Folsom (End of Men, #1)(65)

“Where are you taking us?” I ask. “They’ll know we’re missing. You can’t just kidnap us in the middle—”

“Never seen one of me, boy?” The man across from Laticus glares, his face a cocktail of contempt and aggression.

I press my lips together and place a warning hand on Laticus’ knee.

“I haven’t,” Laticus says, honestly. “Your kind isn’t allowed in the Black.”

“Well, you’re not in the Black anymore.”

“He’s just a boy,” I say to the man.

He studies me for a minute before he grunts and looks out the window. In the Red, trans men are somewhat common, but the Black frowns on the change. Usually women who want to make the transition move to a different Region, typically the Blue.

The woman remains silent, her gun resting casually on her knee, staring straight ahead.

After several more inquiries of where they’re taking us, with no answers, I fall quiet. Ten minutes later the car stops outside of an old brick building. We park to the rear of the building next to a yellow service door. As the car idles, the door opens and I see two figures step out.

“Let’s go,” the woman orders.

To my relief, several pairs of hands help me out of the car where I regain my balance, squinting against the sun and waiting for Laticus. When he’s standing beside me, we move to the door, prodded along by the gun. It takes a minute for our eyes to adjust once we’re inside. The smell of food is heavy in the air and my stomach rumbles. I reach for Laticus’ hand and our fingers lace. We are led through a dank hallway, dimly lit; my foot catches on an uneven brick and Laticus catches me before I can fall. I stare at him gratefully even though he can’t see my face.

We’re taken down a flight of stairs to a basement. The woman steps ahead to open the door and ushers us inside. To my surprise, there is a large table spread with food. Laticus lets go of my hand and looks around.

I turn around to face our captors. “What is this?” But they’re already gone, the door shutting behind them with a solid thud.

“Hungry?” I feign a smile.

I’d rather not eat, but I know I must.

“What if it’s poisoned,” Laticus says, studying a piece of fried chicken.

“Why would they poison two future End Men?”

He glances at my stomach and must like what I’ve said because he bites into the chicken.

I pick at the food, my stomach in knots, wondering what exactly they plan on doing with us. For now, we are safe for the exact reason I expressed to Laticus. Even in the womb End Men are valuable.

An hour later Laticus has fallen asleep at the table with his head cradled in his arms. I sit rigid, keeping watch. They’ve left us forks and knives. Weapons. This sets me at ease. If we were truly being held captive, why would they give us something with which to attack them?

I’m fighting off sleep when I hear the lock turn and suddenly the door is flung open. Gripping the sides of my chair, I stare at the figure standing in the doorway in alarm. At first, all I see is the outline of a very wide, very tall woman. She takes up the entire door and has to turn her body sideways to walk through. Her jowls rest on her breasts and I stare in awe of her magnitude.

“Why have we not eaten all the foods?” Her voice booms.

It’s then that I notice the small blue cake she’s holding. My mouth waters.

“Do we not like the chickens and potatoes and salads? Maybe we need cakes?” Each of her S’s whistles, and when she holds up the cake, she grins from ear to ear.

I stare in shock and wonder, and she sets the cake right in front of me. She brushes her hands together and nods to the yawning Laticus, motioning to the cake.

“Yours is coming in a jiffys,” she says. As she says it, someone else comes in and sets a cake in front of Laticus.

“Pippa.” She pats her chest and then looks dismayed that we’re not already eating the cake.

“Are you the Pippa from all the—”

“We are,” she says proudly. She heaves her bulk into a chair, out of breath. “We own all the Pippas in all the Regions. You mights be wondering why you’re here?”

“Yes,” I say, slowly. “We are.”

I sneak a look at Laticus and his mouth is open. He shuts it quickly and we exchange a look.

“First of alls, let’s get one thing established, yes?” Pippa stands up. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she lifts it to her chest, exposing hairy legs. I can’t keep the shock off of my face. All of a sudden her dress is entirely up, exposing every inch of her body from the waist down. My eyes are drawn to the cradle of hair between her mighty thighs. I blink once…twice…I’m not seeing things. She has a penis.

“You’re trans?” I say.

Pippa shakes her head.

“We were born like this, it has sperms and everything.” She looks quite proud to say so.

I shake my head, confused.

“We were born a man, sweethearts. My mother was afraid they’d take us so she made us a girl instead.”

Laticus and I look at each other, but Pippa doesn’t seem to notice.

She’s dropped her skirt by now and holds out her arms. “Surprise!”

“Surprise indeed,” I say.

“We’re older than your Folsom, by the way. Which makes us,” she points between her legs, “the oldest working penises in the Regions.”