The Sowing

A little boy’s face and palms press against the glass. I stop. I can almost feel that he sees me. I turn away. There’s probably no hope for this boy. For any of them. All the acts of sabotage I’ve committed over the last year—what good have any of them really done? No matter how many people I might free from the Emporiums, there are a hundred more that’ll die.

Suddenly it feels like an enormous weight is bearing down on me, squeezing my organs together until they’re nothing but bloody pulp. My skin burns from the rage and frustration welling inside me. No matter how hard I try, I can’t save them all.

Tristin’s hand touches my shoulder.

A jolt of lightning surges through me, slamming me to the floor. I look up to see Echoes hovering over me, his prod still smoking. “I said keep mov—”

I spring up and snatch the wand from him, and his eyes look like they’re going to burst through his skull. I jab the wand at his throat. “We’re not cattle.”

Then I toss it at his feet and whirl past Tristin, continuing after the others before I can gauge his reaction.

I don’t really care what it is.

The next corridor we enter opens into a yet-larger room, this one covered in soap-scummed tiles. A series of pipes jut inward from the ceiling like rusting tentacles. The entire room reeks of body odor and disinfectant, battling it out for supremacy.

A communal shower.

The others, including my trainee team, are already in various stages of undress, tossing their clothes in a heap in the center of the room.

“Strip!” The officer on duty spits the words at me like a glob of phlegm.

It takes a little time to pull my boots off my aching feet. Then I slither out of my jumpsuit, pulling down my underwear until I’m standing there naked, trying not to shiver from the cold blast of air prickling my skin.

“Spread ’em,” the guard grunts. I extend my arms and legs as he circles my body with an icy steel probe.

Beside me, Tristin’s being searched by another guard. Our eyes meet for a second before we both turn away to protect what little’s left of our modesty.

The Imposer slaps me on the butt and smirks. “Hit the showers, Pretty Boy.”

My bare feet pad across the frigid tiles and the next available showerhead. I hesitate. It’s right between Arrah and Leander. I’m about to turn toward a spout on the far corner of the room when another Imp grabs me by the nape of the neck.

“We haven’t got all day, traitor,” he snarls.

The next thing I know, he shoves me forward. I slam into the porcelain wall, banging the side of my face against a broken tile.

Water jets from the nozzle above, piercing the numbness as every single one of my nerves is shocked. This is even colder than the showers in the trainee barracks were.

Leander’s hulking body leans in close. The stream of water glistens on the muscles of his arms and chest as one of his hands flexes into a fist and punches his other palm. “That’s nothing compared to what we’re gonna do to you, Lucy,” he snickers. “You’re a dead man.”

I turn away. Even though I’m shivering, I welcome the jets of ice. Grabbing the bar of lye soap embedded in the wall, I scrub my skin with vigor, trying to rid myself of the remnants of that probe’s touch, the memory of those festering prisoners, the anger in Leander’s face. I let the water reinvigorate my sore body.

“I understand why you thought you had to do what you did, Lucian,” a voice whispers to my right.

Arrah.

I open my eyes.

She’s just standing there shivering under the shower, her brown eyes staring at me, unflinching beneath the deluge of water pelting her. She looks so sad and vulnerable, like a little girl lost in a thunderstorm, wondering how, and if, she’s ever going to find her way home again.

“Arrah. I swear I didn’t mean to betray you or the others. I had no choice. I didn’t know Cole was going to be there. I couldn’t just let him die. Surely you can understand that?”

She nods, water dripping down the bridge of her nose. “I do understand.” She purses her lips. “I know what it’s like to love someone, to feel you have to do anything possible to protect them from danger. Unfortunately, you didn’t think things through. What do you think is going to happen to your brother now that you’ve been arrested? You really think you saved him? At least if he’d died on that podium, he would have died for the greater good.” She shakes her head, spraying droplets to and fro. “Now his death will be meaningless. As will all of ours.” She steps away from the shower. “At least you won’t have to live with the guilt for too long.”

She walks away. The showers shut off. And this time I can’t control the shakes that wrack my body.

“Get dressed,” one of the officers barks.

As I step away from the shower, I notice that everything we were wearing is gone. In its place is a pile of tattered clothing, much like the rags that the prisoners in those mass pens were wearing.