We follow the tall woman with the other two walking behind us. She leads us to the velvet curtain and the wooden door at the back. She speaks quietly to the man there, the one we saw the first night we were here. He doesn't even spare Ceres or me a glance as we step through.
The moment we are behind the door in the hallway, the tall woman turns to me and Ceres. "Take off your masks." There is no hint of a smile about her mouth now.
I numbly comply and nod to Ceres to do it as well. The moment our masks are off, she begins to walk again, leading us to a door I have walked through many times. Elara's office.
She opens the door without knocking. Elara looks up from her desk, where she has been studying a form of some kind. Behind her mask, her eyes begin to widen at the sight of Ceres and me behind the tall woman, but she carefully replaces her expression with a calm, blank one. "How can I help you, Zelia?"
The three women take their seats, as if they’re used to this routine. Ceres and I remain standing.
The tall one, Zelia, says, "Guess who we found, Elara? They were in the yez trying to eavesdrop on our conversation. And Octavia happened to notice she"—she nods toward me—"is heavily pregnant, about the same gestational period we'd expect from our dear Vika Cannon. And look who we found with her: a golden-eyed, light-skinned girl, much like Ceres Cannon. About the same age, too."
Octavia, the woman with the nasally voice who jostled me, smiles. "Funny coincidence, isn't it?"
The third woman, one with big cheeks that stick out from beneath her mask, laughs. "Yes. Especially considering we only just captured Shale Underwood. Do you think they came to find out where he went?"
Elara glares at me coldly. "I'd wager anything you're right." She turns back to the three women. "What do you want me to do with them?"
Zelia sighs and shakes her head, as if our appearance is a great burden. "Take them to the cellar. Octavia will go with you. Pryor and I will wait here to discuss what should happen next."
As we walk down the hallway, Elara leading, my stomach clenches again, much more painfully this time than the practice contractions I've been feeling all day. I stop in my tracks, and Octavia prods me in the back. "Keep moving."
I try to breathe in and out slowly, like the obstetrician showed me. Ceres turns to catch my eye, but I refuse to look at her. Fear is catching, like fire, and I do not want her to feel the way I do. The terror taking root in me is cold and clear, like venom from a snake. Because I know in my heart that I am in true labor. The baby is coming at the worst possible time.
When I have to stop another time on the stairs, Elara turns to me, her eyes dancing with apprehension. She looks at Octavia over my head as I bend over, clutching at the stair railing and trying to breathe. "I think she may be in labor."
Octavia huffs a breath. "Excellent. One more bargaining chip." The she trills a laugh. “As if we needed any more.”
The contraction passes and we begin to make our way down. I can see in the way Elara balls up her fists, in the tenseness of her shoulders, that she wants to tend to the baby. But she cannot do so without betraying her secret.
◊ ◊ ◊
We descend into the bowels of the building, winding downward to a cellar I didn't even know existed. It is dark and musty, and the damp cold feels wrong. I have a wild need to go somewhere warm and clean and safe. I try to keep calm; I tell myself I have to take this one step at a time. It is the only way I can get myself, the baby, and Ceres out of this situation.
Another contraction wracks my frame. I bend in half, clutching at the wall, a guttural grunt tearing from my throat. There is a small, warm hand on my back—Ceres.
"Vikki?" Her voice quavers. "The b-baby's coming. She needs a d-doctor!"
I breathe in and out, slowly, steadily. When the pain has passed I straighten up. Octavia watches me with cold, hard eyes. Elara watches me, too, her mouth a straight line under her white mask. But in her eyes, I see the sparkle of unshed tears. She wants to do something; she wants to help the baby and doesn't know how.
She opens a door to my left. It is a small room with stone floors and walls, no windows. Ceres and I step through. I am trembling, so I slide down to my knees and laboriously curl up on my side.
"Please...give us a bl-blanket," Ceres says. I can tell by the tone of her voice that she must be addressing Elara. "Please. For her."
There is a shuffling sound and then Ceres puts a wool blanket over me. I clutch it just to transfer my energy somewhere, to squeeze something tight.
"We should go," Elara says. "Zelia is waiting."
They leave, the door closing with a final thud. The only sound is of Ceres sniffling in the dark. Through the slats in the door, a few beams of light filter through from the hallway. I turn my head to look at my sister. She looks impossibly tiny in these stark surroundings, just a little child cocooned in chiffon and lace.
"It's okay." I struggle to sit up and cover her legs with part of the blanket. It's cold down here. "It's going to be all right."
Ceres smoothes my sweaty hair back from my face. "How? You're—you're having...the baby."
"Well, my body knows what to do." I do not know this for sure; it is only something I've read in the books Marisa has given me.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm both myself and Ceres. "I'm just going to follow my instincts. The baby will make its way down. Besides, first labors are usually long. I could be in this state for hours, and who knows how things might have changed by then." I don't say that they might have changed for the worse—much worse. I can't think that way, and I certainly can't have Ceres thinking that way.
The hours pass by in lurches and stops. There are times when I take in the darkness, the cold, the damp, the utter gravity of our situation, and I feel sick and panicked, like an animal in a trap. But then a contraction snakes its way around my belly, building and building and building, and those thoughts and feelings fly out of my head. All that remains is the pain, the tremendous clenching, seizing, clamping pain. My body is nothing but agony; I am nothing but agony. When it wears off, I'm relieved—relieved and grateful for the reprieve. And in the minutes between the pains, I try not to give in to my terror.
I don't know how long Ceres and I have been sitting there. I pace, I lie on my side, I listen in wonder as my throat tightens around grunts and groans. After a particularly strong contraction, I touch my face in wonder to feel it is warm and wet with sweat and tears. Once, I come out of a contraction to find Ceres stroking my back and singing me a children's lullaby.
When the door opens again, I am bathed in perspiration, having just finished yet another contraction. I look up, squinting, to see Elara. I open my mouth, to tell her the baby won't wait, it won't be long, can't she move me somewhere safer? But she enters without looking at me. Right behind her are the others: Zelia, Octavia, and Pryor, who brings in chairs for everyone. The women sit along the wall across from us so they are facing Ceres and me. The two of us remain sitting on the floor.
Zelia leans forward, her slender, tall frame bent almost in half, elbows balancing on the white material of her silky pants. Her upper arms, sticking out of her tight white top, are barely wider than my forearms. She reminds me of a plant stalk, reedy and thin. "Are you prepared to talk to us?"
I nod. If I cooperate, maybe they will let me see a doctor. "Yes."
"Good." She smiles, her thin lips curving up under her black mask. "Then tell me. Where is Shale Underwood?"
I stare at her. "He...he's been captured."
Zelia leans back. Octavia sighs, as if in disappointment. I look at her. "Let me tell you something about us, Vika Cannon. We were big supporters of your mother’s work. She was a woman to be admired, to emulate.” Octavia’s teeth glitter as she smiles. “And we all expected great things from her oldest daughter. Imagine our disgust when you not only betrayed the regime, but then escaped like an absolute coward on a ship.” She leans forward as if she plans to lunge at me. My heart races and I strain back, against the wall. My stomach twists in pain and I gasp, but Octavia appears to not notice. “So believe me when I say we don’t plan to make this easy for you. Now, back to Shale Underwood. He was in our custody, yes. But shortly after you were brought in, he escaped. And we're all in agreement that you probably know where he went. He must’ve told you. As I understand it, you two are very close." She flashes her teeth, a snarl of a smile.
Relief courses through me. Shale managed to escape; what I overheard in the yez was true. I look at Elara. Her face betrays nothing, but I imagine I see pain in her eyes. Perhaps it is only that—my imagination. "No. He didn't tell me. I can't imagine where he went." I begin to breathe deeply. My stomach is starting to tighten again.
Elara shifts in her seat. "She might be telling the truth," she says hesitantly. "From what I hear, they haven't been in touch in a while. Vika hasn’t been at the compound in months."
Zelia cocks her head. "Ah, yes. That's the other thing we'd like to know. Where have you been, these past few months? Shale told us what everyone else believes: that you ran away. But come on.” She smiles admonishingly. “We both know there’s no way you could’ve possibly survived in your condition, on your own in the wilderness, especially through the coldest parts of winter. A quick check with our Chinese counterparts tells us you weren't in their custody either. And yet, here you are tonight, at the yez as if nothing happened, in the pink of health. Interesting."
In the small space, I hear Ceres's breathing, ragged and fast. I cannot speak. I double over as the contraction arrives at its peak, making conversation impossible. A small groan escapes my lips. The contraction lasts at least a minute; I am sure it lasts an hour or more. When it is over, I look up at the women. Elara looks stricken, but she is silent.
"I...don't...know...where Shale is," I gasp. "I would tell you if I did. Please...I need a clean room, a doctor."
"Tell us where Shale is, tell us where you've been, and we'll get you whatever you need." Pryor's voice is deceptively soft and sweet. I look at her round cheeks and wonder what made her this way. Why is she one of them and not one of the Rads or Sympathetics? How can she believe she is doing the right thing?
"I did run away," I say, gasping from the pain I’ve just endured. "I took Ceres and we ran. Into the wilderness, just as you said."
Octavia barks a laugh. "And you happened to find those outfits out in the wilderness, too, I assume?"
Zelia stands. "Clearly you need some time to think about how honest you’re going to be. We'll return in a bit. If you don't tell us what we need to know next time, we'll take your baby away, and your sister. Do you understand, Vika? We'll make it so you have no one left in this world. And after we kill them, we'll kill you...slowly, like the traitor you are." She turns and strides out of the room.
"No, please, wait." I struggle to my feet. "I'm telling the truth. The outfits—we found them. We..."
But the women are walking out, one by one. They know I'm lying. I'm not thinking clearly, not with being in labor and pain. I know my story isn't plausible but I can't think of what else to say. I begin to sob. "Please! Please don't leave. I need...my baby needs a doctor. Please."
But they close the door. Elara looks at me through the slats. Just for a moment. Then she, too, is gone.
A contraction rips through me, sudden and fierce. I fall to my knees, and begin to scream.