Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) (24 page)

A knock rapped lightly on the door. “Marie, are you okay?” It was Rane.

“I’ll be out in a minute. The new menu didn’t sit well with my stomach.” As if on cue, a powerful cramp seized her midsection and she rushed to the toilet. Despite having thought she had already gotten rid of her morning meal and probably the previous dinner as well, she embraced the cold ceramic and let the pain take control of her body.

“May I come in to help you?”

Sitting between the sink and the toilet, silently crying, she barely heard the doctor’s words. “I’ll be fine in a moment.” But that was a lie. She was sure she would never be fine again. “Give me just a minute.”

“Okay.”

The sound of receding steps reached her addled mind, and she lowered her head between her knees and gave free rein to all the dark, twisted thoughts demanding release. She couldn’t keep them at bay. Once her despair reached the point where emotional pain became physical, she screamed until her vocal chords burned, hands fisted by her knees, eyes blind. Later, when she exited the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her, a silent crowd welcomed her back. Every eye focused on her, but nobody said a word. Rane didn’t ask how she was feeling; she only looked at her like everyone else and then nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said, walking toward the doctor. There was no time to explain the reasons behind her next action, but by the time Rane raised her eyebrow in puzzlement, Marie had already grabbed one of the chisels lying on the tray by her side and was launching herself at the soldier just outside the door. It took a moment for the woman to realize what was happening. A misplaced sense of euphoria possessed Marie’s heart at the notion a pure breed had underestimated her, and she jabbed the chisel, not caring where it would hit, as long as it hit the woman hard enough. Blood spurted from the soldier, showering her in a red rain. She lowered her hand again, but the woman had raised her gun. An inch to the right and she would’ve been dead, but she had moved out of the way at the last moment. The bullet embedded in the doorjamb instead of her head. The soldier’s eyes widened in surprise at seeing her still standing and untouched. The blood loss taking its toll, she slowly slumped against the landing’s railing and fell on the wooden deck. Marie waited for the woman’s eyes to dim and then kicked her out of the way. The soldier tumbled down the stairs and onto the ground just outside the infirmary where everybody could see her. She steadied her breath and followed the woman outside, standing a few feet by the heaving body, covered in blood, chisel still clutched in her right hand.

The shot had warned Callista’s army that something was amiss. Marie could see several soldiers rushing toward them. It would take them only a blink to realize what had just happened. A smile spread across her lips.

And then Rane was outside, horror in her eyes. She must have seen her smile. “What are you doing? Don’t stand there! Run!”

She hoped there was time to say all the words that needed to be said. “It’s okay.”

“Marie, run away. I’ll stop them.” The doctor was crying. “I’ll find a way…”

I’ll find a way…
Hadn’t she said the exact same words? Rane’s tears would have broken Marie’s heart, but there wasn’t anything left to break. “Go inside. Don’t get caught helping me. Vasurians need you—” She hadn’t time to finish the sentence. Soldiers were already surrounding her and pushing away Rane. Marie slashed at them to make it clear she was the only threat and prayed Rane wouldn’t pay because of her. She looked at the doctor one more time. “I’m sorry.” Something hit Marie’s head just as she saw Rane being forcefully thrown back into the infirmary.

The public flogging came as expected as soon as she came to. Or maybe she was made to come to in order to be flogged. It didn’t matter as long as things went the way she had hastily sketched in her head. Callista was furiously pacing on the roof, and the whole of Vasura but the men had been summoned for the spectacle. This time, the major wouldn’t show mercy. Marie was counting on that. She hoped carving lashes on her back wouldn’t be enough to satiate the woman’s anger. She was hoping that dying under the whip wasn’t punishment enough in Callista’s eyes—that only a slow and painful death would do. And so she bore the whip way beyond the pain of the first five lashes. Gratefully, she fainted, and when her eyes closed against her will for the second time that day, the only sound she heard was her cry standing out in a silence so thick it was deafening.

She woke and found herself still chained to the pole, her hands higher than her shoulders, the sick smell of dry blood filling her nose, making her gag. She wasn’t alone. The muted crowd was still there. Callista had ordered them to wait out there? Had they waited for her to open her eyes? No, Callista had wanted Vasura to witness how she dealt with the likes of her. Her lips were bloodied too. Had she bitten them when the pain had become unbearable? The act of trying to ease the pull from her stretched arms almost made her faint again.

“Vasura, look closely,” Callista said from behind her.

The woman had left the safety of the roof and was standing a few feet from her. Marie couldn’t help but shudder at the sound of the major’s reinforced boots echoing closer and closer, until one hand grabbed her hair and forced her to look up.

“This is how I was repaid for being soft,” Callista whispered to Marie, her fresh, minty breath caressing her face.

She gagged again. The woman went on talking to the crowd. At length. Finally, what had sounded like a repetition of words took shape into what was the grand finale of Callista’s speech. The change in pitch and the dramatic pause had told Marie so and she listened.
Say it.

“I hereby condemn this criminal to life at the recycling center. She’ll end her days inside the inner chamber, surrounded by garbage as she deserves.”

Marie breathed in relief and started crying tears of joy.

“You should have thought of the consequences of your actions more carefully.” Callista released her hair.

Her face hidden from the woman’s scrutiny, Marie laughed a laugh easy to mistake with the earlier sobs. Her shoulders shook for a while. Someone freed her wrists and she was carried away without any care for her wounded back. A soldier took her wrists and tied them once more, this time to the back of a cart, and she was paraded around the place, walking on unsteady legs, barely keeping up with the moving vehicle. She slipped and fell more times than she could count, but each time, she found the strength to get up, a smile on her face for everybody to see. The last time she rose back up from a stumble, knees bleeding and arms shaking for the effort of not letting go, the Vasurians cheered her. Callista’s shouts resonated over the encouragements, warning them of repercussion if they didn’t stop. The cheers were followed by feet stomping. Shots were fired. A wall of soldiers came between the cart and the crowd. Marie wasn’t allowed to see what was happening to her people as she was hauled on the cart already leaving at full speed. The noise of the engine covered the chanting, the shooting, and the cries, but she could hear them in her mind.

She wasn’t awake for most of the ride. The three soldiers escorting her were better human beings than she would have given them credit for. One of them brought her some water laced with a substance that made her blissfully unaware of pain. In her confused state, she thought she heard the women saying things that would have granted them a place next to her in the inner chamber. A salve was spread on her wounds. She recognized the smell, and for a moment, she thought Grant was there, then realized it was just the salve. More water that wasn’t water was poured in her mouth. Peaceful nothingness followed.

“Here we are,” someone said and coughed.

Marie made an effort to open her eyes and keep them open. They had reached the core of Vasura, its recycling center, a distinctive four-story building made of rusted metal pipes and peeled paint. A big tower jutted from the side, at least two stories higher than the rest of the facility. A dark column rose out of it, reaching the sky and forming a thick cloud formation covering the sun. The smell was nothing she could ever describe in words. Death and bonfires. Something sweet and rotten. The hint of a flowery perfume corrupted by decay and sickness. Her throat contracted and her stomach heaved, but by now, there was nothing left and that made the cramps more painful to bear. All around her, the soldiers repeatedly vomited before they were able to don the heavy masks lying on the cart’s floor. She hadn’t noticed them before. A mask descended on her face as well and she could have cried for the kindness shown to her. She knew they didn’t have to. As far as they were concerned, she was already dead.

At the base of the structure, a door opened and several figures covered from head to toe with dark, heavy-looking suits exited in a military formation, flanking both sides of the door, rifles aimed at them. One of the suited figures broke the symmetry and came to welcome them. Once within hearing distance, the woman shouted through the helmet she was wearing. “Why didn’t you put on the masks immediately?” She didn’t have to add the word “idiots.” It was clear what she thought of them.

A few answers were muttered regarding the fact nobody knew it stunk so much.

“The new recruit?” the woman asked, now a few steps from the cart, her whole body turned toward Marie.

Marie came forth and climbed down the vehicle, helped by gentle hands. Once on the ground, she turned to thank them and saw their eyes behind the masks. Tears had splattered on the glass. The woman from the recycling center took her arm and dismissed the others with a mere nod. “This way.” The woman pointed back at the building, as if there were any doubt where they were headed. Or if she had any freedom to decide to go with her or not. The other suited figures hadn’t lowered their arms the whole time; the only difference, now the rifles were pointed at her head.

Still partially drugged, she fought the urge of easing their worries by saying she had volunteered to come. But the pain from her wounds was coming back, and although the mask shielded the worst of the stench, what reached her nose was enough to make her breathe in shallow mouthfuls of air. The exercise left her dizzy in a few steps.

“You’ll get used to it.” The woman dragged her by the arm she was still holding. Her gesture wasn’t mean, but still caused Marie pain. “What the…?”

Marie saw the woman walk around her and then curse.

“What did they do you?”

The woman was taller than Marie by a whole head and she couldn’t see her face, but by her tone, she reckoned her wounds must be hideous. She didn’t bother responding.

“I have orders to take you to the inner chamber, but—” The woman stopped a few yards from the door, causing a few of the suited women by the wall to nervously step forward. “She needs medical assistance first.” She accompanied her words with one raised hand and they went back to their positions.

She needed to see Grant first, but she lowered her head and endured the walk that followed the woman’s decision. Instead of entering the building by the door the suits were still guarding, the woman took a different path that wound around the whole length of the recycling center. Respectful of Marie’s condition, she slowly made her way to what looked like a gash between two columns of pipes and instead turned out to be the entry to a metal staircase that led down. Yellow illumination scarcely lit their descent. Marie wondered how the woman could see anything at all with her helmet.

Soon, unbearable heat rose from downstairs and met them in waves. Her broken skin reacted to the surge in temperature and she choked back a scream. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered. Maybe the need to prove she was better than them. Maybe stupidity. She stepped out of the staircase soaked in sweat and longing for the spiked water the pure breed had served her. The landing was darker than the stairs, but it took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Behind her, the whole squad of suits had followed in silent fashion. They unnerved her, looking more like visions from nightmares than women. They all walked to the opposite wall where light passed under a door, illuminating its frame. They waited for the door to open, and a few seconds later, only Marie and her chaperone were allowed entry.

Marie blinked at the sudden brightness of the place, and she realized they were in an antechamber, waiting for another door to open, this one sturdy looking and armored. The woman spun the wheel at its center with some effort. The hissing sound announced it was opening, but they had to wait a few seconds before its thick wall left enough space for them to pass through. As soon as they were inside the small chamber, the woman pushed the door closed. A distinctive pop in her ears told Marie the place was pressurized. They waited some more and then finally the door before them opened with another long hiss. As soon as they were on the other side, the woman took her helmet off, revealing a cascade of red curls, soft-brown eyes, a big nose, and generous lips.

“We’ve a wounded girl,” she called to someone and then looked at Marie and pointed at her face. “You can remove it now.”

It took a moment for her to realize she didn’t need the mask anymore. The stench lingered in the air, but it didn’t belong to the place. It wafted in waves from their clothes.

“Name’s Corinthia.” The redhead pointed at herself. Then her eyes went on Marie’s branded arm. “I only have your numbers.”

“Marie.” She looked around to get a feeling for the place. It wasn’t just an infirmary as she had thought. It was a cavernous space opening into hallways and alcoves. Pipes lined the ceiling and they stood on a concrete floor. Lamps hanging down the pipes gave the unsettling feeling of a festive place. There were people, lots of people. A woman had heard Corinthia’s shout and was hurrying their way. She was rail thin with sleek back hair that reached the front pockets of the gray scrubs she wore over a lighter version of her chaperone’s dark suit.

When the woman reached them, Corinthia didn’t waste time in preambles. “Marie was whipped.”

The woman walked around Marie and then gasped. “For the Goddess’s sake!”

“What kinda beast would punish a child so savagely?” Corinthia’s face reflected her words.

Marie felt comforted by her demeanor.

“Fortunately, the cuts were immediately covered with a salve.” The newcomer was removing what was left of Marie’s shirt.

She flinched and automatically stepped back, her hands crossed over her chest for modesty, and she felt trapped in a déjà vu loop.

“I’m sorry, but I need to take a good look at your back.” She patted Marie’s arm. “I’m Luna. Let’s go back to the clinic where I can clean you up.”

“The clinic?” Marie didn’t understand where she was.

“This is a dangerous place and we’ve a clinic to cure people exposed to toxins and radiation.” Luna had started walking and turned to answer her.

“Radiation? What radiation?” Toxins she understood. The stench itself was enough to kill a person; she could only imagine how dangerous the waste could be to the skin. But radiation? No rumors about waste plants had ever mentioned radiation.

Corinthia bit her bottom lip, exchanged a look with Luna, then shrugged. “Well, it’s a long story, but the recycling center uses power that creates radiation as a byproduct. But don’t you worry about that now.”

“I’ll patch you up good and then you’ll rest a while.” Luna and Corinthia exchanged another look. “She can’t show up at the inner chamber like that.”

“What I thought.” Corinthia sounded relieved. “You’ll spend the rest of the day here and then we’ll find an accommodation for you.”

Marie didn’t utter a word. She was wary of the unexpected welcome and the pain now spreading through her body. The effect of whatever the pure breeds had given her was unfortunately gone. The two women ahead of her didn’t realize she wasn’t following. Not because she had decided not to, but because her body refused to.

“She must be in more pain than I thought.” Corinthia’s voice sounded muffled.

Marie watched as they looked at her, worried expressions on their faces, and then she closed her eyes. A prick on her arm roused her enough to open her eyes again, but only for a moment because a sense of warmth spread through her and with it, a sense of peace. She had the strange feeling of floating and her mind went back to one of the few times Madame Carla had allowed a field trip to the beach. She and Idra had escaped the adults’ vigilance and dove into the crystalline waters of the Great Blue Ocean before someone could stop them. She was hovering now as she had done then. And it was beautiful. The experience lasted long enough for her to slip into unconsciousness with a smile on her face.

“Marie?”

She loved that voice.

“Marie? Are you waking up?”

No, I’m not.

“Is there something wrong with her?”

“No, she was in so much pain her body shut down.”

“But is she going to be fine?”

“Yes. Give her time. She was mercilessly whipped who knows how many times. If it weren’t for the salve and narcotics someone gave her while she was being transported here, she’d be in way worse shape.”

“I didn’t even realize the seriousness of her situation when she arrived. She was walking by herself…”

“Why would they do something like that to her?”

“I asked. She stabbed a pure breed, apparently for no reason. It seems she snapped and tried to kill the soldier.”

“What? Why would she do something like that?”

“Who knows…?”

“Still, she’s a girl!”

“If not even a girl is safe…”

“Even knowing she deserved a punishment, it still was barbaric what they did to her—”

“Callista went too far. She should’ve been judged in a trial.”