The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

Sorry, Thomas. I guess we didn’t. What did I overlook?

That King Maxen’s grandfather basically created a way of filtering out all the toxins in the water, and had been secretly using the river to supply all of Patrus with water for drinking, bathing, swimming, and growing our food. That was the real purpose of the water treatment plant. We only discovered it after the raid, after I recovered more information from the computers in the plant itself.

Wait, so he could’ve—

I shook myself, suddenly floored. That was a big shock—just one more thing to shake the foundations of our world. The implications were stunning; we would have to put some thought and effort into that when we got back from—

I was so absorbed in what Thomas and I were talking about that I almost missed the trench that loomed out of the mist beneath me, glowing blue with the contaminated water. I would’ve stepped right into it, but Violet grabbed my arm and pulled me back before I could even contemplate how badly it was going to hurt. I stumbled back, a few steps away from the group, and my back came in contact with something hard.

Whirling around, I saw fangs and an open mouth coming right for me, and I shouted and ducked down, raising my gun and freezing with my finger on the trigger as I comprehended the glass in front of me. I had run into a tank, and as I watched, the massive silver python hit the glass, its open mouth smashing into it with a thump. It reared back, black tongue flicking out to taste the air, and the huge head turned, its beady eyes spearing me with a look. It nudged the glass again with its nose, thumping against it, and I slowly straightened as Violet came out of the mist, looking concerned.

I’m okay, I said. My new friend here gave me quite a scare, though.

Guys, this room has tanks with silver pythons in them, Violet reported on the subvocalizer, and I turned my back on the snake—as much as it made my skin crawl—heading back toward the manmade river.

Viggo, this mist is making it impossible to stick together, Ms. Dale said, just as I almost slammed into her as I moved. My hands went up to catch her shoulders, and I grunted.

Sorry, I muttered, taking a step back. Point taken. Everyone link up. We’re forming a human chain. I held my arm out to Violet, and she slipped her arm through it, locking us together at the elbows, and then followed suit with Ms. Dale.

Everyone call it out, I said, and after a moment, everyone checked in that we were linked to someone in our long line. When Tim called in, his voice coming strangely through the mist now that I was used to hearing things in the comms, I regretted for a moment that he would have to be touching somebody—and that the similarly afflicted Morgan would have to do it, too, for that matter—but I knew this discomfort for him was infinitely preferable to his being lost in the damn mist.

I began to move again, stepping over the small channel of water, alerting everyone to its location. We walked for several minutes in silence, more thumps sounding in the room from other tanks containing more giant snakes, which were knocking their noses against the glass in attempts to strike at us as we passed. I ducked down low under a stalactite, and my flashlight caught the cave wall in front of me.

I stopped short and started to adjust, when Tim’s voice carried through the cave, slightly muffled by his gas mask. Of all of us, he was the only one who couldn’t use the subvocalizers, although he had the earbud. The subvocalizer caused him too much pain, so we had decided he would do without. But it meant he couldn’t notify us of anything when he saw it, not without using his voice.

I could tell he was whispering to whoever he was holding on to, and then Morgan’s voice came on. Viggo, there’s something different in this tank back here. Tim wants you to come look at it.

I exchanged a look with Violet, her eyes widening at mine through the clear panels of her gas mask, and then let go of her arm, moving carefully back down the line. Tim was bringing up the rear, and I saw him before I saw the tank. I was moving close to him when the mist suddenly parted, and I recoiled, unable to fully comprehend what I was looking at.

Fur that was coal black and deeply matted ran across the creature’s huge, four-legged body. It sat like a dog, hunched over, the head and mouth wolf-like—but the tail was monkey-like, twitching as the creature stared at me through golden eyes. A pink tongue lolled out of its mouth, drool dripping in thick globs down to the floor of its cage, and its teeth were jagged and yellow.

It closed its mouth, the head cocking back and forth as it seemed to study me. Then a paw—scratch that, a hand came up and pressed against the glass. The palm of the hand was long, the bones between the joints in the fingers longer still, and the tips seemed curled. It studied me for a moment longer, seemingly waiting for me to do something, and then presented its back to me, shaking itself and then lying down on its belly.

“What that?” asked Tim, his eyes wide and alarmed.

I hesitated, and then shook my head. I have no idea. I’ve never seen it before.

The paws… Did you see that? Does that mean it can open doors and… use weapons?

I looked over at Morgan, and shook my head again in answer to her question. I was baffled. If this was a creature from The Green, it was one that neither I nor Alejandro had come across. There was a gleam of intelligence in its eyes that gave me pause, a predatory patience that made me wonder if there would be a way to kill the denizens of these tanks before they got out and got to us.

Viggo? Violet’s voice was a welcome distraction from a conversation that was leaving me feeling a bit more nervous than before.

Yeah? I replied, turning to face the front, where her figure was now completely obscured behind the mist.

I think I’m hearing voices coming from ahead.

Alarm coursed through me, and I moved as quickly as I dared, following the line of people back and linking my arm through Violet’s. I strained my ears, and I could definitely hear… something. It was barely discernable, but certainly human in origin—comforting, in this environment, but only slightly.