The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

The keening continued, and I slowly stepped around the broken edge of the barricade—and froze as I saw Solomon sitting a few feet away. He was rocking back and forth, his knees clutched to his chest, the soft sound that had caught our attention coming from his mouth.

Owen clicked on his flashlight, shining it on the ground next to Solomon, and my heart seemed to stop when I saw golden curls stained with blood. Solomon flinched, his cries cutting off as he held up his hand to shield his eyes from the flashlight. Owen shifted the beam of light a few feet away, obscuring the damaged remains of Tasha’s face, much to my relief.

Solomon sniffed, gave another cry, and began rocking again.

“Did they know each other?” I whispered softly to Owen, and he nodded.

“They were friends,” he said softly. “I don’t know if there was something more there.”

I watched Solomon crying, my heart aching for his pain. I had no idea if he’d killed her or not, but the fact remained that he was crying. This was behavior he hadn’t exhibited before. Was he changing? Was that medication finally working its way out of his system? Or had the death of somebody he’d loved awoken those feelings in him as nothing else could?

“I’m going to try to talk to him,” I whispered.

“Violet, that’s not a good idea…”

Owen exhaled sharply, but didn’t try to stop me. I moved slowly, making sure to avoid Tasha’s body. Solomon stopped his rocking as I began to approach, watching me with dark, glittering eyes. The wetness on his cheeks glistened red from the fire burning behind him, and it made him look like he was crying drops of blood, giving him a sinister appearance.

I shook off the impression, remembering the man I had known. When I had first met Solomon, I had been intimidated by his brooding nature and massively built physique, but it hadn’t taken long for me to realize there was more to him than that. This was a bit like that… but this time, the danger was real. I channeled that apprehension as I took another step, emboldened by his lack of protest or aggression.

“Hey, Solomon,” I greeted him gently, moving even closer. He growled, a sharp, angry sound, and I froze. He stopped, and I got the message, sinking down to my knees and sitting. “I’m sorry about Tasha.”

I meant it with every fiber of my being. Solomon stared at me, and then his eyes drifted down to where Tasha’s body sat in the shadow, his eyes moving like he could see every horrific detail of it. He pressed his fists into his eyes, a high-pitched sound escaping him, almost like steam from a tea kettle.

I watched the pain move its way through his body, my heart bleeding for him. “Are you injured?”

Solomon lifted his head, his eyes a mixture of rage and despair. He struggled, squeezing his eyes shut and rocking his head back and forth, twitching madly. After a moment, he nodded, his eyes opening to watch me closely.

“Will you let me look at it?”

He hesitated. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tight. He took a shuddering breath in, and then exhaled, shaking his head no. I sighed, but didn’t argue. I could tell he was expending a lot of energy just trying to respond to my questions, and it was frustrating him. If I pushed him too hard, he could snap again.

“Solomon… we’re going into the city. To chase Desmond.” His head snapped up, and his lips lifted in a silent snarl. “We can make room for you in the car. You should come with us.”

Solomon leaned back, away from me. His eyes flicked from me, to Owen, to the car sitting on the road, waiting for our signal. He shook his head.

I opened my mouth to say something new, but Solomon was clearly done, and he stood up in a fluid motion, so abruptly that it took me by surprise. I took in a sharp breath, trying not to move a muscle, worried that he might have reverted back to that angry, screaming monster that wanted to hurt everything around him.

Instead, he vaulted easily over the barricade into the city, cutting through the long shadows, leaping up on the side of the trailer and then over the harvester and disappearing into the city on the other side. I watched him go, half of me still startled by his sudden movement, the other half relieved for so many reasons—but all of me worried about what Solomon would do in the city.

Owen moved away a step and waved to Morgan and Lynne, letting them know it was safe. They pulled up quickly, and I moved to the car, sparing one last look at the rooftops, hoping to see Solomon lurking up there. Then I got in behind Lynne on the passenger’s side and fastened my seatbelt.

“Catch us up with Desmond,” I told Morgan as she put the vehicle in gear, navigating us around the burning harvester and back onto the road into the city.





31





Viggo





“Give me just a minute, please,” said Jeff over the line, polite as ever.

“We don’t have many to waste right now,” Henrik warned in return. I lifted the binoculars back to my eyes, staring up the grassy park slope at the dark facility from my position on my stomach. In my sights, four women dressed in olive green and moving in formation approached the hill on foot, and I watched them as they began inspecting, their flashlights cutting across the curb-less road, and then across the grass on either side of it.

We were hundreds of feet away, but there was no telling what other equipment they had on them. I scooted back slowly, dead leaves shifting under my body as I backed away from the tree line. “How’s it look?” asked Alejandro as I eased back into line with him.

“Four guards at the top of the hill—a patrol. Jeff better get here soon. If they come down that hill, we’re going to have to take them out.” A new apprehension surged through me. Combined, Mags’ and my group still had around thirty men and women, the largest force out of anyone, and it still didn’t feel like enough, even with Thomas’ assessment that there were actually only twenty women milling around outside of the plant.

My apprehension stretched as Henrik immediately came on the line. “All right, kids, this is it,” he announced gruffly, and I could tell he was feeling it too. I couldn’t blame him. It was his plan, after all. That was a lot of pressure to put on one person, and every life lost on our side was something he was going to carry with him for a long time.

“Jeff, are you ready?” Henrik asked. Jeff confirmed, and Henrik continued, his voice firm and commanding. “You start your run in five, four, three, two, one.”

I held up my fingers and began counting down as he did, raising my hand up high enough for my team to see. When I made a fist, nothing happened, at first.