The Gender Lie(20)

I put the bud in my ear and the piece of fabric around my throat. Immediately, a warm tingle spread out from where the two metal contacts pressed against my skin. I tried to speak—but my vocal cords were frozen and locked in place.

I looked around the table toward Quinn and the others. Amber smirked at me and placed her own ear bud in, and pressed the fabric against her throat.

It’s part of the function, she subvocalized to me. I could hear her voice as loud as if she were speaking right next to me.

Feels weird, but kind of cool, I replied, and she grinned at me as she lowered her hand. I undid the bit of fabric and placed it gently on the table.

“All right—we’ve got an hour before sunset,” Owen said. “Getting to the facility will take three hours by truck, so we need to get all the gear packed up and in the van.”

I held up my hand and Owen paused. Leaning forward on the chair, I threaded my fingers together. “What exactly is the plan if we encounter resistance inside?”

“There won’t be anyone inside,” chirped Thomas, condescension thick in his voice.

“Right, but if this is a warehouse they want kept from the public eye…”

“They use it for storage,” Thomas exploded, his face turning a violent shade of red. “They don’t care what’s inside, only that the outside is secure. If you can achieve complete obfuscation when you enter, they will have no cause to be inside! Your suits will help you with that, and after that, all you have to do is get to the rendezvous spot!”

I sighed. “Right. Just out of curiosity, what are the odds for success, Thomas?”

His expression calmed and he wet his lower lip. “Factoring in for a margin of error… I’d say about eighty-six percent.”

I turned to Owen who shrugged. “We’ve had worse odds and beat them,” he said, and I leaned back in my chair, trying to find an argument with eighty-six percent.

“Still… if there are people inside, you promise we won’t kill them?” I asked, knowing Viggo would never be comfortable with us killing people in order to save him. I was also in that camp, so I wanted to be sure.

Owen blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Everyone knows that we shoot to wound, not kill. Let’s just hope we don’t have to pull the trigger.”

I nodded, feeling relieved.

We worked in silence after the meeting was done. I inventoried the weapons, and stuck stickers on the stock to color-code them for each person. We had taken a little trip into the sewers a day earlier to set the sights on them. I wasn’t very knowledgeable about guns, so Solomon had to explain to me why I should never pick up a random rifle to shoot.

Most people who were trained with the stronger weapons, like the rifles we were using, were taught to adjust their sights on the back of their gun to their own personal preferences. It took a little while for me to figure out what my settings were, but once I got the hang of it, Solomon explained that any other gun would feel strange to look down.

Hence the reason for the stickers—we didn’t want to mix up weapons when we were distributing them. I also dutifully marked off every piece of equipment we were assigned. It felt a little bit like micro-managing, but I saw the need for it. With each piece of equipment marked off and assigned to an individual, we would know immediately if something was missing, and could adapt accordingly.

As I finished, Owen, with Amber in tow, snagged me and led me back to Amber’s and my tiny room.

“You’ll need to don the costumes now—Quinn, Solomon, and I will load up the gear. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

He spun on his heel and exited the room, pulling the door closed. Amber and I looked at each other and then scrambled around the room, frantically grabbing what we needed to complete our costumes. Twenty minutes wasn’t much, especially since Amber would be going in dressed like a man this time.

We were in the middle of wiggling into our body suits when Thomas strolled in. Amber shrieked and moved to cover herself, causing me to laugh. We were both still in the special Liberator uniforms—there was no need for her to react like that.

She realized that at the same time, and flushed a deep red that was almost as bright as her hair.

Thomas—for his part—wasn’t even paying attention to us. His face was angled downward toward a file he was holding.

“Owen wanted me to tell you to bring your gear for The Green. If all goes according to plan, you won’t be coming back here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks, Thomas.”

He lifted his hand in a half-forgotten wave as he left. I hobbled over to the door and shut it behind him.

“He really is a weird little guy,” Amber said, as she shimmied into the suit.