Everyone is silenced. Though Nevada seems not that much older than the guys, and definitely not as robust, I suppose she’s got some psychological power over them. It’s her place. Her authority may hold for now, but for how much longer? In Thorn’s fearful expression and in the tightening knot in my gut, I sense this is not the end of our grilling by the others, not by a long shot.
I’m installed in Bea’s room on a cot. Just like at the compound at home, the girls all share a bathroom. Bea’s room is on the left wing of the second floor, with a heat-sealed window overlooking part of the Fireseed crop, or rather the tarp.
She’s tried to make her space cheery, with drawings she’s done of rock formations. They’re not regular ones, but fairytale rock shapes with wings, and female beings in flowing gowns. I rather like them and I tell her so.
“Thanks.” She rolls over toward the wall. “But don’t try to butter me up. You and that guy with the bow and arrow are cons. You conned Nevada into staying here.”
“How do you know?” I ask as sweetly as possible under a newly simmering anger.
“He used connections. Said his mother knew her. That’s a lie, that’s cheating.”
The possibility that Armonk was lying about who his mother is never occurred to me. Who would do that? Maybe someone as desperate as me to gain asylum I conclude with a shiver. I want to ask Bea why it matters so much, and why it’s any of her business. But I know from my own experience that I get more information from playing a charm game and holding back from putting my cards on the table. If that makes me a con, so be it. It’s helped me survive. “His skill might come in handy,” I reason, and then change the subject entirely. “How did Nevada come upon the Fireseed plants?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Bea laughs. “That’s your god, right? I guess your god flew down from the sky and planted itself right in our garden. It favored us, not your people. Now, please, no more talking, I need my sleep.”
Turning onto my back, I gaze out at the bowl of stars and the blood moon, finally waning. It seems like years since I ran from Stiles, yet it’s only been hours. In so short a time so much can change.
I wonder how Thorn is, in Radius’ room? Radius seems the mildest of the three guys, and all I can hope is that he’s not torturing Thorn like Blane did Armonk. Blinking away mist from my eyes, I think of my mother back home. She must be frantic with worry for me, for Thorn. Mist spills over into tears as I think about how I miss my friends, Freeblossom and Petal who I’ll never see again. I imagine what they went through on Founders’ Day, with their partners, too old to be any good match.
Rape.
Jan’s ugly word swills around in me like toxic liquor, making me queasy. I need to get Freeblossom and Petal away from there too, but how?
Despite my worry, my eyelids flutter lower, and I slip into a waking stupor. I’m back at the ceremony, with Stiles holding me down. I’m screaming for help, seeing his eyes bulge out. Like a toad’s tongue his eyes lick my cheeks. Suddenly, it is no longer Stiles’ pinning me down. It’s Blane and then Jan and then a giant, monstrous toad whose tongue wraps around me and sucks me into his warty mouth. He swallows me in one drooling motion and hacks my bones onto the hot sand.
I bolt upright. Looking over at Bea, I listen for her steady breaths. She’s asleep. I wish I could sleep, even rest without my dangerous visions. Tiptoeing out of bed, I check on Thorn. He and Radius have both nodded off, thankfully. I creep back to my room, and reach for my hip bag, which I hid in my folded cloak. Pull out the vial of Oblivion Powder. Visions of Depot Man’s leer and Stile’s greedy stare still plague my mind. The other elders too; how they pinched and tickled me on their way by, how they gave me secret, unwelcome winks. And now, the handsome bullies here who used their clubs and fists on Armonk; what might they do to me next? I shake a generous dose onto the top of my hand, and snuffle it in. Inhale hard until the pile is gone.
Immediately, its treacherous medicine streaks into my nerves, soothing them to a mindless lull.
Oblivion. I’ll need it to survive this mean place, is my last thought before I wilt down to the cot.
Chapter 6
My bleary eyes open to a wall drawing of a glorious being with sandy wings and a long, flowing skirt. Where am I, still in the Founders’ Day gazebo? If so, this drawing wasn’t there before. I look below the drawing to an empty bed and its wrinkled bedclothes. Bea. I’m sharing Bea’s room, this is her wall drawing and she’s already up. The sun is afire outside the window. It takes up the whole zenith in its fury.
In a jumble of cascading images, yesterday’s events crash along the ridges of my memory. Stiles, the escape on the broken glider, the depot man’s clumsy groping, the crash landing, Armonk’s arrow glancing my forehead, Blane beating him up, the other mean kids, Thorn warning me that the Fireseed plants are sick.