Chapter 40: Chapter 40

The Resistant soldiers immediately haul the Master out of the room and back to his cell.

My mother remains kneeling on the ground as the Resistants retreat to their homes and dorm rooms, kicking dirt in her face, spitting on her, or hurling insults.

The Kagegun stands by her side, growling at the Resistants, but they don’t lay a hand on her either.

Two Resistant soldiers come to collect her afterward. They yank her to her feet roughly and drag her to the mayor’s office. The Kagegun trails behind her in silence.

As the mayor speaks to her, my mother struggles to comprehend his words. Her mind is filled with thoughts of the Master, and of Sanoske who had told her there were no survivors. He hadn’t mentioned a Master prisoner.

She wonders how the Master could possibly know her name. It’s not until the mayor slams his fist on his desk that she snaps back to the conversation.

Suspected spy, the mayor is saying. A spy. How could they possibly think she’s a spy?

Yet, when she looks up at Sanoske and Roy, who stand in the office with her, she can tell they’re taking the mayor’s words very seriously.

She’s hauled unceremoniously back out of the office, through the dark tunnels, down to the deepest tunnels. Metal doors are opened, and she’s tossed in. Sanoske and Roy walk away without uttering a word.

My mother sits on the cold ground, hugging her arms around her knees, crying.

***

She’s never sure how long she stays down there. Weeks, she always assumed. She’s brought food and water each day, but no one speaks to her.

The Kagegun doesn’t come to visit her, and down in her cell, she feels her heart breaking into millions of pieces every second.

She’s not alone though. She quickly discovers that the cells are where number one and two, the northern Resistant soldiers, now slaves, sleep. They’re Len and Harry.

Len is taller than Harry, and he has light eyes. Hazel. Harry has very dark eyes and a large scar on his chin. Both their mothers were deemed Defectives because of them.

Since they look mostly like Perfects, they’ve been raised to be spies for the Resistants.

They don’t want anything to do with my mother. They seem to be afraid of her. A Perfect spy. So my mother just listens to them talk to each other.

Their accent is different. They roll their ‘r’s and they speak of windy and cold landscapes. Their words are bittersweet when they talk of their home.

As my mother had heard, the Perfects had uncovered one of the tunnels leading down into their city. They had attacked at night with gas and machine guns. The battle had been quickly won and bloody.

The next morning, only a handful of Resistants had survived, and they were scattered across the land, lost and starving. My mother knows from experience that the chances of their survival are slim.

Len and Harry already knew their way south and went without a second thought. They had no idea that the Perfects had been tracking them.

“Did she find out how they knew her name?” the journalist asks.

“She did, but her suspicions had been confirmed by the Master before. Len and Harry didn’t know much.

“Her name was being whispered in the worker camps. The Masters were looking for her. Soldiers were told to be on the lookout. She was to be captured, not harmed.

“Which in a way reassured her that it was Eric who was looking for her. It had to be. But she wasn’t sure if he wanted her alive to kill her himself or lock her up for his pleasure for the rest of her life.

“About a week after she was first locked up, the mayor appeared with Roy and a Resistant soldier. The door to her cell was pushed open, and the soldier grabbed her and shoved her to the ground.

“The mayor straddled her, holding her head down with his fist and covering her face with a cloth. He poured a bottle of water on her face. She struggled to get away from him, but he continued relentlessly.

“He asked her how she had been communicating with the Perfects, what information had she given them, and when were they going to attack.

“Denying being a spy was of no use. The mayor was determined, and a Perfect in his midst was the ideal scapegoat.

“When he ran out of water, she was picked up and held against the wall while he punched her over and over, in the stomach, face, and back. All the time, Roy watched.

“My mother didn’t call for help. She stopped crying. She rolled herself in a ball and covered her head and waited.

“When she gave them no satisfactory answer, they eventually left and returned the next day. And the next and the next. Sometimes Roy was the one holding her down, waterboarding her; sometimes it was the soldier.

“They always wanted the same information, getting more and more agitated as she kept quiet. They were convinced she was lying to them and that the Perfects were about to fall on them again.

“Len and Harry could no longer handle her screaming, crying, and wheezy breaths, and they began sneaking her a little more food, a little more water, some dried herbs to numb the pain.

“She didn’t know if they still thought she was a spy, but they refused to talk to her. But she was grateful for the small comforts they gave.”

***

It’s late in the evening when Roy steps into my cell, quickly scanning the room before his gaze lands on me, huddled in the corner. My clothes are torn, stained, and reeking. His face contorts in disgust.

Then he tries to compose himself. Pressing his lips together, he steps toward me. He’s alone.

“Alex,” he begins.

I move away from him, glaring at him. “Go away, Roy.”

He shakes his head and sits down in the dirt next to me. I’m stuffed in a corner, with my arms wrapped around my legs, my whole body aching. I can’t get further away from him.

“You know, Alex, I was surprised when you first agreed to marry me,” he says. “I thought you were in love with Sanoske. But I was glad.

“I mean, you were healthy, beautiful, so sexy, and smart. I couldn’t believe my luck. I suppose it was too good to be true. You had to be a spy.”

I scoot as far from him as I can, pressing myself against the wall.

“Alex,” he goes on, “just tell me how you got in touch with them. Was it through the Kagegun?”

“Roy, I’m not a spy,” I tell him.

He sighs heavily.

“Alex, there’s only so much I can do to help you. Just tell me so I can get you out of here. We’re running out of time.”

“Roy, I’d rather rot here than go back to living with your people and your family. You’re just as bad as the Perfects, and you don’t even see it.

“You enslave people and take away their names, replacing them with numbers. You control who can have children with who. You turn on people without any evidence.

“Torture, pain…you’re just as brainwashed to hate Perfects as I was to hate you. At least I can see that. You’re still just as blind,” I spit out.

Roy glares at me.

“Stay here and rot for all I care, you whore,” he growls, standing up and kicking dirt at me. I shrink away from him. He towers over me. “You damn Perfect,” he mutters under his breath as he paces my cell.

“Go away, Roy. Go back to your father and your new wife.”

He stops pacing and looks me in the eye. The grimace on his face, the anger flashing in his eyes—it’s the same look he gets when he hits me.

I’m ready for it when he strides over to me and yanks me up by the arm. He pins me against the side of the cell, one hand around my neck, his face inches from mine.

“Tell me when they’re coming, Alex,” he snarls.

I look past him, avoiding his gaze. His other hand comes up and slaps me across the face. My skin burns. Tears spring to my eyes. He grunts.

“Fucking useless.” He steps back, letting me fall to the ground. “Only good for one thing, Perfect women. I should fuck you like all those other men did. How many were there, Alex? How many men?”

He’s laughing to himself now. “You’d spread your legs for every Perfect, wouldn’t you? If I leave you alone with that Master, will I find you in his bed in the morning? Fucking whore!” he roars, pacing back and forth.

“You shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand, Roy. You sound like a fool,” I whisper.

He whirls toward me, his eyes flashing. “Tell me! When are they coming?” he roars.

“I have no idea, Roy. Because I’m not a spy. But I do know they won’t stop looking for him. They’ll never stop until they find him, and they’ll hunt you down until you’re all dead.

“I don’t have to be a spy to know that,” I snap.

Roy’s eyes bore into mine, rage flashing across his face. His hands are clenched into tight fists.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, grabbing me by my torn clothes, yanking me up again, and slamming me against the dirt wall. “Fuck you, Alex. You’re going to die here. Mark my words, you whore. You’re going to die here.”

Roy spits in my face, shakes me one last time, then lets me crumple back to the ground as he storms out of the cell, seething.

I lean against the wall, tears stinging my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to show them the pain they’ve caused me, but I can’t help it.

It’s late at night when Len and Harry stumble back to their cell, whispering in harsh tones. They carry a candle that they blow out, plunging us into darkness. I listen to their voices as they settle in for the night.

I let my head fall back against the wall and close my eyes too. Beth comes to me at night. Little Beth, with her chubby fingers, big brown eyes, and infectious laugh.

I remember her scent, her soft hair tickling my skin, her sloppy kisses. Warm tears dampen my cheeks, and I wipe at them in vain.

I listen to Len and Harry, their heavy breathing and snoring as they fall into the deep sleep of worn-out workers.

Slowly, I wrap a strip of my old ragged dress around my fist, then find my way by memory to the far corner by the iron door. Crouching, I start digging my fingers into the loosely packed dirt.

It was rock hard when I first started scratching at it. Every morning, I push the new loose dirt back into the hole I’ve dug and toss my scraps of ragged dress on it.

I think of Beth as I dig, keeping the image of her little face in my mind. I pull the loose dirt away and start scratching at the hard soil underneath.

I can fit my arm through the hole under the metal gate already, but my shoulders still don’t fit. I think of Beth and nothing else. She’s the only thing worth fighting for in this world.

Some nights I try to imagine where I’ll take her when I find her. I once thought of Resistance as a safe place to raise her, where she could go to school and have friends.

But now where could I go? Albion is an island. Living on a train isn’t a good option. I’d have to sneak out of the country. With a child. Maybe go to Japan.

Caught up in my thoughts of how to sneak off an island, I barely notice the soft shuffling of feet coming closer. I freeze immediately, half-buried in my hole, a pile of dirt next to me.

There are no voices, just soft steps coming toward me in the dark. I can’t see anyone, only just barely hear breathing as the footsteps stop in front of my cage. I stay very still.

There are two of them, unmoving, just breathing lightly. I see a small flash, and the lock on my cage falls to the ground. I roll away with a gasp as it lands heavily on my back.

I don’t get far. A hand clamps over my mouth and arms wrap around my body. I’m picked up and carried quickly from my cage.

Struggling, I try to scream. I bite down hard on the fingers holding me, I squirm and kick, but my captors hold me tight and don’t remove their hands from my face.

They're rushing me down dark hallways, through tiny rooms, and up a long tunnel. The Resistance is clearly on high alert, keeping all the lights off at night.

As I'm being hauled away, I can tell that the men carrying me are two guys. They smell like blood, gunpowder, and burnt plastic. They don't make a sound as they work.

One of them keeps his hand clamped over my mouth, barely leaving me room to breathe. They take me to a small room and drop me on the floor.

I gasp in pain and let out a high-pitched scream before I'm shoved face-first into the dirt. A cloth is jammed into my mouth, a knee digs into my back, and my wrists are yanked back and tied together.

I fight against their grip, but I can't make more than a whimper. When they finally step back, I roll over and blink into the darkness. I can't see a thing.

But I can hear people moving around. The shuffle of feet, the sound of bags being lifted, and the soft tap of a gun as it swings from someone's hip. Then everything goes quiet.

I lean back against a dirt wall, blinking in the darkness, biting down on the dry rag in my mouth. My mind is spinning.

Suddenly, there's a shuffling sound, and I hear another body being dragged into the room, thrown to the ground, tied up, and tossed next to me.

The person, a man, lets out a heavy grunt. He breathes heavily through his gag.

Then there's a flurry of movement. Two hands grab me again and throw me over a shoulder. I grunt in pain as the shoulder digs into my stomach.

My head bobs in the air, and blood rushes to my face. I can hardly breathe.

And we're off again. We're running. I can hear people panting around me as they climb stairs and dash down tunnels.

When we finally stop, there's a moment as everyone regroups. Then, in front of me, a door is pushed open, and we leave the Resistance behind, stepping out into the night.

In the moonlight, I quickly scan my surroundings. The flattened gray city, the water in the distance reflecting the light from the moon and stars. And the crowd of gray-clad soldiers forming two straight lines behind me.

I twist and squirm, trying to ease the pain of being slung over a shoulder. Using all my strength, I throw my body up into the air and catch a glimpse of the second prisoner being dragged behind us.

The Master is staring back at me, his dark brown eyes locked on mine. His gray clothes are torn, his face is covered in deep cuts, and his hair is shaved off.

I look away as my body falls back down. The soldier holding me grunts and tries to steady me. I twist away from him, my mind racing. ~Why would Perfect soldiers be dragging a Master along like that?~

With a hard push, I lift my body up again, causing the man carrying me to stumble and drop me to the ground. I gasp in pain as I land on my back on the hard rubble.

I look up at the person who had been carrying me. The soldier is wearing a heavy gray helmet and a handkerchief tied around his face, but when his eyes meet mine, I know I'm not looking at a Perfect soldier.

Kazuya is staring back at me.