by Eden Wolfe
“You’re going to put them onto me. After all I’ve gone through.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“I could cut you up and take you in my satchel. I’d have plenty to eat then.”
“Please,” Gillian’s voice cracked, “The family is counting on me. I’m the oldest, Mother is sick. I can give you more food, even from the stores.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’ll give it to you from the stores, even if the collector gets mad about it. We’ll deal with her. I won’t say anything.”
The woman coughed, the stench of it hitting Gillian’s face, bits of saliva landing on her cheek. The makeshift knife came even deeper into Gillian’s neck but didn’t break the skin. “Do you know what they do to traitors? Especially girls who make promises and then break them? Do you know?”
Gillian didn’t know.
“Answer me!”
“No, no, I don’t know, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know. I was once important. I was in the fortress. Gale of the sixteenth line. Sixteenth line! Do you know what that means about me?”
“No.”
“I’m well designed, child.” The woman’s head rose, though Gillian couldn’t tell what she was looking at. “Well designed. I’m proud to be Gale. I used to be proud. My place in the world was evolving, you know? And then I caught whiff of what was happening in there. Just a small sense of it, not even much, you see?”
Gillian had no idea what the woman was talking about but she could tell she shouldn’t interrupt. Her knees were struggling to hold her up, but the cool of the knife blade kept her standing.
“I was in such favor of the Queen. Ariane looked to me for comfort. Companionship. Me!”
Gillian felt the woman’s arms relax a little, but the knife remained at her throat.
“And what did I do to deserve all that has become of me since? A moment of independent thought. I thought things could be different. But then I saw all that was wrong in that fortress. The future I imagined was not what Ariane wanted to hear. No, her future was altogether different. A future dictated by genetic disposition and rights based on birth. Even I had become a lackey to her philosophy. How did we come to this? To this, of all things, with all we know about how the men of old used to lead. I walked away from it. That was my crime. Simply to walk away. But my line was too strong for all she hurled at me. I am the woman, you understand?”
Gillian tried, she tried to make sense of the woman’s words.
“Did I deserve all this? Because of that?”
The woman’s voice died off and Gillian heard her swallow. Hot, wet breath wafted across Gillian’s ear and she closed her eyes.
“Do you see? Are you listening to me, child?”
The woman’s grip tightened on her. “Yes, I hear you.”
“I left because I had to. Where does one go after being the closest confidante of the Queen? I wasn’t about to find out. The Sisters welcomed me in.”
Gillian knew of the Sisters, rebels who left Geb or fled persecution in the outer counties.
“I was happy there,” Gale’s breath lightened. “Daphna... do you know Daphna?”
“No.”
“Daphna was always good to me, even with my history. Can you believe that? And then... the illness… and then...”
The hot air against Gillian’s neck intensified; the woman was panting.
“Someone injected me, I felt the site. This is what they do, child. Imagine your brain, firing away like it’s supposed to. Then your brain speeds up. You have a wild boar in your head, tearing away, your mouth says things you don’t want it to, your body shifts underneath your skin. It pulls in different directions, all against its nature. If you live, you’re not the same person. And then they dump you in Rainfields. They say it’s up to the settlers now. The settlers let you die, if you’re lucky. If you’re not lucky, the settlers spit on you and force you forward, a desperate need for food and water, and a desperate plea for survival that is constantly in your head. They looked me in the eye and called it ‘rehabilitation’.”
“Who?” Gillian found herself asking, even though she didn’t want to know.
“Who?” The woman repeated, “Oh, dear daughter of the settlers, what do they teach you in these Dark Counties?” She coughed again and Gillian recoiled. Something was wrong inside the woman’s body, it was evident in the smell of her breath. Gillian had been around illness long enough to know that.
At last, the woman released Gillian’s neck and transferred the knife from her throat to the middle of her back. Gillian could feel the tip, hard and sharp, just beside her spine.
“Get me this food. I’ll come with you.”
Gillian stepped forward. The knife kept her moving as she headed for the store room. They had so little this period, but right now all she could think about was getting this woman gone. Losing some volume of their stores would be nothing compared to Gillian being killed, or worse, wounded and dependent. The family relied on her for almost everything now with Mother’s state as it was. She was the one who dealt with the collector, organized the seasonal workers, ensured the children’s health, that their sores didn’t get infected and that they drank the charcoal mixture when their stomachs turned. The others were all still too young to take over. Everyone from her group had been sent off years earlier to the factories way beyond Langor Town limits or to the Willing Woman program. Gillian had no idea what happened to her eleven other housemates. New ones came, she got distracted, her role in the family solidified. She had to make sure the others were ready to take over her tasks if the authorities came for her with a Willing Woman summons in their hands.
Her role had never seemed quite as important as it did now, with the stranger’s knife pushing her to fill the satchel faster with the seed they’d been collecting for weeks.
“More,” Gale said as Gillian scooped the seed over the bodies of the birds already stuffed in the bag.
“There isn’t much room left.”
“Get me another bag. That sack over there.”
Gillian closed her eyes but was careful not to make any sound. It wasn’t worth the risk, even if standard-issue seed bags were already hard enough to come by.
“Don’t quite fill it all the way up. Yes, there, that’s good. That’s enough.”
Gillian waited, kneeling in front of the sack with Gale still behind her. She didn’t want to make any sharp movements that might spook the woman.
The breath was suddenly heavy against Gillian’s ear. “You’re a good girl, right?”
Gillian nodded.
“You’ll stay right here for no less than fifteen minutes. Count it out. If you make any move to follow me, anything at all, or if I see you going to the house before fifteen minutes is up, I will skin you alive. I’ll gut you. I’ll wear your intestines like a crown. A crown!” she hissed and spit went across Gillian’s cheek. “I’m stepping away now. You don’t move. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill your housemother. I’ll kill every child who walks through the door. Consider yourself lucky I only came for food and not for revenge.” Gillian heard the steps backing away. “Fifteen minutes. Count.”
“One. Two. Three… “ Gillian heard the gate to the stores creak open and close again. “Four. Five. Six… “
Gillian didn’t stop counting until well after fifteen minutes had passed. Her legs had gone numb kneeling where she’d been in front of the seed sack, but she hardly noticed. She looked at the seed stores, close to depleted, and her stomach dropped. She didn’t know how to explain it to the authorities without giving Gale away. She’d have to come up with a story. She let her hand rest on the small pile of seed that remained.
She stood and walked out of the store.
She walked to the house.
She opened the house door.
Her brain was empty; she couldn’t think, though she tried.
What do I say to mother?
No words came to mind.
&n
bsp; How can I protect the children from her if she comes back?
Nothing.
Suddenly questions came rushing in.
What if she comes back, knowing we have food, knowing I’ll give it to her? What if she’s caught and tells the collector that I gave her the stores that were promised to the State? What if the State finds out she was here and then demands to know why I didn’t turn her in?
So many questions, and Gillian had no answers. She’d walked the length of the old farmhouse and climbed the stairs. She stood outside Agra’s room. She knew what was on the other side of the door, though she wished for just a moment that it was the mother she’d known when she first came to this family. She’d been four years old and Agra had worn a smile that was brighter than the sun. Gillian had found comfort in her mother ever since, even if she could be tough on them. She was staunch. She was solid. And she was the only housemother Gillian had.
Gillian pushed open the bedroom door a crack.
“Gillian?” Agra spoke, the voice cracked and dry. “Is it dinner already?”
“No, Mother,” Gillian stepped in. “Something has happened.”
“I’m so tired, Gillian. Let’s talk over dinner.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. It can’t wait. I need to know what to do.”
Gillian told the full story. She needed Agra to see just how serious this was, that it wasn’t like the other times and Gale wasn’t just any vagrant. She left out no detail. She needed guidance and she needed it now, despite her mother’s condition.
Agra waved her hand as though swatting a fly. “There’s nothing to be done, Gillian. Stay focused on the farm. We are the ones who need you. Don’t let the children be taken for testing.”
“I never would, Mother, that’s not what I’m worried about here.”
Gillian took in the sight of her housemother, the woman on which she had relied for almost all of her life. Agra’s hair was matted against her forehead, her cheeks rosy with pain. Gillian had thought at first it was a bad flu, but with the weeks that passed, it was clearer and clearer.
Agra was degrading.
Gillian had no idea how much time she had left. She’d never watched someone go through it before. She’d heard about it. Kids shared horror stories about it back in Basics classes. But now that she was watching it unfold before her, Gillian felt entirely unprepared for what would come.
“Mother,” Gillian swallowed waiting for her mother’s eyes to rest on her, “How long do you have?”
With a heavy blink, her mother replied, “Not long.”
“Weeks?”
“If I’m lucky. If I’m not, it will be months.”
Gillian couldn’t hide her shock. She didn’t try.
Her mother lifted her hand and placed her clammy palm on top of Gillian’s. “Everything will pass to you. That’s how it works. The farm, the children, the responsibilities. The collector will come for you instead of me.” Agra looked at the ceiling, “There’s much more I would have liked to teach you, but I never knew how to say it. You’ll have to find it out yourself. Perhaps it’s better that way.” Her mother’s clammy hand tapped hers. “Now let me rest before dinner. Don’t you worry about this unwelcome visitor. You will have much worse to manage in your lifetime.”
3
Daphna
The sound of troubled breathing filled the air, though Daphna was sure it was a memory. She waited in bed. The sounds of the Sisters drifted in the air of early morning, but she wasn’t ready to break the spell of her nighttime escape. Since the moment she’d joined the Sisters, Daphna had known that leading them was her calling. Even now, with all they were facing, she was sure of that. But for everything else - the strategy, the choices, and ultimately the changes they were living through - that part she didn’t know.
She stayed in bed because she knew as soon as she left the cool comfort of her hut, someone would be waiting. With news.
Bad news.
Daphna let out a sigh. She could deny the day as long as she wanted, it had come anyway. She tried to push her body upright, but her arms were weaker than she expected. Her body was getting frail; she hadn’t eaten much in the past weeks. Her hair had started growing white, seemingly overnight. Her hip bones jutted from her body, and her fingers appeared gangly where before they had been plump and adept. She had already been shorter than many of the Sisters; now she appeared more fragile than them, too. But only in her body.
Her mind remained sharp, her spirit assured.
The Sisters needed her now more than ever.
She looked in the mirror, took in the curve of her cheek. Despite her body’s reduction, her cheek retained its full shape. Daphna hated it. What she would do to have a cheek of any other shape than that one. For, if she squinted, her face had the shape of the Queen. And the Queen before her. And, presumably, the Queen before her. The geneticists had planted it well. Had she not been a geneticist herself, she wouldn’t have guessed that the similarity was intentional. She would have chalked it up to coincidence, and perhaps even admired it about herself.
That had clearly been the goal of the original geneticists.
Long before she joined the Sisters, when Daphna was still an intern in Central Tower, she’d come across the page of code that was the blueprint. A summary of the common code of women. She’d looked at it halfheartedly, not recognizing its meaning. She had been barely more than an adolescent at the time. She’d stared at the page until the Primary Overseer had come in and swiped it out of her hands, chastising her for looking at things that weren’t any of her business.
That was when she’d known it was important.
She’d already memorized the code on the pages. It was a skill that had come naturally to her. The forbidden code was etched in her mind. By itself, it was meaningless. But as her role in Central Tower grew over her first few years, as her skills became more known and renowned and she was given broader access, the correlation became more and more obvious to her.
Then, years later, she was instructed to review that very common code of women.
And that’s when she saw the implant.
Right there, embedded in the common code of women was an old sequence. It jumped out at her, but to everyone else, it was inocuous.
Whatever it was she had seen those years earlier was spread throughout the common code.
It took another couple of years for all the pieces to finally come together, but for Daphna, it was a slow-moving earthquake.
The Queen’s DNA was across them all.
Daphna was both elated and horrified. Pieces were falling into place and her brain sought to organize all the input she thrust at it. The code explained so much of what she’d seen with her own eyes and never had been able to make sense of. The knowledge was fascinating; she spent nights going over it in her head and days observing it in every woman she crossed.
That was when things had started getting really bad for her in the Tower.
She gently slapped her cheek and snapped herself out of it. The hut came back into focus around her.
“Daphna?” a voice whispered outside her hut’s entry.
“I’m coming. I just need one more minute before…” She didn’t know how to end the sentence.
She brought her hands to her face, blocking out all light, blocking everything out for just one more moment.
Then she straightened her shirt and slipped into her boots. It was time.
When she opened her door there were four Sisters waiting for her. They’d been mingling about in front of her hut, but they rushed towards her when she stepped into the sunshine.
“Is it bad?” Daphna asked.
“It’s bad.”
“How many?”
“Daphna, you’d better sit down.” The woman produced a little stool. Though Daphna didn’t want to use it, her rational mind told her it was best. She sat.
The women all looked to each other. Finally, one of them stepped forward.
“Two dead during the night.�
��
“Ah, only two - ”
“Leesa was one of them.”
Daphna blinked, hard.
Not Leesa.
“Are you sure?” she whispered, knowing the answer.
The women all nodded.
Her brain processed the news, spat out probabilities of Leesa’s dying thoughts, feelings, and words. Leesa. Her most trusted supporter. They’d been at the Tower together. They’d left the Tower together.
“We won’t let them get us. We’ll go first.” Leesa had whispered to Daphna during the Central Tower Assembly all those years ago. “We go today. If we wait any longer, we’re done. They’ll come for us in the night. I can read it on the face of the seventh-floor admin. I wouldn’t be surprised if she reported us already.” Leesa’s green eyes had lit up with fear and determination. Daphna had never been sure about the need to leave, but Leesa had never doubted it. They had run, without provisions, without hardly anything more than the clothes on their backs. Sahna had met them at the gate to the West Strangelands when their feet were bleeding and their bodies had burnt in the sun.
They had learned the Sisters’ ways and they did what no woman across Lower Earth was supposed to do.
They were dedicated to each other.
A bond stronger than kin. A love more powerful than the need to live. Leesa had been her closest friend and spiritual guide when the world had felt like it was crashing around them.
And now she was gone.
Daphna forced herself to remember that she was the leader of every Sister, not just the friend of Leesa. The thought comforted her. It put a frame on their circumstances. It allowed Daphna to remember that Leesa was not the only one who’d died in the night.
“Who is the other woman?”
“Kate the Older.”
“Ah,” Daphna nodded. “Kate knew it was coming for her. She’d spoken of it several times to me. She was right.” Daphna inhaled deeply. “I trust you will prepare the funeral rites?”
“We’ve already added the bodies to the others, next transport is set for two days from now.”
