JACKAL
Female porcupines are interested in sex only about eight to twelve hours in a year.
The Birthing Celebration is a Statehead tradition. It’s one of the only times the lower and upper ends come together, filling the streets of the city until there is barely a place to move. They seat the pregnant women on stage, lining them up next to the mothers with babies that were born since the last celebration, and we honor them with wreaths and bouquets of flowers.
Every Region has smaller scale festivities, but the Birthing Celebration is renowned for the over-the-top spectacle they make to celebrate yearly and impending births. A different Region is chosen to represent each year, and this year it’s convenient for me that it’s in the Blue. The End Men come together for the occasion, and they parade us around like show dogs on leashes.
From morning until night, floats hover over the streets, each decorated more outlandishly than the last. The pregnant body is celebrated and worshipped, rituals are performed, and the air is heady with sex and lust. I’ve always enjoyed the experience, just another opportunity to get drunk. It’s a nonstop party, after all, but I feel nothing but dread about this one.
In the past, Foley and I would catch up. It was at one of these things that he’d tossed me the bottle cap and told me that one day we’d drink to a changed world. But with Folsom missing, the whole tone of the affair is more somber than usual. The Society has done their best to pretend nothing is wrong, going as far as removing his face from every billboard and piece of media across the Regions.
We gather in the hall for a toast before our part in the ceremony begins, my first time seeing most of these men in the past year. I shake Bastien’s hand and hit Titus on the back.
“Any word?” is all Bastien says.
I shake my head and his eyes cloud over. I look around and catch Bone’s eye. Bone and Marcus are tight.
“Has anyone seen Kasper or Marcus?” I ask.
He moves closer and leans in. “I’ve been trying to reach Marcus for months. No one can tell me anything about him. I’ve asked everyone here already. You don’t know anything?”
“I’ve heard they’re trying to move him out because he isn’t producing,” I tell him.
He pales and steps back. “I need to find him.”
“If I hear anything, you’ll be the first I contact...any idea where Kasper is?”
“Right behind you, motherfucker.”
I whip around and there stands Kasper in his bright blue designer suit. Leave it to him to try to show me up in my own fucking Region.
“Represent your own Region…” I say.
“Yellow is not my color.” He dips his head toward my ear and says under his breath. “If you happen to see Gwen, tell her she better get to Folsom soon. Sophia is…” He kisses his fingers and squints his eyes like he’s tasting a fine wine.
I jump at him, wrapping my hands around his throat and squeezing as hard as I can. His eyes widen and his skin turns a beautiful purple...speaking of his color...I think I’ve found the perfect one for him.
Titus and Bone drag me away, and Kasper straightens out his suit jacket, chuckling, but eyeing me warily.
“So you have seen her…” he says. “You and Foley...such uptight pricks.” He tries to move in closer to me, but Titus holds his hand up, blocking him.
“Where is he?” I yell.
“Gwen needs to get out of the Regions. The price on her head grows by the day,” he says.
“What?” My shoulders deflate and I sag against the two men holding me up. Titus and Bone drop their hands but stay close. I study Kasper’s face, looking for any signs that he’s fucking with me.
“You don’t have a thing for her now, do you?” Kasper laughs, and it takes everything in me to not kill the cocksucker.
“Foley should’ve killed you when he had the chance,” I spit out and feel a slight satisfaction when his face loses some of its bravado. He quickly regains it and struts off like the egomaniac he is.
I nod at the rest of the men. “Let’s do this.”
I try for my standard face, my smile forced but fooling everyone save those who heard the exchange. Jackal, the dog, eager to make everyone happy, no matter the cost. I hate my mother for putting such a foolish name on me, but she ended up being right: it seems it’s all I’m capable of being.
I stand on a float for hours; it flies just over the asphalt, so slowly I can barely tell it’s flying, mostly steady. I wave at the people on the side of the street. Each of the End Men is on a float that represents their Region. When we pass people who are from that Region, they go wild. I get more attention than ever before because of being in the Blue. Women try to jump on the float and some make it up, humping my body like little bitches in heat while I’m supposed to stand there and look like I love every minute of it. I would’ve been amused by this before, but now I’m put off by the degradation.
At night, the atmosphere takes a darker edge when the alcohol is flowing, and those who haven’t had a chance at pregnancy yet see the witch doctors for remedies and potions. There are birth enactments in the streets, clusters of women in circles doing rapid breathing and pushing with all their might. Dildos abound and sacrifices of food, jewelry, and the monthly blood are laid on the birthing altar. It is a ridiculous, grotesque affair that I’m seeing with new eyes.
Those whose babies are actually born during a BC get special privileges. Their schooling is paid for, a complete wardrobe is provided, and the mother/mothers get two plastic surgeries of their choice. It’s a good incentive for both the upper and lower ends to participate, always drawing the biggest crowd in every Region. After birth, they’re carried to a separate altar that is elevated over the rest and lifted to God, the heavens, and the other mothers of previous Birthing Celebrations. It’s my favorite part, to see the tiny newborns. Some years none have been born during the Celebration. This is a good year: thirteen births...twelve girls and Rebel is the only boy. Many other women are pregnant, but some will likely end in miscarriage, as that has been a cause of concern since the population began dwindling. The BC is a symbolic way of protecting the pregnancies and ensuring a healthy baby.
At the end of the evening, there is always a mass cleansing—a disinfecting wash, where everyone is cleansed inside and out. Booster shots follow, leaving the majority on a high of vitamins and antioxidants. I avoid the wash and the shots since I’m given those things on a regular basis. Someone else can benefit from them.
I’m exhausted when I go back to the End Men’s private room. I want to see if I can get any more out of Kasper before I go back to Gwen with information.
When I reach the room, Avil and Ras are the only ones in there and they look spooked.
“What’s up? You guys look like someone just fucked your mother.” I pick up a towel and wipe my face.
“Kasper has disappeared,” Ras says.
“Disappeared? You know that guy, he’s like a bad rash. He’ll show up.” I lean forward in the mirror assessing whether or not I need to shave for tomorrow.
“Nah, man. Milly Oppenheimer showed up—I saw them talking after he got off of the float. Next thing I knew, he was gone.”
I look at Ras’ reflection in the mirror.
“What makes you think he didn’t just skirt out of here early? He’s always disappearing,” I say. I don’t buy it, but I want to hear what he has to say.
“I heard her tell him he was done. Her words were, ‘you’ve pushed one time too many’...”
“Fuck.”
I can’t stop myself from going to Phoenix’s house again. It might be risky to continue, but I try to cover my bases before the drive each time. Pay off Yvonne, check. Evade security detail, check. With the city in an uproar because of the BC, it’s easier than ever to sneak past my usual barricades. Each mile away from the compound and closer to Phoenix, I feel a little more like myself. When I pull around back and into the barn, I see her waiting for me at the back door. I jog toward her, my heart aching at the sight of her.