The Invasion of the Tearling

“Ah, Lily.” The accountant shook his head sadly. “Such a waste of a pretty woman.”


Bile collected in Lily’s throat, but she swallowed it down, knowing that if she got sick, it would make everything hurt more. She blinked the sweat from her eyes and shot a glance at the assistant who controlled the box, a tall, bald man with dead, watery eyes that seemed to focus on nothing. The assistant had come and gone many times, bringing pieces of equipment, or notes which the accountant would read quickly, his eyes advancing and then returning in a precise typewriter fashion before handing the note back. Then the assistant would leave again. But now he appeared to be here for good, his finger on the console that made agony travel all over Lily’s body. Tiny wireless electrodes seemed to be strapped everywhere; they hadn’t put one between her legs yet, but Lily felt certain that they would get there in time.

She had no idea how long she had been in this room. There was no time, only the lulls that the accountant gave her, she felt sure, to contemplate what he might do next. She could have asked him for the date, but even that seemed like it might alert him that something was going on, that time mattered somehow. She was trying to hold on until the first of September, but in truth, it could already have been the fifth or the sixth for all Lily knew. Her muscles throbbed, her hand throbbed. They had stitched the wound in her scalp, but no one had tended to her hand, and the burning hole in her palm had blackened and then crisped over with pus, like a crust on a filthy pie. The assistant’s comings and goings were the only way to mark the passage of time. Sometimes the accountant would leave the room as well, shutting off the lights. Another purposeful maneuver, Lily was sure, leaving her alone in the dark.

And yet she was not alone. With every hour that went by, Lily became more aware of the other woman. She came and went, sometimes merely flickering on the edge of Lily’s consciousness and sometimes right there. The feeling was nothing Lily could explain to anyone, even herself, but nevertheless the woman was there, just beyond a thin veil, feeling Lily’s pain, her fright, her exhaustion. And this woman was strong; Lily could sense that strength, like a great lamp shining in the darkness. She was strong the way William Tear was strong, and that strength buoyed Lily up, kept her from opening her mouth and screaming out the answers the accountant wanted to hear. As the hours went on, Lily became more and more certain of something else: this woman knew about the better world. She had seen it, understood it, longed for it with all her heart.

Who are you? Lily wanted to ask. But then the assistant pressed the button again and it was all she could do to cling to the other woman, like a child to its mother’s knees, begging for solace. When the electricity was on, Lily forgot all about the better world. There was only pain, white-hot agony that flared beneath her skin, wiping everything else away … except the woman. Lily tried to think of Maddy, Dorian, Jonathan, Tear, but she could feel herself wearing down. Several times, the pain had ceased just when she was at the point of begging them to stop. She thought of her old life, when she used to be afraid of bee stings, and the thought made her giggle, a dark and senseless giggle that died on its way to the walls of the room, this room that was the only thing left.

“Keep on laughing, Lily. You can end this at any time.”

The accountant’s voice betrayed irritation. He was growing tired, Lily thought, and this gave birth to new hope: at some point, wouldn’t he have to go away and sleep? They could give her to someone else, of course, another interrogator, but the accountant didn’t strike her as the sort who would let go. He was a hunter, waiting patiently for the moment when she would break, and he wouldn’t want the satisfaction of that moment to go to anyone else, not when he had done so much to loosen the lid.

The pain stopped, and Lily’s entire body sagged with relief. Earlier, she had been trying to think of positive things to cling to, and at this odd moment, one occurred to her: she didn’t have children. If she had, these people would certainly have made use of them by now. She wondered whether Mom was in some kind of custody, whether they had come to the nice suburban neighborhood in Media and hauled Mom away.

“Come on now, Lily. You know you’ll give it up sooner or later. Why prolong this? Wouldn’t you like some food? Wouldn’t you like me to let you sleep?”

Lily said nothing, noting with relief that the assistant was standing up and leaving the console. The accountant was a busy man; his assistant was constantly fetching him messages, and Lily thought he must have many other projects. But God help her, she had his full attention now. Behind the glasses, those round, birdlike eyes pinned her where she sat.