60
THAIS
I had asked Drusilla how she came to be in Paducah, but she wouldn’t answer. She combed my hair, and she tied my black corset in the back, and she avoided eye contact with me in the oval mirror in front of us, but all the while I felt like Drusilla, despite her silence, had so much to say.
“The biggest mistake you made,” she said moments later, “was falling in love with that man.”
I looked right at Drusilla in the reflection of the mirror, waiting for an explanation. How in the world could falling in love with Atticus be a mistake? Atticus was the only reason I was still alive.
Drusilla wrapped a rubber band around the end of my thick braid and let it fall against the center of my back.
“When it’s just you,” she began, “you’re in complete control; your judgement isn’t clouded by the wellbeing of someone else; you can rise to heights you never imagined if no one’s dangling from your legs, weighing you down.” She stepped around me and reached for a palette of eyeshadow on the vanity. “But you’re only half a person when you give someone else your heart. And everything you ever do or accomplish will always be half as good as it could’ve been.”
I thought about it.
“The only thing I could ever wish to accomplish,” I began, “is a simple, happy life with Atticus, somewhere far away from all of this. If it’s half as good as what our life could be together, then I’ll take it.”
Drusilla stopped tinkering with the eyeshadow, and her eyes found mine in the mirror. “You would choose that over a better world?”
“Well, no,” I said. “Of course—it goes without saying—I’d want a better world, a place where everyone can live a simple, happy life with those they love.”
Drusilla’s gentle hands went into motion again; she swiped a sponge brush across one of the velvety colors.
I waited for her to say something, to explain her point, but I realized I did not need her to. I already knew.
“Without fully understanding the choice I’d already made,” I said, “I put one person before the Greater Good.” Then I turned on the little wooden stool to face Drusilla rather than her reflection. “But accomplishments and hopes and dreams are nothing without love. Besides, there’s nothing I can do about the rest of the world anyway.”
Drusilla leaned forward and touched the sponge brush to my closed eyelid, paused, and said, “Are you sure about that?”
I opened my eyes; Drusilla looked at me with what felt like expectation.
“What do you mean?”
She smiled close-lipped, and instead of answering, she shrugged.
Drusilla was a strange girl, I thought as the hours passed, but she was intelligent beyond my understanding, and she seemed like the most determined person I’d ever met, even though she never mentioned what she wanted to do with her life other than escape Paducah—I believed she would do it someday. And she never told me how she ended up with Kade, or what made her heart so hard and unforgiving. But I had my theories. Maybe the person Drusilla once loved was dead; maybe he had been killed in one of the bloody fights that seemed to be the centerpiece of life in Paducah. I knew little about my new friend, but what I did know for sure was that my first impression of Drusilla had been right: she was much stronger underneath than what appeared on the surface.
Drusilla was a good person, but despite her good heart and caring nature, after three hours of friendly conversation, she still refused to help me escape.
“Like I told you,” she said, “I’m not going to risk my own plans for you.”
“So then you do have a plan?”
“Of course I do. Tonight, I leave this place. It’s been three weeks in the making—this time it’s going to work.”
I stood in front of a tall mirror, turning left and right to see my outfit at every angle, my hands lost in the ruffled layers of a long, black skirt. I wore a long-sleeve white blouse cut low in the chest where my small breasts looked much bigger than they really were, pushed up by the corset. My dark hair was loose around my face, where long, wispy tendrils hung on both sides in springy curls; the rest of it held together by that long braid. My eyes were heavily dusted with brownish-pink eyeshadow; black eyeliner had been drawn perfectly on the upper and lower lids; my lips had been painted, and there was pink blush in my cheeks, and although I liked Drusilla’s work very much, I thought the girl staring back at me in the mirror was someone I didn’t know.
“But couldn’t you take us with you?” I asked.
“No.” Drusilla put away the makeup on the vanity. “I have to be…there”—she was careful about giving away too much information—“at a certain time; even a minute later and they’ll leave without me. You could go with me if you wanted, but there’s no time to break that man out of the trenches first, and I know you’re not going to leave without him.”
“No. I won’t leave without him,” I said right away.
Drusilla wiped the vanity off with a rag, and then slid the stool underneath it. She sighed, and turned to face me and placed her hands on my shoulders. “But because I like you and I feel like I can trust you,” she said, “I’ll tell you where you can find him.”
My heart raced. “You will?”
Drusilla nodded.
“I didn’t trust you before,” she said. “If Kade knew I told you where the trenches were, and you left this room to find him, he’d lock me in here tonight. And this is not the night I need to be locked up.”
“I understand.” I paused, and then added, “So then is that the only reason you asked me not to leave?”
“At first, yes,” Drusilla admitted. “But at the same time, I didn’t want to see you get hurt. Kade’s a bastard, but many of the people beyond that door are a hundred times worse than he is.”
I was glad I’d listened to Drusilla’s warnings.
“Thank you,” I said.
Drusilla smiled weakly, and her hands fell away from my shoulders. She went to the closet and dug around inside.
“You can wear these flats if you want,” she said, emerging with a pair of black dress shoes dangling from her fingers. “They’re all I have in your size.”
I tried the shoes on and they fit perfectly.
“So…when should we expect Kade to take us to…the fights?” My mouth was dry suddenly, and I found breathing slightly more difficult, but I kept the anxiety bottled. Atticus had never once left my mind in the past couple hours, but inevitably I had to think about the worst again.
“You can expect him anytime,” Drusilla answered. “But I won’t be going.”
The small fraction of comfort I felt with Drusilla vanished with the news.
“This is the night I leave, remember?”
“He won’t force you to go the fights with him?” I asked, assuming it was that kind of relationship.
Drusilla shook her head.
“Kade and I made a deal when I first came here: He never forces me to watch those barbaric fights, and I don’t cut off his dick while he’s sleeping.”
I blinked, stunned.
“Now listen closely,” she told me, peering intensely into my face. “You exit the building the same way Kade brought you in—through the big glass doors—and then you slip past the school busses.” She grabbed my elbow and pulled me along to the window. “Do you see that building across the street?” She pointed, and I nodded. “Behind it—you can’t see it from here in the dark—but there’s a fork in the road. The street signs are gone, but the one you’ll want to take is the one with the old accounting office on the right; the building is blue.”
I listened carefully, drawing a map in my head using the things I’d already seen, and hoping the rest I would remember.
“Go one block down that road,” Drusilla continued, “and turn left. The building you’re looking for used to be a Humane Society. They keep the fighters locked in there, in the cages.”
Atticus is locked in a cage? I couldn’t bear the thought!
Kade entered the room behind us then, and Drusilla shuffled away from the window without looking the slightest bit guilty.
With frayed nerves making my palms sweat, I stood there for a moment, watching Kade as his eyes swept over me.
“You look good,” he said, nodding with approval.
I didn’t have it in me to respond; I was too overwhelmed with what would happen next. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed in my mind that before I could get to where Atticus was being kept, it would have to be after he had fought to the death. And it also didn’t go unnoticed that Drusilla had used the word “locked” regarding Atticus’ cage, but I’d have to figure out how to get him out of the cage when I got there. If I made it there. If Atticus made it back there.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us this time?” Kade asked Drusilla, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
She smiled back at him, but I could tell right away that, just like before, it was fake.
“Absolutely sure,” Drusilla answered. “I have work to finish here”—she waved a hand at the strips of fabric on the floor—“got two buyers this week, and one is coming by in an hour to pick up her order.”
Kade waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever,” he said, and then turned his attention to me, and the look in his eyes made me terribly uncomfortable. “I may sell you soon anyway,” he told Drusilla. “Replacements are easy to come by, and I need a companion who doesn’t complain so much.”
Slave, Kade, you mean to say slave.
“And one who can keep a fuckin’ room clean,” Kade added. “Look at this mess; you were supposed to clean it before I got back.” He gestured a hand at the room; he hadn’t noticed—or cared to acknowledge—Drusilla had cleaned everything else and left only the fabric where it was before.
“This is my work,” Drusilla told him. “It will be gone by the time you return from the fights.” My gut told me she was referring more to herself.
“It better be.” He took me by the hand and said, “I saved her from having to fight—she would’ve been killed that night, no doubt—and this is how she repays me.”
I said nothing.
Drusilla glowered at him with his back turned.
“Good-bye, Thais. I wish your love well, and that he is victorious tonight.”
I swallowed hard; tears stung the back of my eyes, but I was getting better at holding them down.
“Thank you,” I said.
I wanted to wish my friend farewell, and tell her I hoped her plans to escape would work out this time, but I could not say such things in front of Kade.
“I’ll see you later,” I said instead, and maybe Drusilla understood what I really meant.
The air was rife with smoke: cigarettes and trashcan fires and marijuana and something chemical and foul I could not place. The arena was so packed with people that the potent stench of heavy perfume and body odor and thick sweat made my stomach turn and my head swim. And as Kade led me to the bleachers, and I looked out at the crowd, I was awed by the number of people in attendance. Paducah still didn’t seem as populated as Lexington, but almost every single person that resided here I thought had to be present in the moment.
The ‘arena’ was the gym of an abandoned high school, with tall dingy brick walls with scaling bleachers on both sides that almost reached the ceiling. People packed every seat, and stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the bleachers and all around the room in every direction, even blocking the four exit doors. And they packed the gym floor, leaving just enough space for the fighters to battle it out.
The area was brightly-lit with several solar-powered balloon lights mounted on wheeled contraptions, set up all around the basketball court.
I sat with Kade fourth row from the bottom, and as Kade carried on conversations with those around us, I tried to keep a low profile by acting intimidated by all the noise, when, in truth, I was afraid only for Atticus, and he was all I could think about. Past the busses. Take the road with the accounting office on the right—blue building. One block, turn left. Humane Society. Fighters locked in cages. Locked in cages. Locked in cages—
“I hope you’re not as fragile as you look!” Kade shouted over the noise, breaking me from my thoughts.
I’m not, I wanted to say, but instead I shouted back, “When will Atticus fight?”
Kade shot into a stand and thrust his fist into the air as the first two fighters entered the area out ahead. He yelled obscenities, pumped his fist a few more times, and then took his seat again beside me. Those all around me sat back down in unison, clearing my view of the arena floor again.
“I don’t know,” he answered over a wave of excited shouts. “But you should forget about him. It’s his first time, and the first fight is always a fight to the death.”
Yes, I’m aware of that already; no need to remind me.
“And he wasn’t lookin’ too good when we found you,” he went on, “so his chances aren’t great.” His hand jutted out, gesturing at the fighters. “These two are first-timers,” he said. “One of them will die tonight”—he made a sudden noise under his breath that resembled laughter—“I bet you can guess which one.”
I tried hard not to think about Atticus’ fight, and rather to focus on his escape, but it became impossible to do when I took in the sight before me: two men, one as skinny as a rail, the other like three large men combined to make one, walked in a wide circle; the skinny one trying to stay out of the other’s reach.
“This doesn’t look like a fair fight.” I was thinking out loud rather than talking to Kade. “This isn’t right.” I couldn’t believe they’d pitted the small one against the other.
“It’s anything goes,” Kade said. “Fair, unfair, right, wrong, it doesn’t matter—that’s what makes it so entertaining!”
I turned to face him.
“Entertaining?” I echoed with bite in my voice. “These are people’s lives you’re gambling with—how can you live with yourself?”
Kade smiled over at me. “Easily”—he shot into a stand again—“Come on! Do something already!”
The smaller fighter was backing up against the crowd as the giant went toward him; panic twisted his face…Wait, his face…Why does he look so familiar?
I leaned forward, trying to get a clearer view of the man, but no matter how hard I concentrated, he was too far away and blocked by too many people to get a decent view of him.
A man sitting to my left stood bolt upright, nearly knocking me over.
“Hit him! Hit him!” Saliva flew from his lips. “Come on!”
I shuffled the flowing ruffles of my long skirt underneath my thighs to keep the man from sitting on them when he sat down again; I wiped away the sprinkles I’d felt land on the top of my arm.
“Stand up so you can see,” Kade told me and offered his hand.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to watch,” I said, but he grabbed my hand anyway and pulled me to my feet.
I focused on the back of the head of the woman in front of me, but when the giant fighter’s hand collapsed around the smaller fighter’s throat like a vise, I watched the fight with paralyzed horror instead, unable to tear my gaze away.
The man lifted the other off the floor by his throat and the volume of the bloodthirsty crowd went from excited to boisterous; the man to my left stomped the bleacher floor so powerfully it shook like an earthquake and I was forced to grab onto the nearest person for balance. I released Kade’s arm as quickly as I’d touched it, hoping he hadn’t noticed, and he was so fixated on the fight I was glad he probably hadn’t.
The small fighter fell fast toward the floor, his legs out in front of him, the man’s hand still around his throat, and when he hit, the back of his head made a popping noise I could hear over the shouting voices and stomping feet on metal.
My hands went over my mouth with a sharp, horrorstruck gasp; my eyes shot open as far as they could when all I wanted to do was shut them completely; and my legs felt almost too weak to hold up the rest of my weight and I nearly lost my balance. It took three seconds and the fight was over, an innocent life snuffed out by a barbaric new world.
A crown of deep red pooled around the dead man’s head; I saw the fingers of his right hand twitch and I stared across the long space between them at his eyes, open and empty, and even through my sadness I couldn’t shake the feeling I knew him, or that at least I’d seen him somewhere before.
The crowd roared and stomped; the bleachers shook and moved underneath the weight of so many people, but not even the threat of the bleachers collapsing and taking me with them could shake my mind free from the very real possibility of Atticus being that man lying there. I regretted all the times we saved our bullets and didn’t kill larger animals for food and adequate protein; I regretted all the times Atticus gave me the healthier portion of our meager fish catches, the bigger handfuls of blackberries and pecans. He could’ve been so much stronger than he was when we were captured; he could’ve been ready for a fight. To the death. Oh, Atticus! How can I help you, my love? What can I do to get you out of here? I wanted to weep into my hands; I wanted to push Kade off the bleacher next to me and jump over the head of the woman in front of me, and I wanted to run out into the arena and stop this inhumane injustice. But what really could I do that would make any difference?
Nothing.
Nothing!
I sat unmoving next to Kade, staring now at my shaking hands rested within my lap, and I did…nothing.
The second fight was more fairly matched. And no one died.
The third fight was between a man and a woman. And the man almost died. They dragged him off the arena floor by his feet, unconscious, his head busted open, leaving a small smear-trail of blood behind him. But he was alive because someone had announced it.
The fourth fight was as unfairly matched as the first, but to my surprise, the smaller man was much quicker and stabbed the bigger man underneath his armpit, dropping him instantly.
The fifth fight—I couldn’t keep up anymore; I refused to watch until Kade noticed and forced me to. And so I stared out ahead and pretended to watch, when really, I’d somehow found a peaceful place within my mind and shut most everything else out.
I remembered the day Atticus and I found the cabin in the forest, and I pictured every day after it; absently I smiled thinking to myself, reliving our happiest moments together, although few, and I pressed my hand against my heart and I could almost feel Atticus’ hand atop mine.
And then, as if connected to him by right, I felt the stuffy room grow cold and my eyes found the entrance Atticus would walk through seconds before he walked through it. Before anybody else this time, I rose from the bleacher seat, and my hand remained pressed to my heart, and with no breath in my lungs I watched Atticus as he entered the arena floor, and I called out over the boisterous crowd, “Atticus!” and over the boisterous crowd he absolutely heard me.
He lifted his head and saw me from afar.
I flung myself forward and almost made it past the woman in front of me before Kade’s hands grabbed my waist from behind and yanked me toward him; I snapped backward into his lap like a rubber-band.
“Don’t make him fight!” I screamed into Kade’s hairy face. “I’ll do anything! Let him go!”
“There’s nothing I can do to stop it, little lady,” he said. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Now sit down.”
My hand shot out and snapped him in the face, stunning him for a moment.
Kade paused, moved his jaw around underneath his fingertips, and then grabbed my shoulder and shoved me onto the seat.
Then he stood up and spoke loudly over the crowd so everyone would hear: “Gauntlet!”
The crowd went wild; the man to my left shouted with excitement, pumping his fists into the air, and then he reached around me and patted Kade on the back.
“You got the ante, Kade?” the man shouted over the rising noise.
The woman in front of me turned around fully, revealing her face, which surprised me—it was the woman I’d encountered when Kade walked me through the streets, whose vicious dog almost attacked me.
“She’s too damn skinny, Kade,” the woman reminded him, looking me over. “But I’ll accept her as a wager.”
I looked back and forth between them—is this because I hit him? Did I just become part of a bet? What is a gauntlet? My eyes found Atticus again, just as his opponent entered the arena from an opposite entrance. He looked equally matched for Atticus—same height, same build, same age—but in his right hand there was…something. What is that it in his hand? My breath came back but in short, frantic bursts; my hand was pressed to my chest again and I could feel my heart beating through my fingers.
I turned to Kade, eyes wide, my mouth parted. “That man has a knife!”
Kade smiled, but did not look at me.
“Gauntlet!” one man shouted.
“Gauntlet!” shouted another.
And another, and ten more, until the entire gymnasium was chanting: “Gauntlet! Gauntlet! Gauntlet!” and a thousand feet stomped the bleachers and the floor.
I attempted once more to leave the bleachers, but Kade grabbed hold of my elbow and he shook me; he shoved me onto the seat again and leaned over into my face; his hot breath smelled of food; his eyes bored into mine with dangerous admonition. “Consider this,” he said, squeezing my elbow so tightly it hurt. “If you want that man to have any chance, you should probably sit still and keep your pretty little mouth shut, or else you’re going to distract him and get him killed.” His hand tightened and he pulled me so close to his face I could see the tiny black hairs sprouting above his upper lip.
Then, trading warning for interest, his dark eyes swept over me, leaving the hairs on my arms to prickle, and an uncomfortable feeling, the need to be anywhere but next to him, to reawaken in my chest. My head reared back slightly, but Kade’s followed; his mouth found the corner of mine where it lingered long enough to convey what he wanted from me.
He pulled away and sat as before, his gaze fixed on the soon-to-be fight I wanted more than anything to stop; and he released my elbow with confidence, because he had made his point and I knew he was right. If I made a scene, Atticus would be focused only on me, and not the man trying to kill him.
I didn’t even want to look at Atticus now; I wanted to cover my eyes and my ears and shut it all out, but I couldn’t. I had to watch. I had to witness. If Atticus was going to die tonight, I wanted him to know that I was with him, that I was strong enough to stay with him in his final moments, and so I couldn’t look away.