Page 60 of The Quiet
“I thought you might,” Peter replied instantly, always catching the wholeness of her words. Through him, she’d become a very talkative and inquisitive girl. They turned off course toward the front of the Bleeding Grin, where the inner gates were closest.
Baker knew they were headed to the trough. She dreaded it. She could already hear the people wailing and didn’t want to see their glossy eyes and blubbering lips. Of course, that’s where her eyes went first when they turned the corner to the front gate.
Strike Perilous was standing a few steps back from them with a fresh apple in one hand. Sensing Peter, she turned, putting on her gloves as a sign of respect as he approached.
“They’re bad today,” she said as Peter approached beside her. Baker stood between them before Perilous rubbed Baker’s head and whispered. “Loud girl.”
“Strike Perilous.” Baker nodded up at the gold in her eyes. Baker had grown to like Perilous.
“You’re tense,” Perilous noted. “You always act like you don’t like them.” Perilous nodded to the people trying to push through the gate, her bright blonde ponytail flickering over her shoulder.
Baker shook her head. “Peter won’t tell me what’s wrong with them.”
Peter chuckled, though she wasn’t sure why. “Nothing’s wrong with them. They’re just hungry.”
“Why do they do that?” Baker asked at last. “They look like they want to eat both of you too.”
“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Perilous said, taking another bite of her apple with perfectly white teeth and full, pink lips. “You’ll fall in love, like humans do, and will want to eat someone too.” She chewed for a moment before offering it to Baker, glancing at Peter as if for permission.
Peter nodded. Baker took the apple but didn’t eat it. “I better not act like that,” Baker said.
“Some people search for a lifetime to feel how these people feel– completely carried away in feeling,” Peter said, “these people are free from choice, from burden, living in complete, fearless security.”
“I don’t want to get carried away. Not to where they go. They don’t act like people anymore,” Baker replied.
“One day, if you’re lucky, you’ll understand.” He glanced over at Perilous. “I don’t like to see them in pain. Must they wait like this?”
Suddenly nervous, Perilous nodded and created the meal with focused gestures of her hands. As they ate, Baker shuddered at the sight, stopping short when she recognized someone among them.
Marnie was there, eating with the rest, now part of the hoard with no feelings but hunger. Stifling the pain of the sight, Baker swallowed hard in disgust.
“I never want to act like them,” Baker said, and Perilous glanced down at her as if surprised she’d been thinking about it still. “They act like rats.”
Peter smiled, eyes flickering to Perilous, who waited there with a half-chewed piece of apple in her cheek. She started chewing again, presumably in response to something Peter had said in her mind. Baker realized in that moment that despite their behaviors the Strike treasured these people more than anything else, and she’d just insulted them outright.
Peter glanced down at Baker. “Remember this moment. Humility might have you looking back at it one day.”
She didn’t like that response, handing the half-eaten apple back to Perilous. She crossed her arms, looking around to find the rest of the space around the Bleeding Grin unoccupied. The courtyard was full of vast, green lawns and plants of every type and nature.
“Are there any new ones that have potential?” Peter asked in a low voice, signifying the change to a different topic he and Perilous must have discussed right before Baker had interrupted.
“I had a man a few weeks ago. Nothing, though. We have a few women coming tonight, but I don’t think anything is happening there either.” Perilous sighed. “Some of them are getting very tired of this experiment. Amiel ate the last few. Looks like it’s up to you and you alone if there will be more of us.”
“Hmm. Keep trying,” Peter whispered. “Creating Strike through the traditional method is...tedious now. We don’t have a lot of options. The human body cannot develop a Strike, but maybe their children have more receptivity to the virus.”
Perilous crossed her arms. “Well, I’ve never heard of a Strike having a child, and I’m tired of suffering the attention of these men. If it can happen, the chances are painfully low.” She reached her gloved finger to wipe something out of the corner of her eye.
Baker jolted as one of the people shook the gate. A few people started fighting, some even using words—which was rare when they got like this.
Perilous walked toward the crowd, waving a hand and separating those in the brawl before lowering her hand down and invoking some kind of soothing sensation inside them.
Still watching the people, Baker felt her mood darken. She crossed her arms over her chest, now cold and heavy on the inside.
Humility might have you looking back.Peter’s words churned over and over in her head. She didn’t like the idea of that, determined that one day she’d leave the Bleeding Grin. She wouldn’t look back on those people at the gate—those helpless, wanting people. She’d forget about them, just like she’d forgotten about everyone else. She barely thought about the ROSE or the servants or Marnie.
But in this moment, she remembered everyone more clearly than she had in a long time.
She jolted at Peter’s hand on her shoulder and looked up to see them both looking down at her again. Perilous gave nothing away in her expression, but Peter looked concerned.
