Peter didn’t merely determine whether you held value or not based on the state of your genitalia, but controlled everything, from the size of your apartment and how many cockroaches it came with to how quickly you could get assistance at a hospital. It all depended on the color of your wristband.
The poster’s maroon background emphasized his jaw, so stony it reminded me of Gedeon clenching his whenever Zion and I would shred his patience. But even then, with Gedeon, I’d always felt safe, while the thin set of Peter’s lips, his wavy blondhair slicked back, and his pale complexion coaxed a shiver to skate down my spine.
The posters hung in half the places in the city: grocery stores, restaurants, hospitals, offices, apartments. Dressed in a white button-up shirt, his shoulders set back, his chest puffed out in an overt display of power, Ilasall’s leader looked at you from above wherever you went.
His deep brown eyes would track you even to the bathroom sometimes. Nothing could compare to taking a shit while staring at the boss responsible for deciding how many layers your toilet paper had.
Not a sparkle of sunshine blessed the image of the Head of Ilasall—a drab sky loomed above the widespread destruction running rampant in the streets.
But if I had that invisible leash Arlo had mentioned, something, someonetugged, and I complied, stepping away from the poster, my attention snagging on the highest structure in the city.
Forged purely out of glass, the Spire twisted around itself and narrowed at the top, like a spear set on puncturing the heavy clouds obscuring the sun.
The place where our government, the Heads of the six divisions and the city resided, their offices and homes situated in the one dwelling that towered over the neighborhoods like a throne.
Brushing aside the cries for help, I sprinted toward my target.
I knew if I hesitated, if I stopped to help, if I looked at the tear-streaked faces, I wouldn’t be able to continue.
Gedeon had told me repeatedly that war would test a person, would scar them inside out, tear them at the seams, but I hadn’t listened.
Now my seams creaked, about to burst, but I shoved everything down, so deep into the abyss of my emotions that they vanished. Dissipated like wisps of smoke and cold breath.
The wails descended on me like a veil of death, but serenity took the front seat in my mind. As I ran to the Spire, faster and faster, a laugh bubbled out of me.
Finally,finally, I was going to have the head of the man reigning over Ilasall in my palm.
68
GEDEON
One street.
Just one more street and I would emerge in front of the Spire. And then, I would see them both. At least that was what I kept telling myself.
Only the emotion-deterring armor I had enshrouded myself in had prevented me from losing it when Kali and I had been separated immediately after we had breached the gates.
And having not a hunch whether Zion was okay… I had to will my teeth to stop grinding.
Relaxing my jaw, I peeked out from the street corner to survey the havoc.
Except my expectations turned out to be unfulfilled. Tranquility roamed the long stretch leading to the Spire, the sidewalks lined with pine trees, not a needle out of place.
In the depths of the city, soldiers didn’t run loose. Deceased didn’t adorn the roads. Howls of pain and bangs of bullets didn’t disturb the hush.
Only the closed doors betrayed the fact that citizens lived here, that they had locked themselves inside. The city provided green-banded with anything they wished for, their lives so cushioned that a mere understanding we had invaded Ilasallhad been sufficient to drive all able-to-reproduce folks into their houses.
Or almost all.
“No!” an auburn-haired woman screamed as her green-banded partner dragged her down the path to an apartment building. Based on the large size of the windows, a fresh coat of cream paint, and the thick open door, it appeared to be a dwelling for the rich, the saviors of the human race.
Or rather, the rabbits increasing our population numbers.
“Shut the fuck up,” the square-faced man sneered. Yanking her arm, he knocked her off balance, and then did it all over again, disregarding her cries and stumbles, rushing to reach the reinforced door that would take too long to break.
My blood ran hot.
Purple and blue blotches marred the woman’s neck—precisely how Eislyn’s throat had looked when Zion had smuggled her out of Ilasall.
