Botanicaust

” He might be high, but he could still read her better than any person on the planet.
    Tula sighed and flopped backwards onto the sofa next to him. “ The pregnant woman you brought in a few days ago attacked Faran today. She gets euthanized in the morning. ”
    “ Aw, baby, I ’ m sorry. ” He put a hand behind her neck and squeezed the muscles gently. “ I wish you wouldn ’ t get so invested in these captives. You know most of them never make it to conversion. ”
    “ My patients do. ” Tula sat up and glared at him. “ I just need more time to get through to them. To convert them body and mind. ”
    He sat forward to look straight into her eyes. His golden irises reminded her of Bats. “ There ’ s only one of you, Tula. You need to be more selective of who you focus on. ”
    “ My job is to make converts, Mo. Everyone could be worthy in one way or another, given the chance. ”
    Mo shook his head. “ I love that about you, baby. ”
    “ Don ’ t patronize me. ” Tula rose and paced to the edge of the privacy screen. “ I know how you feel about the cannibals on the Burn. ”
    “ I was out there once, too. I just happen to be a realist. Cannibals are monsters. It ’ s hard to wipe the slate clean once someone ’ s been taught fellow humans are food. ”
    “ People take the easiest way out, every time. And our way is the easy way out. But we have to give the converts time to realize they no longer have to kill to survive. ”
    Mo rose to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He popped the top and raised the bottle in a mock salute. “ Once a man gets a taste for blood … ” Taking a long draught of water, he left the sentence hanging.
    “ You mean adults. Children forget their past easily. But an adult who makes that choice is a much stronger convert in the long run. ”
    “ Like that kid on the Burn today. ”
    All the Burn Operatives had heard about the emergency. Bats had avoided euthanization, but he would never work the Burn or any other job requiring responsibility again. Tula ’ s blood pressure rose until her headache made her vision red. “ Bats did nothing wrong. He showed compassion to a fellow human being. ”
    “ Not the way Ops sees it. ”
    “ Bats is a good man. ”
    Mo raised his brows and swallowed another swig of water. “ Baby, I don ’ t want to argue. ”
    The pain between her eyes exploded, and Tula gritted her teeth against tears. “ You know, I think I ’ d rather spend my time among cannibals. ” She spun on her heel, grabbed her thick yellow robe, and stalked from the apartment.
    “ Baby … ”
    She slammed the door on his entreaty.

    Levi sat cross-legged on his cot and stared down the empty path between the cells. The only sound echoing from the cement walls was the soft snores of the child in the cage down the aisle. The other child had been removed without a struggle before the usual delivery of food containers.
    Two down, two to go.
    Although his exhausted body demanded rest, his brain would not allow his eyes to close. His time surely must be nearing an end.
    The shuffle of feet alerted him to a visitor, and at first he thought perhaps an angel had come to give him comfort. Her yellow robe, the first real clothing he had seen since being taken captive, swished around her ankles as she paused before the sleeping child ’ s cage.
    After a few moments, she turned to approach him, and he recognized the woman, Tula. Not an angel. A Blattvolk, even if she had donned clothing. She grasped the bars of his cage with both hands and, with a sigh, pressed her green, tearstained cheeks against the metal. Her whispered words sounded desperate.
    Rising on unsteady legs, he pointed to Awnia ’ s empty cage. “ Awnia? ” This woman seemed to be an advocate for the young mother.
    Without warning, the Blattvolk erupted into a fresh bout of tears.
    Uncontrollable empathy washed over Levi. “ Don ’ t cry. ” His voice cracked. The words could have been for himself as easily as the Blattvolk. She shuddered with another sob.
    He strode forward with more strength than he knew he had and wrapped his hands over hers where she clung to the bars. Her fingers were as cold as the metal. A shiny pink patch of skin on her right arm contrasted sharply with the jade hue of her skin, like a small piece of humanity peeking out at him from beneath her Blattvolk exterior. “ Tula, don ’ t cry, ” he whispered, afraid of his own voice.
    At the sound of her name,