The Gender Game (4 page)

I
stopped
the first girl I came across in the hallway—a rotund fifteen or sixteen-year-old—and gripped her shoulders. "Which room is Dina Bradbury's?" I demanded of her in a menacing whisper.

"I-I don't know," she stammered, trying to shrug away.

Cursing beneath my breath, I let her go before moving on to the next girl, and then the next. The fourth girl I stopped knew which room Dina resided in, and the moment the answer left her lips, I hurtled there.

Arriving outside the door I burst in, my fists balled so tight my short nails dented my flesh.

Dina was standing on the opposite side of the room with her back toward me. I couldn't see what she was doing exactly, but as she twisted around, her eyes bulged. I had found her alone, with nobody to obstruct my path to her.

I lunged forward and grabbed hold of her shirt. Swinging a leg behind her knees, I sent her crashing to the floor. I leapt on top of her, pinning her down. Then I began pummeling blow after heavy blow against her face.

She groaned, her large form struggling beneath me as I straddled her hips. Her head shifted from side to side, trying to avoid my beating. Then she raised a hand and managed to catch the next punch before it could connect. Her grip closed around my fist and I fought to maintain my dominance as she twisted forcefully beneath me. She managed to dislodge me with a speed I hadn't been expecting, getting me on my side. She thrust her knee upward to collide with my groin, but I shielded myself with my shins. We broke apart, scrambling to our feet. Her nose was already bleeding. Next, I would squash it flat.

I was about to close in on her again when, to my confusion, she reached into her mouth. When she withdrew her hand, she was holding the top and bottom layers of her braces.

Removable braces.

She'd managed to keep them from the wardens.

My pulse raced as I realized what she was doing. She quickly broke off the smooth rubber seal at the end of each of the wires, leaving them bare and pointed. Then she held a brace in each hand, positioning the wiry ends between her fingers so they stuck out like claws.

As she lashed out with her right arm, I swiped it with mine, knocking it away from me.

She has weapons. I can't get caught up in this. I need to get out of here
, my brain was telling me, and yet my mind and emotions were dictating a different thing entirely.

I hadn't hurt her enough yet. I wanted to break her nose. Give her a black eye. Split her cheekbone. I wanted to give her some kind of permanent scar so that she would always have something to remind her of what she had done to me.

She swung out at me again, this time with both hands. I ducked, but not fast enough. She managed to catch my right shoulder, splitting the fabric of my shirt and etching a stinging cut into my skin.

And then she launched all her weight toward me at once, crushing me against the floor as I had done to her. She raised both hands and attempted to bring them down against me, wires pointed downward. I gripped her wrists, stopping them a few inches away from my body, using every muscle in my arms and shoulders to keep the wires from plunging into me. Catching the glint of malice in her eyes came as a wake-up call. I realized in this moment, she was as crazy as I was.

Neither of us are thinking straight.

Even though my rage was still running wild, this was just stupid. Really stupid.

So she ripped up Tim's picture. I can try to piece it back together again. But I can't get involved in this.

What the hell am I doing?

As I strained beneath her weight, I struggled to slip out of the lock she had me in.

I had made my bed, and now I was forced to lie in it.

If I'd had longer nails, I could've dug them into her flesh in an attempt to loosen her grip. Instead, I had only my bony fingertips to use to press down hard against her pressure points. I managed to make her left hand release its hold on the brace, but with this hand now free, she used it to clamp around my neck, crushing my windpipe.

As I gazed into her dark eyes and fought to breathe, I wondered if she would actually go so far as to kill me. Maybe Vera had been right in her warning. Maybe Dina was insane.

My vision started going hazy, and I couldn't even yell out for help. I scooped up the brace she dropped, but every part of me was screaming to not go down that road. Not to even cut her arm in an attempt to free myself. That slope was far too slippery. I was already on my last warning.

I wriggled wildly, forcing her to reposition her body in order to maintain her dominance. And as she did, I was finally able to put my legs to use. I slid both knees upward in one forceful thrust, causing her to jerk forward. Her hold on my neck loosened.

I gasped, heaving oxygen back into my lungs. My instinct was to immediately brace myself for another attack… but it didn't come.

Then I realized that my right hand—the hand that had been clutching her second brace—felt moist. In fact, my upper chest and right shoulder felt moist, too. A trail of moisture.

My eyes refocusing, I scrambled to sit upright, heaving her weight off of me.

Harrowing déjà vu washed over me as I stared at Dina, lying on the floor while choking and clutching her throat, blood spilling from her neck and pooling around her.

The door shot open behind me.

A scream erupted. Vera Sykes's scream.

"OH, MY GOD! VIOLET'S KILLED DINA!"

I haven't killed her!
I thought to myself in a panic.
She's still alive! She just… She just needs to get to the hospital, dammit!

But the amount of blood that was spilling from her throat… As Vera raced away, shrieking for the wardens, I already knew what would happen next.

F
ootsteps pounded outside
. Five wardens spilled into the room—Vera and several other girls looming behind them.

I was in a daze, still not believing what had happened. My sodden hands were trembling as two wardens flipped me over and pinned me against the floor. The other three picked up Dina and rushed her out, before dragging me to my feet and pulling me into the hallway after her.

My blood pulsing in my ears, everything around me was a blur. As we approached Josefine's and my room, I managed to catch a glimpse of her terrified face, but they pulled me right past her. They wouldn't bother to stop to collect my things. What use would they be to me now?

We arrived at the stairwell and my feet dragged and tripped as we wound our way down the steps. Reaching the ground floor, we moved through the work room and the reception where Ms. Maddox was sitting. I didn't even get a chance to witness the expression on her face. I was forced forward as the wardens escorted me out of the mill.

We came upon four more wardens here. Two of them raced off around the side of the building, returning in two trucks. Dina was loaded into the back of one, myself into the other. As they slammed the doors shut behind me, I was plunged into darkness — the nightmare replaying over and over in my mind. Those few seconds before Dina's end. My knees thrusting upward. The moistness of her blood. Her choking.

The vehicles trundled down the long track that led to the city, but it sounded like they parted ways as they reached the end — mine split to the right, Dina's to the left. Both headed to different destinations. Very different destinations. I clutched the base of my seat as beads of sweat formed on my upper lip.

The road was bumpy. My elbows and the back of my head banged against the walls, but I could hardly make an effort to hold myself still. It was as though the life had been sucked out of me already. Everything seemed pointless.

I'd imagined this moment a number of times since claiming my first life. I'd imagined this journey, across the bumpy outskirts of Matrus, blending into the smooth roads of the city, where the labs were situated. A small part of me had always known that my anger would get the better of me again.

Closing my eyes, I lost track of time.

Finally, the doors opened, letting in a stream of streetlight. Hands grabbed me and pulled me out and I found myself standing on a sidewalk, my surroundings not what I had expected them to be. I was not outside the labs, but the gates of Frenton, another detention center—the most central to the city. Then I reminded myself that this should not be surprising. It was nighttime and lab technicians didn't work at night. Of course, I would spend the night in a cell and be taken to the labs tomorrow morning.

The wardens led me to the main rectangular gray building and into a reception area where they picked up a set of keys from the woman behind the desk. Then we walked along a hallway before moving down a stairwell, down, down, down, until we reached what had to be the lowermost floor. We arrived at the end of a hallway lined with cells, all empty. They stopped outside the third one on our left and thrust me inside.

After locking it, they strode away, leaving me to the deathly silence.

* * *

I
wasn't
sure what to feel. Somewhere within me still blazed my perpetual flame of anger, indignation, and resentment. But deeper than that, there was more. There was abandonment. There was betrayal. There was a hollow sense of grief. For years, I'd been grasping at straws in an attempt to find meaning to my life, purpose to my days. As much as my country had been the cause of my darkest depths of depression, it had also picked me up from them. It had forced me to keep going in
some
direction, even if it wasn't what I would have chosen for myself. In many ways, being imprisoned had been the best thing that could have happened to me. It had taught me to stop feeling and to simply concentrate on
doing
. We were worked hard and weren't given time for much else. Days were comfortably numb.

But now, as I sat here alone and taskless in the gloom, I didn't know how to still my mind. Almost decade-old feelings resurfaced, clawing at my chest and heart, threatening to overwhelm me.

Through it all, questions broke above the surface, surging like bellows in the wilderness.

What am I?

Why am I here?

Where did I go wrong?

When and how did I become a person unworthy of living?

Do I truly deserve to die?

So lost was I in my mind's tempest that I didn't notice when the prison doors finally opened and the wardens stopped right in front of my cell.

I gazed up at them, my vision focusing. These women were different wardens from the ones who had dropped me off here. They escorted me out of the holding cells, up the staircase, and back to the ground level. I gazed through the windows. It was still dark outside.

Where are they taking me?

The air had a certain feel to it—a crispness—and the crows had started cawing, indicating the imminent daybreak.

Perhaps they wanted me to be first in line.

We crossed the courtyard and approached a different truck than the one I'd arrived in. They locked me inside before piling into the front and starting the engine. We drove away from the compound, the quiet, neat streets lined with pastel-colored townhouses bleeding away on either side of me. I hadn't visited this part of the city for years and we passed places I hadn't seen since I was a child: the Racelle Art Gallery with its luminous mural-clad exterior, the multi-columned, whitestone Krisler Theater, the pebble-dashed City Library. I'd forgotten how pretty Matrus City was.

The sky was clear as I looked up. The stars glistened down on me, as if taunting me. It was a beautiful morning to be my last.

My heart palpitating, I tried to focus on the road. We met a crossroads, and I expected the driver to turn left down Wester Road, which was the most direct route to the labs. But she didn't. Instead, she carried on straight ahead, deeper into the center of the city.

"Where are you taking me?" I couldn't help but ask. My voice sounded scratchy. It'd been hours since I had last spoken.

Neither of the wardens bothered to answer.

The situation only became stranger when I realized we were nearing the royal quarters… The palace.

I wondered if there had been new labs set up recently that I wasn't aware of. But as we continued to make a beeline toward the royal quarters, it became clear that we were heading to none other than the palace compound itself.

What is happening?

We glided down the final road that led to the high wall surrounding the majestic tower which served as the queen’s and her courtiers' residence. Constructed from white stone and dotted with tall windows, it loomed over thirteen floors. The queen was reputed to live at the very top, occupying the highest two floors with her daughters.

Upon our arrival at the cast-iron gates, we were searched before they allowed us inside.

I had never been on this side of the gates before, I had only seen the occasional photograph in the papers, and my eyes struggled to take in the incredible sight. Surrounding the tower were geometrical gardens whose lawns were almost too green, flowers almost too large and vibrant. Ornamental fountains spiked with stone fish gushed out water. Quaint stone paths wound through the grass and flora, leading up to the main entrance of the tower: double shiny steel doors.

"Why am I here?" I asked again.

"Just follow," the warden holding my right arm replied.

Arriving at the steel doors, the wardens knocked. The doors whined open seconds later. A chambermaid wearing a starched white dress appeared on the other side as though she'd been expecting us. She led us across a luxurious lobby to a rug-clad sitting room before taking her leave. The wardens sat me down on a silky padded chair, then assumed positions on either side of the door.

As we waited—for what, I could still only muse—the only sound to distract me was the ticking of an old oak grandfather clock in one corner of the room.

Then I heard more footsteps. The doorknob twisted and clicked and a man stepped inside the room, a man I recognized. His hair was light—almost white—blond, and his face sported a thin goatee. His eyes were powder blue, his skin sallow. His features were altogether so fair and pale, he looked washed out. I had seen his face in the papers before; he was the only male consultant to Queen Rina's Court—a scientist whose name was Alastair Jenks, if I remembered right. Born and bred in Matrus, he was the son of a member of the Court, and a distant relative of scientist Ianto F. Jenks, who had pioneered the methods of screening boys—the same methods that were still used today in the matriarchy.

I felt a biting pang of resentment. If it weren’t for Alastair and his family, Tim might have never been taken and I might not be here now. We might still be living in the orphanage, or maybe I would have taken a job and started earning enough to become his official guardian, and for us to move into our own home. Tim might have begun an apprenticeship.

Why has this man come to see me?

He had entered armed with a crossbow and a shoulder bag. I eyed the bow's loaded tip. Perhaps I had been right about the wardens not wanting to wait until the main labs opened. Perhaps he was going to finish me off sooner: now. I had no idea why a man of such high status would do it personally though, and he didn't move any closer. He strode to a chair near the clock and sat down, his weapon resting casually on his knee. Then he let out a subdued cough, clearing his throat.

"I have some news for you, Ms. Bates," he said, his voice nasally and off-puttingly high-pitched. “Ms. Bradbury passed away in the hospital about an hour ago.”

My heart stilled.

“I also have a proposal for you,” he went on. “A proposal that I suspect you will not refuse." He paused for a moment, scrutinizing me. "A situation has led Her Majesty and the Court to find use for a person with… your type of background. We have been watching the detention facilities, waiting for the right young woman to whom we may offer this opportunity."

“Opportunity?" I managed.

"You took defense lessons with Ms. Dale up until the age of fourteen, did you not?" he asked, as though I hadn't spoken.

I nodded.

"The opportunity involves embarking on a mission which, if successfully completed, would suspend your sentence. It would allow you another chance to redeem yourself and reintegrate into society. Your previous crimes would be erased from your record. Forgotten about. You would essentially be starting from a blank slate…" He raised his almost nonexistent brows. "How does that sound?"

My anger had given way to bewilderment and I couldn't stop frowning at him. What mission could be so important to the Court that it would cause them to erase two counts of womanslaughter from my record? I felt shocked that they would even consider compromising their principles in such a gross manner.

"What mission?" I asked.

"Before I explain," Alastair replied, "I will warn you that after receiving this information, you will need to make an immediate decision. Take up the challenge, or not. And if for some reason you decide the latter, you will receive your due injection without delay… This room will be the one that you die in." His voice lowered. "Think carefully, Ms. Bates.”

In spite of my bias against the scientist, I wasn’t sure that there was anything to think about. This mission would offer me the chance of a new life and freedom from detention facilities. Maybe the rules in Matrus would even change someday and allow the boys in the North to see their families. Maybe I would discover happiness.

Besides, however dangerous this mysterious mission could turn out to be, anything was better than death…
Wasn't it?