Staying at the Brothel was a uniquely divine experience. It didn’t feel like we were in the poverty-stricken Zone. Lavish gifts and fine foods arrived almost hourly. The Walker Companions had many Elite admirers. I’d always had this image that the Walker Companions had the worst job you could get, but they made it look preferable to my life at Stonewell Manor, but still another form of prison. Where I was confined to the home I worked, they were trapped in the eyes of their clients. Their bodies were their cages.

Each of the women approached their station in life differently. Blythe loved the attention, she reveled in it, squealing whenever the doorbell would ring. Jade would snort and gossip about the men sending her presents. She’d flip her blue hair over her shoulder and spill the secrets of the Elite to anyone that would listen.

Lowe, the pint-sized Companion, fumed with anger over her gifts. She found something to complain about with every wrapped present on her doorstep. And Kaye? The deep frown lines around her chapped lips were more pronounced. It was as if she wanted to seem indifferent to the station she had in life, but couldn’t force herself to go numb.

The guys all broke out into different areas after breakfast. Kemper worked with Louis on the database. Huxley and Patrick patrolled the grounds outside, and Jacob was headed to the tunnels to pick up a supply shipment of rejection cures. Tallis had managed to steal a crate for his tribe back in Dormas and snuck them there last month. My guys would be injected with the last of the stolen vials today. Part of me was glad that we would no longer live in fear that the rejection would one day creep up on them, but another part of me was scared they’d contract X. We had means of preventing infection: sanitation stations and seclusion. But it was still a significant risk.

As I finished breakfast, Madam B dove into explaining the Companion system to me with bouncing pride. “Most girls become Companions when they hit puberty. There are some brothels in lesser known parts that deal young girls, those are unreputable places. The only people that do business with them are sick men and women with fetishes. I have purchased a few girls from them just to save the poor things. I then hire them on as handmaids here in the brothel.

“Parents will bring their teenage daughters to the brothel auction, and madams like myself purchase their vaccine in exchange for ten to fifteen years of service. Some, like Kaye, were born here. They grow up in these halls.”

She guided me towards the sitting room, and I tried to imagine what it would be like to live that sort of life. Growing up in a brothel would be a disillusioned and challenging life.

“There are a few brothels here in the Zone, but only the best get used for Elite functions. I’m a regular. My girls know the rules. They’re top-notch, you see.”

I picked up my tea and took a sip, absorbing this information and trying not to feel disgusted by it. I also couldn’t help but feel curious about how things had changed since the cure became obsolete. Before, people were bound to the cure and would sell themselves for it because there was no other way. Unless you were Elite and could afford it, you gave up the only priceless possession you had—yourself.

“How is this system still holding up when there is no cure for the Elite to dangle over your heads?” I asked. For a moment, Madam B’s face went dark, but she slipped back into her proper mask. The quick shift in her appearance made me question her alliance. The Elite weren’t the only ones benefiting from this system. The brothel owners made lots of money selling their Companions.

“I’ll admit, it’s put a damper on business. Sometimes I think I’m meant to feel bad about my job,” Madam B said while picking up a muffin and nibbling on it. Her pink lipstick smeared as she chomped down. “But then I think about all the lives I’m saving. Sex always sells, my dear. Doesn’t matter the infrastructure or the motivations. I provide a nice life for my girls. They might have started working here because they wanted the cure, but they stay because it’s their only chance at the parties, the clothes, and gifts. If they left here, they’d have to move into a one-bedroom shack in the Zone. They could marry a poor Walker, and they’d live happily ever after, swimming in their own filth. Or they can give me their bodies, and I’ll give them the world.”

She sounded eerily like Cavil. But unlike him, she didn’t see the world through a prestigious lense of self-indulgent worth. She knew what made the world spin—and used it to her advantage. She didn’t feel sorry about her station in life because she’s honest with herself. There was strength in honesty.

After a while, she dove into the proper etiquette of a Companion. All the rules were overwhelming, I almost couldn’t keep them straight. “When you enter the room, you must wait for your procurer for the night to sit. Always sit on his or her left. Some of the older Elite members will request that you wear lipstick. It’s tacky, but oblige them.”

I briefly thought back to Dominique and frowned at my memory of her in Ethros. “I’m familiar with the red lipstick,” I whispered before taking a sip of tea. “Back in Ethros, Cavil’s Walker Companion, Dominique, forced me to wear it.”

If I squeezed my eyes shut, I could almost feel Dominique's terse lips on mine, and I shivered in disgust. “Dominique? Strange, Jade hasn't mentioned a Dominique,” Madam B said while dipping her brow in confusion. “Not once have my girls seen him with anyone.”

“She has been serving him for a few years as his head Walker,” I said, thinking of Payne as anxiety swirled around in my gut. I wondered how he was doing since we’d left. I also couldn’t help but think about the promise I’d made Payne. What if something had happened to Dominique?

“I haven’t heard of a woman named Dominique. Perhaps she didn’t come with him? It’s very possible. Men like Cavil don’t fix their attention on someone for too long.”

I shook my head while trying to wade through what I knew about Dominique. She’d been with him for years.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I mumbled. If what Madam B said were true, then it would be a lot harder to collect Dominique than I originally planned. I just hoped Payne could handle waiting a little longer. There was still an uneasy memory clinging to me. One that had stayed in the back of my mind since dying in the Deadlands. I knew it was close. An answer involving Dominique was just there, close enough for me to reach.

“Well,” a voice said from behind me. I turned around to look at Jade and Blythe. They were wearing all white again. Their hair was pulled up in elegant styles, and red lipstick donned their plush lips.

“We’re off to Cavil’s home,” Blythe said. “I’m looking forward to seeing Maverick again.” I didn’t miss the way her eyes cut to me as she spoke. Jealousy threaded through each of my ribs, tightening my breaths and making me want to claw out of my skin. Why couldn’t I see him yet?

“Be sure to tell him I say hello,” I replied while forcing out a smile.

Blythe rolled her eyes before turning to Madam B, who seemed unamused. “Don’t forget, there’s a meeting tonight,” she reminded the girls.

Jade gave Madam B a salute. “You betcha. Can’t miss the Resistance meeting. We have to go from rich men telling us what to do, just to come home to poor men telling us what to do.” Sarcasm flowed smoothly from her words like poison.

Overall, Madam B had seemed a mildly pleasant person, but at Jade’s snarky comment, I saw her eyes turn to fiery slits of anger.

“You should be thankful. Don’t abuse the privilege of my kindness, Jade.”

“Don’t forget that your entire little plan is on my shoulders, Madam,” she replied with malice.

I sat up taller as the two girls ignored Madam B and sauntered past us to go out the front door. Madam B might think of herself as the girls’ savior, but there was still animosity between them. When the door shut, I reached out with shaky hands to take a drink of tea.

“People need to know their place in this world,” Madam B grumbled before plopping a soft cookie into her mouth.

I’m not sure why I was feeling so brave, or what moved me to speak up. There was something off about it all, something that had me questioning Madam B, despite my desire to please her.

“Funny,” I began before wiping my hands on my dress, a move that made her scowl at the stains on the white fabric. “Cavil said the exact same thing to me.”

I stood, desperate to find Huxley, Patrick, Kemper, or Jacob to discuss my feelings. We were in too deep. I might not trust Madam B, but what choice did we have? For now, we’d have to observe and be diligent. I was curious about this Resistance meeting Madam B mentioned. I just hoped it reaffirmed my decision to come here. I couldn’t help but wonder if every offer for help came at a price.

Cavil. Lackley. The cure. It all had taken something from me. It seemed every avenue for survival came at a price. That sobering thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. No one ever did anything without wanting something in return.

I helped Jules set up for the meeting to be held in Madam B’s basement. Apparently, they had this once a month to keep everyone updated on the proceedings. The meetings were always random, and they let members of the Resistance know that a meeting would occur by drawing circles on certain buildings around the Zone. Huxley, Patrick, and Tallis had spent most of the day discreetly drawing circles while Kemper worked alongside Louis, learning how to hack into the Walker database. The more who knew how to delete people from the system, the better.

“You should know, these meetings can get...heated,” Jules said while setting up a fold-out chair. She was once again wearing trousers, and her dark hair was braided up in a twist, showing off the sharp lines of her face. Her time in the Zone matured her. There was a time that I never thought Jules would put anything above herself. I liked this side of her.

“How so?”

“People want change, but many are too scared or too stupid to know how to go about it. You put a lot of angry people in one room and tell them it could be better, they all start telling you how to fix things without being willing to fix it. When Lackley died, it encouraged them some.”

I slammed my eyes shut as an onslaught of memories assaulted me. The stage. Lackley’s gleam. The blood. The screams.

Someone shook my shoulder, and I opened my eyes again, staring into Jules’ firm frown. “You have to stop doing that shit. Get it together.”

I squinted at her. “I’m fine. I’ve got it together. Sometimes I just relive that night.”

“What ever happened in Ethros is nothing compared to what will happen in these next couple weeks. You want to know what has helped me get over anything that comes my way?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I think of the most tragic thing I’ve had to endure, and I remind myself I’m no one. I’m nothing. The world doesn’t care about my trauma, so why should I?”

I stared at Jules, unsure if that was a healthy coping mechanism. “Jules, I care about your trauma. I care about you,” I said. We weren’t conventional friends. We wouldn’t have gotten along had the world not shoved us together. But I loved her all the same.

Jules swallowed and paused to look at me. “I care about you too, you dumb, naive little Walker,” she sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “As much as I hate to admit it. You’ve grown on me. But caring gets you killed. Let's survive for a bit, then we can go on to holding hands and braiding each other’s hair.”

“You forgot to add driving your brothers crazy,” I added with a small smile.

“Oh, that’s just assumed. My mere existence drives them crazy.”

I trusted Jules and resolved to survive this so we could settle into a new routine—together.

“How well do you know Madam B?” I asked her then while adjusting a podium in the center of the large basement. I was surprised by the makeshift headquarters Madam B created in her brothel.

“I know she’s been here for a while. I know she’s determined to overthrow Cavil. When we arrived in the Zone, she was our first point of contact. She’s been helping Scavengers sneak supplies out of the Zone for years.”

I nodded, still feeling unsure. “Something just feels...off?” I mentioned, making sure to keep my voice low as I spoke. I didn’t want to create new enemies too soon.

Jules looked around the room then headed towards me. Grabbing my wrist, she pulled me towards the corner of the room before whispering, “Madam B saved our lives. Saved Jacob. She’s rough around the edges, but she’s good. But...keep your eyes open. Everyone has an agenda. Everyone wants power, money, or both. Survival is relative, and even the people with the best intentions can turn on a dime.”

I stared at Jules, taking in the way her eyes bored into mine. “When did you get so mature?” I asked. “When did you grow up? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always admired you a bit. Even when you were a brat.” We both laughed. “But this new you? It's empowering.”

Jules fought a smile. I saw it on her full lips, she bit back the preening joy of my compliment and twisted her expression so that it looked unamused. But I saw the pride bubbling beneath the surface. “I grew up the day I died.”