Page 63 of The Darkest Half

“He will be of use to me someday,” Victor says.

Vonnegut stands from his prison-like cot and comes to the wall; several holes were drilled through the material, probably to allow air into the tiny room.

“What goes around, comes around, I suppose,” Vonnegut says with a shrug. “Isn’t that right, brother?”

“I suppose,” Victor says. “The only difference is that you are not being kept alive to be my successor.”

Vonnegut laughs under his breath.

“Whoever said that was why I kept you alive?”

“You did,” Victor answers.

“Yeah, well, I would’ve told you anything at that moment.” He scoffs. “I’m disappointed, Victor, that you actually believed it.”

“It does not matter what I believed,” Victor says. “You are the one behind the wall. And if you wanted me dead, then—”

“And I never said I wanted you dead, either,” Vonnegut cuts him off. “What I wanted was much like this scenario.” He waves his hands about the cell. “Only you in here instead of me.”

“You went through all that,” Victor says, “just to capture me and use me as your decoy? That is unnecessarily…extravagant, don’t you think?”

“Well, not just as a decoy, Victor,” Vonnegut says, “but I’d planned to use your DNA to make more of you. You are the strongest, fastest, and most intelligent of us, are you not?” He cocks his head. “Tell me, Victor, do you plan to keep the breeding program running? Or will you shut it down along with the other lucrative programs to which The Order owes its success?”

I’m still too shocked and frustrated to add anything. I just listen.

Behind me, a sharp banging sounds, and I almost come out of my skin. I whirl around to see Lysandra hurling herself against her prison door, made of the same indestructible material as that of Vonnegut’s. Bang! Bang! Bang! My eyes grow wider, my disbelief deeper.

“No…”

“Let me the fuck out of here! You piece of shit!”—she spits on the glass—“fucking let me out of here, or I’ll kill you!”

Why do they always say that? How can she kill him for not letting her out if he won’t let her out so she can kill him? Desperate people say the dumbest things.

I swing around to face Victor.

“Not that I agree with it, but I can understand Vonnegut, that he can be useful as a decoy,” I say, “but why her? Why in the hell would you keep that bitch alive? She killed Niklas’ mother and his friend, Jackie—an innocent—right in front of him.”

“And I’d do it all over again,” Lysandra says, her voice muffled through the transparent wall; she glares at us, her eyes feral and dangerous.

“She is alive for my brother,” Victor says. “Nothing more.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is Niklas’ job, his honor, to be the one to kill her for what she did.”

“Does he know you have her down here? Does he know she’s still alive?”

“No,” Victor says. “I was going to tell him, but at the last minute, when I saw that he looked at peace with the world for the first time, I changed my mind.”

“So, you kept her alive? For what? For the day he comes back? You said so yourself, Victor, that Niklas won’t be coming back—not this time.”

Victor appears to think on it a moment.

“Just in case,” he says. “Regardless, she is for Niklas to kill, and no one else may have that privilege.”

Lysandra laughs manically and then slaps her hands against the wall again. She continues to scream through the glass, and we turn our backs on her, ignoring her as best we can.

“Well?” Vonnegut asks once more. “Are you shutting the breeding program down?”

---