Deep magic second coll.., p.46
Deep Magic - Second Collection, page 46
part #2 of Deep Magic Collection Series
Susan yawns and slings her rifle over her shoulder as she joins us, clustered at the head of the wagons. The enemy trenches stretch out ahead and the wind is with us tonight. Once the eight of us get close, we’ll spread out every three hundred yards. We can cover a lot of trench and incapacitate soldiers quietly and more efficiently than any chemical weapon. Our poison doesn’t require hours to work. Minutes was enough, and few survived.
“Do you ever think about how many are down there?” asks Olivia.
Charlotte spits. “Wouldn’t make you feel better.” She is always angry. The hope for a cure is the reason she keeps fighting.
Beth waves for us to follow. “Come along, girls. The shelling’s only going to last a few more minutes, and we’ve got to get into position.”
I wish I was back home. In a month it will be Christmas. My brother Albert would still be serving with the army, but at least I would be with Mum, Dad, and my sisters. Thomas too. Maybe. Thomas is only here in Belgium because of me. If I had never been contaminated, I’m sure they would have kept him home in England, and we would not have had to postpone our wedding. He’s a researcher, not a soldier, and far more valuable as one, even if they had to conscript him to get him to work.
Thomas hates the use of chemical warfare, because of accidents like the one that changed me and the others.
“Wake up, Edith.” Katherine’s face appears close to mine. I look up and see we’re almost there.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
Beth signals for us to split up and I mouth a prayer as I press my fingers against the blouse of my uniform. I can feel the reassuring touch of the glass rosary underneath, a gift from Thomas after the poison gas devoured the wooden one I had worn since childhood.
I hunker down as the shelling comes to an end. There is barbed wire in front of me, so I know I am not far. Carefully, I use my wire cutters to clear a path and creep in.
A strangled cry of alarm comes from the trenches as the first wisps of gas reach them. Shots ring out and I can’t help but flinch, but I am unharmed. They don’t know where I am.
I don’t need to climb inside the trench myself, just close enough for my poison to seep out and down to where the soldiers are. I’m told the pain is excruciating. Masks are useless, and the affected collapse in moments. Their skin blisters. Their eyes water and shrivel into their skulls. We are far worse than any mustard gas the Germans ever used.
My rifle is more decoration than a weapon. The mere presence of a Poison Maiden is all it takes to kill, and there is no place for me or any of the others save on the battlefield or in a box.
I stop when I find the lip of the trench. I don’t want to look over the edge and see the bodies. The smell of their burns is bad enough. It should be as horrible as their wounds, but instead it’s oddly pleasant, and makes me think of baking bread. I never want to see another oven.
Something explodes far to my left and I cringe. Grenades. The last resort of a dying soldier. Even if he can no longer stand, he can throw one over the lip of the trench, and if he is lucky...
The blast lands where Beth is supposed to be. I think I hear her cry out, but I cannot move. We are positioned to maximize coverage of the enemy trench, and... these are our orders. I stay and wait, trying to not think. There is nothing I can do until we are certain our poison has permeated our assigned area.
When I know it is past time to fall back, I sneak over to see if she needs help, but what I find cannot be saved. We have to leave her, and she knows this. She will continue to give out poison for a while after she dies.
* * *
Our base is a short distance behind Allied lines. We can hear the shells sometimes, but we cannot be easily reached. It would be a problem if our enclosures were breached.
Colonel Bradshaw says it’s not a prison, and the locks on the doors are only for our own safety. We each have our own quarters with a bed, a desk, and a shelf for keepsakes, but all the furniture is metal and plastic so our poison does not eat through it. Even then we have to be careful because the secretions that cover our bodies react with water to form acid. A spill makes a mess in more ways than one.
There are only eight of us in Harpy Squad, though we are not the only survivors of the factory accident. The others were split into Siren and Fury and we haven’t seen them since the day they discharged the lot of us from the hospital.
Thomas visits me in my room for my post-mission examination. There is not much in the way for privacy. The door is glass and Charlotte can see us from her room on the other side. She tries not to look, but I know she is envious. Her lover used to send letters every week, writing that he believed in her, and that she was not a monster.
The letters had been written to keep her in good spirits, by military request.
Charlotte is too strong. She is the most poisonous of all of us, and the military researchers won’t exam her. They’ll ask one of us Maidens to do it instead. Charlotte’s poison ate through their protective suits once, and even the tiniest exposure nearly killed the man. I understand why they have to be cautious, but the distance gnaws at her and she often wishes she had never taken the job at the factory.
I don’t know how to regret like that. I want to believe that God has a plan for us, and though I am a living weapon, it is possible that through our efforts we will end the war with fewer lives lost than if we had never been transformed at all.
“Edith.” Thomas’s voice is kind, but persistent.
I turn away from the door. I can’t see Charlotte now. She spotted me looking and shrank out of sight.
Thomas is wearing a bulky suit made out of a plastic that can resist our poison. It’s the same material they use for our uniforms, but thicker, since he cannot risk a tear. I wish I could hold him again, without the suit between us.
“Your saturation level is still high.” His voice comes out through a metal box under the glass faceplate. “It’s barely any different from last time.”
Two of our number have started depleting; Katherine and Olivia. The scientists are hoping that if they somehow manage to expend all their poison they will return to normal, but their progress is slow. They can stand in the same room as the rest of us and do not feel any different. Charlotte’s presence does not harm them.
I don’t know if I will ever deplete. Only Charlotte’s poison is stronger than mine. Beth likes... liked to place us on opposite ends of our attack spread because of that. We close off avenues of escape.
“I suppose I should get used to that,” I say. It’s been five months since Harpy Squad was formed and I am as dangerous now as I was the first day I was deployed.
“We’re not giving up.” Thomas smiles, though his face is strained. He doesn’t sleep much anymore, though he brushes it off as though it is nothing worth mentioning.
I ask, “Are they treating you well?”
They threatened him with prison when he quit his research. He doesn’t want Britain to use mustard gas like the Germans. But Thomas is brilliant, so the military found a bargaining chip in my contamination. If he worked for them, he could also work on me.
“They are demanding,” says Thomas, his voice neutral, “but that can’t be helped. The war has gone on long enough, and they’re desperate. But we’re still working on finding a treatment, don’t worry. It’s just... a long process. I still want to have something for you by Christmas...”
“I know you’ll try.” I understand a cure takes time, takes rounds of testing, and he’ll want to be sure before risking my life or my health with anything. Though my current situation is difficult, I am stable, and I am alive.
“The past few weeks have been good to us. We’ve learned a lot.” He smiles again. “So don’t give up.”
Thomas glances out the door. There are soldiers outside, and the light is not enough for us to see through their masks. In an emergency, should his suit be breached, they’ll be the ones to rescue him.
“We think we’ve figured out how you transformed.” Thomas speaks quickly, his head turned back to me. “It wasn’t just the chemicals at the factory where you and the other women worked, but the reaction caused when the fire broke out. We’re running tests.”
He stops abruptly, on the verge of saying more, and I can tell he’s conflicted.
“That’s good, right?” I wrap my arms about him and carefully, very carefully, hold him close. He doesn’t pull away, though death is near, and for that moment I don’t care if Charlotte or the soldiers see.
But Thomas is not reassured. “I don’t know,” he says. “I really don’t.”
* * *
They feed us in the tank. It’s a large holding chamber we use while they air out our quarters, giving us fresh air to breathe and preventing build up that would endanger our handlers. There usually isn’t much to do besides eat, so we’re surprised when the door opens sooner than expected.
One of our transport wagons is carefully fitted against it so as to form a seal between the tank and the rest of the building, and there is a woman inside. Our age. Maybe even younger. She cannot be more than nineteen.
“Who are you?” Charlotte is the one who asks.
The newcomer bobs her head, nervous, and says, “My name is Henrietta Wells. I’ve been assigned to fill the vacancy in Harpy Squad.”
“Vacancy?” Mary’s words are muffled by the soggy mash in her mouth that used to be bread.
We’ve lost squad mates before, back when we were first learning the range of our abilities, but this is our first time getting a replacement.
Susan exhales and stands up from the chair where Olivia was braiding her hair. She is a lieutenant now, in the wake of Beth’s passing, though her title does not mean much. They don’t send women to officer training, even if they aren’t exuding a cloud of poison around them.
“I don’t remember you,” she says as she eyes the newcomer.
Henrietta cringes and stares at the floor. “I wasn’t very good at the factory. I just kept my head down and tried do my work.”
I don’t remember Henrietta either. There had been about thirty of us survivors, and while we were not the closest of friends, all of us had been kept in the same medical ward, save for Peter Conroy. He had been the only male survivor and isolated for his gender, at least until his deployment.
If Henrietta had been in the hospital with us, I ought to know her, but I can’t recall seeing her before. Still, she is not blistering and boiling away before our eyes, so there is no doubt that she is one of us.
I mention that and Susan tilts her head as if weighing the matter.
“If she’s here, she’s been assigned,” she says finally. “Nothing we can do about it. Did they set out a plate of food for her?”
“Are you joking?” Charlotte snorts. “Command’s never that organized. There are only seven plates here and we’re all eating out of them.”
“I can pass,” says Henrietta, a little too quickly.
I hold out my plate. Food does not taste quite the same anymore, and it’s always mealy before we’re done. “If you don’t mind that I tore off some, you can have the rest of my bread.”
Henrietta takes it and sits down on the metal chair beside me. She takes the withering bread and hesitantly holds it to her lips before taking a bite. For a moment her eyes meet mine, and she glances away, embarrassed, before jamming more in her mouth. I can’t decide if she’s starving or disgusted.
A part of me wants to feel sorry for her, but I can’t do that without pitying myself.
* * *
Our next mission goes terribly. The Germans are wary of bombardments, never knowing whether they will bring enemy soldiers or a squad of the Poison Maidens, and they’ve lined the path to their trenches with mines.
Rebecca almost heads right into them, but Susan pulls her back in time, pointing out the odd lumps scattered in the terrain. And the one directly in front of her.
Henrietta is a nervous wreck. We barely get her to climb out of her wagon, and by the time Susan intentionally detonates the mine, the girl breaks down bawling. She clearly has never been out on the battlefield before, which is impossible if she transferred from the Sirens or the Furies.
The explosion ruins any chance of surprise. Machine gunfire lights up the night, driving holes in the dirt far too close to our position. Susan decides to withdraw. Clearing additional mines will draw too much attention. Poison Maidens are few, and if the British army loses Harpy Squad that would be a huge blow to their resources. Henrietta freezes though, and Katherine and Mary all but drag her back between them.
“You have to talk to her,” says Charlotte.
Susan grunts to show she’s heard, but doesn’t discipline Henrietta. I don’t think she wants to deal with her, but Henrietta isn’t going to go away if we do nothing.
“Pull yourself together,” I tell the girl. “You can’t slow us down.”
The Germans might not know we’ve retreated, but if they figure it out, they will probably send men to follow us. We’ll be vulnerable once we’ve shut ourselves back in our wagons.
Susan realizes this too. When she speaks, she tells us to each grab the shafts of our wagons and pull them along. We’re going to get closer to our side of no man’s land, but stop shy of the trenches themselves.
She says, “If Henrietta won’t pull her own wagon, leave her.”
Henrietta pulls.
It is slow going. The ground is pitted and torn. Sometimes we stop and it takes two of us to pull a wagon out of a ditch, but we do. Our soldiers are probably wondering why we have not signaled for pick up.
Susan stops us when she thinks we’re close enough, and arranges her mirror to signal that our mission has been aborted, and that we’ve moved. The retrieval team will have to wait for the poison to dissipate from around our wagons before they can safely approach and haul us back.
Henrietta moans and clings to the side of her wagon as though it’s the only thing holding her up. “This isn’t worth it.”
“You want to get cured don’t you?” Charlotte sniffs. “This isn’t something we can call on a doctor for.”
“I know, but this is worse than I ever imagined. They don’t talk about this when they offer you the money.”
“Money?” Susan echoes.
We have a stipend, but it’s not much.
“What do you mean?” A hard edge creeps into Katherine’s voice as she steps away from her wagon and up to Henrietta. “Don’t make me regret taking you with us.”
Henrietta chokes.
“Nothing adds up with her.” I’m not trying to be accusatory. It is a simple fact. “I don’t think she’s been in combat before now.”
We all fear things. We’re all scared. But we no longer freeze because of that fear.
Henrietta scoots and reaches for the door to her wagon. “We... We should get inside, before the retrieval team gets too close.”
“I haven’t signaled them yet,” says Susan, which is a lie. I know it doesn’t take that long for her to send the code.
But Henrietta does not. She has never been on a mission before.
We get the story out of her, quickly, and as the details come out, Olivia declares that she will stand watch. She doesn’t say why, so Henrietta will keep talking, but the rest of us know she is looking for our soldiers, so they do not come up on us unawares while we are still outside.
It turns out that Henrietta is not like us. She volunteered.
She knows that there is no cure, not yet, but that there may be one soon. The army wants more Poison Maidens. Creating one is cheaper than the resources spent on a proper artillery barrage with soldiers to match, and Henrietta has been paid a fair sum for her sacrifice. Her family needs the money, so I can pity her for that, but in this moment I hate our government, hate the army that keeps us in the tank and locks us in our own quarters.
Their research is supposed to be about curing us, not making more. It is one thing to transform volunteers. Another to keep those of us who had no choice.
“Why someone like you?” Katherine doesn’t bother to hide her irritation. “They have soldiers for a reason.”
Henrietta lifts her hands helplessly. “Men don’t... survive as well.”
I remember Conroy. There had been other men in the hospital with him, other workers from the factory, but they had died shortly after the accident, leaving him the only one left.
“So they send their women instead.” Susan snorts.
“I can’t believe it!” Rebecca shakes her head. “They pay her stacks of money and we earn less than a private... We didn’t even have a choice.”
True enough, but I say, “We can make a different one. We need to talk to the colonel.”
Charlotte sneers and sets a booted foot against the door to her wagon. “What we need to talk to him about is a cure. I heard your fiance, Edith. They’re close. If they can fix us, then they can go ahead and create Poison Maidens out of as many damn volunteers as they want.”
* * *
We get in our wagons, because there can be no negotiation if we do not allow the retrieval team to bring us back, but that means we cannot talk to each other, and communicating with our escort is difficult. I bang and shout to get the attention of one of the soldiers once we are safely on the other side of our trenches, but I’m not sure he understands that I want him to send the colonel to us.
I fear that the colonel will ignore us. We’ve only seen him twice, once in the hospital, and once after our enclosure was set up, but I’ve heard that he is head of research, so he must be nearby. Even if he does not come himself, if he sends an aide that would be a start.
My wagon is pressed against the door to my quarters, and after I hear the pressure lock and the doors unbar, I know it is safe to exit to my room. I leave my rifle and rucksack behind for restocking and yell a reminder to get the colonel, but I’m not sure if they hear.
Reluctantly, I shut the door and they pull the wagon away.
