Chapter 2

“What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?” Adam asked Seth, changing the subject.

Rain would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t care. There was something about Seth that sparked her interest, but not the same way that Adam did, at least not yet. She imagined, if she were to spend more time with Seth and less time with Adam, that she might be swayed to reevaluate her feelings, particularly if the reason Adam had made those statements about her feelings for him was because he truly wasn’t interested in her, but she knew exactly what conversation he was referring to.

They’d been lying next to each other in the darkness in Dafo. She’d told him she thought he deserved to be happy. She had no idea he’d heard that he deserved to be happy with someone else. Right after she’d told him how she felt, he’d gone quiet--disturbingly so. The discussion had happened just a few days ago, well, in her conscious memory, anyway, discounting the time she’d been asleep, but she’d been bothered by it ever since. She hadn’t been able to figure out what she’d said that had offended him. Now, she thought she understood. He was developing feelings for her, but he’d thought she’d been saying she wasn’t interested in him, that he would find someone to make him happy--someone else.

Rain sighed and used her good hand to brush her red hair back out of her eyes. She’d really screwed up this time. And there was no way for her to easily fix it. The conversation she was listening to wasn’t meant for her ears after all. She’d have to figure out some way to let Adam know that she wasn’t excluding herself when she said “someone.” That seemed easier said than done.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Seth replied to Adam’s inquiry. “There are a couple of girls in town I’ve taken out. We have a lot of dances around here, and one in particular, Hannah Cooper, is usually my date. But we haven’t talked about getting married or anything.”

“How old are you?” Adam asked, again sparking Rain’s curiosity as well.

“I’m twenty-three,” he said. “You?”

“Twenty-one,” Adam said. “Same as Rain. I think all of us are the same age.”

Seth was quiet for a long time before he said, “I’m sure you don't want to talk about it, but I’m really sorry about everything you had to go through. That must’ve been... awful.”

“Thanks,” Adam said quietly. “I appreciate that. And… I don’t want to talk about it. Or think about it.” Silence settled between them, and if Rain hadn’t been listening carefully for the sound of the front door, she would’ve almost thought they went inside. Eventually, Adam said, “But if it hadn’t been for Rain, I would’ve lost my mind. She was the only bright spot in a horrific existence.”

Seth seemed puzzled. When he asked, “She used to… visit you?” his voice went up at the end.

“Yeah, but she wasn’t like the others. She was… kind. She didn’t have any choice. All women are required to go to IW,” he went on, standing up for her, not that Seth had said anything negative.

“Right. That’s what we’ve heard. I bet most of the stories that make it to us aren’t true. At least, I hope they’re not.”

Rain thought about all the bruises she’d seen on Adam’s backside when she’d stolen a peek at the river. She swallowed hard as he said, “They are. And worse.”

Unfortunately, what he said was accurate. The horrors the Mothers visited upon their people were enough to make people like Seth and Esther cringe, people with a conscience, people who understood that all people are just that--people. Even men.

Rain had always had an understanding about that in the back of her mind, even if she’d been taught since she was a small child not to see men as people. From the time she was old enough to learn anything at all, the Mothers had taught her, along with every other woman, that men were little more than animals. They were driven by carnal urges. The men in IW actually enjoyed what they were doing, despite being strapped to chairs and given shots to make them capable of performing. The men who worked in construction and elsewhere had no freedom, tethered to specific locations through ankle monitors. Those were the ones who were not capable of serving women through IW, so they had to do hard labor to pay for the sins of the past.

Those weren’t their sins, of course. They were the sins of men who came long before them. The Motherhood taught that, throughout history, up until the time of the Claiming when Michaela Torres and her followers overthrew what was left of the men after the end of World War III and forced them into bondage. Up until that point, Rain and the others had been taught, men had held women as slaves, essentially, raping and taking them whenever they wanted, stripping them of dignity, forcing them to perform the same work for less pay, and a thousand other atrocities.

None of it ever sat right with Rain, but she was also taught not to question the Motherhood. And she hadn’t. Until the day the lights had come on right after she finished a session in IW with Adam, who didn’t have a name at the point. Like all other men, he was known by a number and a letter--24C. He hadn’t had the chance to say much to her during the rebel’s mock attempt at taking over the IW unit so that they could later break out the men held there, with the help of a few insiders, such as Adam himself and some of the women in training in communications and other important areas that would lead to an easier extraction. The next thing she knew, Rain was being recruited to join the effort. She couldn’t say no, though, not after she’d spoken to Adam, not after she’d seen what a good soul he was. Even if everything the Mothers said about men in the past were true, Adam and Walt, the other men in IW, the other men in Michaelanburg, didn’t deserve to be treated the way the Mothers were treating them. No one did.