Most people here hate the birds for what they represent. The birds mean that The Reestablishment has been dethroned, that the project has all but failed. The New Republic and its traitorous leaders—the children of our fallen supreme commanders—have been a ripe source of hatred for as long as I can remember.
Clara, I realize, will have questions about the gunshots.
“I’ve got real work for you, if you’re interested,” says Soledad,now wiping his boots on a clean patch of ground.
I look up. Realization is swift. “You didn’t come here for an interrogation.”
Soledad smiles at me, but his eyes are unreadable. “Never misses a thing, this one. I’ve always hated that about you.”
“How many this time?” I ask, my heart beginning a traitorous rhythm.
“We’ve got four altogether. Three have been processed already. New one came through last night and he’s definitely—” Soledad’s eyes brighten, glazing over in an inhuman shade of blue. Suddenly he whips around, marches over to the twins still grappling in snow, grabs one of them— Micah—by the scruff of his neck, and shoves him, angrily, to the ground. “You’ve just lost your rations for the week.”
Jonah darts forward. “But— We were only playing around—”
“He was going to take your eye out,” Soledad barks, then jerks his head in a familiar motion.
Micah screams.
Jonah stills, but his eyes are fixed on his brother, who’s lying on the ground, now silent and twitching violently. There’s the slam of a door, a sudden cry, and his mother, Zadie, comes running. Soledad shakes his head in disgust, and Micah is released from his paralysis. With some effort, the boy revives in his mother’s arms.
“Sorry, sir,” says Micah, his chest heaving. “I didn’t mean—”
Soledad directs his next words to Zadie. “If you can’t get these two idiots to stop acting like animals,you’ll spend another year in the pit. Is that clear?”
Heads appear, then disappear, in neighboring windows.
Zadie nods, mumbling something inarticulate, then grabs her boys and bolts.
In the quiet aftermath Soledad returns to my side, scanning me for a reaction, but I’m careful, as always, to betray no emotion. It’s the only way I’ve survived here, where I’m surveilled not only by the system but also through the eyes of everyone I encounter—even my own sister.
Surveillance is security, Rosa.
Only criminals need privacy.
Only criminals need privacy.
For so many years I used to believe everything my father said.
Those were the years when Soledad was a friend to our family; the years we lived in a warm, comfortable home, when food was abundant, when Nanny would dress me in silks before braiding my hair. I’d sneak downstairs during my mother’s dinner parties just to hear the sound of her laughter.
“How many more before you’ll lift the sanctions?” I ask, ripping the balaclava off my head. I feel the static of my hair; the compression of my chest. Brisk wind batters my face but the icy air is welcome against my heated skin.
Soledad shakes his head. “I can’t answer that. Your father is still alive, still feeding secrets to the enemy. For as long as we can’t know your mind, you’ll always be a question mark.”He shrugs, then looks away. “We all make sacrifices for the security of our nation, Rosabelle. For the security of our future. This is your sacrifice—and it may never end.”
He returns his eyes to me.
“Look,” he says. “You can kill them all at once or one at a time. I’ll let you decide. When you’re done, I’ll see about getting Clara some medicine.”
“And food,” I say too quickly, then pause, taking a moment to compose my face. “And firewood.”
“All at once, then,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“All at once,” I agree. “And right now.”
Soledad raises his eyebrows. “You sure? One of them won’t stop screaming. She had a bad reaction to the sedative.”
I feel unseasonably warm. Overdressed. I distract myself by stuffing the balaclava into Papa’s coat pocket, and the thick envelope from earlier kisses me with a paper cut. The pain focuses my thoughts.
