Folsom (End of Men, #1)(55)
“You need to leave,” she says.
I shake my head. “I need to talk to Laticus and I want to see Folsom. I’m not leaving until I see him.”
She frowns. “You have to—”
“Attention, everyone,” Petite says in a microphone. “This is such a special night. We have Laticus Donahue in our midst, his first night at a party, and he’s with us, the Red Region! We are so honored, Laticus,” she says, beaming at him. “And we have a surprise for all of you here…step up, ladies…” Three young girls move next to her, one of them being Charity, who is in the most elaborate dress of the room. All of them smile proudly.
My heart sinks.
“Let’s give a round of applause to our handsome, young Laticus. He has already successfully impregnated not one, not two, but three Red Regionals.”
The crowd goes crazy, cheering, clanging glasses together. No one looks more surprised than Laticus. He meets my gaze across the room and his shoulders sag for a moment.
If the inseminations are working again and they’ve already started using his sperm to impregnate the young ones, it’s only a matter of time before they send him out…with or without Folsom’s consent. It’s a well-documented fact that there’s a higher success rate with the one-on-ones, and the Society—and the Regions—won’t want to lose all the funding they get from the parties. The inseminations will help, but they won’t put an end to all this hoopla. I jerk away from my mother and run out of the hall. I start opening doors…it’s all offices and conference rooms. I have to find Folsom. I’ll deal with the awkwardness of what I might see when I get there. He has to know what they’re doing with Laticus. When the Black Region gets word of this, all hell will break loose. I hear steps scuffling behind me and turn around. Langley stands facing me, just the two of us in the room. She has something in her hand, but I’m too far to make out what it is. The look on her face terrifies me, though. She drops whatever it is and smoke billows around her.
“Fire,” she yells, glancing over her shoulder. “FIRE!”
I stare at her, bewildered, and she drops something else before taking off toward the auditorium. Flames quickly engulf the space between the two of us.
“Fire,” she yells into the room, turning once more to look at me, a smile on her face. “Security!”
I can hear screams in the main auditorium from where I’m standing. I run away from the fire, even though everything in me wants to run toward where I saw Laticus. I have to trust that the Region officials will see to him. For now, I have to protect my baby.
TWENTY-SEVEN
FOLSOM
I’ve been in a dark room most of the day, an IV in my arm, hopped up on whatever stimulant keeps me hard for days. It’s been years since they’ve done this to me. I’ve learned to be cooperative. The last punishment was three days.
The effects of the drugs are erotic and torturous all rolled into one. They stimulate my brain to make me think I’m having sex, but I’m connected to a machine, my semen being harvested into little glass vials. My heart beats angrily in my chest, overworked by the drug. They’ll use what they take to artificially inseminate women who are willing to pay for this second-rate service. It is considered a less prestigious route to pregnancy; the poor can afford it. My eyes are covered and my mouth is gagged. I hurt all over, and I’m hoarse from yelling at the guards, but my cock is working independently from my brain. In the early years, the men were given a choice: be harvested or fuck the way nature intended. They promised us every luxury, a life of extravagance. It was an easy choice. Our presence in society boosted morale, replaced panic with hope. The women had us as a solution to the problem, which stilled their panic. So the Society paraded us around, sold us in exchange for compliance and peace. Our compliance was not given any thought. We were the property of the Regions.
What would my mother say…my father?
The shame is a second skin. I don’t know where it ends and where I begin; I’ve been wearing it so long. Gwen. I can’t stand to think of her right now, when moans are grinding into my flesh like little pinpricks, but she’s all I see. Her pink pussy taking in my cock inch by inch. I groan and pump harder. If I can come quickly, maybe it will be over. My head rolls side to side. God, please. I hope the sperm are alive today.
TWENTY-EIGHT
GWEN
I’m coughing by the time I reach Sera. She looks relieved to see me.
“Hurry!” I choke out.
She speeds out of the parking lot, leaving the mayhem in the dust. The compound is quiet when she parks, and I walk briskly through the courtyard. A wind blows as I pass the fountain and I feel the fine mist kiss my face. I walk through each of the rooms looking for Folsom, calling his name and already knowing he isn’t here. And after searching most of the hall, I’m not sure he was there either. Hours pass and I stand in the upstairs window, watching the gate, one hand clutched around my belly, as if I’m trying to shield my baby from all of this. He hasn’t responded to any of my messages. Something is wrong.
Around one in the morning, when he still hasn’t come back, I find my Silverbook and start typing. By six, hundreds of people have responded and the outcry of a missing Folsom is growing with each minute. At eight, two police officers come for me, saying I have to go to the station. Sera, Robin, and Krystal stand in a cozy group, watching me go. They look relieved.