There is some abuse of a child in this chapter. It doesn't go very far, but still. If you don't want to read it, stop at the basketball game.
Jason stirred. Aches rippled through his muscles, so he stopped moving.
It was all drab anyway. Just a gray wall, gray sheets beneath him…. if the lights weren't dimmed, it would still be the same.
Nothing good here.
Even the fact it was away from the horrors upstairs was nothing in its favor. It was simply neutral—less than that because it was only a holding cell. A waystation on the conveyor belt of torture.
Minor evils… and major trauma… all the same in a way. No choice, no way to escape.
He closed his eyes, yearning to fall back to sleep. He'd slept the whole day, he thought, but it wasn't enough.
Maybe I can sleep here the rest of my life… better than being taken to them…
But in his heart he knew they'd drag him out and he'd be defenseless against them–
Sure enough, the light turned on bright, and even shutting his eyes tightly could not block it out completely. Whether from trying to avoid it or because it was too inexorable, he could not go back to sleep. So he just lay there, trying not to think or feel.
Most of all, trying not to remember. Especially…what had happened last night.
He hoped desperately this wouldn't become a new normal…. That they wouldn't drag him upstairs every few days or even more often….
At least Zar doesn't live here. At least he doesn't have Golden Birthdays every day.
He couldn't face what Zar had spoken with Elena about… it was bad enough trying to escape what Elena had done to him.
It was nothing.
It was too much.
No. She cannot take from me what I will not give.
She can… to an extent… but she cannot touch my soul. She cannot mar my love for Connie. What she wrests from me isn't real. Doesn't matter. I won't let her take anything good from me. I'll keep it in my heart, even if I can't think of it often or I'll fall apart….
That had its drawbacks as well. Because he didn't want to bring memories of Connie here, it was Elena's touch he felt when he was lying still… her fingers creeping over him…
He tossed and turned, trying to rid himself of them—and saw Zar's eager face.
I've got to get out of here. Before any of them touch me again.
Get out… how…. I don't even know where the real exits are… as if this place is closed off from anything outside…
But. The outside gets in. Ali got in. Zar comes here often… the slaves come from somewhere…
But it's only the Admins who can leave…
I'm trapped here…
It began to smother him, and this time he didn't struggle.
He didn't have the strength.
Last night had drained all of it from him—not just from the physical pain, but the evils done to others.
And… what she almost took from me—
No.
But what else was there to think about?
Go back to sleep! he told himself, but it didn't help. His heart pounded hard, eventually forcing him to get up. He tried to turn down the lights, but they continued to blare into his eyes. Brighter than normal.
At least they're not forcing me to go to meals… unless my sense of time is totally shot… I can't rule that out… my mind's probably going already, and if it is, I'll never get out…
Vague panic rose in his chest, and he paced the room. Screaming to get free of its blank blah walls. But not at the cost of going out and meeting any of them…..
He opened the fridge door and guzzled water from one of the bottles; in a few seconds, it was gone. He gobbled up a large chunk of cheese and then grabbed the wine bottle. He shivered at its touch; Elena had touched it, her fingerprints still pasted onto the glass. But whatever. He popped the cork and sipped it. Then tipped the bottle and let it glug down his throat….
He sputtered, almost drowning. Coughed.
Idiot, he told himself. He shoved the chair over to the cupboard and grabbed the nearest food—a package of cookies. He ate several of them and gnawed on some more cheese.
Sipped some more wine for the heck of it.
His vision wavered a little; the bottle was half gone.
Oops, he thought. Oh well. What does it matter?
He leaned his head in his hand.
The chime rang for supper and the door opened. He didn't look up. He wasn't hungry anyway, and if they weren't forcing him to go out….
People filed past, some speaking, most hanging their heads, their feet dragging. Jason's heart flipped over.
Here I am, privileged, sitting in here while they're forced to go….
Shouldn't I throw in my lot with them?
After all, many were forced to go to the party Above too….
The alternative is staying in here and drinking the rest of the bottle… wallowing in my own despair when I could help others… at least I'll have something to focus on…
Still, it was monumentally difficult to drag himself to his feet. He pressed his hand to the table for leverage, but couldn't move, as if he were in a high-gravity environment. Finally, he made himself do it, breathing hard, almost no energy to walk out the door. Elliot and Alelu filed past and nearly disappeared before he was able to step across the threshold.
Just the act of getting through gave him more energy, as if there had been a force field across the door, and he strode to catch up with them.
Elliot's face lit up when he saw him. So did Alelu's. "Jason!" said Elliot. "I…didn't know if you were still…Above." His eyes brimmed with concern and empathy.
"They took me down this morning. I've been in my room."
"The others told me how you—defended them. Despite what they were doing—" Wonder and admiration shone in his eyes.
"I wish I could've done more…"
"You couldn't help everyone—that wouldn't be humanly possible. They're the ones to blame." His eyes flashed. He glanced down at Alelu. "Thanks for helping her."
"You protected me from—" Her eyes darted away, troubled.
"You're okay?" Jason asked. "They didn't hurt you?"
Alelu nodded. "I was safe." She took a deep, shaky breath. "They took me down after supper. Then Elliot helped me."
They stepped into the cafeteria. Kara, Karim, Sahara, and Zakhar were sitting at the table in the corner nearest the door. Jason collected his tray of food and joined them, Alelu sitting between him and Elliot.
Kara and Karim were whispering together; Sahara was toying with her food without eating. Zakhar, in the furthest corner, was sitting gingerly, his head leaning in his hand.
"Oh, hey," said Sahara, her eyes sparking, dispelling the dullness that had dominated them. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm…okay."
"You don't look too bad. Probably the restorative."
"Restorative?"
"They give it to people who are shocked. And anyone who's injured enough to go into shock. It's one of their 'miracle drugs'."
"How…are you doing?" he said carefully, knowing what she'd gone through last night.
She gave a short, mirthless laugh and didn't reply. It was then he noticed most of her green hair was gone; her hair stuck up in random harshly cut pieces and wisps. She must've noticed his focus on it, for she said, "I tried to cut it off. Liandra lent me her scissors. It…didn't work very well."
"Maybe there's a better tool…"
"I wanted to shave it all off, but I didn't have a shaver."
"I could lend you mine."
Her eyes lit up. "Really? That'd be a lifesaver." She slid her fingers into her hair, tugging at the black coils absently. He wasn't sure what she meant, but didn't pry, especially since she went back to toying with her food.
He turned his attention to Zakhar, who looked in bad shape, even compared to Sahara. Several bruises marred his face, including one that covered a large swollen area on his jaw. It looked painful to eat; no wonder he wasn't trying to. Perhaps for other reasons—Jason recalled vaguely what Michelle had implied last night—no, early morning—when Jason had been pretending to be unconscious.
There were also several cuts on his face and a split lip. A long scrape that ran from his cheekbone into his dark hair.
Jason shivered with horror at it, then a latent seething anger.
Is there anything I can do for him? I don't want to bother him…. But I do have that salve in my quarters….
Jason stabbed the soggy beans with his spork and swirled them around. They didn't look especially appetizing. But he figured he should at least eat some vegetables and fruit…. There was also a dull fruit salad on the other smaller section of his plate. In the larger section was a biscuit and gravy, lumps of some kind of meat swimming in it.
He dipped the beans in the gravy and ate them. It wasn't stunning, but it wasn't disgusting either. Like most things here, except the Cathedral—just palatable enough.
"Thank you for what you did last night," said Kara, turning to Jason, "for Karim."
"I didn't do much…" He couldn't remember what he'd done.
"You helped me survive," said Karim, shame in his dark eyes. "You helped me bear it. You could have flown under the radar…. Instead, you chose to help us." He glanced at Zakhar, concern flickering through his eyes.
Jason remembered— he'd held Karim's hand during the banquet, the depraved decadence of using people as centerpieces. And protecting Zakhar from their assaults.
"You helped me, too," said Jason.
"I couldn't let that happen either."
"At least Zar didn't…go any further."
"Same with me and Elena…." His dark eyes shadowed.
"It's like a miracle," said Kara. "I was so worried about him—if I could've taken his place, I would."
"At least…. May is relatively gentle. She's smaller than me and…well. It's horrible enough." He swallowed and looked down at his food. Then over at Zakhar. "It's Zakhar I'm worried about. And Sahara."
"I'm fine," said Sahara, looking up from her uneaten, mushy food.
"You need to eat," said Kara.
"I can't."
"They didn't let you eat last night, either…."
She shrugged. "One way to get out of here."
"Don't speak like that. There has to be a…better way."
"I'll eat eventually, don't worry. Nothing looks good today after…." Her eyes shadowed, agony in their depths.
Jason wished he could help her somehow…. He couldn't imagine her ordeal last night. And the others. He glanced over at the other tables. Tim was at a table with several kids. Vanya was at another table with several of the other dancers. Some of the seven dancers were so despondent they weren't eating.
Marie was huddled in a corner, pale, weary… but at least she was nibbling a little at a bun.
"Now I know," said Alelu, speaking to Elliot. She glanced at Jason. "It makes sense someone so great wouldn't want me."
"She's not great," said Elliot. "You're the one that's amazing."
"But—" She touched the scar. "This is why she rejected me."
"Don't worry about that mark. She's the one that left you because of something insignificant. Only a monster would abandon a child because of that. She's abandoned other children, too."
"Really?"
Elliot nodded. "For no other reason than they weren't her idea of perfect. She might even abandon—" He took a sharp breath. "My baby."
"You have a baby?"
"Elena's pregnant with him."
Her eyes lit up. "I have a brother!"
Elliot smiled sadly. "I hope you get to meet him."
"Are any of the kids my brothers or sisters?"
Elliot shook his head. "I don't think so. They… all were sent far away."
Jason realized those, too, were Alelu's and Elliot's son's siblings. All trapped in horrific conditions… perhaps even killed by now….
"I'm so sorry," said Jason. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I didn't know you didn't know."
"That's okay," said Alelu. "Now I know I have a brother. Hey, that means that you're my stepfather!" she looked at Elliot.
His eyes sparked with alarm. Then his gaze softened, and he nodded. "I suppose… you could say that. I'm not married to her, though. I'm not tied to her in any way…except she has my son." Anguish crossed his face.
"You are more like my father than anyone. She's not like a mom at all."
Elliot nodded, the ghost of a smile at his lips. "That's true. I just hope… she doesn't discard my son… I hate that he'd be hers, but it's better than…."
"Why didn't they send me away with the others? Is it because…my mom liked me a little?" Hope gleamed in her eyes.
Elliot pursed his lips. "I don't know. I think it's because …."
Alelu's face fell. "Oh. Sometimes I forget…because I don't want to remember…."
Elliot nodded, and they fell into silence.
"If you can eat…" said Sahara, sitting by Zakhar. "I'll help you, if you want."
Zakhar shook his head. "I…don't think I can…" he said in a soft, raspy voice.
"I can't eat today, either."
"I don't think I could…even if I wanted to." He trembled. Jason noticed that beyond the slightly upturned collar of his navy blue shirt there was a red mark around his throat. As if he'd been—strangled.
"Hey—maybe I can ask them if they could give you softer foods."
"We…have to eat what they give us."
"They don't want us to die."
"I'll be okay."
"Let me know… if there's anything I can do," said Kara. "I know…how Michelle can be." She shuddered.
"I'm just glad…it was not you."
"Oh, Zakhar…" Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Zakhar looked at Jason, and he could see the full extent of his injuries, at least on his face. More bruises on the right side of his face and a savage slash across his cheek. One black eye. Bite marks on his neck and ears, and more scratches that disappeared beneath his shirt. "Thank you for what you did for me."
"Don't mention it."
"You helped Serhii…."
"I couldn't have done anything else." He could have, but nothing he could've lived with.
"Do you know…what happened to him? After… I left…." His eyes fell, then he looked up again with desperation. "You were with him. Was he…."
"Rick and I washed his wounds. We bound them."
"Rick helped?"
Jason nodded.
"I'll have to thank him… Was he okay? Do you know where he is?"
"They took him to Med."
"Thank God! Then it wasn't Zar…"
"Zar had to go home. He didn't touch him."
Zakhar bowed his head, leaning his head in his hand, as if all strength had gone out of him. Sahara laid a hand on his back, but he flinched, and she drew away.
"So… he didn't regain consciousness?" said Sahara.
"Just once. He said, 'I did it', then fell back to sleep."
Her eyes narrowed. "I wonder what that means. At least they'll help him in Med… hopefully he'll be back down here… and Zar will keep away for a while. That's the only good thing about being Zar's—he's not here a lot. But when he is…"
Jason didn't want to think about it. Hopefully Zar would stay away forever, although he knew he couldn't count on that.
Kara helped Zakhar back to his room, the only one that he could allow to touch him. Karim went with them, Kara's shadow. Jason headed back to his room with Sahara so he could give her the shaver. He asked if he could help, but she said she was fine. Since Alelu had joined the other kids, Elliot came back alone and stepped into his room across the hall.
Jason was settling in to read the adventure book on the couch when Sahara knocked on his open door. One side of her head was slightly shaved, but it was uneven, some shaved so closely it was bleeding. "Here you go," she said.
He stood. "What's wrong?"
"I couldn't do it. I'll have to make do with this. Rave won't like I massacred my hair, but there's nothing he can do about it, besides cut it shorter. I suppose he'll punish me… but at least he can't make it grow." Bitter triumph shone in her eyes.
"So you didn't want to cut it after all?"
"Oh, I want it cut. The shorter the better. So he can't –" Her breath caught. "I—my hands were just shaking too much." She looked down at her hands, glaring at them as if they were at fault.
"I could help."
"I couldn't ask…."
"I don't mind. I want to help."
Her eyes searched his, tears glistening in them. "You are an angel. In fact, I'm not sure that's not what you are." She approached him, head tipped slightly.
"I'm definitely not that. Although…." He recalled Malachi… that rather unpleasant incident….
"What?"
"Never mind."
"Maybe it's just that you're new. You're infusing new life into us."
"You all help each other. I'm impressed you haven't lost your humanity here."
She shrugged. "We can't let ourselves become like them. We survive by helping each other. There is something different about you though…"
"I'm nothing special."
"I beg to differ. Just—the intensity of your actions. You don't stop fighting, even when they hurt you."
"That'll probably change…."
"This place tends to do that. I can't stand the thought of it dragging you down to our level…. We need hope."
"Perhaps they'll leave me alone."
She glanced at him with disbelief, and he smiled, knowing that was a fantasy.
"If I can survive… somehow long enough to—"
Her eyes sparked with desperate hope. Then shadow overtook them, like a cloud blocking out sunlight.
He gestured to a chair in the kitchen, and she sat down.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, all of it. It's so ugly now anyway. I want it so short he can't—" She glanced back at him. "I might as well tell you. He only did it a little before, but last night… he—"
"You don't have to tell me."
"You're doing this for me, you have the right to know why. He um… uses my hair. Pulls it. Uses it to anchor himself as—well. I'm sure you get the idea." Her voice trembled. "All the while he just—raves about how beautiful it is… how he loves the feel of it—and it hurts, and I'm screaming because he's pulling it out—he actually pulled out handfuls of it last night—and he just. Won't stop. I—"
She leaned down on the table, eyes closed.
Jason stood there, holding the shaver, not sure what to do.
After a few minutes, he said gently, "We can do this another time."
She shot upwards. "No—I need to get this done. Please. I'll feel better when it's gone. It'll be mine, no feel of his hands in it—"
"I can talk about something else…maybe—"
"Sure. Please distract me."
As he shaved her head, he told her of the angel Malachi and what had happened. She looked back in disbelief a couple times but then listened serenely, her eyes closed. He made sure to be careful and avoid the wounds from the shaver and the bruises and scrapes on her head from what Rave had done to her. Large swaths of black curls tipped with green chopped off and fell to the floor. Relief filled him that he could rid her of a small but significant section of her burden.
When he was done, she shook her head, then slid her hands lightly over it. "Wow. I feel lighter already—like it's more distant… like I'm more myself…"
"Would you like to see yourself in the mirror?"
She nodded. "I want to impress the image on my mind I'm not his."
She marched to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, running her fingers through the light stubble that remained. A smile lit up her face. "I like this. I might keep it. Even if they punish me…. This way at least he won't be able to say how beautiful my hair is and force me to dye it."
"He did that?"
She nodded. "He ordered it. I liked it dyed before but…" She pursed her lips bitterly. She stepped out of the bathroom and leaned on the edge of the table, her back to him. "I can't pretend anymore after this. No illusions he's a 'good' master. I just… didn't resist much before. There was the illusion I could resist—how stupid of me. That he'd honor my desires. He can act the perfect gentleman… we can have 'fun' together… but if I dare to say no—" She slid down into the chair. "It's worse than…. Well, not really worse, but worse in that I was lulled into thinking he…could be tolerable…. I could be okay with him… I could not live in fear, and then…. Be with him, like he was mine. But now—" She leaned her head in her hands.
He sat down in the chair opposite her and slid it a little closer. "I'm sorry, Sahara."
She smiled a little, sliding her hands to her chin. "At least he doesn't call me Sahara… my name is still mine…."
"Would you like some salve?" He got up and took the small jar out of the cupboard.
"I'm okay. They gave me some already. It's Zakhar I'm worried about. I don't think they gave him any. I don't even know if they gave him some restorative, because it was Michelle who brought him down when she was done with him. That's what she does—she treats people like they're disposable. Like she can always get another where they came from. In a way, she's right—but there'll never be another Zakhar if…." She shook her head. "Or another Kara…."
"So they don't give salve to everyone?"
She shook her head. "That's a privilege."
"They don't seem to mind if we share."
"Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. It's a roulette."
"I'll get him some."
Sahara took him about seven doors down. She knocked. "Is it okay if we come in?"
"Sure," said Zakhar in a soft, raspy voice.
They walked in carefully. Zakhar was sitting on the chair near the furthest wall, wrapped in a mint-green blanket up to his neck.
"I've brought something for you," said Jason. He held up the jar of salve.
Relief sparked in Zakhar's eyes. "Thank you."
Jason sat on the couch next to him and set the jar down on the coffee table. Sahara stood beside him, hand on her hip.
"Would you like me to help you?" said Jason. It didn't look like he was in any shape to apply it to himself.
Zakhar shook his head slowly. "I can do it."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded slightly but frowned. "It might take me a while…."
"By then your wounds could be infected," said Sahara. "Why don't you let us help."
Sorrow gleamed in his eyes. "I would if I could…. I don't know if…. I can let anyone touch me." The last sentence was in a whisper.
Sahara smiled sadly. "I understand. You can trust Jason, though. He did this amazing job." She laid her hand lightly on the side of her head and turned it both ways.
"That does look really nice on you," said Zakhar.
"I just had to get rid of it. Start over."
Pain shot through his eyes. "I…wish I could—rip off my skin—if there were new underneath—"
Sahara sat down beside Jason. "It's too bad we can't….. But if you let us put the salve on, your wounds will heal faster, and you won't be reminded of it so much…."
"Oh." He looked surprised as if he hadn't thought of it that way. Jason didn't blame him for being unable to think clearly. "I want to get better…maybe she won't call me up for a while…."
Sahara swore. "I hope not. I hope she gets—run over by a train or something."
"It's Serhii who usually helps me with this. I really didn't know what to do so I just…" He looked down at the blanket around him.
"If at any time it's too much for you, I can stop," said Jason. "You're in control."
Tears welled up in his eyes.
"We can go slowly—but it's probably best I get to the worst wounds…. Unless you'd rather Sahara help you." He wasn't sure what he'd be more comfortable with. "Comfort" was a relative term in this case. But once it was over, he'd feel better, and he'd recover faster. Be able to put the pain behind him, if not the trauma….
Zakhar looked at Sahara apologetically. "I… think I would be more comfortable with a man. I'm sorry, I—"
"Say no more," said Sahara. "In other circumstances, I'd be more comfortable with a woman. I do have some applesauce and yogurt cups in my fridge. If you need some soft food."
He took a sharp breath, gratitude filling his eyes. "Yes… I would like that."
"I'll go get some." She dashed out of the room.
"I should probably wash the wounds first," said Jason.
"Whatever you need to do. I… don't want Serhii to come back here and yell at me for not allowing the care I need…. If I got infected and could've prevented it, I'd never hear the end of it." A small smile lifted his lips.
"Maybe if I just take care of the worst… I can come back for the rest another time."
"I'd better just get it over with. Even small wounds can get infected. I was studying to be a paramedic before this."
"Really?"
"The thing is…." His voice faltered. "I'm not sure if… I could ever go back to it… wounds just remind me of… what they do to us."
"Maybe, with therapy…."
His face fell. "I can't imagine the amount of therapy I'd need …. I'm always hanging by a thread. Serhii keeps my head above water. When he's…out of commission…. I feel myself sinking…."
"I know it's not the same, but if I can do anything to keep you going until then…."
"Thank you. It's true that I get a lot of support from the others too. I was here about a week before Serhii was. After…the first time… I would have ended my life. But he gave me a reason to live. He's so strong and so optimistic—he keeps me from collapsing. Eventually, I would disappear completely, I think. I…don't want to know what would happen if he…" He looked down, then closed his eyes.
"He is remarkable, I can tell that already. But—I bet you're stronger than you think."
"Maybe I rely on him too much. But this place…. I can't pretend, can't buoy myself up like others do. I see it as it is, in all its horror, bearing down on me—all I can do is distract myself. But not when…."
"I'll see if I can distract you. Where are you from? If you don't mind."
"I am from Russia. I was studying in Vladivostok when I needed money. I saw a flyer on a light pole and took the number. When I got there, it was a warehouse and I…should've listened to my intuition. But I…was desperate. My professor was asking for bribes. And I needed to pay rent…. There was a nice group of other young men and women which put me at ease. But then… some kind of mist streamed through the air vent and…we started collapsing. That was the last thing I remember before…."
"So… you weren't anywhere else before this?"
He shook his head. "I think Michelle saw me and… She tends to do that. Collects the ones she wants…."
Jason sought a better distraction. "What's something you'd like to talk about?" Speaking about the present was painful, and the past reminded you of what you'd lost…. "I could tell you of my life."
"If it's not too hard for you."
Speaking about Connie would be too hard… perhaps he should focus on his time away from Odyssey. His agent days. Painful perhaps, but not as deeply cut.
Jason found a large mixing bowl in the cupboard and filled it with water and some soap. He brought over several towels and then began cleansing the wounds on Zakhar's face, extra careful with the slash on his cheek. He sat there stoically until Jason reached his neck and then he flinched.
"Sorry," said Zakhar.
"I can come back to that later." He spread salve on the wounds he'd cleaned so far, then asked if he could unwrap the blanket a little. Slowly, Zakhar shifted enough so the blanket slid down to his waist. He clenched his fists as if trying to wrest himself to calmness.
Jason searched for another story and told him of the time that he'd fought a terrorist group that was trying to poison Geneva. He'd gotten captured that time, but it didn't bother him because, besides being hit on the head, he'd just been threatened. And the incident had ultimately led to Odyssey. He couldn't stay away, it seemed.
Zakhar relaxed, rapt at the story, and even smiled a little as Jason cleansed his hands and arms and spread salve over them. The wounds there weren't very serious. However, when he asked if he could remove his shirt, he hesitated.
"I don't know…." He looked down at the shirt. Dark stains showed through the navy blue. "On the other hand, they'll probably want it thrown out anyway. There are some extra shirts in the lower cupboard."
Jason found the shirts and wondered if he had any extra ones in his; he hadn't looked there, since he'd known the food was in the upper cupboards. Perhaps there were more supplies there….
He brought one of the shirts over and laid it on the arm of the couch. Zakhar started lifting his shirt but then winced, and Jason had to help him with the rest of it.
Jason couldn't help but gasp. His tan skin was covered with bruises and cuts. It reminded him of what Gray had endured, but this was still ongoing. And no bullet wounds.
The deepest cut was along his side and Jason felt he needed to start with that. He made a point to continue speaking and hoped he did some good, although Zakhar grasped the arms of the chair and closed his eyes tightly as he washed the wound and spread salve over it. Then he ripped a clean piece from the old shirt and laid it over the wound, which still seeped blood.
Then he turned his attention to the cut on his chest which had a suspiciously deliberate shape to it. Looking closer, it was a Chinese character of some sort. Jason knew some Chinese but wasn't sure what it stood for.
There were several more of them scattered over his body, but those were healed into scars.
A chill ran through him.
"I forget this isn't normal…" said Zakhar. "It's just what she does. She doesn't even tell me what it means. Just—claims me with her marks."
"This is—" He had no words. He wanted to give Zakhar a hug but knew that was out of the question. So he just continued, knowing this was what he needed most, at least physically. He was horrified by what each of the wounds meant—the scratches, the bite marks—but forced himself to be somewhat detached while he continued his story. Zakhar asked a couple questions, and Jason ended up having to go into Odyssey anyway, in order to explain what this all had been leading to. At least Connie hadn't been deeply involved and so he avoided speaking of her, although this made him feel traitorous. He feared if he brought her into it he might break down and that would help no one.
He was so focused on the story that at first he didn't realize the wounds added to a pattern. It filtered into his mind, sickening him, then it hit him the scratches and cuts were arranged into a rough image of a rose, and he almost threw up. But he forced himself to glide back into the story, to not disturb Zakhar more than he already was.
With his back, Jason knew what to expect, so it wasn't as much of a shock. The pattern was harder to make out because his back was scarred at least twice as much with several layers of designs and many marks he doubted were in any pattern at all. Some of the wounds continued beneath his waistband, including one that looked rather deep, a line from the middle of his back, sweeping outward. Then he realized—it was a wing. He almost felt sick again.
"My legs aren't too bad," said Zakhar.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I think I can tend to them."
"What about your neck? Are you up to it-?"
"Okay," he said in a shaky voice.
Carefully, Jason washed it, telling of the time that the Bones of Wrath had broken the window in the shop.
Forgetting it had involved Connie.
How concerned she'd been.
How attentive to his wounds as she'd cleaned them.
How worried she'd been, asking him how exactly he'd had worse than this!
He almost didn't notice how Zakhar was hunched over, fear in his eyes.
"Oh—I'm sorry!" He withdrew his hands.
"I'm okay. It's just… that's the worst. Because it's when—she's hurting me. I mean… you know. The rest is just pain. And she just. Strangles me and I can't breathe and I think I'm dying then I think maybe I should die but not like this—and I –" A sob shook him, and he wrapped his arms around himself, trembling.
Another sob, and then tears spilled onto his cheeks and he cried silently.
Jason wasn't sure what to do. He sat down on the couch, the jar of salve cradled in his hands.
Then Zakhar looked at him. "You remind me of him, you know."
"Of who?"
"Serhii. How passionate and full of life—your bravado in the face of danger—" He smiled. "That's what makes you good spies."
"I don't know about that…. I haven't been so good lately…."
"He has doubts like that too. But just because the others win doesn't mean you aren't still good at what you do. Winning isn't always possible."
It had seemed like a catch-22. To sacrifice himself—or let the others be captured, tortured… that wasn't really a mirror of his skills. But before that…. He wished he could be sure that he wasn't just a has-been. If he had ever been what he'd thought.
Now he didn't really have a chance to prove himself…
Or did he.
A way to get out—
To Connie—
There was no way to do it on his own, probably. Perhaps not even without compromising something of himself….
To ask others would be to put them in danger….
"You're right, sometimes the other person is stronger," he admitted. No one could win all the time; he couldn't expect to always be the strongest in the room. He never had been, even in his prime, and he hadn't been foolish enough to think so. He had been unbearably cocky at times, though…. One of the biggest reality checks had been during Blackgaard's reign when he'd fallen into his trap. Running around as if he could make things happen just by being faster, smarter, stronger…. Action was always the answer. So he'd thought.
He said as much to Zakhar, who listened intently to the story, now less distracted since Jason wasn't tending to him. He felt he should keep going, but he didn't think Zakhar could take any more. He hoped Zakhar could do the rest and that what Jason had done would keep him from infection.
Sahara knocked on the door and brought in an armful of food. Jason helped her put the containers on the counter.
"You must not have any left," said Zakhar, from the chair.
"Don't worry. Rave always feeds me well."
They headed to their rooms, the alarm sounding, beeping loudly into his ears. He jumped into his room just in time; the door slid shut behind him.
He slept all night and dreamed of Connie. The next day, he felt refreshed, although a bittersweet longing sat in the pit of his stomach and didn't go away. He tried to recall the dream, but couldn't—except her beautiful eyes, soaking him in.
After breakfast, he headed to the rec room with Elliot and Alelu while Zakhar and Sahara went back to their rooms to rest. Jason played foosball with Kara, Elliot and Alelu. They did well, but Jason's competitiveness got the best of him, and he didn't take it easy on Alelu just because she was a kid. She still got in a couple shots, though. After he slammed the ball into the goal, he gave Kara a high-five.
They played ping-pong next. Karim took Kara's place beside him, while Kara played on Elliot's team and Alelu watched intently. Jason threw himself into the game and forgot for a little while he was in a secret prison, and he and everyone except the guards were slaves. In the middle of the game, Lila sauntered in and cheered for him from the sidelines, jumping up and down and clapping when his team won, her sand-colored ponytail swirling.
Kara and Elliot congratulated them. Alelu hugged Elliot, smiling. "Can you teach me to play?" she said.
"Sure," said Elliot. "Although maybe Jason should, since he won."
"Maybe you guys could both play against me," said Jason. "That way you can practice."
Alelu nodded. But she backed away when Lila stepped up to them, bouncing a basketball in her hands. "Hey, want to play?" she said.
Jason hesitated, because she'd mentioned it during the interrogation. But she'd also defended him… even if it was all a façade, she was de facto on his side….
"Sure," he said. He was craving a game.
Her eyes lit up. "All right!" She dashed over to the basketball court. Kara and Karim formed the opposing team, Elliot and Lila on Jason's. A teen Romani girl named Mira, tall with flashing dark eyes, joined his team. Another tall young woman, Jenna, joined Kara and Karim, and a young man called Pedro who wasn't tall but made up for it with ferocity.
It was a challenging game. After the previous activity, and not being healed yet from the day before, he felt his energy fading. But he plunged into it, making himself forget everything but the game, focusing on one goal.
He made a few baskets, including a slam dunk, and the cheers from his team thrummed into his soul. He got into a rhythm with Lila, so they understood each other intuitively, and he almost forgot she was a Breaker, not a fellow teammate.
He was happy to see Elliot throw himself into the game, too, playing hard despite how weary he must be, his face fierce with competitiveness. He seemed to falter a little toward the end, and Jason took up the slack. It was Mira that scored the winning shot with a spectacular slam dunk, dangling theatrically from the basket for a moment before dropping off with a grin.
They high-fived each other and gathered for a group hug, their triumphant eyes gleaming in the shadows. When they broke apart, Lila slung her arm around his shoulders. "What a game. We should do this more often."
"It was fun," he said. Perhaps he could influence her and use her for…escape… probably not tell her but use her sympathy. They had a kind of rapport… which would only grow as they played more games together.
"Want to join me for a movie?" said Lila.
"What's the movie?"
"Princess Bride."
"I've seen that one too many times."
"I think I'll go…." She waved. "See you later! Let's play again soon!"
He waved as she walked out the door.
To wind down, he played some of the arcade games on the side with Elliot. They were right in the middle of a war game when suddenly Elliot stopped. "Did you hear that?"
Jason shook his head; he hadn't heard anything above the booming of the gunshots.
"I'll go check it out." Elliot strode out the door.
Jason continued fighting Nazis but then he heard a scream. It didn't sound like the Nazi he'd just shot.
It sounded like a little girl.
Across the hall in the movie theater.
His heart thumping with dread, he stepped into the darkness.
Perhaps it's just a scream from the movie…
Then he saw Elliot in the aisle on the other side, struggling to get up. In the chair along the aisle was Lila, and she had something in her lap. A large teddy bear and a doll.
No—the doll was moving.
It was Alelu.
Lila was hugging her tightly and it looked like—she was kissing her.
Rage blinded him. He charged down the central aisle and yanked back Lila's ponytail. She shrieked. Jason grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the aisle, and before she tumbled to the floor, Jason lifted Alelu away from her. The teddy bear rolled away and hit the wall.
Holding Alelu with one arm, he held out his other hand to Elliot. Elliot shook his head, then shakily used the wall for support to stand. Jason rushed out of the darkness into the banal lights of the hallway. Alelu was shaking. He didn't stop until they reached the Cathedral. Then he hid among the orange trees and tangled vines. He set her down on the slate bench. Knelt on the ground.
"Alelu, are you okay?" he asked breathlessly.
Her curls were sticking up in random directions. One of the ribbons of her pigtails had come undone into an unraveling poof of gold. Tears dampened her cheeks, and her eyes were brimming with pain, her face pale. Her hand trembled as she slid a few damp curls back from her face. "I—I—" Her voice shook, her breaths coming in harsh gasps.
"Would you like me to bring you to your room?"
She shook her head. Then wrapped her arms around herself, hunching down.
"Are you hurt?" He looked for any marks but didn't see any. That didn't mean that they weren't there.
She looked at him with wide blue eyes, her lips trembling. "Just a little. Sh-she hurt my arm." She held out her right arm a little, and there were dark bruises in the shapes of fingers.
Rage blazed through him. He almost charged back there to give Lila more of what she deserved. He had to remind himself to focus on Alelu and not to scare her.
"Anywhere else?"
A tremor shook her. She lifted her fingers to her lips but didn't touch them. They were reddened, stained with traces of lipstick, and a few droplets of blood.
"Is there anything I can do? I could go get some water from the fountain—"
She reached out for him. "No, don't leave me!"
"Okay." He slid closer to her, still giving her significant space.
"She usually hurts me lots worse. If you didn't come—She even hurt Elliot. She gave me the bear when I was watching the movie. I didn't fall for her tricks anymore. But she grabbed me and I couldn't get away and she was going to—"
"She's evil," he said. "Anyone who would do that to a child is."
"Sometimes she says I deserve it. Because I don't obey. Or because I have scars. Or because… I'm so pretty."
"Don't let her twisted words get into your mind. You were having so much fun today, with the games and movie—then she goes and ruins it."
"Do you think Elliot's okay?"
"I hope so." He looked out beyond the protective thicket.
Then he saw Lila emerge from the hallway, Tamara beside her. Behind them, two guards dragged Elliot. Lila spoke with Tamara for a moment, then scanned the room. Jason hunched down, trying to hide and shield Alelu at the same time.
Lila pointed at him. "There they are!" Jason didn't have time to get out; he only had time to stand and block Lila's view of Alelu as they approached.
Tamara followed, the guards with Elliot behind her. Lila pointed at them, just outside the entrance to the alcove. "What he did was inexcusable."
Tamara stopped beside Lila. "Didn't you have your autoshock on?"
"I prefer to use the shockrod. Besides, I didn't think anyone would accost me there."
"You can never assume. All slaves are our enemies unless they're turned."
"I will punish him myself if I have to." She stepped forward.
Tamara reached out and blocked her. "You've totally lost the plot, haven't you? Abandoning your post—for what?"
"I—"
"Don't you see what you've done? Just the fact you're barreling in here asking for punishment shows how blinded you've been. I think you need to take a step back."
"What!"
"You knew you were not to touch Alelu. Not down here, at least. But lust got the better of you. Now he's never going to trust you. If you'd read his profile, and really absorbed it like you were supposed to, you'd know how moral he is. He's here because he sacrificed himself! I think you did know this, but you forgot yourself. To him, someone molesting a child is worse than him being tortured. You're now lower than Kell, and that means you're useless for his training."
"But—"
"Lila, you're a good agent. But you—" Her voice faltered. She looked at her, hazel eyes pinned to her. "Let your bias blind you."
"Don't you think I see the way you look at her? Don't pretend you wouldn't want a piece of what she is. That beautiful little morsel." She looked fondly at Alelu. Alelu looked away, cheeks reddening.
"I'm not like you. I don't have any inkling to hurt children. No matter how much they may look like…." She blinked, her jaw tensing.
Lila smirked. "Maybe you should get off your moral high horse. It'd be good for you to come down among us once in a while. Who knows, maybe you'd end up enjoying the kinds of delights we do."
"That isn't me."
"Sometimes I wonder why Elena chose you. You're so distant… on some ethereal plane." She laughed.
"I may tolerate your decadence, but I will never approve of it. In my opinion, we shouldn't indulge in it. Not just because it's hurting children, but because it's a distraction, hollowness rotting at our core."
"People need to let their hair down once in a while." She reached for a loose strand of Tamara's hair, but she dodged her fingers. "Besides, morality is an illusion. Here, we have our own world. Why not have fun?"
"That may be one of the perks that Elena allows. But as long as I'm here, I will not allow Alelu to be touched. By you or anyone."
"What is this—love?"
"At least I know what love is. It's protecting Elena's child, even if Elena herself doesn't care about her."
Lila smirked. "I'll never understand you."
"You don't have to. You have only to obey me. You may think you love Elena, but I am the one she trusts. You are just another Breaker, expendable. And not Jason's handler anymore."
"There's no one as good as me for that job."
"I think you'll find you're not as elite as you think you are."
Fury blazed through Lila's eyes. But Tamara laid her hand on the shockrod at her belt, and fear replaced the anger. She backed away, strode through the nearest doorway, and disappeared.
Tamara gestured to the guards, and they let go of Elliot. He swayed for a moment; she grasped his arm and steadied him. She helped him into the alcove, and he sat on the bench opposite Alelu. After a moment, glancing at Tamara, Alelu raced toward him, and he wrapped his arm around her.
Jason sat where Alelu had just been.
"You're safe now," Tamara said, looking at Alelu. She crouched down. "I won't let her touch you anymore."
Alelu looked at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"I don't blame you for not trusting me. But perhaps I can…make things better for you."
Jason wondered what she meant by that. He'd never be able to trust her. But perhaps… she could stop the worst of it.
"Thank you," he said.
"I am thankful for you, too. She is too precious for such degradation."
"I will try to protect her, whenever I can."
Elliot cleared his throat. "So will I."
"You will be her guardians." She smiled. Then she slid gracefully out of the alcove and glided away.