The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

“Over there,” I said, pointing with the gun.

The women filed over and sat down next to Cruz and the other two guards. Ms. Dale stepped farther into the room, her gun trained on them all while I pulled out the zip ties.

“Fifteen seconds.”

I glanced over to where Cad was quickly connecting leads into the box, Jeff watching him closely. “Jeff!” I breathed. I yanked the box containing our video clip from my pants pocket and held it out to him. He grabbed it and moved over to Cad.

“Five, four, three, two… one.”

The stadium went dark, and in the dim red light of the control room, I froze, wondering if, after everything, we had screwed it all up.





36





Violet





“So, Violet, not to be rude, but the whole boy look you have going on is a bit much.”

I heard Dr. Tierney’s appalled gasp, but I couldn’t help but crack a smile at Henrik’s quip. Turning from my work, I made my mouth into an ‘o’ of surprise.

“Oh, darn—here I was hoping it would help me blend in with the locals.”

“Well, now that you mention it, you do make a very fetching boy,” said Henrik, a merry twinkle in his eye.

“Well, at least that makes one of us,” I shot back with a wink.

Henrik chuckled, and then began to cough, a wet, racking thing, and I immediately took a step closer. Dr. Tierney was already there, the scanner in her hand, her eyes on the screen. “Fluid is still building up in your lungs,” she tsked at him. “I’m going to have to up that medication after all.”

Wheezing, Henrik fell back on his pillow and nodded weakly, his energy seeming to desert him. “You said if you did, I would also have to start using a blood thinner,” he replied in a hoarse voice after catching his breath. Dr. Tierney frowned, looking at him.

“You will,” she said. “But it’s a risk we have to take. It’s been some time since the surgery, plenty of time for the holes Dr. Arlan patched to start to heal up. We’ll keep monitoring it.”

Henrik nodded, and Dr. Tierney reached out to touch his shoulder. He smiled at her, his white-speckled beard breaking apart like the clouds after a storm. I watched the exchange, worry gnawing a hole in my stomach. Even though Henrik was doing better—sitting up, eating, making jokes—it was clear he was still struggling on his road to recovery.

One lousy bullet. One lousy bullet that had somehow ricocheted in him, causing severe organ damage. Not to mention his age was working against him. Still, I had hope the man would pull through. Not just because he was a good strategic thinker and a gentle, wise leader, but because I liked him. He was a good man who followed his heart rather than the social norms that dominated our two societies.

Sighing, I turned back to Quinn and stepped back up to the bed. I felt a slight twinge in my ribs, but they still felt okay; they had been getting better every day. I was so glad I hadn’t broken any of them on top of all the other injuries.

Reaching out with my left hand, I worked my thumb under the bandage covering the remains of Quinn’s ear, slowly peeling the cotton back. I winced as some of it caught on the stitches there, but, with a degree of patience that surprised even me, I carefully untangled it and pulled it back.

“When will his stitches come out?” I asked as I tossed the cotton into a bucket next to the bed.

“Soon,” replied Dr. Tierney from behind me. “Probably today or tomorrow.”

I reached up and smoothed some hair from the young man’s forehead. The people assisting Dr. Tierney, including me, had tried to keep his hair tidy over the days of his convalescence.

“Why is he still asleep?”

“Well, he originally must have gone into shock from the blood loss, but to be honest, it’s probably a mental response to the trauma he experienced. It’s not that surprising. Sometimes people just… break.”

Frowning, I dipped a gauze pad into the salve Dr. Tierney had given me and smeared it carefully around the stitches, trying not to snag any of them. “Do you think he’ll ever wake up?”

I heard Dr. Tierney’s footsteps approach, and I cast a look over my shoulder, watching as she approached the foot of the bed. She leaned on the bedframe using both hands and shook her head, not as a simple no, but in an expression of uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t know, Violet. I’ve got him hooked up to everything I can think of to help him. Physically, his wounds were mostly superficial, except his eye. But the experience? For him?” She turned her gaze to me, her eyes dark. “Would you want to wake up after that?”

I thought about it. I knew what it was like to be under Tabitha’s knife—but only to a minimal extent. My eyes traced the lines of Quinn’s stitches, the way they cut through the natural lines of his body. I thought of the nightmarish hallucinations I’d had of Tabitha, the flashbacks to that one stab, the flash of the knife…

“Maybe not,” I admitted softly.

“Don’t worry, Violet. He’s a young man, a vibrant one. I want nothing more than for him to come back to us, and I have hopes that he will. He just needs some time.”

“Or some water,” came a soft rasp. I danced back from the bed, my reflexes kicking in.

Dr. Tierney, on the other hand, moved forward, her eyes studying Quinn breathlessly. He coughed slightly, and then peeled open his single visible eye, shuddering slightly.

“Dry,” he coughed, smacking his lips.

Looking around, I spotted a pitcher of water and a cup on Dr. Tierney’s desk in the corner of this room, and I moved over to it, quickly pouring the liquid into the cup. Crossing the room, I returned to him. Dr. Tierney helped me by lifting his head up slightly, and I pressed the cup against his lips.

“Just a sip,” Dr. Tierney ordered with a nod. I nodded and carefully tilted the glass up, letting some water splash over the boy’s mouth. He smacked his lips together as I pulled the glass away.