Chapter 31

Night had fallen, and the Mothers hadn’t made the progress White was hoping for. Nothing was making sense. It was as if the rebels knew exactly where their forces were located and were somehow able to avoid them before they arrived.
They had the leader in a cell beneath the hospital ward. Mother White had put one of her best leaders on the interrogation, trying to get as much out of this Lightning as she could, but so far, the reports hadn’t been useful. She would’ve gone down there and demanded some information herself, but every time she turned around, there was another fire to put out.
Now that night had fallen, she was hopeful there would be some literal fires that would help her troops in the field find the rebels and destroy them. They had strict orders to shoot first and ask questions later. That was the order as far as any of the escapees were concerned except for the two that were out there somewhere she thought might be able to provide some answers to her. The only ones the Mothers weren’t to mow down as soon as they saw them were the red-haired girl, Rain, and 24C. His picture was sent out to every agent in the field. While many of the men from IW looked similar, his sandy-blond hair, distinctive blue eyes, and extra few inches of height made him stand out.
“Mother White, President Violet is on her way from the airstrip. She should be here in a few minutes.”
It was Peach again. Damn if that woman didn’t drive her insane. She was like an annoying fly that just kept buzzing around, no matter how many times White waved her away. With a deep breath, she asked, “Where is she traveling to, Peach?”
She cleared her voice. “Here, Mother White.”
Muttering a curse word under her breath, White decided not to say more. She knew that. She wanted to know if Peach had arranged a room for her. “Thank you. Peach. Just escort her to command central, and I’ll be there shortly.”
“You don’t want to greet her, Mother White?”
White began to walk before the question popped out of Peach’s mouth. “I said I will be there shortly.”
The clank of her boot heels echoed off of the hall as she headed to the stairwell. White had known Violet since they were children in the nursery together in Capital City. They were elite, even then, destined for the higher echelons of society. The house they’d grown up in, Rainbow House, was one where every woman was expected to rise to their fullest potential or face the Bridge. Unlike these distant towns where everything was butterfly kisses and kitten snuggles, women learned the truth of the nation quickly enough when they grew up in the capital. There were no ridiculous stories about how the Bridge led to a reboot, another chance at perfection. Everyone knew you’d better perform, or else Michaelanburg would no longer need you, and anyone who wasn’t a necessity could be ended without the charade of traveling down a magical pathway to a better life.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she made it to the bottom of the second flight in a few seconds, thinking about how secluded the citizens of Gretchintown were, and therefore, how she’d thought this was the last place that needed to be monitored for rebellion. Some of the other cities, ones closer to the borders, were impossible to shelter. Women there had to be taught patriotism above everything else. There were no mythological women from the past who had overcome the oppression of men and their mighty fists who could possibly inspire the women to fight to protect their way of life so much as empowerment and a nice stipend for joining the military.
As she rounded the corner, White heard words that sounded like the lyrics to a patriotic song to her--or a dare. “You will never get me to talk!” That had to be Lightning, and the desperation in the young woman’s voice made White think Mother Jaguar was close to finding a breaking point. It seemed as if White’s timing was perfect, despite the alarm going off in her info tab that let her know President Violet had entered the building.
The cells contained several women, many of them bleeding from the lips or nose where they’d been punched, and a few of the Dicks from IW who hadn’t been shot or weren’t running through the woods now. She imagined their free counterparts skipping along, taking far too much time to stare at the sky. They’d have to catch up to a bunch of animals who’d never been out of their cages before, wouldn’t they? As it was, she was shocked so many had gotten away. In this case, fear of being captured must’ve forced them on. Eventually, that adrenaline would run out, and then surely the military would be able to round them up.
Lightning’s eyes were swollen to slivers, blood covered her Communications uniform, which was a blue version of the same uniforms Medics wore in white, much different than her military brown that was designed to take a bullet if she were struck anywhere but the neck or head. Not that a defensive uniform would’ve done anything to protect the girl now as she sat there across from Jaguar, trying to keep her cool when it was clear by the trembling in her hands and the way her leg was shaking under the table that she was about to fall apart.
Jaguar stepped away from the rebel who was strapped to a chair in the middle of the room, a few other Military Mothers standing nearby. “Anything?” White asked, folding her arms.
“We’re close,” Jaguar said. “She hasn’t given us much. Only that there were several women helping her. She claims no one had all of the information, that it was parceled between everyone so that no one could give everything away.”
“You believe her?”
“I do,” Jaguar said. She was about a decade older than White, her dark hair sprinkled with gray, especially around the temples. “Mother Opal is in the process of rebooting all of the computers after this one did a full wipe on all of them, including the backup videos.” She hooked her thumb at Lightning. “If there was information handed off during any of the IW sessions, we should be able to detect it. We can also search all of the dialogue between the women and the Dicks to see how much of it was caught.”
White nodded. There were thousands of cameras in this building. Every conversation should’ve been captured by one camera or another, and they could search the dialogue for keywords. Even if Lightning was under the impression she had shut down all of the cameras in the IW rooms and elsewhere, there were high-level security cameras she wouldn’t be knowledgeable about. Those cameras would also have recordings that would be useful. While Lightning was very good at screwing up their technology and messing with their systems, she couldn’t have completely disabled everything the way she thought she had.
Her info tab chirped again. A sigh escaped her pursed lips as White pulled it out. “President Violet is asking for you to report to your office immediately, Mother White,” Peach had texted. With a growl of disgust, she said she’d be there directly and shoved the tablet into a pocket in her uniform.
“Jaguar, go check on the progress of those recordings.” Mulling over her next move, she surveyed the others in the room.
“Yes, Mother White.” Jaguar gave the sign of respect, one hand to her heart and then a slicing motion across her chest, and then walked out the door.
“The rest of you go, too,” she insisted, clearing out the room of all the Military Mothers, leaving behind only the captives in the cells and Lightning strapped to the chair. The door closed with a bang behind the last woman, the echo resounding around the concrete space. A window would allow the others to see what she was doing if they cared to watch. A camera in the corner would collect everything for posterity's sake. She knew her actions needed to be decisive if she were to keep control of a situation that was spiraling out of control, despite the fact that Violet had sent her here to keep a handle on everything.
“Lightning, you’ve grown close to the other women in Communications, haven’t you?” she asked, stepping over in front of the chair, her hands folded behind her back.
The woman said nothing, only glared at her through her slitted eyes. She didn’t need to answer. White knew enough to understand the situation.
“Some of these women probably had nothing to do with the rebellion and were just here today, in the wrong place in a time when you decided to attempt to make history. Is that right?”
“Go to hell. I’m not telling you anything,” Lightning said, spit mixed with blood shooting out of her mouth as she spoke.
“I think you will, if you know what’s good for you. I’m not sure what questions Jaguar has been asking you, but I want the names of every woman you coordinated with, the roles they played, where they were headed, and which men in IW were working with you. I have a short list already. You’d better tell me what I already know and more, or else, your casualty list is about to get a lot longer.”
Her jaw in the air, the blonde spat, “I’m not afraid of you!”
White studied her for a moment, noted how her eye twitched slightly, how her blood pressure rate increased, visual through the vein in her neck, and the sweat that began to dot her forehead.
Without another word to the young woman, she stepped over to the closest cell and punched in her access code, grabbing the first woman in blue she could reach and yanking her out, letting the door slam locked behind her.
Pulling her across the room by her curly, dark hair, she noted the woman already had blood dripping from her ear, a splatter of red on her uniform that implied someone might’ve gotten shot right next to her during the fray.
With her hand twisted in that luscious hair, White pulled her revolver from its holster and pushed the nozzle to the girl’s head. A quick glance at the woman let White know she’d gotten lucky. There was a reaction from Lightning. Mentally flipping back through the information she’d gathered earlier in the day, she remembered the woman she was holding was also from Weather House. She was in the same year as Lightning, and there was a good chance the two of them were in several classes together. If Lightning’s reaction was any indication, they were probably friends.
“Hurricane? Right?” White asked as the girl squinted her eyes and began to cry.
“Yes, Mother,” she said between sobs. Lightning might’ve been prepared to lay down her life for the cause, but clearly Hurricane was not.
“Lightning, do you know this woman? Do you know Hurricane?”
“Go to hell.” This time, there wasn’t nearly as much fire in the words.
White chuckled. “One of us is about to. But it’s not going to be me. Tell me names and locations, Lightning. Right now. Everything you know.” She pressed the gun to the girl’s temple, pulling her hair so tightly, she was a full inch taller than she would’ve otherwise been.
“Oh, is that what the Motherhood is about now? Killing innocent women because another one won’t talk?”
“You’re saying Hurricane here is innocent?” White asked. “Tell me who isn’t, Lightning. Tell me, or she dies.”
“You wouldn’t dare! How could you--”
The sharp ping of the revolver going off brought shrieks from the women in the cells. Lightning bucked in her seat. White didn’t even flinch as blood squirted across her face. Dropping Hurricane’s dead weight to the floor, she didn’t bother to wipe the drops of red dripping from her cheeks.
Instead, White took two strides closer to Lightning, the smell of fresh urine letting her know her demonstration had had an effect. The odor wasn’t just coming from the corpse. “I want names. Now.”
Lightning swallowed hard as the sound of screaming from the cells morphed into soft weeping. Her eyes flickered over to the spot where Hurricane’s discarded body lie bleeding all over the concrete floor, a properly placed drain collecting it and sending it down into the sewage system where all of this filth belonged.
The girl sucked in a deep breath, her bottom lip quivering. She opened her mouth and a list of names began to pour out, followed by a litany of plans it might’ve taken anyone else weeks to procure. When she was done, White knew exactly who she was looking for, how they had escaped, and most importantly, where they were headed. With this information, she’d have everything she needed to find them.