The Gender Game (17 page)

Stop thinking.

Matrus wouldn't murder those boys. It's Viggo's biased speculation.

My brother is ALIVE. And I'm going to see him again, if I can just keep my act together.

Being so consumed by our conversation, I had lost track of our surroundings, and noticed we were heading to a large store at the end of the road. Dashner's Arms. The parking lot in front of it was empty. Arriving outside its reinforced entrance, Viggo knocked.

A short, balding man wearing a smart tweed suit opened after a minute and, eyeing me in confusion, he beckoned us inside.

Viggo didn't bother to explain my presence. He simply moved forward with me, following the bald man through a giant warehouse stacked with guns and ammunition, toward a pair of double doors. He opened them up and pointed out a dent against the metal, near the locking mechanism.

Viggo stepped outside into a messy backyard, piled with empty crates and boxes. He inspected the area, walking around the circumference of the yard, looking for what exactly, I wasn't sure. Then he returned to us, his arms crossed over his chest while gazing up the high back wall of the building. "The culprit has left no obvious tracks, but I'll send some colleagues round with dogs later today… I take it you don't have any canines guarding this place, Mr. Crighton?" Viggo asked the bald man.

"No," he replied.

"Then I suggest you get some."

Mr. Crighton nodded.

"I'm also surprised," Viggo went on, "that you don't have a better surveillance system in place. You need more cameras out here." He ran a hand over the dented doors. "And these doors are outdated. You're asking for a burglary without the latest technology."

"Okay, sir," Mr. Crighton replied. He pulled out a pad of paper and began jotting down notes.

Once Viggo finished giving him his analysis on the doors and the yard, we headed back into the building. We ended up spending a while in here—Viggo examined every other exterior door and window. Before we left he also had to commission some new weapons for his division. By the time Viggo was done, it was well into lunchtime.

He returned to where I'd been waiting—in a chair outside Mr. Crighton's office—and reached down a hand for me to take. I couldn’t help but notice an odd tingle running down my arm as we touched. It remained for several seconds after he’d pulled me to my feet and let go of me.

Mr. Crighton thanked us and then we left the building, crossed the parking lot, and returned to the road.

"Let's get some lunch," Viggo said.

He stopped with me at the first eatery we passed, a small bakery. When we moved inside, it was empty except for two couples sitting together around a table by the window.

The man behind the glass counter grinned as he looked from me to Viggo.

"Good to see you again, Viggo. It's been a while!" he said. "And who's this? New girl?"

"Mrs. Bertrand," Viggo said tersely, before ordering two large sandwiches. "What do you want?" he asked me beneath his breath.

I opted for a slice of savory pie.

After paying, Viggo carried the tray to a table for two at the back of the bakery. We sat opposite each other—him with his back to the room—and dug into our food.

About halfway through Viggo's sandwiches, the couples by the window rose from their table and made their way over to us.

"Looks like we've got visitors," I whispered as they approached.

Viggo turned.

"Hey, Mr. Croft. I'm sorry to disturb you," one of the men said, eyeing the two of us tentatively, "but I wondered if we could have your autograph?" He held out two white napkins. "We were there at your fight two nights ago. Spectacular performance."

Viggo looked like the last thing he wanted to do was entertain the request, but he acquiesced, if only just to get rid of them quickly. Taking a pen and the tissues from the man, he scribbled his initials on each of the tissues and handed them back.

The men stowed them away appreciatively and Viggo returned to his food. I guessed they were going to leave us alone now, but then the second man said, "I wanted to ask one thing…"

Viggo was once again pulled from his meal.

"Do you ever plan to fight in the big league? You'd smash your way to the top!”

It would probably be physically impossible for Viggo to pull a more unenthusiastic expression. He merely shook his head.

At this, the man backed away, and the group took the cue to leave.

Viggo and I continued eating. Though I couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

Viggo groaned. "Why what?" he snapped.

"Why do you keep yourself at a level you're clearly above?"

He stopped chewing, eyeing me. "What makes you think I'm 'a level above'?"

"Well, it's the way people talk about you. These strangers who just came up to you, and Lee has also mentioned your abilities."

Viggo continued chewing. He waited until he had swallowed a mouthful before answering, "My current level serves its purpose. It pays me the money I need without the lack of privacy… Believe it or not," he added, "there are some things in life that aren't worth giving up for money."

"People already seem to know your name though," I said.

"Exactly," he countered. "And it would be ten times worse if I rose up in the game."

I paused, dragging my knife across the plate, before daring to go on. "I guess to me… it seems a waste. If I had the opportunity, I would go all the way."

His gaze leveled with mine briefly before averting to the table surface. Since he offered no leeway to continue the conversation, I dropped the subject. But I didn’t drop thinking about it—my lack of opportunity versus Viggo’s lack of desire. I wished in some fantastical twist of events, Patrus would establish a league for female fighters. That would probably be enough to tempt me to stay here permanently or at least try to visit frequently if I could be involved. But Patrus allowing female fighters seemed about as likely as Matrus suddenly halting their weeding out of "high risk" boys.

After Viggo finished his sandwiches, we left the bakery.

* * *

I
n the hours that followed
, we didn't talk as much. We passed several other wardens as Viggo roamed the inner city, "making his presence felt," before he began leading me back to his office. He said he had some paperwork to attend to, but we never made it that far.

A sudden buzzing emanated from Viggo's right coat pocket, where he retrieved a phone.

"Okay," he said, his eyes glued to the device. "There's been an incident. An unusual one for this time of day."

Without further explanation, he grabbed my arm and began racing with me toward where he'd left his motorbike. He seated me first before leaping on himself and kicking off down the road.

"What happened?" I gasped as the lurch knocked the breath out of me.

"A kidnapping," Viggo replied.

"Who got kidnapped? By whom?"

"You'll see."

As we careered through the city, a blaring noise erupted from the back of Viggo's motorcycle—a siren. It caused all large obstructing vehicles to quickly clear the roads and let us pass.

As we arrived at the outskirts of the city, I caught sight of six wardens standing around in a huddle on the edge of the road. Viggo stopped next to them and leapt off the bike.

"We recovered her," one of them informed Viggo.

I slid off the bike and followed Viggo, trying to make out exactly what they were all huddled around. Then I heard a low groaning, and a whimpering. It sounded like someone was curled up on the ground. Viggo, who'd pushed his way to the front of the group, was staring downward. I reached for his arm and pulled myself to him, gaining as good a view as him.

Lying on the street was a thin woman wrapped in a lambswool shawl. Her right eye was swollen and bruised, her upper lip cut. The sight made me wince.

"Did you detain him already?" Viggo demanded.

"No," one of the men replied. "He's being pursued as we speak."

"Where?"
Viggo pressed, his tone bordering on aggressive.

"Southwark Street, moving toward Lumber Avenue. A red car. Keep your phone on loudspeaker."

Viggo stepped away, pulling me back to his motorbike. He touched the screen of his phone before stowing it into his pocket. We both leapt on the motorbike. He pushed away so quickly this time that I didn't have time to find the handles beneath my seat; both nervousness and excitement filled me as I grabbed hold of his firm shoulders and we whizzed off.

Sirens from other warden vehicles blared around us. Reaching a junction, we took a sharp right turn, passed a line of stalled vehicles, and did a U-turn onto a parallel street.

"Brody Street." A voice crackled in Viggo's pocket. "Heading south."

Viggo hit the brakes so hard I almost went flying off the bike. He reversed into a road to our left and roared down it. He showed no signs of stopping at the next junction, but then, in a blur of red and shattering glass, a car came smashing through a shop front and skidded out onto the road directly in front of us. If Viggo hadn't had reflexes fast enough to make another emergency brake, we would have gone crashing right into it.

"Hey!" Viggo shouted. "Stop!"

There were apparently only two men in the vehicle, one in the passenger's seat and one in the driver's. They paid no heed to Viggo's warning and frantically revved the engine to pick up speed and continue driving in the opposite direction.

"Hand me a gun," Viggo called to me over his shoulder. "In my belt."

Reaching my hands through the folds of his trench coat, I felt his belt for a gun and yanked it out. I raised it to him and he took it with one hand. I was tempted to offer to help him, but I was still so new to handling guns, let alone shooting one at a speeding vehicle.

Clutching the motorbike's handle with his left hand, he unleashed bullets at the tires with his right. His aim was sharp. The tires punctured, causing the vehicle to slow.

As we had almost caught up with it, the doors opened and two men leapt out, revealing their full appearance for the first time. They looked unkempt and were dressed in similar rough fashion to the men I'd had a run-in with the night I ended up in the alley in my effort to avoid Cad. And they also had matching tattoos, only they weren't squares on the neck. They were small black triangles etched beneath the right eye. The square and the triangle must have been symbols of two different gangs.

Viggo stopped, leapt off the motorbike and raced after the men. "Stop where you are!"

He shot a bullet into the ankle of the shorter one, causing him to yelp and stumble. Before I could witness the fate of the other, a click sounded just in front of me. The trunk of the car pushed open and out climbed… two more men.

They took one panicked look at me before slipping round the side of the vehicle and darting off in the opposite direction.

I wasn't sure what possessed me, but the next thing I knew, I was darting down the street after them. "Hey!" I yelled.

They shot glances over their shoulders, eyes widening as they realized a woman was on their tail.

"Violet!" Viggo yelled behind me, but I was already turning a corner and chasing the criminals down another road. A dead end, the three of us realized. They stopped short and did a one-eighty, running back in my direction. They obviously thought they could just push past me.

After quickly verifying that their hands were devoid of weapons, I went charging at the nearest one to me. Diving for his knees, I floored him. He thrashed as he landed on his back, attempting to grip my throat. I grappled with him, twisting myself until my legs were in the perfect position to stretch out his arm and trap him in an arm bar. I tugged hard, tightening my hold and straining his ligaments. He grunted in pain.

Footsteps bounded down the street toward us. I glanced up to see Viggo's stunned face.

"There was another one!" I shouted. I hadn't managed to witness where exactly he'd run.

Viggo raised his phone to his ear while he continued to stare at me. "Need backup on Sullivan Street. Three detained criminals by the junction, and another one escaped on foot."

He slid the phone into his pocket before lowering and grabbing the man beneath me. I untwined my legs from the criminal and released him so Viggo could stand him upright, at which point he'd stopped attempting to struggle.

A sense of euphoria filled me, not so different than what I’d felt during my secret gym fight. I'd taken down a criminal—a male criminal, in Patrus. I'd looked him in the eye and shown him that I could match him. I could barely even bring myself to wonder what the consequences of this act might be. I was sure none by the law, since I was under Viggo's watch and guardianship.

Even as we escorted the criminal back to where Viggo must have cuffed and left the others, Viggo remained gazing at me.

"I feel like there's something you're not telling me, Violet," he muttered as we turned the corner.

I feel like there is, too.

A
s backup arrived
, both of us fell quiet. We returned to his motorcycle and headed to the lab, where we found Lee waiting in the parking lot.

Lee's face brightened. "How did everything go?" he asked. He must've been wondering why we were late.

"No doubt your wife will tell you," Viggo said. He nodded his head, his eyes flitting from Lee to me, where they lingered for a few seconds more before he revved his engine and sped away.

After Viggo was out of sight, we mounted Lee's motorcycle. "Why are your clothes torn?" Lee asked.

It was my knees—my pants had gotten frayed. "We, uh, got into an altercation on our way back here. There was an attempted kidnapping. Viggo went chasing after the guys involved and, well, I ended up helping a bit."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," I said, a tad hesitant in spite of being proud of what I’d done. I wasn't sure how Lee was going to react.

"How did you help?" he asked.

"I tripped up one of the guys. Just held him down until Viggo arrived."

"And how did Viggo react to it?"

"He didn't really say much. I already mentioned to him that I took a few defense lessons in Matrus when I was younger, just like a hobby thing."

"Hm," Lee murmured, looking worried. "Then I guess it worked out okay… But getting involved the way you did was risky. Unnecessarily risky."

"I don’t plan to do it again," I assured him, although I would like to, if the opportunity arose. "It was a spur of the moment thing; Viggo had brought me along on his motorcycle anyway, right into the heat of the scene, so helping him hardly seemed like a big extra step."

“Hm,” Lee said again.

He went quiet and focused on the road for the rest of the journey. When we arrived back home, we cooked and ate dinner together, and then I retired to bed.

* * *

T
he next day
, I awoke to the sound of drilling for the second time since my arrival here. I groaned, sitting up in bed and rubbing my face.
Lee's darn mechanic.

After brushing my teeth and showering, I headed downstairs to the kitchen to find Lee awake and eating breakfast at the table.

"Viggo called," he said, as I took a seat beside him.

"What did he say?"

"He can't take you today until the afternoon," Lee replied. "He said that he'll pick you up during his lunch hour."

"Oh. Okay." I felt disappointed. This meant that I was going to have to find something to do with myself for the entire morning.

"Also," Lee added, "he's got a later shift tonight, so you can stay with him for that if you want. He said he'll drop you back afterward, say, around half past midnight.”

"Okay."
Late night with Viggo
. I couldn't deny that this prospect excited me.

"Mr. Bertrand?" a man's voice called from outside the kitchen.

"Yes, Chris. In here."

A gray-haired man in scruffy blue dungarees arrived in the doorway. He met my eyes briefly with a polite nod, before turning his focus to Lee.

"So looks like I'm done for now," he said. "I trust you'll call me if you detect any problems."

Lee was already standing up and heading to the door.

"Excellent," Lee said, planting a hand on Chris's shoulder and leading him toward the front door. It clicked open and footsteps moved outside.

I fetched myself a bowl of oatmeal before wandering to the window. The two men were talking in the drive. Lee handed Chris a small black pouch, which I assumed contained his payment. They shook hands, and then Chris left through the gate.

I continued gazing out the window as Lee returned to the kitchen. It was a beautiful morning.

"So, what are your plans for today?" I asked Lee.

"I've got to go out again," he said. "I need to leave in five minutes."

He swallowed down the rest of his food before dumping his plate in the sink and heading to the entrance hall. "I'll see you later this evening," he called, before shutting the door behind him.

Okay…

And thus began my wait.

I ended up actively seeking out Samuel—who had been lazing around in the sun outside in the back garden—and recruited him for a game. I couldn't help but be entertained by the enthusiasm he showed for his ball.

But I was getting tired of playing with him in this confined backyard. He'd probably appreciate a change of scenery, too.

I gazed around at the trees enclosing the garden. Beyond the back fence was a road—you could hear the occasional car driving by. That was the same road we’d taken when we'd traveled to Viggo's cabin.

Most men were at work during the day, according to Lee. And women weren't allowed out. I couldn't imagine that there would be many people roaming these mountain roads. And if I wore my disguise…

Although I knew it would make Lee uncomfortable, I decided to head out anyway. I wouldn't go far. I would stay within ten minutes of the house in case I had to run back for some reason. But it would give my head some space and help make the time pass more quickly.

I changed into the male costume before returning downstairs to Samuel. I put on his leash and, grabbing a set of spare keys, headed out. Samuel didn't seem to notice that I was a different person to the one I had been just a few minutes ago. His tail wagged excitedly as we crossed the drive and slipped out of the gate.

We took a right and began strolling up the pretty mountain road, past the crystal-clear stream that ran nearby. I peered into each driveway as we passed, glimpsing the triangular-shaped buildings identical to Lee's.

Turning a corner, I felt the stretch in my calf muscles as we began to ascend a steeper slope.

What I would have really liked, in that moment, was to get away from everyone. Escape into nowhere, like Viggo wanted to do. I wished there was a footpath leading off into nature, away from all man-made constructions and other signs of civilization. But the only path was this road.

Samuel jerked forward, almost making me lose balance. He had spotted a squirrel scurrying across the road.

Gripping his leash more tightly, I reined him in.

We had walked more than ten minutes away from the front of Lee's drive by now. Probably more like fifteen or twenty minutes. My shirt had started to cling to my lower back. The morning sun, pleasantly mild against my skin when we had stepped out, was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

I sighed. We should probably head back now.

"Come on, boy," I said, tugging on Samuel and herding him back down the mountain.

But as we reached the corner and were about to wind our way back around it, the sound of a woman screaming made me stop still.

It had come from somewhere behind me… the house behind me. Number thirty-two.

Then it came again. Another scream. It drifted through one of the open downstairs windows.

"Stop it!" the shaking female voice cried. "Stop!" It grew more ragged, more desperate. "Don't pick that up!"

I heard the sound of smashing porcelain. There was a cry of pain, followed by a door slamming. Then all went quiet.

Barely breathing, I felt my consciousness return to the sunny world around me. To Samuel, tugging at me impatiently. But I remained staring at the house. The silence was more disconcerting than the screaming.

Viggo couldn't arrive soon enough.

* * *

F
eeling shaken
, I returned to the house with Samuel and waited indoors for the rest of the morning and early afternoon. Viggo ended up arriving just before three p.m., later than I had been expecting him.

I had been waiting near the window overlooking the front of the house and as soon as he pulled up on his motorbike, I hurried outside to meet him.

The first thing I did was inform him of what I had witnessed earlier at number thirty-two.

"You need to go and investigate," I concluded.

Inhaling, he ran a hand over his face before saying, "I can't."

"What? Why not?"

"That's not how things work here. Wardens can't just go barging into citizens' private homes like that. The first thing I would have to do is file a report at head office, prompting one of our people to summon the man for an interview. He would be asked questions about what was going on that afternoon, and if it is different from your report—i.e., if he denied anything happened—then they would move on to the woman for questioning to get to the bottom of it. However, because you are a woman, none of this can happen. Women can't be witnesses… especially not women who were out roaming illegally by themselves at the time."

His gaze sharpened.

I pursed my lips.

Lee was at work, so of course, Viggo knew that I would've gone by myself. Perhaps I had allowed myself to get a little too comfortable around Viggo already in assuming that he wouldn't report me.

"What would be required in order to launch an investigation," he went on, "would be for a man to witness the noises. Then something could possibly be done about it."

I sighed heavily. "Okay."

I felt his eyes on me as I looked down at my feet. Then he said, "Hop on," apparently choosing to turn a blind eye to my disobedient wandering after all.

I climbed on to the bike behind him and this time didn't bother gripping the handle beneath my seat for support. Instead I held Viggo as I'd done for the first time the day before, since it was more comfortable.

"Could we just drive past there now?" I ventured. "Number thirty-two. Maybe the cries will have started again."

"Okay." We pulled out of the driveway and took a right, further up the mountain.

We stopped outside the house and waited beneath the shade of a willow tree… But nothing happened. After five minutes of waiting in silence, Viggo started the engine again and we rode back down the mountain.

"So what if a woman witnessed a murder?" I posed, mulling over this particularly absurd rule. Men had a lot of disadvantages in Matrus, some arguably worse than the women in Patrus. But this particular law grated on my nerves. "If she actually witnessed, for example, one man attacking another man. Hacking his head off. Are you telling me she wouldn't be able to testify in court? That nobody would take her seriously?"

"She would need to have gained solid evidence somehow," Viggo said. "Like a videotape or an audio recording. But you are correct, her word alone would not be enough."

I exhaled in frustration.
"Why?"

"You could ask that question about a lot of things," Viggo muttered.

He was right. I was asking the question more out of frustration than anything else. Not only would a male have to witness the noises, but he'd also have to be willing to testify. The idea that whatever was happening behind that door could continue happening indefinitely disturbed me to no end. I had been half-tempted to barge in there myself while in my costume—or rather, knock on the door—if only to disrupt whatever suffering that woman was going through.

But I guessed that this was just another thing that was best not to think about. Trying to make sense of rules that didn't make sense was rather a losing proposition.

That didn't stop me wondering whether things might change someday. Whether some queen and king might eventually ascend to the two nations' thrones and put an end to rules like this. Though I knew it was a dream. We had lived like this for centuries and it seemed that, as the years passed, both governments were only coming up with more enforcements to keep us ingrained in our ways. I didn't see why anything would change.

At least not in my lifetime.