Botanicaust

him the pages. But it was against policy. Pointing to the gamma pad again, she repeated, “ Draw. ”
    Panting, he bent and picked up the gamma pad. Nimble fingers darted over the screen and then he turned the nuvoplast to show her. On the surface was a three-dimensionally rendered cell with a propped-open door. “ Lass mich raus. ”
    The language opened something within her. A fissure that ruptured and then sealed almost as quickly. Heart racing, she swallowed, throat tight. She wanted to run away, and she wasn ’ t sure why. The desperation of his words struck a chord in her she couldn ’ t ignore. She looked at the picture again. “ Let you out? ”
    “ Aus. Frei. ” He pointed to the locked door.
    “ Free. ” She spoke under her breath. There was no doubt now that he was the creator of the drawings in the paper notebook. I need to get him a better gamma pad.
    “ Bitte. Lassen sie mich frei. ”
    “ You are safe in here. Safe. ”
    He approached the bars and rattled off several sentences she couldn ’ t understand.
    At a loss, Tula looked at the woman, who was wiping the last of the protein residue from the canister with her fingers. “ Awnia. What is he saying? ”
    Throwing the container to the bed, Awnia put the baby to her breast and leaned back to nurse.
    “ Awnia. ”
    The woman focused a sleepy glare at her. “ Don ’ t know. ”
    “ You don ’ t know what he ’ s saying? ”
    Awnia shrugged and closed her eyes.
    Tula looked between the man and the woman with child. Meeting the prisoner ’ s blue-eyed visage once more, she said, “ You don ’ t belong here at all, do you? ”

    Levi sat on the edge of the bed and looked across the room to where Awnia slumped against the bars of a different cage. Her screaming had eased into dull hiccoughs, but he was sure they would begin again as soon as she recovered her strength.
    After the Blattvolk woman had tried to talk to him, more of the plant people had come and moved Awnia to another cell. And they took away her baby. He could only guess at the atrocities they were performing on the child, and he wondered if there had been something he could ’ ve done to keep mother and child together.
    Short of violence, he didn ’ t think so. Whatever happened, he had to accept God ’ s will. But he would never willingly accept the Mark of the Beast.
    He paced the cage, stomach knotted with hunger, head light with fatigue. How long had he been here? The lights perpetually burned, and the cylinders arrived with what he assumed was a certain regularity — once a day? More? Another untouched canister sat inside his cell. He drank the water from the small fountain in his cell, but after four feedings, he wondered how long he ’ d gone without food.
    In lean years in the village, everyone went on rations. Sometimes the children who were ill, who required more calories than the village could provide, passed away as emaciated skeletons. He thought of Josef. Would his son live long enough to endure a lean year again?
    Urgency gripped him. If he had any chance at escape, he would need his strength. So far, Awnia and the children down the row did not seem altered by the drink, and Levi wondered if he dared taste it.
    No, the thought was temptation by the devil. There was no escape. No physical escape. Should he keep himself alive just so the Blattvolk could perform their unholy rituals upon him? He must strive to die pure.
    Standing, he turned away from the temptation of the canister before lowering to his knees at the edge of the bed. He knew he should pray. His only hope lay in God ’ s salvation. But the words would not come to his lips.
    God was punishing him.
    A soft voice behind him brought him out of his reverie. He looked over his shoulder to see the green lady who had tried to talk to him before. Her long, filmy coat did nothing to hide her nakedness underneath, and the jade curve of her breasts seemed to cast a spell on his eyes.
    It took all of his effort to look away.
    “ Tula, ” she said, and pointed to herself.
    She pointed to him and he knew she wanted a name. He didn ’ t want to give any part of himself to these people. He pointed to Awnia and made rocking motions with his arms. “ Where is her baby? ”
    He hadn ’ t lowered his voice, and Awnia looked up. At the sight of Tula, the screaming began again, the outright frantic panic of losing her child.
    Tula turned and spoke to the woman in low, gentle tones. She offered her a lump of