He nudges my thighs apart with a knee and my legs fall open, more than willingly. Yes, I think. I don’t have long but yes. His mouth descends on mine as he starts to push inside me, and then I hear the heavy door scraping the floor as it opens, blinding light in my face as someone flips a switch.
“Hurry,” I urge Henri, but already the shrieking is making itself known and the sound of shouting is pulling me out of it.
I stumble to my feet. The women around me are already up and it’s only because someone closer to the door is unresponsive that I didn’t get caught.
“Fuck!” the guard roars. “We told them there were nineteen left.” He kicks the woman in the bed once and again and then a third time, much harder. My blood begins to heat. That rage in my chest has become as familiar as my own hand.
“It’s not our fault she’s dead,” replies the other. “They still have plenty to choose from.”
“Try to tell them that,” the first guard replies. It’s not the first death I’ve witnessed since I arrived, but that’s not the reason I’m unsettled. The guards are often on edge, and very often enjoy their power over us a bit too much, but this is different. They’re scared, and anything that scares them terrifies me.
We are shuffled past the corpse and on to the cafeteria, where we get our food and sit. Katrin takes the seat next to mine and we exchange a quick, nervous glance as we feign eating. For once the hunger that has gnawed at me every day, eating only the bread, is absent. I don’t think I could eat even if I wanted to. I notice something floating in my gruel. A small white pellet, perhaps what they use to sedate us. When the guards aren’t looking, I fish it out of the bowl and tuck it into my sleeve, though I’ve no idea how it could be useful.
Marie is louder this morning, more vocal. She’s coming off the drug and she doesn’t want to be. A guard casually hits her in the head with his gun as he passes and tells her to pipe down. And in response to the pain…her hand disappears. Only for a moment. And she moans again.
Stop, I plead silently. Stop before they hurt you. Before they realize who you are.
The cafeteria door opens and Gustave, the guard I hate most, bursts in, his mouth set in a grim line. “They’re coming,” he barks. “Be ready.”
Marie moans again, and my heart begins to slam in my chest. These stupid guards don’t realize she’s waking, but whoever is coming seems to know more about time travel. They might. Her gruel is nearly gone and I can only think of one solution.
I switch our bowls.
My stomach lurches with guilt as she digs in, content once more. Guilt and also despair. I’d hoped she was weaning herself from the drug, perhaps getting to the point that she could be reasoned with, that we could discuss escape. And now she is calming, growing docile again. I might have saved her from being raped, but if I’ve just ensured that we’re both stuck here forever—is that an improvement?
The cafeteria doors open and the guards jump to attention. A young woman enters. There’s a man at her heels, but she’s the one I stare at, because hers is a face I recognize instantly. A face so like my mother’s, few people could tell them apart.
My aunt is here. And she appears to be…helping them?
I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if I’m hallucinating, but when I open them she is still there, talking to the man behind her as they approach. I know she isn’t the mastermind of all of this, because the thing that drew us here occurred long before she was born—but she is not drugged, and she doesn’t look scared, which means she’s not on our side, either. She left Pennsylvania when she was twenty-four, before I was even born. She never returned, which means she doesn’t know I exist. Given how much my mother hated her, this is probably a good thing.
“Where’s the girl?” she barks at the guard in French. Her accent is terrible, all the vowels flattened. Madame Perot, the old crone I used to read to, would be slapping her hand right now.
He murmurs something and points at Katrin. The man’s eyes light up and he approaches—and places his hand on my head. “She’s as blonde as you, Iris,” he says to my aunt.
My heart races so fast it makes me shake.
“Not her,” says Gustave. “The one beside her.”
“Pity,” the man replies, but his hand leaves my head and goes to Katrin’s collar. “And there’s no one else? A room full of time travelers and you’ve only captured one from the first family?”
Gustave begins sputtering. “We wanted to decrease the sedative more but were worried they’d get away,” he says.
“They can’t get away, you fool,” replies my aunt. “That godforsaken alarm makes it impossible, even for me. I’ll fix this.”
She walks to the end of the table and throws a woman sitting there to the floor. “Cut out her eyes,” she tells the nearest guard.
His jaw drops. “Mademoiselle?” he asks. “Her eyes?” He motions to his own, as if perhaps she translated the word wrong.
“Yes,” she says. “Cut out her eyes, and then her tongue, and then her ears.”
The guard swallows and forces himself toward the woman who has begun to sit up. He pulls a knife from a sheath on his belt and grabs her by the hair to hold her steady.
My breath stops. If you are neutral in times of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. Words that won’t be spoken for many decades, yet they’re true even now. But if I give myself up to save her, what does that mean for me? And more importantly, what does it mean for Marie? Who will protect her? Who will get her out of here?
Selfish, I hear my mother saying. Convenient logic once more. But it’s in your blood, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
The guard pushes the hilt of his knife to her eye socket and a woman near them jumps to her feet.
“Stop!” she cries in English. A fellow American. “Please stop!” The guards’ heads jerk toward her at once, newly alert. She’s a lovely girl, tan and luminous in a sea of pale, blank faces, and she’s just given herself up.
My aunt laughs and grabs her by the hair. “I knew that would work. What’s your name?”
“Luna,” the woman answers, her shoulders sagging. “Luna Reilly.”
“There, darling,” my aunt purrs, turning to the man holding Katrin by the collar, “now I’ve found you two. Two of four. It’s a start.”
My mother always hated time travelers, and I finally see why. I’m beginning to hate them now too.
6
HENRI
The house sits empty, waiting for them.
And I am empty. I press my face to my hands. Come home, Sarah, I plead silently. Come home.
How could I have let them go? Why didn’t I find a way to stop them? My God. I can’t stand the possibility that it will stay like this forever. That I’ll never learn what happened to them and will go through the rest of my life assuming the worst.
Father Edouard comes to the house, tugging at his collar and uncertain. His eyes widen at the sight of me—unshaven, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Empty whiskey bottles line the counter, but I let him in anyway, beyond caring.