The Gender Game (5 page)

"
I
understand
the choices you have laid out," I told the scientist stiffly. My voice had dropped several tones deeper than normal. “I accept the offer. Tell me the details."

Alastair's mouth twitched. I guessed that was the closest he would get to a smile. "Very well," he said, putting down his crossbow for the first time. He began to pace the room slowly. "Recently we had a break-in at the Court's labs—
my
lab, specifically. Some valuable items were taken. Specimens. After a thorough investigation, we discovered who the thief was. Unfortunately, we had a snitch in our midst. A double agent, bribed by Patrus. She has been caught and reprimanded"—
put to death, without a doubt
—"but the damage has already been done. There is, however, one specimen that we believe is still salvageable. The most vital of all of them. It is the result of thousands of hours of experimentation and research." Alastair paused to drag a small table in front of me. Then he placed a hand into his bag and pulled out a tightly rolled-up piece of paper. He dropped it onto the table and unfurled it, revealing a map of Patrus.

He moved a forefinger over the paper, resting it atop the city to the far west, where the mountains were located.

"Fortunately, we, too, have somebody on the inside," Alastair went on. "An agent of our own who has infiltrated Patrus' high society. He resides several miles away from King Maxen's palace and their newly renovated laboratory, which he has discovered is where the specimen is being kept… Now, this is where you come in. He wants assistance to recover it."

My stomach clenching, I leaned over the map. "What is this 'specimen'?"
And what makes you so desperate to get it back?

"What the specimen is," Alastair replied, "is of no consequence to you. The only thing you need to know is what it looks like." He moved again to his bag, drew out three photographs and planted them on the table next to the map. The pictures depicted a strange silver object in the shape of an egg. It was perched on a stark white table, supported by a transparent glass tripod.

"This silver egg," Alastair said, "is what you need to retrieve. It's hard to tell its size exactly from these pictures, but it's not too large to carry. Its length is about that of my briefcase, its width a bit narrower." He raised his bag up for me.

"What would I have to do, exactly, to recover it?"

"That will be made clear soon enough," he replied. "Once you reach the other side of the river."

My chest constricted.
The other side of the river.
They're going to cart me off to Patrus
. Out of one prison and into another. For there was no way a self-respecting Matrian woman could describe Patrus as anything other than a prison.

Alastair still hadn't made it clear why they had been waiting for 'someone like me' to come along and assist with this task—a convict who had no experience in matters of robbery or espionage. I could only assume that this mission wasn't something a lot of people would volunteer for. People with lives, family, and choices.

"You said that other items were stolen," I said through a dry throat. "Other specimens that are pointless to reclaim. Why then is it not too late for this one?"

"The silver egg's shell is a protective casing," Alastair replied. "It's designed to self-destruct if forced entry is attempted. But, regrettably, that is a matter that's up for contention. Although I am in possession of its only key, the casing technology is still in the early stages of development. The inventor cannot guarantee that Patrus will not find a loophole if they work long and hard enough… hence, time is of the essence. We must retrieve the egg soon."

I glanced again at the map. "But how can I go to Patrus on such short notice? Wouldn't I need to go through immigration procedures? Or apply at their General Hall for residence? I would need to wait for—"

"Our contact can speed up the entire process to three days," Alastair replied, cutting me short. "He's able to pull a few strings… Getting there expediently will not be an issue. The issue for you will be
staying
there—and safely. Staying there in a way that you can execute the mission without hindrance. Which brings me to my next point: you must marry our contact."

"What?" I thought I had misheard Alastair.

"You must marry him, Violet," he repeated, with unmistakable enunciation.

"M-Marry?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly. "Marriage is the only way a Matrian woman—or any woman for that matter— can have an existence that's even semi-worth living in Patrus. Our insider will sort out your papers, and when you arrive, he will marry you and take you under his wing. Then he will provide you with the details you require to execute the mission."

My voice was still trapped in my throat, but my mind raced with questions.

Who is this man? What is his occupation? What does he look like? How old is he?

"Do you have a picture of him?" I asked.

"Yes," Alastair replied. "You'll need to recognize him once you arrive at the dock."

He retrieved a photograph from the side pocket of his bag and handed it to me.

I found myself staring down at a clean-shaven man with a smart, trimmed crop of black hair, thin lips and a narrow, triangular jaw. His exact eye color was hard to make out from the photo. Somewhere between gray and blue. He looked perhaps in his mid-twenties. I found him neither attractive nor repulsive, though I wasn’t used to judging men in either respect. Heck, I wasn’t used to judging men at all. Other than Tim, I hadn’t had significant close contact with males and didn't think I'd ever need to. I sure as hell never thought I’d end up coupled with one.

"His name?" I rasped.

"That isn't required yet," Alastair replied.

I swallowed, my eyes boring into the man in the photograph, as the word swirled around and around in my head like a nightmare:

Marry.

A
fter showing
me the photograph of my soon-to-be husband, Alastair was done answering questions. He took the photograph back from me, telling me that he would give it to me again when it came time for me to leave. Then, after replacing the map and photograph in his bag and gathering up the crossbow, he led me out of the room. Two wardens were still waiting outside the door.

He turned to one of them and said, "Take her to a guest room." Then he addressed me. "While preparations are underway, you should be using your time productively. I will solidify your schedule for the next three days and have you notified after eight a.m.”

I barely even had a chance to nod before Alastair strode away.

The wardens flanked my sides and escorted me down a winding hallway till we stopped outside a door that revealed a small suite containing a single bed, a bathroom and a kitchen area.

The wardens remained outside, closing the door behind me. I moved to the bed and slumped down on the mattress. My limbs were exhausted. I should try to sleep, but I couldn't conceive of attempting it. I was still struggling to wrap my head around my meeting with Alastair.

Less than an hour ago, I'd been preparing myself for certain death and now here I was, on the verge of entering a marriage.

Being thrust into the land of Patrus.

I recalled the fear in Josefine's eyes as she had spoken of the state of the patriarchy these days.

Will it really be worse than my current life?
I couldn’t see how it wouldn’t be. Even though I was a Matrian prisoner, I was still respected as a person in my own right. As an independent entity. As a woman. In Patrus, I would be deemed incapable of being anything but some man's shadow. An accessory. A pet. No rights. No voice.

I couldn’t imagine anything more daunting.

Even though I wore sweaty, soiled clothing, I curled up beneath the blanket and nestled my head deep into the pillow. Doubt and fear still swirled in my mind as dawn arrived sooner than I was comfortable with. I remained in bed until someone rapped against my door at eight-thirty a.m.

I stumbled toward the door but it opened before I could reach it.

It was Ms. Dale.

Her appearance in the palace was both surprising and comforting. It felt like an age since I had last seen her, though it had only been five years. Her face displayed more creases than I remembered it having, and her hair was visibly graying. Her physique, however, looked as tight as ever. She was shouldering a large backpack.

She cracked a small smile at me, which I couldn't help but return.

"Violet," she said, moving inside. "How are you?"

I shrugged. What did she expect?

"Mr. Jenks sent me. He informed me that you are to embark on a confidential mission to Patrus and over the next few days, he wants me to help you brush up on some skills."

"Oh."

Defense skills.

What exactly does he have planned for me in Patrus?

"We're to start now, so I guess you should get ready."

"Okay." I turned away from her and moved to the bathroom.

"Also," Ms. Dale added, "I brought these for you." She slid the backpack off her shoulders and withdrew an outfit that filled me with a sense of nostalgia. Sturdy shoes, long pants and a top made of durable, stretchy black fabric that was almost impossible to tear. I remembered her lending me a couple of uniforms just like this during my early teenage years.

I flung the clothes over my shoulder. "Thanks."

"And… I should also mention that Mr. Jenks’s preference is for us to go to The Green to train."

"What?"

"Yep," she replied.

The Green was the dense forested region that ran across the entire northern border of both Matrus and Patrus. The river that separated the nations also ran through it, and that was one reason why its water was so toxic.

The Green's biosphere was not deemed safe to take up residence nearby; the trees and vegetation were noxious. But it was also avoided for another reason: the wildlife that lived there.

"Why does he want us to train there?" I asked. "What's wrong with your training rooms? Don't you still have them?"

"I do," Ms. Dale replied, almost apologetic. "But Mr. Jenks said that training in The Green will make it more of a… high-stress scenario. Apparently, that's something you're going to have to get used to."

My jaw tensed.

"The Green won't kill us," Ms. Dale went on. "We'll only be there for a few days during the daylight hours."

I felt nervous that this mission might turn out to be more dangerous than I’d thought. Though, given the stakes and the weight of the prize I had been promised should I succeed, it would be naïve of me to think it would be easy or of moderate risk.

It was with a tighter throat that I entered the bathroom. I hurried to brush my teeth and take a shower. After drying myself off, I bound my hair into a tight knot atop my head before slipping into my new clothes.

Ms. Dale was waiting patiently for me on the edge of the bed. Her brown eyes rose to meet mine.

"Your breakfast was delivered." She pointed to the bedside table, where a tray of sandwiches had been placed along with a jug of water. I picked at and drank as much I could stomach before returning my focus to Ms. Dale.

"You ready?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Yeah," I muttered, even though I felt anything but.

T
wo wardens followed
us as Ms. Dale led me out of the palace, across the gardens, and toward the main gates of the compound. Reaching them, she turned to me and said, "Wait here with the wardens. I'll fetch my truck."

She returned about a minute later driving the same old truck she'd owned five years ago. The wardens escorted me through the gates and piled into the backseat, sandwiching me between them before giving Ms. Dale the go-ahead to leave.

I had been hoping that I could be alone with Ms. Dale for the next three days; that she would be deemed enough security. But apparently the wardens still considered me too much of a threat—to what, exactly, I wasn't sure.

The streets were all but empty as we rode through them, which meant our journey to The Green passed faster. Soon the outline of the forest and its halo of greenish mist began to creep into view. A wiry fence was all that separated the mass of trees from the countryside, because there was nobody to keep out. Nobody ventured here, just like nobody ventured into The Outlands either—the desolate wilderness beyond Matrus' eastern and southern borders.

Well, almost nobody. There had been cases of rebels venturing north particularly; usually mothers of marked boys who were mad enough with grief to think they could find their son if they just walked far enough. They paid no heed to the impossible size of The Green.

As much as Matrus' leadership made efforts to emphasize that every law and restriction instituted was for the sake of our nation's — and womankind’s — long term peace and well being, and that it was only because of a long history of misbehavior by men that we were in this position to begin with, their assurance wasn't enough for a minority of women whose lives had been touched by the screening. Whenever I thought of my brother, it still wasn't enough for me. But I hadn't lost my mind. At least, not yet. I had learned enough about the world outside from Ms. Connelly and almost every teacher I'd had in school—nobody who tried to escape came back.

Their words still haunted me now as we closed the final distance. The truck stopped in a meadow, a quarter of a mile before The Green started. Ms. Dale slipped out and trudged around the vehicle, opening up the trunk. She pulled out two breathing masks and handed one to me while placing the other on herself.

She addressed the wardens. "I'm sorry. I thought I had a couple more masks back there."

They frowned as Ms. Dale took my arm and guided me out of the truck. Without a backward glance, she began traipsing across the field of brittle grass toward The Green, pulling me along behind her.

I sensed that she didn't want the wardens shadowing us, either.

In any case, the two women had no choice but to wait in the vehicle unless they wanted to risk getting sick.

"Stay within earshot," one of the wardens called after us.

"We'll do our best," Ms. Dale replied. "But I must go wherever is most conducive for training…"

I could feel the atmosphere intensifying the closer we drew to The Green. The temperature also seemed to spike, though perhaps that was just me working up a sweat. I found myself wishing that my clothes weren't so tight, that my shoes were made of a thinner material.

As the mist pervading the trees began to touch us, Ms. Dale stopped and reached into her bag again. She pulled out a gun from the back compartment and two pairs of gloves from a mesh side pocket. She handed one pair to me and we both pulled them on before continuing.

We reached a narrow door in the fence. Ms. Dale drew out a key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. My breathing sounded labored as we stepped through it and entered the first line of trees. From the outside, I never would have guessed the mist was this thick. I could hardly see more than ten feet in front of me. We wouldn't have much warning if an animal came charging for us.

We had entered a world of low-hanging trees bursting with green sap. Moss-covered boulders, purple mushrooms, and dead wood littered the deep, moist undergrowth. Slimy vines that resembled snakes hung down from the canopy of leaves—a canopy so thick, it was rare to catch a trickle of sunlight. The lighting was gloomy and altogether surreal in its greenness.

Ms. Dale strode a step in front of me, her gun at the ready. Sweat trickled down my forehead behind my mask as we ventured deeper.

After thirty minutes had passed, I was sure we'd traveled well out of the wardens' earshot. Ms. Dale was obviously not afraid of me. Not only did she have the skills to easily overpower me, I doubted she truly believed I'd become the criminal the wardens made me out to be.

She stopped abruptly. I followed her gaze straight ahead through the trees.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered.

"What?" It was a struggle to hear much other than my own harried breathing beneath this heavy mask.

"Listen closely," she said.

As I strained to hear, I realized what she had noticed—a low buzzing, coming from somewhere in front of us, in the distance. A buzzing that was growing louder.

My heart skipped a beat. "Red flies?" I whispered.

"Sounds like it, doesn't it?" she murmured grimly.

Ms. Dale began scanning the ground around us. She darted with me through the trees until she located a hollow trunk. She pulled out another object from her backpack, an aerosol container, and sprayed the hollow. Shiny black centipedes the length of my hair squirmed out, worming themselves into the brushwood. Then Ms. Dale pushed me inside. I cramped my body up as small as I could to make room for her to crawl in next to me. There was enough room for us to sit side by side while still having a view of the outside.

The buzzing was hard to miss now. It thrummed in my ears.

Ms. Dale sprayed the aerosol again, through the opening of the trunk and into the forest's atmosphere. She acted just in time. A few seconds later, a blur of brown zoomed through the undergrowth with a dense red cloud moving at an alarming speed close behind. It was a wild boar, running for its life from a swarm of huge blood-colored flies. It darted out of sight, the flies maintaining their close pursuit.

I could only be grateful that it was the animal they were chasing, rather than us.

Ms. Dale and I waited stiffly until the buzzing faded, then climbed out of the hollow and straightened.

"So, Violet," Ms. Dale muttered, brushing off her pants. "Now you've seen it for yourself. The flies do exist."

"Yeah," I said, my throat hoarse. Those flies were supposed to be vampiric. They attacked in swarms and if there were enough of them, they could drain an animal or even a person to the point of death. But I was already facing certain death by execution if I failed this mission, and I trusted that Ms. Dale was trained to deal with this environment.

"Let's continue," she said curtly. She handed me the aerosol can. "You carry this for now."

D
uring the next
stretch of our journey, the occasional squawk of a bird made me jump, and I was introduced to yet more insects—jumper bugs and rope leeches—as well as a silver python that looked large enough to swallow me whole. But Ms. Dale deftly guided me onward.

She stopped again as we arrived at the first clearing we had come across since entering The Green. Taking the aerosol container from me, she roamed its perimeter and sprayed generously. It was some kind of pest repellent, evidently, but it also had a side effect of clearing the mist, making our vision a little clearer.

Then she moved over to a fallen tree whose carcass was thriving with new life. She scraped away the weeds and moss from its surface, then placed her gun atop it, along with her backpack, opening the bag's zipper.

"Come here, Violet," she said.

I approached and stood next to her as she began to empty the bag's compartment of… more weapons. Guns—large and small. By the time she'd finished, her backpack had shrunk to a fraction of its previous size.

My eyes met hers. "You're going to train me to use… weapons?" I whispered.

"Yes," she replied. "At the request of Mr. Jenks."

My eyes trailed over the assortment of guns. Only wardens, authorized warden trainees, or professionals like Ms. Dale were allowed to handle weaponry. All of my defense training to date had consisted solely of physical contact.

Now I couldn't help but suspect that putting me into a "high-stress" situation wasn't the scientist's main motivation for wanting me to train in The Green. He probably wanted to keep all this undercover as much as possible, and the primary appeal of this location was its isolation.

"So I have just three days to perfect my skills?" I asked.

"I don't expect you to be perfect," Ms. Dale replied. "But I do expect you to become proficient. Once you're in Patrus, as a woman, it's highly unlikely you'll find an opportunity to train or practice… You'll be lucky to get hold of a gun at all.”