The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

We can’t stop for first aid, Ms. Dale gasped. Just pick me up—they’re going to be closing in.

Let me get a pressure bandage on it at least, I urged, pulling my bag around. I froze, forcing myself to stop what I was doing, when I heard shouting carrying down the halls. It was muted by distance, but not by much. Morgan was already picking Ms. Dale up, throwing her arm around her shoulders. Coming around to her other side, I took her other arm and wrapped it around my neck before placing my hand over her wound.

She gasped, and then gave me a nod.

Let’s go, she said, her face strained and tight with pain.

I moved back to the door and pushed it open with my toe, my gun in the hand supporting Ms. Dale, trying to ignore the sensation of blood creeping under the fingers of the other one. Ms. Dale moved forward, but there was a hitch on the side the bullet had gone in, her leg moving awkwardly, and with her head so close to mine, I could hear how strained her breathing had become. Morgan and I held a portion of her weight as she struggled to keep up.

We turned down a long hallway just as the sound of running feet drifted toward us from up ahead, and the three of us took an immediate right, trying to bypass the guards. We had passed through a kitchen and into a dining hall when Ms. Dale sagged in our arms, her breathing coming in sharp pants.

Set me down, she managed, and Morgan and I carefully positioned her on a bench. She sagged against it, listing to one side, and I noted the paleness of her face.

Adrenaline patch, she said. Two blood patches and a pressure bandage.

I quickly retrieved my first-aid kit and began doctoring her, applying the blood patches first and then the pressure bandage. Morgan moved over to the door behind us, checking the hallway.

We got a problem, Violet, she transmitted.

My hands were shaking. I tore off another strip of tape with my teeth and placed it over the cotton I had put over the wound.

What? I asked.

Guards are in the hallways on either side of us, she said. They’re checking rooms… It’s just a matter of time.

We’ll use the suits, I said.

You’ll use the suits, Ms. Dale corrected, her hands pushing mine away as she sat back up. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, but not enough to indicate she was out of the woods. Then again, until she saw a doctor, I didn’t think she was going to be out of the woods.

She pushed off the bench, forcing herself onto her own two feet and hissing in pain.

Take a cube of the semtex and a detonator out of my bag, she ordered, and Morgan immediately stepped around her to get into her bag.

What are you planning? I asked, now picking up on the sounds of doors being opened and closed near us.

I’m going to be a distraction, she said, swinging around her rifle and checking the magazine. You two are going to get to Elena.

What? No—they’ll kill you.

They better hope they do, she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Because I’m going to kill them.

Ms. Dale, just use the suit, and they’ll—

She can’t, Morgan said, cutting off my words. I looked at her, and her face was apologetic. The gunshot probably damaged the suit. There’s a chance it’ll injure her, or worse.

Violet, Ms. Dale said, stepping over the tail of Morgan’s words, and I looked at her. She lowered the rifle onto its strap, and reached over to cup my face, hers softening again.

This is what has to happen. I’m slowing you down, and I’m a liability. But this? I can do this for you. I can buy you a chance. Elena’s probably moving now. If you can intercept her, follow her… you stand a chance. She’ll try to run—if she does, get to the roof.

There was a loud bang from very near the doors, and I knew the kitchen was next—then us. Unless the ones in the other hallway got to the other doors first.

Ms. Dale speared me with an intense look, then smiled, looking unconcerned.

This is karma, Violet. I did something… something unforgivable to you, and now I can finally repay that debt I owe you. When you’re ready… when you think you can forgive me… ask Viggo, and he’ll tell you everything. I love you, brave girl.

Her words were like stones in my heart, sinking to my shoes and holding me in place. I watched as she hobbled over to the door, somehow moving quickly in spite of the pain she must be experiencing. She kicked open the door we had just come through and tossed out a grenade. There was a bright flash and a loud bang, indicating she had used a concussive one, and then she stepped through, her rifle firing wildly.

Wait! I cried out, knowing she heard my words through our comms. I love you too! Please don’t—

The suit, Violet! Morgan interrupted, and I looked to see Morgan’s body already shimmering out of existence—I was still too stunned by what I was witnessing to really comprehend it. It was unfurling before me in real time, Ms. Dale’s mouth opening in a shout as she fired down the hallway, the door swinging closed. Morgan’s invisible hands shook me hard, and then struck me across my face, and I jolted back into myself.

I stared at the empty air where she should be for a moment, and then dropped my bag on the floor, clenching my muscles and letting the discomfort of the suit sink into my skin, drawing strength from its pins and needles. It did nothing to match the ache in my heart as the door between me and Ms. Dale slammed shut, her shots moving away and becoming more muted.

We’d only moved a couple steps before the doors to the opposite side burst open, and six wardens raced across it. Ms. Dale’s bursts of gunfire continued down the hallway across the room from them, and they didn’t do anything more than glance right through us and then move through the doors, chasing her.

I relaxed my muscles, and a moment later, Morgan did as well, reaching over to grab my bag and hold it up to me.

I’m sorry I hit you, she said softly, and I took the bag into my numb hands, trying to think of something to say. I slipped it back on, and she reached out and grabbed my wrist.

Violet, we have to complete the mission, she said evenly, her eyes placating.

I nodded again, and then forced myself to move through the doors the guards had just run through, the doors that weren’t ricocheting with fading gunfire. I turned my subvocalizer off long enough to whisper, “Change to channel K,” and turned left down the hall, following it, my gun drawn and my adrenaline surging.

Morgan, checking in on channel K.

Violet—confirmed.

Our words were mechanical, automatic. We were halfway to the next junction when I felt the floor and walls shake hard, a smattering of dust exploding from the junction in front of me and scattering all over the place. I stumbled and caught myself on the wall, and then felt despair crushing into my heart.

She can’t be gone, I thought to myself, my heart aching, agony in every beat.

I thought of her, and then pushed the thought aside, straightening. It was too much to think about it right now.

C’mon, I forced myself to say, allowing rage to bypass my despair. For the moment, fire consumed my sorrow, filling me with something I could use.





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