In the End (Starbounders) (11 page)

“And you’re too scared to risk that,” I say bitterly.

Jacks stares at me; then, in a fit of frustration, he kicks the wall.

“I don’t have any power, Amy,” he says. “You think I like how things work here? I don’t. But I don’t want to die.”

“Neither do I,” I say. “But—”

“But what? I get that you fought for what was right at that other place you were at. And what happened? You ended up out there.” He gestures out the window. “And what’s more, you’re stuck here, while your sister might be dead.”

“She’s
not
dead!” I scream.

“Face facts. She probably is. It happens to everyone we love. That’s the world now.” His voice lacks any emotion.

“Screw you, Jacks!” Without a pause, I tear the door open and sprint down the corridor. My footsteps rattle the iron walkway in loud, bullet-like bursts.

I can hear him running after me.

“Amy!” he yells.

“What? Afraid your uncle will find out I’m not under your
control
?”

There’s a whoop from the cells below me, followed by catcalls. People are starting to gather in their doorways to watch.

“Get your woman, Jacks!” someone yells.

“Bitch can run!” another screams.

I fly down a stairwell, then another. I don’t even know where I’m going—I just need to run. Now I’m out of B and have shot into Cellblock A. Which is when two pairs of hands grab my arms. I look to either side of me and see shaved heads. It’s the fighters.

“Hey, I remember you,” one says, shoving me up against a wall. I deliver a swift kick to one of their shins, but the other one’s got me pinned.

“Guys,” the first one says, backing away. “That’s Jacks’s girl. You don’t want to mess with that.”

I can see the hesitation on their faces. I’m about to make another escape attempt when suddenly, from behind me, I hear a voice. Brenna.

“Leave her alone, you bastards.”

The men look up. When the one to my left loosens his grip, I wrench free, then throw my elbow in the other man’s ribs.

“We was just having a little fun,” the larger of the two says, snarling. “We was just going to scare her a little . . . you ugly cow,” he adds under his breath.

Brenna just laughs. “You think I care what you say, you stupid monkey? You’re not worth my time, not now and not the ten seconds it takes me to kick your ass in the Arena.” She glares at them until they back off.

“Come on,” she says to me. I move away until we’re safely around the corner. She puts her hand in mine.

“You’re fine,” Brenna says. “You would’ve had ’em.”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, I heard you and Jacks fighting. The whole damned place did. Not that smart, you know.”

“What?” I look at her, hurt. “I thought you of all people would understand that I hate the concept of being ‘owned.’”

“Yeah, I get it. You’re not really into playing the game. I’m not either.” She pauses. “But if you wanted to win, you could.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard you’re looking for some dude. Pam told me. Someone we’ve never heard of. Well, you ain’t gonna find him by being a pain in the ass to the only guy here who really cares about you.”

“But Jacks—”

“Has a crush on you? Who cares? We all do what we can to get by in this place.”

I can feel my face go crimson.

“Anyway. Let’s go back. I gotta rest up for the fight tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Brenna,” I say as we approach Jacks’s cell. “Seriously. For everything.”

“Forget it,” she says before we’re within earshot of Jacks. “Just remember: If you’re gonna break his heart, make sure it’s worth it.”

“I don’t plan on doing that,” I say carefully. “But I do have to see this through. I won’t be here forever, Brenna.”

“All the more reason to play the game and be careful,” she tells me. “It won’t help anyone if you’re dead.”

I nod and make my way back to the cell. Jacks looks up, and I offer a small smile. “Sorry I ran off. Again.”

He smiles back. “Sorry I said those things. It’s hard to have hope, especially in here.”

“My sister is alive. And I’m going to save her,” I say with a certainty I don’t feel.

His eyes meet mine, and he nods. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but it’s a start.

Chapter Seventeen

After two days filled with long stretches of silences and awkwardly trying to avoid each other in our tiny cell, I decide to win Jacks over by requesting a tattoo of my own. I pick one of his sketches: a small golden sun, round and bright. I like the idea of having the sun with me always, even in the dark. Next to it is a small moon with
BABY
written in silver flowing letters. Baby will like it when she sees it.

He looks up from the sketch he’s working on and catches me staring at it again in the mirror, my synth-suit pulled off my shoulder, my head craning to look.

He grins. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Fine.” I shrug. I don’t want him to think that I’m weak, but it still hurts. “Maybe next time I’ll get a full sleeve, like yours.”

He holds out his arms to look at them, flexing them slightly. “I don’t know, Amy, that’s pretty hardcore. You sure you don’t want a cute little butterfly on your ankle or something first?”

I shake my head. Maybe at one point, if the world had stayed normal. If I had gone to college and gotten a tattoo to be a rebel. “Do I look like a butterfly kind of girl? I want a unicorn . . . or maybe those Chinese letters that people think mean
serenity
or
peace
, but really say
sweet and sour chicken.
”

Jacks laughs at that, deep and unexpected. “It used to happen a lot. People would come into my tattoo shop with letters in a different language, and I always tried to talk them out of it but . . .” He pauses, lost in thought. “Layla wanted a butterfly tattoo. She was that kind of girl. Until we got here.” He goes back to working on his sketch.

There seems to be more noise than usual coming from outside, so I walk to the window and look out. The Yard looks deserted.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Just the fights,” Jacks says. “I’m not interested in watching.”

A voice booms across the cell, making me jump. “Well, you’d better get interested real quick.” I turn to find the Warden staring at us, his presence making my skin crawl.

“What do you want?” Jacks asks, his voice cold.

The Warden stares him down. “I’ve got all of Fort Black at the fights. How do you think it will look if you and your girl aren’t there?”

Jacks takes a deep breath. “I’ve seen enough blood. . . .”

“It ain’t about the blood,” the Warden says loudly, talking over him. “It’s about the release. It’s about people getting a little entertainment.”

“It’s about you keeping them distracted so they don’t see how shitty their lives are,” Jacks shoots back.

The Warden just chuckles. “A little. Come on now. I need you there.”

Jacks looks to me, and the Warden whistles. “Sorry, didn’t know you needed permission from the missus.”

Jacks stands and comes to me. “Amy,” he whispers, “do you mind coming? It’s easier just to do what he wants.”

I look at him. He’s torn between standing up to his uncle and keeping the long-standing peace between them. There’s something else in his expression: shame. He doesn’t want me to think he’s a coward.

“I’ll go with you,” I say, then add, “if that’s what you want.”

Jacks nods, and we follow the Warden down the stairs and out to the Yard, turning right past Cellblock A to reach the Arena.

The fights haven’t started yet, but nearly all the seats in both sets of bleachers are filled with cheering fans. I see Dwayne up at the top with a few seats next to him and wave to him. “Here, let’s sit in the back,” I tell Jacks, pointing to the empty seats. “Unless you have to be up front?”

“No, the back is fine.” We climb the bleachers to the top row.

“Hey, Amy.” Dwayne grins at us. “Jacks, you’re lucky to have a girl like this.”

“I know.” Jacks smiles back half-heartedly, and I grimace. I’m not in the mood to watch people fight. But I take advantage of the crowds and feverishly scan for anyone who could be Ken.

“Want some?” Dwayne offers me a flask. “It’s not anything like that vodka you gave me, just some nasty toilet hooch, but it gets the job done.”

“Um . . . no, thanks.” I shake my head.

“Suit yourself,” he tells me with a shrug, and takes a long sip.

The crowd has spilled down around the fighters’ circle. Jacks explains that only the fighters are allowed in the red circle, and usually the crowd is pretty good about giving them space.

The Warden appears in the middle of the circle and raises his arms to quiet the crowd, whose shouts turn to hushed whispers remarkably fast.

“Fort Black!” the Warden yells. “It’s been a long two weeks since the last fight, but what a show! Kid Gorilla is still recuperating, and y’all know Pretty Parker ain’t so pretty anymore!” The crowd goes wild, and the Warden takes off his hat and waves it in the air. He lets them scream a bit before raising his arms again. “Are y’all ready?” The crowd goes crazy again, and I give Jacks a glance. He gives me an apologetic look and grabs my hand. For a moment I wish I weren’t wearing my synth-suit so I could truly feel his hand in mine.

“I hate this shit,” Jacks whispers. “My uncle keeps everyone happy with blood and fear. They don’t even care. All they want is a little relief from their crappy lives.”

The Warden’s voice carries across the Arena. “All right, let’s get the first two fighters: Georgie and Young Dan . . . you’re up!”

Two large men with shaved heads appear from the crowd. I remember that when we helped Brenna, the man I was fighting automatically tried to grab a handful of my hair. Brenna’s shaved head makes sense now. She wouldn’t want to give away any advantage.

Both men showboat for a while, trying to work up the crowd. One flexes, while the other shouts obscenities at his opponent. The Warden takes out his gun and fires a shot into the air. The men rush each other immediately.

At first it looks like they’re boxing without gloves, dancing around each other, trading jabs and punches. Then one of the men backs up and kicks the other’s legs. The man doesn’t fall, but he stumbles into the wall of the crowd, which pushes him back into the center of the circle only to be kicked again. He goes down and cowers into the fetal position. The man still standing kicks him a few more times until the man on the ground shouts, “Forfeit!” The crowd erupts in cheers.

“Is it over?” I ask.

“Yeah. Someone has to give up or be knocked unconscious.”

The winner leaves the circle, pushing his way through the crowd, while someone helps the loser to his feet. Two more fighters emerge from the crowd and take their places in the red circle.

“Look, it’s Brenna,” I say. I’m excited, despite myself. She also has on baggy shorts, along with a sports bra. She jumps up and down, punching the air. She looks tough, a real threat. Her spinal column tattoo only heightens the effect, running from her neck down her back and disappearing into her shorts. It makes her look like a total badass.

“Want to make a bet?” Jacks asks, who seems to have perked up.

“Bet against Brenna? You’re crazy.” I look over at Dwayne. “He knows better.”

“That’s right. I learned my lesson last time.” Dwayne’s eyes are glued on the Arena.

The Warden again stands in the circle. “And now we have a crowd favorite . . . Beautiful Brenna!” Half the crowd cheers while the other half boos, but Brenna puts her pointer finger in the air to show she’s number one. “And Beautiful Brenna will be fighting . . . Charlie Boy Brandt!” The man she’s fighting is taller than her by a good six inches, but Brenna is at least as muscular.

After a few more minutes of riling up the crowd, the Warden shoots his gun and backs away. At first the fighters circle around the ring. Brenna goes in for the first punch and is knocked down. I stand, concerned, but she gets up quickly, bouncing back into a boxing stance.

I sit and look at Jacks. “She’ll be fine,” he assures me.

Brenna moves in again, this time more carefully. The man has a longer wingspan and hits her twice in the face. I hold my breath, but when the man, cocky now, steps in for another blow, Brenna drops low and drives a punch into his crotch. He folds over and she springs up, connecting her knee with his face. He crumples to the ground.

“Anything goes,” I whisper, shaking my head as Brenna raises her arms in victory.

“I love that girl!” Dwayne jumps up to cheer for Brenna.

I stand up to cheer for her too, amazed at how desensitized to violence I’ve become. Maybe because the fights in the Arena are very much like the fights I had to participate in during Guardian training. I see Brenna make her way through the crowd, pausing at the girl with red hair for just a moment before moving on.

“Let’s go down to congratulate—” I begin to say, until I see who has just stepped into the circle.

Tank places a hand on one side of his head and cracks his neck, then repeats it on the other side.

“We don’t have to watch this,” Jacks tells me, starting to get up.

“No, I want to.” I need to see what Tank can do.

This time when the Warden makes an announcement, a hush falls over the crowd. I missed the first fighter’s name, but I hear what the Warden says next, loud and clear: “The undefeated, Tank Laaaaaawson!”

When the Warden fires his gun, Tank charges across the circle in two blurred steps and backhands his opponent across the face. Now he dances around, grinning like an evil little kid who’s misbehaved. The man roars and rushes Tank, who spins him easily into a headlock and goes to work on his face with his free fist.

Tank’s fight lasts longer than Brenna’s only because he toys with his opponent, methodically hammering away at his face under his massive arm, then freeing him to stagger back a step or two before reeling him in for more. Finally Tank grows bored of toying with the man and lets him drop, giving him a long look as he sprawls there coughing up blood. He spits on him before leaving the circle.

I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry. The first two fights were at least even. Tank demolished that man.

I elbow Jacks. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, I’ve been seen. We can leave.” We make our way down the bleachers to the gate that leads to the Yard.

“You okay?” Jacks asks.

“Yeah.” I try to get through the gateway, but someone blocks my path.

“Hey there, cupcake.” Tank. Of course—he picked me out of the crowd. Was he waiting for me to come this way, or is it just bad luck? “Come to see me win?”

Tank is drenched in sweat, and he hasn’t even bothered to wipe the blood from his hands. I take some satisfaction that his face is still bruised from where I hit his nose, even if the swelling has gone down.

Jacks begins to put his arm around me protectively, but I shake him off. I make myself stare into Tank’s cold, dark eyes. “Get out of the way,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady. “Or I will hurt you
again
,” I stress.

“Sure, no problem,” he says, bowing. “Here, princess, step this way.”

I walk past him, careful not to come within arm’s reach. I’m grateful that Jacks walks at my side, between me and Tank. Jacks mutters, “Douchebag,” loud enough for Tank to hear.

We get ten feet into the exercise yard when I hear a woman’s voice in my ear. “Amy!” It’s so loud that I think whoever said it is right behind me. I whirl around but can’t find whoever called for me. I hear my name again, but it’s much farther away, Brenna screaming after us from the chain-link fence of the Arena. Maybe my sound amplifier is malfunctioning?

I wave to Brenna and she calls, “Did you see me kick that guy’s ass?” I nod and give her a thumbs-up.

“Amy!” Again the voice is in my ear, but it’s not Brenna who says it. “Are you there? Get somewhere you can talk.”

My heart seizes in my chest. It’s Kay.
Kay
. I look up at Jacks. “I need to go back to our cell. Now.”

“What? Why? Listen, don’t let Tank freak you out.”

“No, that’s not . . . yes. Yeah, I just need to rest.” Jacks nods and takes my hand, leading me toward the cellblock. When we get there I stop and release his hand. “Look, I think I just want to be by myself for a little while.”

He looks at me, as though deciding if I should be left alone, then says, “Okay. I’ll go check in with Doc. He might need me to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back soon.”

I run up the stairs and rush to our cell. The cells on either side of me are empty—everyone’s gone to the fights.

I hop up on the top bunk and whisper, “Kay . . . are you there?”

After ten minutes, she still hasn’t responded. I know I heard Kay’s voice. She tried to contact me. I wonder when she’ll try again and if I’ll have enough time before anyone comes back.

“Sunshine?” Kay’s voice is again in my ear. After being called “sweetheart,” “cupcake,” “princess,” and a bunch of other non-flattering things, Kay’s nickname for me lights me up.

“Yes,” I say excitedly, then remember to keep my voice low. “I’m here. I can talk.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t contact you again sooner,” she tells me hurriedly. “Gareth is on lookout, watching for spies, but you never know who’s listening.”

“Tell me—” I stop myself from blurting out questions about Baby and force myself to let Kay talk.

“Are you okay, Amy?” Kay whispers. “Are you surviving that place? Did you talk to Ken?”

“I’m fine,” I say hurriedly. “But I haven’t found Ken yet. I thought I saw him a couple of times, but he disappeared into a part of the prison I couldn’t follow him into.” I rip Jacks’s sketch out of my pack. “Does he have a mole on his left cheek, just below his eye?”

“Looks like a heart?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s him. Funny. I used to tease him about it. It’s good to know he’s alive. I’ve been out of contact with him for months, since before we broke you out. I was worried—about both of you.” She sighs. “All I know is that he was sent to Fort Black to work on his research. But it was good that you didn’t follow him into a restricted area. I don’t want either of you getting into trouble. Dr. Reynolds has spies everywhere.”

At the mention of Dr. Reynolds, my chest goes cold. “Is Dr. Reynolds in charge of Fort Black, too?”

“No, but they’re connected. I don’t know it all—I’m not a researcher. I don’t have the clearance to view medical records. Wait . . .” Kay cuts out, only to return a few seconds later. “False alarm.” She pauses again. “Look, thing are getting worse with Baby. They’ve moved her from the dorm to the lab. Rice says they’re taking too much blood, and she’s developed a heart arrhythmia. He’s really afraid for her life. Rice fears her heart may give out . . . and even if she holds out, she could suffer long-term brain damage.”