Page 23 of Calico Descending

“Your sister has adjusted well. It seems to me it’s you who needs looking after.”

“Please. Don’t separate us.”

“It’s not my decision.” From beside her, she lifts an object that seems to be made of wood, and presses it onto a black pad. Flicking her fingers, she looks toward my sister, who raises her arm onto the desk without hesitation. The woman presses the object onto the back of her palm, and just like that, OBS is stamped there in big block letters. Medusa grabs a second object and flicks her fingers toward me, as well. KTC is stamped onto my skin, and I run my finger over the ink, which doesn’t smear away. “That will be all. You’re dismissed.”

“But … can I …. Can I go to obstetrics, too?” If I’m assigned to the same work area, I’ll be sent to the same barracks.

“No. And no further questions.”

“Please--”

“That will be all.” Her eyes burn with annoyance, as she speaks past clenched teeth.

In the one week I’ve been here, I’ve learned one thing about Medusa: I do not want to be on her bad side.

With a slight nod, I push up from the chair, and Bryani follows me out of the office. Shuffling after me, my sister can hardly keep up, as I stride through the hallway, desperate to hide the tears brimming in my eyes.

“Wait!” she calls out to me from behind. “Cali, wait!”

At the sound of my name, I stop and breathe hard to keep the tears away.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be fine, okay? I can take care of myself.”

Tears slip down my cheeks at the idea that I will now have to sever the only role I’ve known since Bryani was small and could fit into my arms. The only role that made me feel important and necessary in this world that seems to have abandoned the idea of family. I don’t fight, or argue, as she tips her head to get my attention, brows winged up with expectation.

For her sake, I nod and wipe away my tears. “You’ll be okay.”

Chapter 12

Present day

A Legion soldier stands in the doorway of the kitchen’s back entrance. He looks out of place, lost, as he scans over the room from behind his mask, which most of them wear, as if searching for something.

Unpacking the canned goods onto a low shelf, I stare up at him, frowning.

He peels back the mask, revealing a clean-shaven, somewhat handsome face of a boy who’s not really a boy. Perhaps five, or six, years older than me. We don’t often see their faces. All of them look identical in their assigned uniform, aside from varying heights. It’s easy to forget there’s an actual person stuffed inside their suits.

“Can I help you?”

On occasion, Legion officers will request a piece of bread, or something to drink. In that case, it’s not considered stealing, and we’re to offer them whatever they ask for, albeit at the expense of another going without rations for the night, but most of them don’t care.

Legion are virtually untouchable here.

“Glass of water,” he says, before his tongue sweeps over his lips. “Now.”

Without any additional prompting, I push up from the floor and hustle toward the sink. Water spills from the faucet into the awaiting cup I hold beneath the stream. When I first arrived here, I’d never seen an actual working sink before. They were always somewhat useless structures found in abandoned buildings. As I understand it, this entire hospital is powered by enormous solar panels that also power a city beyond the wall of the hospital. Not one I’ve seen, of course. We’re not permitted to go beyond the wall, let alone breach the safety of what I’ve been told is paradise in the Deadlands.

Some have said Szolen is a myth, as just about every city was demolished with the spread of the Dredge pathogen. I believe it’s there, though. Where else would boys, like the one standing before me, wearing a smug grin as he accepts the proffered drink, learn to become so accustomed to others waiting on him?

Certainly isn’t like that out in the Deadlands. There, a boy who doesn’t know how to fetch his own water dies of thirst. Simple as that.

Eyes on me, he sets the cup to his mouth, while I wait to collect it from him. Casting my gaze away, I try to ignore the obnoxious gulp of his throat, as he guzzles the drink all at once. When it’s gone, he hands the cup to me. “Another.”

Tight-lipped and quiet, I nod and shuffle across the room to fill it again.

Standing at the sink, I watch the stream of water pour out of the spigot, and at the first brush across my neck, I freeze, the water spilling over the sides and splashing into the basin.

“I’ve not seen you before.” His whisper tickles my ear, and not in a good way. “How is that?”

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