Peppermint And Gunpowder

Chapter Four: Pray With Me

Poison knocks on the door. Once, twice.

The door opens, a single eye welled with tears peaks through the crack, just above the chain lock. The door suddenly shuts, a chain clicks, and the door opens again.

A girl stands, strawberry blonde hair pulled back loosely, with ripped jeans and purple shirt. She doesn't smile, just stares blankly.

"Hey, Poison. Kobra. Gracie, Jet, Ghoul." Her eyes narrow. "Who are you?"

"Mercury." I say softly. I step back, almost hiding behind Kobra's broad shoulder.

She nods, unimpressed. "Did you bring the things?" Poison points the backpack slung over his shoulder. She nods again. "Come in."

We file into the small room, with dangling curtains and dusty furniture. I glance at Kobra, who walks emotionless.

The girl whose name I do not know leads us under a low hanging sheet and into a back room. A woman lies in a makeshift bed on the floor, a simple spring mattress and blankets.

"Mama? The Killjoys are here." The girl walks over to her mother, crouching on the floor in desperate need of sweeping.

"Bandit... " She coughs into a piece of cloth, blood mixing with spit.

"Yes, mama?" The girl brushes a strand of hair out of her mother's face, pressing her palm to her forehead.

"Do they--" She coughs again. "--do they have it?"

"Yes, mama." The girl says.

"Who is she?" The mother points at me with a shaky hand.

"Her name is Mercury, mama. She is a Killjoy." The girl says, not bothering to look back at me.

"Mercury, come here." The frail woman pats the side of the bed. "Sit beside me."

I look at Poison wearily, but he nods gravely and I sit beside the dying woman. She grasps my hands tightly, and breathes softly.

"Noctua, you have a good soul." She whispers, patting my hand. "Pray with me."

We both close our eyes, I pray silently, yet I hear her mumble the Hail Mary's under her breath.

I don't remember the last time I've seen someone practice a religion, let alone a prayer.

The woman opens her eyes and I do too, and she smiles. "Good girl, strong girl. You'll win the fight, the fight of your life. Good girl, strong girl. Noctua."

A large hand clamps onto my shoulder, and I look back to see Poison standing grimly.

"We have to administer the battery now," He whispers. "Can you take Gracie outside? Kobra will go with you."

I get off the unswept floor and look back at the dying woman. Good girl, stong girl. Noctua. Good girl, strong girl. Noctua. Good girl, strong...

A small hand tugs on my own. I look down again to see Gracie looking up at me, grasping my hand. She pulls me out of the room, and Kobra follows.

"What was she saying?" I ask once we're out of earshot.

"Little owl, she was speaking Latin. She does often, like someone slipping into their native tongue." Kobra leans against the wall.

"But nobody speaks Latin." I say. He shrugs.

"She does. But she doesn't talk much anymore, mostly nonsense or small sentences. That was the most she's said in a few days." Kobra looks at the wall, as if trying to look through the wall and into the room. "She barely knows her own name. When her batteries drain, she gets sick. Real sick. Delusional, incoherent. Those are just some symptoms of batteries dying."

"Batteries dying?"

"Did you see her face? The cracks? She's dehydrated, undernourished, drained--Mercury, that woman is dying. Her batteries first drained about a year ago, and we bring new batteries every week, just trying to buy her and Bandit more time." Kobra wipes a hand across his face and sighs. "But we don't know how much longer we have, even with the batteries. Weeks, days--it's all a guess."

"Why? She has more batteries, that should help her, right." My mind flashes back to the woman in the bed, weak and dying.

"Normally, it would. But not her. The batteries we have are general batteries, the batteries she needs aren't made anymore. Just BLIs way of keeping us under their thumb, if the batteries they need to live aren't produced for the general public, we have to go to them. We can't do that."

"Why can't she? Or Bandit?" I ask, but realize moments later: we're all criminals. Outlaws. There is a reward for our arrest, anyone who has any relation to the Killjoys are at risk.

Kobra gives me an odd look before continuing. "Bandit is young still, and a good fighter. She will become a Killjoy when it's time."

"When will it be time?"

"We don't know. Bandit doesn't know. After her mother passed, she will have the option to join."

"Why then?" I ask, and as I picture the dying woman, I remember my own mother.

Kind and sweet, always smelling of peppermint. When we still had peppermint.

"Bandit's mother doesn't want her to be a Killjoy. She becomes a Killjoy, she's more of an outlaw than before. Now she's just someone who the government doesn't know exists--she becomes a Killjoy, BLI will know her name, know her face, know everything about her. She is a just a kid, she..." He trails off.

A scream ruptures the still silence.

I turn to the back room, ready to run, but a hand grabs my wrist. Kobra holds tight, biting his lip and closing his eyes.

"What are you doing? She's in pain." I say, ripping my arm from his grasp. He grabs again.

"We can't go in. That's what happens when a battery is charged." He stares, emotionless. "Energy runs and runs and runs, the body isn't used to it. It's like being electrocuted, all the fuel and energy is hitting her at once."

"But won't that kill her?" I look back in the room, and Kobra grips my arm tighter, as if he thought I would run into the room at any chance I got--even if it was the split second I got when he released my arm, an act of trust or an attempt to hold tighter.

"No, not if it's done properly. Not that we're doing it completely properly, but still. Poison knows what he's doing." I nod my head, but my mind replays the woman's agonizing screams over and over.

I pull my arm away, and when he reaches again, I pull back, saying: "I'm not going in there, I'm going to Gracie. Chill out."

I walk to Gracie, who sits on the floor, back pressed to the wall and hands held over her ears. She rocks slightly. Back and forth, forth and back.

"Gracie, baby, what's wrong?" I put my arm over her shoulder, and Kobra listens over his shoulder.

"My mother sounded like that." She whispers. "Before they took her to fight. The batteries, they hurt her. They are hurting the woman in there too."

"But they are to help her." I say softly, attempting to soothe the anxious child.

"But they hurt her." She counters.

"Poison knows what he's doing, he'll get her the batteries she needs." I pull her into an embrace. "He'll help her."

Gracie is silent, but when I look at her tanned cheeks, I see strands of tears rolling down.

I hug her tighter, and remember the smell of peppermint.