“I’ve had to do this before. Dancing, you know? I’ll be quick. I need to get a few things...” She waves me over.
“Get ready to hold her hand,” she says.
Within minutes, she’s back. She leans over and when she has everything in position, she moves the bone in place. It happens so quickly, Tahira barely has a chance to realize it’s already time for the splint.
Gwen wipes her face and looks on, impressed. Phoenix kicks it into another level of busy mode—fluffing pillows behind Tahira, rushing to the kitchen to give her water and the painkillers from the kit, covering her with a blanket.
“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” Gwen finally asks, reaching over and putting her hand on Tahira’s good arm.
“I don’t think so,” she says. “I kept watching out of the side mirror—nothing suspicious—and I waited until the woman pulled away after she dropped me off.”
“What was it like at the border?” I ask.
“It didn’t seem like there were many guards, but they had guns and these other weapons—I’d rather have a gun shoot me than be hit with those weapons.” She shudders.
“How old are you, Tahira?”
“Fifteen,” she whispers.
I try to control my reaction but have a hard time hiding the shock. Phoenix’s head jerks up and she sits down on the chair next to Tahira, looking stunned.
“Fifteen? What could you have possibly done to get you in a maximum security prison?”
“I tried to take what belonged to me.” Her lip trembling, she stares up at the ceiling, anything to avoid eye contact.
I exchange a look with Phoenix then glance at Gwen. She puts her arms around Tahira and comforts her, face mottled from her own emotion. She asks Tahira something under her breath and the girl nods.
When Gwen has regained her composure, she looks at me. “The Society has found another way to make money. They’re stealing the lottery births and selling them off to the highest bidder...and not just those babies—they’re stealing the underground births as well.”
“Underground births?” I repeat. “What do you mean?”
“Babies are being born in the underground and then kidnapped—”
“How are they getting away with—” I stop talking before my idiotic question can fall out of my mouth. I know what the Society is capable of; nothing should surprise me. They continue to destroy lives with no consequence. I put my fist over my mouth and ask exactly what’s nagging me. “Are some of the End Men complicit with this?” I go through each one and think about their strengths and weaknesses. As much as they annoy me, I can’t think of a single one who would be this cruel. “There’s not much more time left in a day to impregnate the underground too!” I shake my head. “What’s going on? How is this happening?”
“There are men, Jackal,” Gwen says. “They’ve been hiding as women for years.”
“The fuck?” I back up and sit down. Open my mouth and shut it. “You’ve met them?”
“I have,” Gwen says. “One of them helped Folsom leave the Regions.”
I guess it’s not that hard to believe. Nuclear accidents, hydrogen bombs, terrorist attacks—it became hard to keep track of everyone. Especially after the government was overthrown. For nearly twenty years the continent was in chaos. Why have I never heard about them before now? God, the Society has consumed my whole life. I look at Tahira.
“You got pregnant...by one of these...men?”
She nods.
“There are babies being born that have absolutely no connection to the End Men,” she says.
I shake my head, still in shock. I was told there were no more. I was told it was up to me, up to the twelve of us. Has it all been a lie?
“The government knows, they hunt the babies down and take them.” Tahira’s voice breaks and she closes her eyes for a moment before continuing. “I stayed hidden for most of my pregnancy. Someone turned me in. I don’t know who, but the Society has recruited people who work for them. They came and took my baby—my son—off of my chest in the middle of the night while we were sleeping. I ran after them, but they got in a car. They got away and I searched for my son for days…”
Her eyes squeeze shut and her shoulders shake with her sobs. She gulps and when she speaks it’s aimed at me, each word an effort to speak.
“One man’s privilege is another man’s sacrifice. Make sure you know what you’re fighting for.”
My eyes blur and the shame is absolute. I feel injustice about the life I lead, while others are living a life of hiding and poverty, trying to protect their babies. How the fuck do I wrap my mind around this one? I wonder if Folsom knows about this.