The v Girl (21 page)

Chapter 3
2

The wagon is carrying more
Starvillers than usual, but I don’t have a problem finding a spot to sit next to Poncho. My head is killing me and my muscles ache all over, but I’ve made a quick trip to Shiloh to see if I could get a job to no avail. It’s almost noon and if the thunder over the ruined cities is an indication, a storm is approaching.

Joey is standing somewhere across the wagon. Like usual, we pretend we don’t know each other for the sake of TCR’s concealment.

Duque’s ex is here, too. Sitting next to her chaperones—two aunts and two cousins—she isn’t discreet about her engagement to Mr. Gibson. A man old enough to be her father but with enough privileges to compensate for that. I hate her. How can she be engaged already when it’s been only a week since she broke up with Duque? I realize that she never loved Duque. Veronica must have just suffered from a severe case of insta-love, because she and Duque got engaged two weeks after they met. It only takes a bit of tragedy to destroy insta-love.

Unfortunately,
Veronica has a roaring voice that forces the rest of us to hear her. She’s not trying to be discreet about how happy she is she broke up with Duque.

“So how was I supposed to marry him after that? As what? Would he have been a husband? Or a wife?” she says mockingly.

Mrs. Gibson grabs her hand and agrees wholeheartedly. “He’s not a full man. He’s just a fag.”

Their conversation makes me furious. I have to count to ten, breathing heavily to subdue my anger. Dad has taught us there’s nothing wrong with being gay, but Starvillers have very traditional gender roles. To make fun of Duque, they’re using the worst insult a Starviller can muster, asides from the V-word. Well according to Dad there’s nothing wrong with being a V-person either, but it’s the malicious intention of their word choice what infuriates me.

One of Veronica’s aunts tries to make her lower her voice, but she ignores her. “Drop it, Aunt Shelly. If my man lets himself get attacked, who is supposed to protect me? I need a real man who can fight his attackers.”

“Good riddance,” says Mr. Gibson.

If Rey were here … what would he do? How would he feel?

Mr. Gibson touches Veronica’s knee, and she bursts out laughing. “Yeah, can you imagine it? A marriage with two wives, ha, ha, ha.”

I don’t make a conscious decision to slap her or kick Gibson’s groin. One minute I’m sitting on the floor and the next I’m being held by Joey while Veronica and Mr. Gibson lay on the floor. He is grabbing his balls, and she is looking at me with incredulity and fury.

“You didn’t like it? Come and slap me back if you can.” I say as I thrash against Joey’s tight grip. I don’t care that all eyes are on me. Rey and Duque are family. I had to avenge them.

Joey won’t let me go, so I make Poncho attack her legs with his sexual appetite, hoping it humiliates her like she wanted to humiliate Duque.

The train screeches as it starts to lose speed, the sign for Starvillers to prepare to jump-off, but nobody moves. I push Joey aside. The train hasn’t lost enough speed yet, and there are steep slopes all over the road, but I’m at the door ready to jump.

My voice is acidic. “That’s for Duque.” And my mom. And for every recruitment victim that has been ridiculed by idiots like her. I turn to glare at her one last time.

I jump letting the fury I feel inside me go away with the wind. I land on the ball of my feet on an eroded terrain and then roll as Aleksey taught me this morning. Veronica’s words have helped me to take a decision: If I get to leave Starville, Duque will come with me. Whether Rey and Baron want to come as well won’t matter. No rape victim should endure this kind of mockery. Especially not one that I consider family.

The first thing I do when I get to the clinic is go to Duque’s room.

* * *

I put the last touches on my sleep attire. Sleeping with Aleksey in my hospital gown was unsettling and made me feel self-conscious. Usually, I sleep in cotton shorts and a tank top, but not tonight.

I look proudly at my creation: A martial arts-inspired sleeping gown that is comfortable, and not entirely inviting. A jacket in white translucent fabric with a fuchsia satin belt and yoga pants. I didn’t seam the sides of the pants. I joined them with hook and loop tape. If we get in the mood for sex, he’ll be able to undress me in seconds.

After training on my own and taking a shower, I feel a strange sexual vibe sizzling in the air. The anticipation is killing me. I’ve spent the whole afternoon thinking about what’s in store for me tonight.

I undress slowly; I put my day clothes in the backpack, dress in my nightgown, and enter the bed.

I close my eyes and imagine him slowly untying the belt and opening the jacket to caress my breasts. I imagine him putting one in his mouth as his fingers undo the pants. He touches the place between my legs that nobody has touched before. And for the first time in my life, I feel the need to do something about the tingling pulsation between my legs. I know that to relieve this aching discomfort, I need to touch myself. Perhaps putting an object inside me?

But I won’t do it. It’s not as though masturbation is a taboo for me, but I’d rather have a shared experience first. I can’t imagine Joey and Divine masturbating. They need to have each other’s pleasure at all times. Perhaps after I lose my V, I’ll feel different. Maybe I should use this throbbing sensation to force my fears and worries outside the room’s door and have consensual sex with someone who seems to like me.

It’s only seven, but I’m tired, and he won’t be back until eleven. I trained so much that I’ve spent my energy. My eyes close of their own accord.

I wake up when I hear the doorknob moving.
Poncho greets Aleksey with friendly exuberance, jumping on the cop and barking happily.

“Welcome,
” I mumble.

“Shh. Don’t wake up.” He looks at my translucent jacket with approval in his eyes.

I pull up the bedspread just below my eyes. “I better. I was having a bad dream.”

He starts to undress, and I force myself to look away. “Sergeant Gary Sleecket is haunting you again?”

I try to not look surprised that he knows. “Yes. Is he still alive?”

Aleksey’s scowl deepens. “Not for long.”

“If even Patriots forces haven’t found him—”

“Sleecket saved hundreds of thousands of civilians from starvation and death. Even here in Starville.” He waves his hand impatiently at my incredulous face. “That’s why we haven’t found him. Civilians all over North America are protecting him.”

Sheer hatred taints his voice. “He didn’t want to hurt you. It was me he wanted to get to by attacking you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I kept an eye on him, so he wouldn’t sexually abuse civilians. Other Generals didn’t have the guts to stop him, but I almost killed him.”

Feeling a tight knot at the pit of my stomach, I sit up. “No, I mean why … hurting me would hurt
you
?”

He looks at me as though trying to convey through his eyes what his lips don’t dare to say. “Can’t you tell?”

A powerful feeling constricts my heart and my stomach. “I’ve made assumptions in the past and I’ve been painfully mistaken. I’d rather hear it from your lips.”

A strong emotion shows in his blue eyes. “My lips. I’ll tell you with my lips.”

Aleksey leans in slowly getting his face close to mine. At first I close my eyes and lean in, too. Then I notice the alcohol in his breath, and all my reservations about him start to swirl in my mind. Who is
C.N.
? Can I trust this guy? I pull away. We’re not a couple so we shouldn’t act like one.

He looks at me intently, reading through my refusal to kiss him more than I want to reveal. “I thought I knew what women want, but you confuse me. Why do you push me away?”

I inhale deeply. Is he angry?

“Haven’t I treated you right, Lila?”

Totally. He has given me plenty of the human touch lately. Taking care of me while I was sick, cuddling with me during my nightmares, kissing my hair after a training session that stole hours from his limited sleep time. But most importantly, he’ll help Olmo. “Yes, you have.”

“You want me. If I touched you—and don’t worry, I won’t—I’d find evidence of your arousal.”

I drop my eyes, feeling overheated. “That’s the problem. My body responds reflexively … but—I don’t trust you.”

“Because I’m an Accord cop?” he asks in an angry tone.

I shake my head. “It’s partly that you look like a soldier, and I’m afraid that your touch will trigger bad memories.”

“You don’t mind while you’re sleeping,” he says, putting his thumb under my chin to force me to look at him. “I try to not touch you, but you always end up sleeping on my chest.” I blush and fidget uncomfortably under the bedspread. The fury in his eyes turns to warmth. “I’m not complaining, Lila.”

I know he’s not complaining. That’s only making me more flustered. “I told you once that I’m not accountable for what I do in my sleep. But I’m talking about—” I look at my fingers, feeling my blood warming up my cheeks. “A more intimate kind of touch.”

I can’t describe the way he looks at me. It’s as if my words have moved him. As though he feels real affection, even admiration, for me.

“You implied there was another reason.”

“I don’t know you. I don’t want love…at the moment, but I wish I could say I know my first sexual partner well. How can I trust you with my body in my most vulnerable state when I know nothing about you? ”

He lays down under the covers, and I resist the urge to go and curl up against him. “What do you want to know?”

“I won’t ask you anymore. You always refuse to answer. If you don’t want to talk, you must have your reasons,” I say in a frustrated tone.

“But then you’ll never trust me, right?” I nod. He puts his hands under his head, looking thoughtfully at the bed’s ceiling. “Sleep, Lila. We have training tomorrow and this time I won’t wake you up.” As calm as his voice sounds, I think he’s angry.

Long moments pass and sleepiness can’t find me. I toss under the covers. My sore muscles feel tense, and my mind keeps working, thinking about some of my concerns. Recruitment, Olmo’s health, TCR, Gary, Rey, getting a job, protecting my family, Veronica’s malice, C.N., and of course, the incredibly, disturbingly man who’s laying next to me.

Aleksey hasn’t moved, but I know he’s awake. He gets up, and before I know it, he’s playing his bass.

He usually plays solemn, furious pieces. But now, the music that comes from his skillful hands is a sweet, soothing melody that seems to tell a personal story of tenderness and passion. I open my eyes and look at him, fascinated. Eyes-closed, working the bow skillfully over the cords, he looks to be far away from here. He takes deep breaths while playing and that ruffles the blond strands falling on his face. Slowly, my eyelids close, but I force them to open to watch him play.

My muscles finally start to relax until I finally can’t fight sleep anymore. I don’t know if I’m dreaming, but I think I hear him speaking in a soft voice.

“Sleep now,
Meine kleine kämpfer
. Everything will be alright.”

* * *

As the tornado approaches the patriot railroad, we plant our bombs in a group of holes previously dug. It’s difficult to manipulate the bombs with the incessant winds working against us. Mathew, Luke, and I lie flat on the ground to avoid the debris of the strong winds. In the meantime, Rey is being extremely careful to create a detonator and not make the bomb explode on himself.

It’s taken hours of labored hiking to reach this point several miles away, north of Starville. Usually Patriot battalions don’t keep a careful watch of the cargo train routes in remote places like the highest points of the Lion Sierra area. They reserve that kind of vigilance to the routes that carry their precious troops. The tornado will scare anyone who is foolish enough to try. They haven’t mastered the art of tornado chasing like TCR has after years of focused training.

The bomb explodes in a series of
booms
and
bams.
The railroad is not completely destroyed but the supplies of drugs that keep the soldiers strong will be delayed while the engineers fix the railroad. And with a little luck they won’t notice the road is damaged and the train will derail.

It takes us some hours to get back to Starville, but there’s a feeling of excitement among our group of four. Nothing can lift your spirits better than blowing up a Patriot railroad with nothing but small homemade bombs.

Protected from the stormy wind by hundreds of building skeletons, we chat animatedly and playfully hop the potholes we find as we make our way through Deuteronomy Avenue.

“FTGOON,” says Luke and the others start to repeat their initials.
For The Glory of Our Nation.
I can’t join the chants. Unlike them, I’m not doing this for the glory of the Nationalist States of America. I’m doing this because I’m scared. Scared of recruitment.

During the tragic hacking mission that almost killed Duque, Rey got the itinerary of plenty of trains. That has made our attacks more effective as we know exactly when we can cause more damage instead of blowing up roads blindly. He even got information on the train that will carry the 03631 Regiment. The one that will perform recruitment in Starville. For the first time, we have a real shot at stopping the ceremony. Now it’s all about waiting for stormier weather to take the blame for what we’re going to do. I don’t want to allow myself to hope, but the enthusiasm around me is contagious.