Page 15 of Calico Descending

More minutes pass.

In a mindless gesture, I tap my finger against the concrete to the rhythm of a song my mother used to hum from back when she was young. Under Pressure, by someone named Bowie and Queen, or something. Da da da da-de da da. Da da da da da-de da da.

Tipping my head back against the wall in boredom, I huff a sigh and close my eyes.

A few minutes later, I hear the same tapping across the room, faint but recognizable. Same rhythm. It takes a number of facial muscles to keep from smiling, and I don’t dare open my eyes, for fear he’ll stop.

As though catching himself echoing my boredom, he does stop, though, and once again, we’re sitting in awkward silence across from each other.

More minutes pass this way, and the door finally clicks after what must be an hour, though it seems longer. The impassive expression on Medusa’s face is a clue that she’s not amused by my lack of effort this round. As we walk the hall back to the elevator, she huffs her frustration. “It’s important for you to engage him in these visits.”

“Engage him, how? Get him to rape me? Is that what you’re looking for?”

Slamming her finger against the button harder than necessary, she snarls back at me. “Watch your tone, girl.”

Supper is stew meat and beans in water with bread. Same thing everyday, for all meals, only I’m lucky. Most of the subjects don’t get meat. This is a perk reserved only for girls who work in Alpha Project, along with the hair, but the others don’t complain.

They feel sorry for us, mostly.

I tip back my small bowl, until every last drop is gone, and clear my spot, before heading out to the yard. At the corners of our sectioned-off yard stand three guards, and beyond them, of course, are the Ragers, who ensure no one tries to skip off into the desert. A girl tried, a few years back, from the stories I’ve heard. She somehow made it past the Ragers, but according to the rumors, she perished beneath a Juniper tree, to where she was eventually tracked. Pools of blood led soldiers to believe Ragers had dragged her off somewhere, a thought that twists my guts. If ever I found myself caught in one of their nests, I’d much prefer to be eaten alive.

Like my mother.

Even after all these years, I still think about her. I still hear her screams from the night she threw herself to the monsters. Still see the brief flicker of clarity across her face when I told her I loved her. She’d have never survived in a place like this. Her personality was far too bold to be enslaved, a thought that shames me, sometimes. I’m certain she’d rather have faced death, than been told to entertain one of their killers.

I miss Bryani, too. It’s been years since I’ve seen her. The updates I get are courtesy of Medusa, when she’s feeling exceptionally kind, but otherwise, I’m left to wonder how she’s holding up here. What she looks like at fourteen. Does she ever think about me?

The sting at the rims of my eyes threaten tears, and I blink them away, clearing my throat. This place has no room for tears, that much I’ve come to learn.

Across the yard, one of the second year girls pushes what appears to be a newcomer up against the fence. I don’t blame them for their animosity toward the new arrivals really, because even the ones half starving from the desert appear to be healthier than any of the girls stuck here for too long, but that’s the tragedy of this place. We all look like death, eventually.

Second year slams her fist into the new girl’s face, sending a spray of blood into the air, and the onlookers goad her on. I could intervene. I should. If she dies, though, she’s better off. I’m fortunate to be asleep when most of the experiments are conducted on me, but there are some who suffer that pain while conscious. I’ve come to learn that some of the males undergo what are known as provocation tests, which are basically cruel torture tactics used to incite the Alpha gene from its dormant state. Some are quite extreme and often result in immediate death.

Or murder, more like.

There is nothing so just in this place as death.

Before I make my way across the lawn, the fight is broken up by guards, and the second year girl is dragged away. That’s the other consequence. She won’t be back.

Once they’re dragged away, they never come back.

Chapter 9

Four years ago

I peer through the bars of the cage, staring up at the enormous structure standing before me. Many of the buildings I’ve seen have fallen into disrepair, or crumbled with destruction. This is one of few that seems to harbor a purpose--one I’ve yet to determine. The door swings open to show a Legion soldier, who wears a gun strapped across his chest.

I try to imagine what it would take to wrangle that gun away from him, as I allow him to help me down off the truck. Bryani follows, hopping to the dirt, which kicks up as dust around our feet. The scent on the air is a burnt, meaty smell that reminds me of the animal hanging from the spit back at the camp.

I can’t think about that camp, because it’ll bring thoughts of Dina, and I’m guessing these soldiers don’t tolerate the kind of rage that would prompt me to lash out at something.

I’m sure they’d shoot me dead for it.

“Move!” The soldier’s muffled voice comes through loud and clear, and as if it wasn’t enough, he nudges me with his gun.

As we make our way toward the building, the sound of clicks and chattering teeth stop me in my tracks. On instinct, my muscles clamp around my chest, as my mind prepares for flight, or fight. Another nudge from behind sends me forward, until we round a corner, and the source of the sound is confirmed, where Ragers stand lined against a fence, growling and reaching out for Bryani and me.

I try to imagine why these soldiers would allow so many to gather so close, considering they have the weapons to kill them off.

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