The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(62)

As I spoke, even I noticed the emotions beginning to vacate my voice as I tried to distance myself from the anger still surging hot and deep in the pit of my belly. I needed to focus right now, and that anger would only make the situation worse. But God—he was just a boy.

There was a rustling sound, and I craned my neck over the top of Ms. Dale’s head in time to see Dr. Arlan gesturing with a free hand, the other holding a set of small, intricate tools. “I need a little help,” he announced.

“I got it,” Thomas replied, heading over to Dr. Arlan. I watched him go, and then turned back to Ms. Dale and Owen.

“How could they do that to those kids?” I asked after a moment. “How could they train them to be so obedient?”

Ms. Dale licked her lips. “There are methods, but to be honest, it takes longer than a few weeks. The process could take months, even years.”

“It must be the Benuxupane?” Owen asked, crossing his arms. “Violet mentioned that when she took it, she felt more compliant?”

“She said she was able to resist a bit,” I replied. “It didn’t seem to have a very strong effect on her. But to make those kids into emotionless drones... They must have really made some changes to the formula.”

“Desmond has access to the whole Matrian government’s top scientists and funding,” Ms. Dale said. “If anyone could isolate the component that had that effect, I would imagine she’d have the resources to do it. And once they isolated it…”

“They would have enhanced it,” I spat.

Ms. Dale nodded, her jaw clenched. “I really hate that woman,” she said under her breath.

“You and me both,” I muttered.

“Guys, you better not leave me off the list—plus Amber, Henrik, all the Liberators, Jay…”

I chuckled as Owen began ticking off the names on his fingers, waving a hand in front of him.

“All right,” I said. “We all agree that Desmond is a vile witch. But that doesn’t get us anywhere.”

We fell into silence, mulling over the seriousness of the problem. Finally, Owen sighed. “We really need to find a way to destroy the Benuxupane. Something that does this to people… it shouldn’t even be allowed to exist.”

Heads nodded all around the group. I agreed too—once again, we’d been so caught up in responding to one crisis after another that we’d lost sight of the bigger picture. We had to find a way to strike back.

“Destroying it is only addressing one part of the problem,” Ms. Dale said. “We have no idea how the boys’ bodies will react without the Benuxupane. Desmond might have found a way to, I don’t know, make them dependent on it. If we destroy it without testing that, we might be killing them.”

“Good point,” Owen replied. “What if they react violently? Right now, the drug might be helping them cope with the side effects of their isolation and emotional maladjustment. It might be like kicking the crutch out from under a man with a broken leg.”

I raised my eyebrows at the metaphor, but couldn’t help but agree. “I guess that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we get to it. Right now, the fact that the Matrians are using them at all is a bigger concern, so anything we can do to…”

I trailed off, noticing Ms. Dale and Owen’s eyes had jumped to a place just over my shoulder, their faces blanking, draining of casual emotion. A tense silence had once again descended upon the clearing, and I felt a prickling at the back of my neck as the hair there rose in anticipation of danger. As slowly as possible, I turned.

Another boy wearing a black mask and black clothes stood only twenty feet away from me. My fingers twitched as I stared at his small form. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders and chest heaving, and I could see, even in the sparse light, that his black outfit was soaked with sweat.

I watched as the boy pointed at his ear, and then looked at me expectantly. I stared, baffled, and the boy slowly lowered his arm and then waited. After several long heartbeats, he repeated the gesture.

“Maybe he wants us to put the earpiece in,” Owen whispered behind me.

Seeing no better option before me, I cautiously moved toward the trunk of Ms. Dale’s car, keeping a careful eye on the boy. He didn’t move, making no sound but that of his labored breathing, even as I opened up the trunk and pulled out the box, grabbed the earpiece, and slid it into my ear.

“Hello, Mr. Croft,” a feminine voice crooned from the other side.

I balled my hand into a fist, my response scraping out through gritted teeth. “Hello, Desmond.”





25





Viggo





“There’s no need for that tone, my dear boy. After all, I’m just here to congratulate you on revealing which of our frequencies you had that dear, sweet moron Thomas monitoring.”

My eyes flicked over to Thomas, and I pointed at the earbud, shooting him a pointed, questioning glance. “What do you want, Desmond?” I asked.

Nodding sharply, Thomas moved over to the car, and I stepped aside to give him access to the trunk. I heard him moving items around behind me, but I didn’t look, turning my full attention to the boy standing in the clearing. He hadn’t moved, but I knew he was listening in. I could only hope nothing Desmond said now could be interpreted as a command on his part.