel anxiety leaking from everyone’s pores and they fan out, placing me at the center. We’re a far more impressive welcoming committee than is necessary.

  I say, “Nuts should be here. He’s Infected, the most powerful among us.”

  “I asked him,” General Brown chuckles. “Man said he’s got no time for damn meetings.”

  “Forget him,” the Governess states. She’s wearing her usual black skirt and button up shirt. Her hair is in a bun. Why didn’t Kayla pester her about wardrobe choices? “We must focus.”

  Mason radios Dalton. The Falcons are outside the stadium, Outlaw in tow. Dalton glances at me and I growl, “Bring him in. Let’s get this over with.”

  The stadium speakers blare and the Outlaw is given some honorable introduction. I don’t listen. I can barely think. The first Falcon appears in the doorway of the right-field wall, and I’m panicking. If this is like that night at the Starlight Bowl then his presence is going to invade the stadium. His aura or whatever will go straight into our nostrils and ear canals; we’ll breath him in and the Guardians will lose their minds.

  The Outlaw himself comes into view, encircled by Falcons. The crowd is dead silent. “This is a bad idea,” I hiss.

  Kayla whispers back, “Why?”

  I’m on the verge of bolting. As soon as the virus in me detects the virus in him, I’ll lose control. My body is hardening in preparation for battle. “He can kill us all. Why are we doing this?”

  “Just like we planned,” General Brown says and his voice is calm, soothing. “Everything is fine.”

  I’m gulping deep breaths but not getting enough oxygen. He’s coming closer. I’m terrified. I’m terrified of being terrified, like I was in Burbank.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  Chase is wearing the red mask, Katie says. He always was too theatrical.

  He’s taller than I thought he’d be. Wearing the infamous black pants and vest combo, and the rod is shoved down the back of his collar. His legs are rangy and his arms are well-muscled. Tattoos glint on his left shoulder, bicep and forearm.

  Tattoos. That’s new. I think I like them.

  “Shut up,” I growl.

  Kayla squeaks, “I didn’t say anything!”

  Is he limping? Or strutting? He’s not arrogant. Not really. Silly boy. But he’s limping?

  It’s almost comical, the Outlaw walking within a circle of men who dress in imitation of him. The Falcons wear black pants and vests too, and I wonder if Mason is embarrassed. Chase Jackson does appear to have a minor limp. Every few steps.

  His processional reaches the platform and the Falcons step back. His eyes are locked on mine and our gazes shatter like fireworks. He bows low while I scramble for
words.

  “Welcome to New Los Angeles, Outlaw,” I announce. I speak loudly as to be heard in the upper decks. “We’re honored by your visit.”

  He grabs his mask with a fist and tugs it off. He’s a perfectly made specimen of man, though his dark hair reaches his ears. Too long for my taste. His eyes are strikingly blue. He’s my age, about twenty, and his jaw is peppered with a day old beard.

  “Hi Katie.”

  I know his voice. A familiar timbre. His eyes walk over me, and I can’t blame him; his girlfriend’s body has changed. He’s fiddling with the mask in both hands like he’s nervous. He opens his mouth to speak but thinks better of it, and simply smiles instead. Such a smile my heart leaps.

  He’s better looking than I anticipated, and belatedly I realize it must be my turn to talk. But before I can, Teresa Triplett surprises us all by hopping off the platform and hugging him. He laughs and returns the embrace, and then they’re both wiping away tears. The crowd applauds and whistles.

  What just happened? I’m the one who’s going to derail? I’m not the one pawing him.

  “I haven’t seen you since…wow, I don’t know. That awful night, I guess,” she says and she’s sniffing. Her pretty and plastic face has lost all composure.

  “I’m glad you’re still here,” he says.

  “They wouldn’t let me visit you in the hospital.”

  She’s so sweet. I always liked her, Katie thinks. But I want her out of the way. I feel an undeniable stab of jealousy.

  Then Dalton jumps down. The two men hug and pound each other on the back and laugh about something and the Outlaw is thanking him and I’m so confused. Never once has Dalton mentioned he knows the Outlaw. Chase is sneaking glances at me and I feel tingles of electricity each time.