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“I am Tahira.” She glances past the camera to the person holding it and then looks away, biting her lip. “The Society stole my baby and gave him to a different family.”
Again, the person switches. A girl, with light hair and dark eyes. “I am Chevelle. When my baby was three weeks old, the Society broke into my home and took her….”
Unlike the first two, Chevelle holds up a photo of a tiny infant. Her eyes are heavy with tears, and before the view switches to a new face, the tears spill down her cheeks. She drops so that you can no longer see her face, shoulders convulsing as she sobs.
It goes on and on like this as girl after girl sits on the stool, telling their stories, the scuffed white wall behind them. They say their names and the names of their stolen babies, some holding up photos, while others stare hollow-eyed at the camera. It continues like this through at least thirty girls, until Gwen’s face is in front of the camera again. The lens is zoomed in on her face.
“My name is Gwen Allison,” she says again. “The Society took my baby and gave him to a woman named Langley Starter.”
The camera pans out and Gwen is sitting on the stool, this time with something in her arms.
“But I took him back.”
As if on cue, Rebel’s arm breaks free from the blanket and he raises one tiny fist into the air. The smile on Gwen’s face is unmistakable.
“We’re here to tell you that we won’t let you have our children. Not anymore. When you steal our babies, we won’t stop until we find them and take them back.”
The screen suddenly goes black. The video is over. I lean back in my seat blinking hard. Gwen had help putting it together, her plan to expose the Society for kidnapping now being watched by every household across the Regions. Whether she makes good on her threat or not is to be seen, but I know one thing for sure—they are scared of her. The bounty on her head has increased; the Statehead is now offering a million for her capture.
I grip my bottom lip between my teeth and shake my head. Gwen, Folsom, Phoenix—me—we’ve started something, and the Regions will no doubt be in a complete uproar.
THIRTY-TWO
JACKAL
Fennec foxes are faithful and live with their families.
I arrive at the house to find the front door wide open, and a strange car is in the driveway. My stomach clenches as I run through the door calling Phoenix’s name.
“I’m here! I’m fine!” she calls from the kitchen. I find her on her knees, rooting through a cabinet. She pulls out an old coffee tin and flips off the lid. Inside I see wads of money, a few gold trinkets I can’t make out because she shuts it quickly and looks up at me like she’s been caught.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m in trouble,” she says.
“What do you mean? What kind of trouble?”
She’s on her feet jamming the coffee tin into an open bag on the kitchen table.
“The authorities are coming here.”
“Whoa! Whoa!” I say, grabbing her by the arm. “Come here.” I wrap my arms around her and she lets me but only for a second. “I’ve missed you. What are you talking about?”
It’s the middle of the night, the only time I thought I might get away with seeing her. After the video of Gwen, I had to see her. Nordice tracks me all day long, like a hound following a scent, but “we” had a few drinks tonight and she was sleeping soundly when I got out of there.
Phoenix’s eyes are wild when she looks at me. “They’re questioning everyone from the party. It’s only a matter of time before they come to the house.”
“Gwen’s gone?”
She nods. “She wanted to tell you goodbye, but…”
I swallow hard, my heart heavy. “I wish I’d seen her…all three of them, actually. I’m glad she got out of here, but Foley will have my ass for not knowing where she went. As long as she’s safe. The police can’t prove anything. We’ll just clean the place up; they’ll never know—”
“It’s not the police, Jackal. It’s the SI.”
“What? Why would the Statehead Investigators be coming here?”
She looks at me, mouth open, but nothing comes out.
