The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

“This was the best one you could’ve grabbed, under the circumstances. Oh, thank you, Ms. Bates.”


The emotional butler wrapped his arms around Violet, embracing her in another heartfelt hug. I watched it all, realizing with a strange jolt that somehow, Violet had managed to find one more beautiful thing in the whole ordeal with Owen.

I just hoped I would be able to as well.





11





Viggo





Three days seemed like an eternity when the whole world felt perched on the edge of a knife. It was exhausting not knowing anything, and the waiting was downright stifling. Yet the camp continued about its business, ignoring the feeling of a long-held breath, waiting to learn whether it should exhale slowly, or scream.

Everyone had their own ways of ignoring the looming questions, little mindless jobs to help achieve a feeling of accomplishment in the face of the unknown. I, for one, thought it was a good sign. For good or for ill, there was a sense of accomplishment within the group. A camaraderie that was beginning to form between us from all the trials and tribulations we had endured. In leading the way, Ms. Dale, Amber, and I had demonstrated that we could fight back.

Yet, without any word from Tiffany save the brief updates assuring us she was still alive, there was still this question mark involving the city. It cast a shadow, a taint, over the day-to-day routine of the camp.

All of us were trying to figure out what to do with the seven-day deadline Desmond had given us. According to her, the boys would be executed when she didn’t return to whoever she had with them. Wherever they were keeping them. If there was such a plan, there would have to be safeguards, or else Desmond would never have been able to go anywhere without checking in with her cronies. We had our spies scrambling for information on where they might be, but it was hopeless.

Desmond hadn’t been allowed to see any of our base or the route to it. We’d gotten Dr. Arlan to treat her broken leg and drug her heavily as soon as we got to camp—making sure her blindfold stayed on the whole time—and, while the group of us who acted as leaders had held a furious conference, we couldn’t justify killing her after what she had said… at least, not yet. Not until we had more information. She was in the den right now; we’d converted the room into a makeshift but fairly secure prison cell, to hold her until we could make a more permanent decision.

At the moment, our best plan was, if we still knew nothing in a week, to take her to the middle of the city via heloship, drop her blindfolded with her hands tied where a Matrian patrol would come see her, come back before we were seen, and move camp… again.

It was a pathetic plan, a joke, and I dearly hoped we could figure something out soon. If we’d known where the boys were being kept, who knew about them, how to find the Matrian command… then at least we would have had a start at figuring out how to rescue them before time was up. But we had no leads. And who knew, even if we did release her, that Desmond wouldn’t kill some of them anyway, just out of spite? She’d done it before. She wouldn’t waste all of her precious weaponized humans, I knew that, but she was not above sacrificing some of them just to make us suffer. The thought had us all running scared.

With this weighing on our shoulders, none of us had much free time. But we spent what we had recovering, preparing, planning, and watching each other to make sure none of us broke from the stress.

Violet visited her brother for the first day, and then helped him move into a nearby tent with Jay. She flew the drone around the countryside, looking for signs of the boys or other people to recruit into our small army. But if there were any refugees, she hadn’t found them yet. A part of me was beginning to believe that we wouldn’t find any—Mr. Kaplan was the last civilian I remembered seeing in what felt like forever, and he had been taken away by a Matrian patrol.

Violet had also been spending time with Cad, Margot, and their children. Eating meals with them was becoming a regular pastime for all of us, Jay, Tim, and myself included. It felt good to have those moments—Violet was continuing to strengthen her relationship with them, as we all were, really. Although at times, I found it hard not to think about Alejandro. I was worried about him, and I prayed he was safe. He and Jenny both.

Ms. Dale spent a majority of her time away from the camp, leaving in the early mornings and returning late into the night. She pressed farther each day, searching for a suitable base of operations and coming back with dozens of options, most of them rejected due to their location, lack of power or facilities, size, or proximity to the city. She was playing our move cautiously—not that I blamed her. With winter drawing ever closer, and the threat of snow looming, it was only a matter of time before, more than the Matrians, the weather itself began to threaten the lives of our people.

Amber avoided Owen like he was a plague bearer. She spent most of her time with Thomas, Jeff, or some of the other refugees who were interested in learning how to pilot the heloship. She’d said that she wanted there to be backup pilots in case anything happened to her, but honestly, I believed she cared more about her role being flexible, so she could be free to do fieldwork. I didn’t like it, but there was no arguing with her logic—or with Amber in general—so I let it go.

Between watching the radio channels, strategizing about Desmond and the boys, and keeping all our electronics working smoothly, Thomas continued working on the egg, studying the technology that held the embryo in stasis. Because it was in stasis, according to Thomas’ analysis of the thing. Frozen in time until it could be implanted in a surrogate. That was the highlight of his discoveries thus far, although the fact that he hadn’t learned much else didn’t seem to deter him from handwriting new reports and sticking them in with our personal files three times a day.

I also noticed Thomas trying to coax Owen into talking a few times. There was no telling what they actually discussed in the short exchanges. They mostly started with Thomas coming over, saying something, and then Owen moving away, leaving Thomas standing there with a sad slope to his shoulders. I admired his resilience. He never gave up, never wavered in wanting to be Owen’s friend, in spite of what he had done. He’d forgiven him. I envied that… that unconditional affection he held for his friend.