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“Gwen needs to get out of the Regions. The price on her head grows by the day,” he says.
“What?” My shoulders deflate and I sag against the two men holding me up. Titus and Bone drop their hands but stay close. I study Kasper’s face, looking for any signs that he’s fucking with me.
“You don’t have a thing for her now, do you?” Kasper laughs, and it takes everything in me to not kill the cocksucker.
“Foley should’ve killed you when he had the chance,” I spit out and feel a slight satisfaction when his face loses some of its bravado. He quickly regains it and struts off like the egomaniac he is.
I nod at the rest of the men. “Let’s do this.”
I try for my standard face, my smile forced but fooling everyone save those who heard the exchange. Jackal, the dog, eager to make everyone happy, no matter the cost. I hate my mother for putting such a foolish name on me, but she ended up being right: it seems it’s all I’m capable of being.
I stand on a float for hours; it flies just over the asphalt, so slowly I can barely tell it’s flying, mostly steady. I wave at the people on the side of the street. Each of the End Men is on a float that represents their Region. When we pass people who are from that Region, they go wild. I get more attention than ever before because of being in the Blue. Women try to jump on the float and some make it up, humping my body like little bitches in heat while I’m supposed to stand there and look like I love every minute of it. I would’ve been amused by this before, but now I’m put off by the degradation.
At night, the atmosphere takes a darker edge when the alcohol is flowing, and those who haven’t had a chance at pregnancy yet see the witch doctors for remedies and potions. There are birth enactments in the streets, clusters of women in circles doing rapid breathing and pushing with all their might. Dildos abound and sacrifices of food, jewelry, and the monthly blood are laid on the birthing altar. It is a ridiculous, grotesque affair that I’m seeing with new eyes.
Those whose babies are actually born during a BC get special privileges. Their schooling is paid for, a complete wardrobe is provided, and the mother/mothers get two plastic surgeries of their choice. It’s a good incentive for both the upper and lower ends to participate, always drawing the biggest crowd in every Region. After birth, they’re carried to a separate altar that is elevated over the rest and lifted to God, the heavens, and the other mothers of previous Birthing Celebrations. It’s my favorite part, to see the tiny newborns. Some years none have been born during the Celebration. This is a good year: thirteen births...twelve girls and Rebel is the only boy. Many other women are pregnant, but some will likely end in miscarriage, as that has been a cause of concern since the population began dwindling. The BC is a symbolic way of protecting the pregnancies and ensuring a healthy baby.
At the end of the evening, there is always a mass cleansing—a disinfecting wash, where everyone is cleansed inside and out. Booster shots follow, leaving the majority on a high of vitamins and antioxidants. I avoid the wash and the shots since I’m given those things on a regular basis. Someone else can benefit from them.
I’m exhausted when I go back to the End Men’s private room. I want to see if I can get any more out of Kasper before I go back to Gwen with information.
When I reach the room, Avil and Ras are the only ones in there and they look spooked.
“What’s up? You guys look like someone just fucked your mother.” I pick up a towel and wipe my face.
“Kasper has disappeared,” Ras says.
“Disappeared? You know that guy, he’s like a bad rash. He’ll show up.” I lean forward in the mirror assessing whether or not I need to shave for tomorrow.
“Nah, man. Milly Oppenheimer showed up—I saw them talking after he got off of the float. Next thing I knew, he was gone.”
I look at Ras’ reflection in the mirror.
“What makes you think he didn’t just skirt out of here early? He’s always disappearing,” I say. I don’t buy it, but I want to hear what he has to say.
“I heard her tell him he was done. Her words were, ‘you’ve pushed one time too many’...”
“Fuck.”
I can’t stop myself from going to Phoenix’s house again. It might be risky to continue, but I try to cover my bases before the drive each time. Pay off Yvonne, check. Evade security detail, check. With the city in an uproar because of the BC, it’s easier than ever to sneak past my usual barricades. Each mile away from the compound and closer to Phoenix, I feel a little more like myself. When I pull around back and into the barn, I see her waiting for me at the back door. I jog toward her, my heart aching at the sight of her.
SEVENTEEN
PHOENIX
Female Barbary macaques have loud sex. They scream and fake orgasms to attract multiple mates in hopes of confusing the males.
It starts with one look. I’m sure many things start that way: fights, affairs, lies…
With Jackal...with me...us—that look changes everything.
When he comes in the door, his eyes square on me and suddenly my senses are no longer languid and sleepy. I have the fleeting thought that I’m glad Gwen has gone to bed because something about him is different tonight. By the light of the fire, his eyes glow gold. The way he’s seeing me disables my lungs so that I’m not able to take a full breath. I can smell him, his distinct male scent mixed with the cedar logs in the fireplace. If I lifted his shirt to my nose, I know I’d smell wood burning. It’s not so much lust that’s in his eyes, but rather a soft vulnerability. He’s leaning forward in the chair across from me, elbows resting on his knees.
“And all that’s left is the predator and the bird,” he says softly. “Will she fly away?”
I want to tell him that I want him, but those are hard words to say; they’d scrape like nails coming out of my throat. My vulnerability sounds like anger. Everything I say comes across hostile, it’s probably why people don’t talk to me. So I say nothing, staring at Jackal and hoping he can hear what’s in my heart.
Outside the window the toads are singing—I try to focus on that sound rather than the feel of my pulse thrumming in my throat. I’m waiting for Jackal to say something.
