The Sowing

“I oughtta just kill you right now and mop you up along with Rodrigo.” Leander glares at me. “He is—was—my best friend. Even before we were recruited. We went to school together. Lived in the same neighborhood. He had everything going for him. Would’a made a great Imposer if you hadn’t come along.” He wrings the scrub brush so hard, I can see the veins in his arm bulging. A stream of gore sloshes from his brush and into the bucket, spattering my cheek. It’s going to take more than a shower to feel clean after this.

My kneecaps feel like they’re about to pop from resting on them so long. “I’m sorry.”

Leander plops the mop into the bucket. “You will be, Sparkles.”

I grimace. “You do realize none of us are getting out of this alive—”

“Shut up!” He bangs the bucket against me, spilling a clump of gore on the floor with a loud plunk. “Everything out of your traitor mouth is a dirty lie!”

He shoves me aside and squats with the brush. It squeaks against the floor, reminding me of the sound of rodents.

It’s no use trying to explain anything to him. He’s too blind and brainwashed to understand. I’m just about to turn away when I notice that he’s scrawling something with his index finger in the grayish matter under the bucket’s shadow.

I crane my neck.

U were right

At first I think I must be seeing things. But one look at Leander and I can see this is no joke. His finger dips into the bloody sludge again.

They killed him, gonna kill us

His eyes pierce me, then dart to the ceiling just outside.

I follow his gaze.

Of course. There are cameras surveilling us, equipped with audio, not to mention an Imposer sentry making her rounds.

His eyes flash back to mine and he scrubs the message away. “You’ll say anything to place the blame on everyone else but your rebel self!” He brings the brush back to the bucket, wrings it again, then continues to polish.

Now it’s my turn to communicate with him. What if it’s a trap? Should I risk it? Then again, what choice do I really have? I’m going to need help to get out of here.

I slosh some of the filthy liquid onto the floor and scrawl my own message.

We have 2 work together

“You’re only getting what you deserve,” I grunt, turning away from him.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes, can you, coward?” His dripping finger scribbles another message.

What’s ur plan?

After he’s sure I’ve seen it, he scrubs it away again.

I fake a yawn. “I’d rather look at this mess than filth like you.” I make a show of scrubbing harder, then I squiggle another note.

Vent shaft in my cell after dark. Access to compound. Need tools.

This time he’s the one to wipe it away after reading it.

“Yeah,” he snickers. “Take a good look at this mess, Sparkles. Before the end of the day you’re gonna look even worse. That’s a promise.”

He doodles another message.

Already on it

His hand digs into a pocket in his pant leg and he slips something from it into his brush, continuing to scrub. His nod is almost imperceptible.

As I scrub, our hands brush against each other and we swap brushes.

Then I lean back and sit up, stretching for show again, and flip the brush over behind the bucket to get a better look.

Embedded into the brush’s bristles is a rolled-up piece of torn fabric. I pluck it out and unfurl it.

It’s a bone fragment about three inches long, jagged at both ends. Leander was probably thinking about using it as a weapon. It just might work to pry open that vent. I shudder. I can’t tell if it belonged to Rodrigo or Mrs. Grimstone. No matter. Either way, something good may come of their gruesome deaths.

I tuck the bone into the lining of my waistband, hoping they won’t search us before taking us back to our cells.

Leander scrawls another message.

Don’t worry. Will get D and A on board. No one messes with our squad.

I nod.

“What’s going on here?” Slade’s voice startles me.

“We were just finishing up, Sir,” Leander responds.

“Stand up, both of you,” she hisses in reply.

We exchange a look and climb to our feet—

That last message is still on the floor.

Slade’s eyes inspect the cell. “Hmmm. Not bad. Looks like you two deadbeats might be of some use after all.” Her gaze digs into me. “What’s the matter, Spark? You look ill. I’d have thought you’d be over your squeamishness by now.”

“No, Sir,” I squeeze out.

“What are you hiding behind that bucket?”

Leander’s face turns red.

“Nothing, Sir.” I feel my throat tighten up.

Slade takes a step toward us. “Out of the way!”

Just before she reaches us, I move, banging my foot against the bucket. It teeters and splatters the floor. Slade pushes past me and I turn. Most of the message is erased—except for the last word, which Leander quickly steps on and smudges away.