The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

I exchanged looks with Owen, who had gone pale as he took in the… the bodies.

Violet, he transmitted, turning away from the gruesome sight, his voice shaking even over the subvocalizer. You should know that these tents… well, they are filled with dead people.

“What?” replied Ms. Dale. “All of them?”

I’m not sure about all of them, I mouthed into the subvocalizer. But in this tent, there are six bodies. Did you run a thermal scan of the tents?

Another pause filled the line, and I pulled Owen down into a crouch on the floor as the sound of running feet drew close, loath to move my face closer to the dead men, but knowing they were still our best cover. I held my breath as the quick footsteps passed, expecting them to slow—but they didn’t.

I was in the process of exhaling, trying not to breathe in if humanly possible, when Violet came back on the line. “It was my fault,” she admitted. “I didn’t scan them. I figured any threat would come from the trailers. I’m sorry.”

“We can worry about that later,” interjected Ms. Dale’s hard voice. “We’re working on getting you a clear path out of there. Just hold for one second.”

Believe me, we’re holding, replied Owen.

Agonizing seconds ticked by while we sat in the tent surrounded by murdered Patrian males. My brain was submerged in mission mode; I couldn’t think about it, couldn’t feel it, or else it would be too much for me to go on. My blood was thrumming in my veins, but I knew my team would warn us if they thought we were in immediate danger. A group of guards came by, distinguishable from the enhanced humans by the low murmuring of their voices and their slower pace; we held our breaths, but they didn’t check the tent. Maybe they thought nobody would hide in such a grisly place.

After what felt like time enough for the entire camp’s guards to converge on us, Violet’s voice came over the line again, terse and harsh.

“Head out of the tent and continue left,” she ordered.

Owen was in motion ahead of me, pushing the tent flap aside and moving out soundlessly, his eyes wild. We jogged down the pathway between the tents, keeping our heads down and our footsteps as quiet as possible.

“Turn right,” Violet’s voice ordered.

As one, the two of us slipped off the beaten path and between two adjacent tents, moving down the narrow gap between them. We had to move slower here. Stakes and ropes jutted out of the ground, and we had to step over them carefully so as not to trip—or shake the tents and give away our position. Owen made sure to check each row for guards as we darted across, and I covered the rear, glancing over my shoulder, looking for any sign of pursuit.

“Left again, for five tents, then right down another path like this one.”

We moved around the tents into the wider path, and were halfway down when suddenly Violet shouted, “DUCK!”

Without thinking, I grabbed Owen’s shoulder and pushed him roughly down as something whizzed by overhead, moving so fast my hair shifted from the breeze it stirred. Looking up toward where it had landed, I saw a shadowed blur skid to a stop and whirl. The figure was small—it had to be one of the boys. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a black mask obscuring his features. Except for his eyes, which stared blankly at me.

I was keyed in for the mission, my emotions compacted into a tiny place somewhere in the back of my mind, cut off from my actions. Still, I knew what I had to do.

I stood up slowly, raising my hands and letting my gun dangle from my fingers, one hand moving cautiously to my throat to turn off my subvocalizer. “Hey,” I said softly, trying to get the boy’s attention, my voice cracking as my vocal cords unfroze. “We’re not going to hurt you, buddy. I’m Viggo.”

The boy’s eyes stared at me. No, they stared through me, still vacant, devoid of anything resembling emotion. After a pause, he cocked his head, as if listening to something.

“Affirmative,” he replied, confirming my suspicions. He was receiving orders from somewhere.

So sudden was his movement that I had no time to react. One second he was staring at me, his eyes empty of anything resembling a personality—the next he was in motion. I had a moment to brace myself, preparing for impact, when suddenly the blur before me became an uncontrolled tumble. Owen’s hands pushed me hard, and I slid right as the boy flew between the two of us, hitting the ground and sliding into a tent. I heard the thump as he hit the ground inside, taking a set of stakes and poles with him, and as he whirled with a grunt, the tent collapsed around him.

“What just happened?” I growled at Owen, so shocked that I let my words slip out loud.

He gave me a chagrined look as I switched my subvocalizer back on. I threw my gun at him, he replied, glancing at the tent. I didn’t even have time to think—I think it tripped him.

I blinked once. I could explore how much luck we had expended with that one later. For now, we needed to get moving.

“Viggo, another one is drawing close,” Violet gasped through the earbud.

Owen was already a few steps ahead of me, a knife glinting in his hand, and I started to follow… then turned back, staring at the collapsed tent, the fabric billowing where the boy thrashed and rolled silently around. I wondered if he was upsetting bodies in that tent, too. I heard Owen hissing my name through the subvocalizer, but I ignored it, taking a tentative step back toward the tent.

“Viggo,” Violet’s voice said tightly.

I couldn’t leave the boy behind. Not only was it possible we might get important information from him… but more than that, I couldn’t let Desmond and Elena continue to use him like this.

“What are you doing, Viggo? You guys need to get out of there!”