Page 14 of Calico Descending

With a smile, she exits the cavern, and I look over to Bryani, who draws in the sand with a small twig.

“I didn’t want to stay at that place, anyway. I like Dina, but the other men were assholes.”

“Bree!” I chuckle at the sound of her cursing. Though our mother cussed quite a bit, neither of us ever really slipped. Not that my mother would’ve cared if we did. It just felt disrespectful to swear in front of her.

“Remember when Momma found the lizard in her sleepsack?”

My body convulses with laughter at the memory of our mother hopping about, convinced it had crawled into her shirt. “I never heard a woman spew so many curse words in a matter of seconds.”

Bree’s howls of laughter echo in the cavern, prompting more laughter from the both of us, until I’m bent over, weak with all the laughing, which eventually dies down to solemn smiles.

“I’m gonna miss her.” Voice wobbly with tears, Bree wipes at her eyes and chuckles again. “Fastest cusslinger in the south.”

Smiling wider, I nod. “I’ll miss her, too.”

A hum and squeal outside of the cave sounds like a vehicle coming to a stop, and I set my finger to my lips, signaling Bryani to remain quiet. Movement at the mouth of the cave snags my attention, and I turn to see three men, dressed entirely in black. Masks hide their faces, and long black tubes make them look like some kind of monster. Unfriendly.

Legion.

I scramble over the sand toward my sister and push her behind me, as the men enter the cave toward us. “No! No!”

Cornered. Yanking Bryani to the ground, I scamper on all fours toward a gap between the men, but one of them grabs hold of my hair, wrenching me backward. A splitting pain streaks across my scalp.

Still, I fight, kicking and punching, and scratching whatever I can, because after the stories I’ve heard, I’d sooner have every strand of hair pulled from my scalp than be captured by Legion. “Let go of me! Let us go!”

We’re dragged with ease out of the cave, toward a vehicle off in the distance. Dina stands to the side, where crates are stacked before her. Ammunition, cans of food, and medicine bottles, from what I can make out in a passing glimpse.

I glare back at her with all the rage that seethes through my blood. “What have you done? What have you done!” Squirming and kicking is futile against my captor, whose grip is steel around my body. “What have you done!”

“Hey, you guys … you don’t hurt ‘em, right?” she calls after the guard, who wrangles Bryani into the back of the truck.

“Of course not. They’ll be treated very well.” Even a fool could pick up the lies in his tone.

The back of the truck has bars across, like a cage. One forceful shove knocks me to the bed of it, the metal scraping against my knees and tearing the skin. With a wince, I push to a crawl, but the door slams in my face before I can reach it. Gripping the bars, I pull myself up, the tears in my eyes finally breaking free, as I stare back at the woman who betrayed us.

“Hear that, kid?” If I didn’t know what a slimy person she was, I’d mistake the flickering frown on her face for remorse. “You’re gonna be okay. Calico is a safe place. A hospital. They’ll treat you good there.”

Chapter 8

Present day

The elevator opens onto the dark corridor, and once again, I’m staring straight into a nightmare. The walls pound and thunk as I pass, on my way to the door at the end of the hallway. The same as the day before.

I stayed up half the night trying to imagine how I would approach Valdys today, how I might breach his walls. I’ll certainly not be taking any of Roz’s advice.

My whole body is cold and shaking by the time Medusa steps in front of me to open the door.

“After yesterday, I’ll assume you’re well versed in the rules.”

The rules didn’t help me at all yesterday, but I answer, “Yes.”

Setting her hand to the wall pops the lock, and as the door slides open to the shadowy room, my stomach sinks. The bruised band across my throat tingles when I step inside the mostly empty space that feels about ten degrees colder than the corridor. This time, I have nothing to offer him. Nothing to say after yesterday’s attack. And no idea what I’m expected to do, in order to make this beastly man want to keep from seeing me take his punishment.

Five minutes pass in the span of what feels like thirty, before I finally park myself on the floor against the nearby wall. Pulling my knees up, I wade through the thoughts spinning around my head--topics of conversation that would come easy to me, if Roz were sitting across from me, instead of a six foot killing machine. I can’t even see him, where he sits in the shadows, to know if anyone’s really there, at all. It’s only the metallic scent on the air, watering my tongue, that lets me know he’s in the room.

Seconds turn to minutes, until the silence between us becomes easier than trying to strike up conversation that probably doesn’t matter to him anyway. In the quiet, flashes of the night before pop through my head, as I imagine the birdseye view of Roz trying to teach me how to stroke a cock. The image tugs a laugh, and I slap a hand over my mouth at the sound of shifting across the room. Lowering my gaze, I clear my throat of any other urges, snorting once, and clear it again.

The room falls quiet again.

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